18plus only, My name is Apollo, I’m a 26 year old SAHM with a passion for writing absolute ✨FILTH❤️🔥. I hope you enjoy as much as I do. Send me a request 😘
This is my complete master for all of my works so far! Almost all of my stories are straight filth because it is what I am best at. Hahaha.
All stories are listed as Mature (Minors DNI), warnings are posted before the start of each story please read with caution as some involve violence, SA, and other strong themes along with sexualy explicit content.
Please feel free to message me for any requests for any characters in any fandoms! Even if I don’t know them well I will do as much justice as possible!
some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.
btw, in the scene where they profile his office back when rossi was introduced he says he's 53, on his wiki it says he's 69 in the most recent episodes :)
You are truly a doll. I saw on Reddit people were going back and forth (and I’ll be honest I haven’t seen Evolution) about his age, so I was just like! Make him however old you want, babes! Lmao!
Summary: Keeping the biggest secret of your life didn’t seem so hard, especially after so many years of living in a neglected, loveless marriage that made you hate everything about yourself… so why is it when you’re forced to spend the night in a run-down house, across the street from an accused killer with your much older co-worker; all of your walls and preservations suddenly crumble under his gentle words and soft touches?
Warning: Divorce, Reader has a child mentioned in the story, reader is insecure about her body, can be read as an Age Gap Romance (reader is in her 20s or older and this can be any age David seeing as his age in the show isn’t really given? But I’m putting him in his late 40s), Reader is described to have stretch marks from child birth and hair long enough to shield her face if she looks down, crying, shared bed, hickies, heavy praise, fingering(F receiving), finger licking, PinV sex, un/protected (David has a vasectomy), cream pie. The usual criminal minds gore, unalive women, blood and missing body parts, Morgan getting testy (As always let me know if there is anything I missed 💜)
A/N: I posted the teaser to this 6 months ago and then… idk… my editing brain left on vacation and just returned three weeks ago. Sorry! Also if you are interested HERE is the master link to all of my stories!!
“I hate this. It isn’t fair.” There was no reason to hide your distaste as you dropped into the frigid metal chair. “I know for a fact that somehow Spencer cheated at the straw pull. Had to have been some boy-wonder mind-fuckery.” You waved your fork around, emphasizing before stabbing the price of plastic into the box of noodles you had been picking at. You scanned over the various monitors scattered across the table, and just as they had been the last several hours, the screens showed nothing aside from a quiet driveway and backyard.
David snorts from beside you, titling his sweet and sour chicken towards you in quiet solidarity. “I will NOT argue with you on that. There’s a reason the kid isn’t allowed in Vegas anymore.”
When Hotch had suggested the stakeout back at the police department, you had already started shaking your head, pushing your chair back to leave, but JJ and Printess had beaten you to the exit.
The draw had come down to who would be in the van at night, and who would surveil from the house across the street.
You and David drew the house.
Animosity is written across your face as you glance around the dilapidated, bitterly cold structure. To call it a house was an overstatement. Most of the windows in the living room are boarded up, but their missing windowpanes have the small space heater struggling to overcome the winter breeze that whistles in.
Though the outside of the two-story home had been kept relatively nice for any unsuspecting buyers, the inside had been trashed. No doubt by various squatters looking for shelter over the years in this poverty-stricken area of downtown Chicago. Countless numbers of graffiti overlap one another on the faded blue, crumbling walls, from swastikas to hearts with initials and dates underneath them, but your eyes keep roaming to an uncomfortably realistic painting of Satan that stares back from the wall just opposite your seat.
“Why this house though? This place is undoubtedly haunted. Just look around. Forensics would have a field day in here.”
Your groaning pulls another chuckle from David, who squints at the screen closest to him as a car drives by. “Because the haunted house was as close as we could get; trust me when I say I would rather be staying at the Hilton.”
He is right, of course, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t going to complain. Your chair suddenly wobbles, and you stiffen, looking down expecting to see a monster rat, only to see the toe of David’s shoe pressed against the leg. He smiles at your glare, making your lips twitch up despite yourself.
“Ah, come on. Lighten up a little. At least we don’t have to spend the night in a tiny little van.” Now he has a valid argument.
With an exaggerated sigh, you nod your head, the satellite radio crackling with interference. “Okay, okay. You’re right. Just remind me to get an exorcism when we leave.” You say with a nod towards the wall across from you.
“Tesoro, I’m Catholic. I have a priest on speed dial.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
The clock slowly ticks on, the day rolling into evening, when Morgan finally calls David, giving you the all-clear. The two of you heave sighs of relief, before moving into shutting down all of the equipment to maintain the house’s vacant facade.
The little melodic chirp of your phone alerts you to a text message, and when you pull your phone from your pocket, a smile lights up your face.
“Look.” Your voice holds a sweet coo when you turn your phone for David to see the picture of your four-year-old daughter, Amelia, curled up asleep in her bed at your mother’s.
When he glances from the phone to your face, he smiles at the motherly love that shines in your eyes. “More and more, she grows to look just like her mother.”
A soft, rosy blush stains your cheeks as your smile widens, turning away to type out a reply, “Thank you.”
“How are Amelia and Brain doing?”
“Oh gosh, she’s great. Just started Pre-K, and all of the social interaction is just making her blossom. Where we live, there aren’t many children, so it’s great she can finally start to make friends.”
David’s smile is found as he watches you, noting the way your eyes crinkle at the corners and the lines that bracket your mouth with your smile as you tap away at your phone. “I’m sure she is quite the social butterfly.” You nod with a hum. “And Brian?”
Your fingers falter over the keys, a look of dread passing over your features. David’s eyebrows rise at the slip of your emotions. “Oh. He-He’s fine, on a business trip.” You internally scold yourself at how clipped and robotic your response sounds.
Outside of your immediate family, you hadn’t told a soul of your sudden divorce, fearing how your coworkers and close friends would react. You didn’t want to be coddled or pitied over the situation, despite the pain that dwells in your chest from the moment you saw the Manila folder laid out on your dark granite countertop. The onslaught of emotion makes your eyes sting, the screen in your hands steadily growing more blurry as the silence stretches on. David steps closer with a growing level of concern, “Y/n?” He tilts your head up, baring you from the current of hair keeping your face hidden, and his coffee-brown eyes are soft but assessing.
In this moment, you feel small under his gaze, but not in the same sense that Brian did. With Brian, there was a constant stream of insults and trivialization of your accomplishments at work; how you couldn’t do enough, be enough, never at your best for him, only at your job.
But beside David?
You feel small in the way that David is an ever-larger presence, there to keep you guarded from whatever harm is lurking.
And for as silly as it sounds, maybe that’s why your lower lip begins to tremble and the tears you’ve kept held back begin to well in your eyes, the fat droplets ruining your perfectly placed mascara.
“Sweetheart…”
“Brian and I got a divorce.” The words are broken on your tongue, and the shock on David’s face could have been comical had it been in any other situation. He can’t find his words; instead, he pulls you into his chest, letting you sag against him as your body shudders with a sob. One arm cradles your shoulders as he passes a large palm down your hair, whispering little phrases in Italian as you cling to the front of his light blue button-down shirt with one hand.
“Il Tesoro… What happened?” He leans back slightly, rubbing your shoulders, trying to get a peek at your face.
You sniffle, trying to rein in your emotions as you dash away tears, dark smudges staining your fingertips and the pocket of his nice shirt, and you cringe. “Me… I-I happened. Brian no longer finds me attractive.” You keep your gaze glued to the row of turtle-shell-colored buttons, afraid to meet David’s gaze. “Maybe… It could be because I’ve struggled to lose the weight from my pregnancy, or-or I’m not home enough because of work.” When you finally dare to look David in the eye, the look of pity is painful. Your admission feels like you’re ripping off a Band-Aid that has adhered to your skin for too long. “Brian, he said when he looks at me, all he feels… is disgust. We-I tried everything, everything to fix what we had, but with Amelia, my entire life shifted, and my focus was her. Maybe that makes me a bad person. I know I’m the cause of it all, and I should have done more. I just-.”
“Woah, woah, woah.” David cups your face, warming your cool cheeks and brushing away the tracks of tears with his thumbs. “Dolcezza… You can’t possibly believe you’re the one at fault here?” His eyebrows pinch as you hesitate to give your answer, his question raising doubts.
“I let myself go, David. I’m no longer who he fell in love with; my body has changed from that skinny-“
David scoffs, his hands slipping down to rest on the slope of your neck. “What I’m hearing is the abuse your husband has drilled into your head. Not your words. Not your perspective of things. How long have you been living with this?”
He can’t think of a time where you hadn’t been yourself, the easygoing, chipper, determined woman who compliments the team so perfectly. He can only surmise that all of this had to have happened recently.
You murmur your answer, eyes cast down like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar, and when he asks again, you suck in a tight breath, fighting through the humiliation.
“Three years… the divorce was finalized a month ago.” Saying it out loud to someone other than your family makes you feel sick to your stomach, the hole in your chest threatening to tear through your heart, forcing more tears over your lashes. You slacken your grip on his shirt with the intention of pulling away, like you can put distance between yourself and the truth, but David isn’t letting you go so easily.
“Three years? Three? And you haven’t talked to anyone about this? Y/n…” The disbelief in his voice is laced with something else, something almost chastising, and it makes your heart squeeze in pain.
“I have my mom and dad, they have helped me… I’m seeing a therapist… David, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to spill all of this on you and make it your problem.” You grip his wrists and, with a tug, free yourself from his hold. Making a beeline for the back bedroom of the house, you pray you can hold it together long enough to make it to the bathroom before you break down all over again.
An assaulting array of emotions plagued him as he watched you slip through the door. Three years, three years of you seemingly living a picturesque life, and no one noticed otherwise. Worse yet he never noticed.
What more was there? What all had Brian drilled into your mind? What damage had been done?
You didn’t deserve to live with that, you didn’t deserve to wake up every day feeling unloved and unwanted. Especially when David knew he was one of many men who found you to be the most attractive thing in the world.
His spine stiffened at the thought as it took root, then his long legs carried him down the hall.
*~*~*~*~*~*
You tip back your water bottle, swishing the water in your mouth before spitting the leftover toothpaste into the sink. Daring a glance at your reflection in the aged, yellow mirror, you cringe. The loud humming fluorescent lights above do nothing to help with your blotchy complexion or red-rimmed eyes, and you sigh with defeat.
This isn’t how you imagined anyone finding out, and you certainly didn’t imagine crying your eyes out against David’s chest. You thought you would have time to work through your emotions, to get back on your feet with Amelia, and have a stiff upper lip if anyone were to ask what had happened.
Now it’s all washed down the drain, and you groan at the thought of your mascara never washing out of David’s shirt.
With one last nasty glare at yourself, you yank the door open with a little more force than necessary, stopping short when you come face to face with David’s back. He had changed while you were gone, into a snug black t-shirt with a pair of matching sweatpants.
He turns at the sound of the squealing hinges, his eyes roaming from your face to your toes and back again. You’re dressed similarly, prepared for the cold night ahead except for the BAU sweatshirt that looks like it fits Morgan better than you.
You force a smile, but keep your eyes low, staring at the large air mattress he’s throwing a blanket over. “That looks comfy.” You move around him to get to your cot, the metal springs protesting as you sit down.
“It better be for the price I paid for it.” He responds, side-eyeing your cot. “And it better be more comfortable than that.”
You laugh lightly, pulling your thick comforter from its duffle bag. “It’s old, but it’s reliable and surprisingly not that bad.” The ties groan as if in protest to your statement as you lay back, tucking yourself in for the night.
David hums, turning and disappearing into the restroom. Rolling onto your side, facing his bed, you chew at your bottom lip, feeling deflated and overwhelmed with the chorus of thoughts in your mind.
What does David think of you now?
How much longer can you keep this a secret?
How are you going to handle telling the rest of the team?
You gasp around a painful twist in your chest, burying yourself face into your pillow in hopes of steering off the new onslaught of tears. You don’t want to cry anymore, you don’t want to feel another emotion. You don’t -
“Talk to me.”
You nearly jump out of your skin, looking up to find David sitting on the edge of his bed with worry written on his tan face. He spreads his hands, stammering a little before he begins to speak. “You know, no one else knows more about divorce than I do.” His attempt at humor falls flat, your lower lip jutting out. “All I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to bottle this up. You don’t need to hide it all away; talk about it, let it out. I’m certainly not going to judge you.”
You take a moment, tucking your hands under your head, searching his open face. “I just… feel like I’ve brought this on myself…” The warm feeling of embarrassment leaches into your cheeks. “Is it okay if I share something personal with you?”
“Of course.”
“I had a hard time adjusting after having Amelia. Between being a new mom, worrying about coming back to work, and trying to be a good wife, I just… changed?” You swallow thickly, but manage to keep your eyes on David’s despite tears pooling in your lashes. “Brian… obviously wanted us to become physically intimate again, but it felt so… so forced. I didn’t want to, but he has needs and I’m… I needed to fulfill those. I tried, but when things didn’t go… as they should have, he became resentful and angry with me. I couldn’t do anything to appease him.”
David’s face crumbles like your lungs, tears slipping down the bridge of your nose and splattering on your pillow.
“He started to get mean, Dav… commenting on my body, how the house looked, how I wasn’t good at anything. He belittled my entire life in the span of a year, and I just… checked out. I moved into Amelia’s room, and that’s where I lived until he handed me the papers. She and I now live in my mom’s apartment basement, and… I’m so lost, David.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, hiccuping slightly, and roll onto your back. Your hands and body tremble, and another soft sob leaves your scratchy throat when you feel David’s fingers comb through your hair. He kneels beside your bed, gripping one hand with his as he keeps steadily brushing your hair back. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low timber, the noise reverberating in his chest.
“You didn’t cause this. The person to blame here is Brian. Not you. The fact that he couldn’t comprehend what you’d been through, how your body and mind have changed, shows more of his character than yours, sweetheart. You are doing a thousand jobs at once compared to him; you are more than a mother or an FBI agent, Y/n. You are what people have worshiped and held in high regard for years, a warrior, a caregiver, a lifeline, a woman whose love is endless. He is a fool. And you deserve better than what he has put you through, my dear.”
The breath you let out is stuttering, something hard and constricting in your chest cracking ever so slightly at David’s speech. When you drop your hand away, he is smiling at you tenderly. “Thank you.” You mouth the words, untrusting of your own voice, and he says nothing more. Instead, he leans over and presses a warm kiss to your forehead.
*~*~*~*~*~*
You wake with a jolt, violent tremors seizing your body, sending you into panic. “Wh-what the h-hell?” You whisper through chattering teeth, sitting up and wrapping your blanket fully around yourself as you squint into the quiet darkness.
“The power went out, and the generator isn’t working.” Comes David’s answer from across the room. As your eyes adjust, you can start to make out his form crouched by the generator, hearing him shake it and the gas slosh around inside the tank.
“F-fuck,” You hiss, scrambling to reach your duffle under the bed. You pull out a stack of hand warmers, “Here.” You toss a few to David as he walks over. “These will help. Throw them in the foot of your bed.”
David catches the packs, then turns them over in his hands. He looks at you as you mutter curses under your breath, shaking the warmers to activate them, bundled in your blanket on a nylon strip of bedding. Then he looks at his bed. More room, more blankets, has to be more comfortable despite your reassurance earlier…
“Get in my bed.”
“…what?”
The moon is shining through the window now as the clouds move, illuminating the look of disbelief you give him.
“Neither of us want to be miserable or get sick. Grab your blanket and we can keep each other warm.”
You stutter, your brain not quite catching up to what he’s saying before you shake your head slowly. “That’s… inappropriate. What if we get caught?”
His eyes widen a bit, laughing before he can stop himself. “Sweetheart, you’re acting like your boyfriend is sneaking over while your parents are just downstairs.” Embarrassment makes your skin tingle and warm. “I doubt anyone would say a word about trying to get through the night the best way that we can.” He’s absolutely right, and you know he is, but it doesn’t stop the hesitant look on your features. Walking over, David extends his hand, palm up. “I’ll get up extra early, so that way no one sees me sneaking out. Okay, Dolcezza?”
That comment earns a small chuckle, and shyly you smile with a nod, giving him your hand. He pulls you to your feet and helps spread your blanket on top of his, abandoning the hand warmers altogether. Both of you crawl under the covers, the air mattress dips and gives with your combined weight.
Swallowing against the lump in your throat, you scoot as close to the edge as you dare, despite the abundance of room. David watches you with amusement as you shuffle and fidget before he can’t take it anymore. His arm circles your waist, and with ease, he drags you into the center of the bed, making you squeal with shock. The mattress gives under your combined weight, forcing the two of you closer.
“Easy, sweetheart.” He whispers, tucking your head under his chin as he gives your hip a squeeze. You stare at the frost-tinted window like a deer in headlights, unable to focus on anything except for every inch of his body that touches yours. From the top of your head to the bottom of your feet resting against his shins, it makes a sharp ache form in the center of your chest that spreads. First to your lungs making it impossible to breathe, then next to your limbs, your body stiffening on reflex; and then when his hand slips from your hip to delve under your sweater you fear you’ll completely shatter.
His palm flattens over your stomach, the thin t-shirt you’re wearing hardly a barrier against his warmth, and instinctively you suck in your gut. The cruel words of your ex-husband circle around your mind like a vice,squeezing out every insecurity. You try to curl into yourself, but there is nowhere to go as his fingers twist into your shirt, pulling it up so he can trace lazy patterns on your soft skin.
“Don’t.” David brings his lips to your ear, warm breath ghosting over your chilled skin. “Don’t hide from me, every inch of you…” He flattens his palm over your lower abdomen, over the skin that has stretched, morphed, and will never be the same again. “Is beautiful. Every scar, every imperfection, every dip and hollow. All of it, all of you.”
The beginnings of a shaky sob leave your lips, one hand curling around his arm as the other grips the blanket, pulling it closer to your chest. “D-David… I…” You don’t know what to say, knowing he can feel every ridge and indent of your stretch marks, the same stretch marks that your husband had sneered at and ridiculed with relentless disdain. The calluses on his fingertips are a shock to your sensitive nerves, as you don’t remember the last time another person had touched you like this. So intimately, so cherishingly.
“You deserve to know this. To know how alluring you are, just how desirable you are.” His words sail down your spine where they gather, and settle heavily, igniting something primal and warm between your thighs. Your lashes flutter, head pressing back against his shoulders as his finger dare to dip just under the scrunched elastic of your sweatpants, pulling the slightest moan from your lips. “Can I show you, Tesoro… Hmm?”
The next shiver that rolls down your spine is no longer from the cold, it’s driven entirely from the sudden desire that is making you squeeze your legs together. It feels so foreign, after years of sexual solitude, it’s almost too much, too overwhelming. But your emotions and thoughts are wild in your brain and you can’t help the pain slicing through your chest. After so long…
“David… You don’t have to do this… I don’t want you to feel like you have to pity me, or-or make me feel better just because of what happened with Brian…” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to ignore the desperate plea of your body begging for more, begging for a crumb of affection you have been denied for so long.
David is silent for a moment before suddenly pulling away. Your heart plummets into your stomach one moment and then shoots into your throat the next when David is suddenly rolling you onto your back. Everything is so fast, and before you know it, he is seated between your legs, hands planted on the mattress by your head, caging you in. The moonlight is just enough for you to see the seriousness in his eyes, the hard set of his jaw, and furrow of his brow.
“Don’t confuse my desire for you with pity. I have wanted you from the moment you first walked into my office; how many years ago? And I knew I was in deep when you flounced in with another man, and all I felt in my chest was jealousy and envy because I wanted that to be me.” His admission makes your heart clench, your eyes widening in surprise. “Maybe I am a selfish man for acting on these impulses, especially after you have been so vulnerable with me, but I can’t sit here and let you stew in these insecurities one man has instilled inside you. Not when I know I can show you how truly ravishing, wanted, and loved you are.”
He emphasizes his words with a slow roll of his hips, and you choke on your next breath, feeling the evidence of his want for you through his sweats. Tentatively, you reach up, gripping his shoulders, focus torn between the way his eyes darken and the slow smile curving his lips as he closes the distance between you. “I… I want…” You’re lost for words, your heart beating so hard against your ribs that you are certain David can hear the chaotic rhythm.
Giving you plenty of time to pull away, David leans in, brushing his lips across yours in a ghost of a kiss; and when you don’t move, he seals his lips over yours. A deep, shuddering breath rushes from you, and you sink into his easy rhythm. His kiss is passionate, sensual, and lulling you into complete oblivion.
Shifting, you run your fingers into the trim, greying hair at the base of his skull, pulling him closer with a simpering whimper. His response is a deep groan that vibrates through his body into yours, losing himself as he rocks his hips against yours. Just under the tingling mint of your toothpaste, he can taste something sweeter, something truly you, and he aims to discover it as he sweeps his tongue into the wet cavern of your mouth.
With a moan, your legs hick higher, thighs squeezing his hips as David’s hand cups your cheek. His thumb sweeps a few stray hairs from your cheek before hooking under your chin and pressing your head back. The kiss breaks with ragged gasps as he finds your jaw. The goatee he sports bristles at your skin, scratching softly before he soothes the sting with warm, opened-mouth kisses. Your grip tightens, little gasps and moans heaving into the air, and David nips at your jaw.
“Louder… Let me hear you, bella.” It isn’t a request; his hips bucking against yours, sliding his erection across your heated mound just the right way, forcing a desperate keen from your lips. You guide his head to the spot just below your ear, and he chuckles before sucking and nipping heavily. “Ah… Da-David… yes…” In the back of your mind, you know he’s leaving marks, that by the end of the night, your skin will be marred with the evidence of what you two have done, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.
“There she is.” He purrs, a shiver skirting up his spine when he feels your hands pressing down his back, gripping him tighter, holding him closer; like you can’t get enough, like you’re begging for more, and he is more than happy to give. “I’m going to take care of you. Will you let me, Mia Mor?”
The want to be cherished, the need to be loved like you once had been overwhelms you; tears pricking your eyes and you nod. “Please… Please, David.” Leaning up, David catches your gaze, features softening before brushing a kiss across your forehead; a stark contrast to the fire burning between your bodies.
“I’ve got you.” Shifting his weight, he skims his hand down your side before dipping below your waistband, a hiss escaping through his teeth when his fingers skim over your bare, drenched pussy. “Fuck… you’ve been so needy, just want to be shown some love, hmm?”
You can hardly nod, breath caught in your chest, too focused on the way he teasingly dips between your lips, dragging your wetness up to circle your clit. Hips bucking, a desperate, whiny noise falls from your lips, eyes fluttering closed as he starts drawing different patterns. He takes his time, finding what draws out the most noise as possible; which speed has you simpering and begging, fine-tuning to the musical sounds of your pleasure.
His voice drops to a raw growl as he dips his fingers into your entrance. “Going to get you nice and ready for me, gatina… Thaaaat’s it.” Your cunt is already fluttering with the promise of fulfillment from his shallow thrust, taking his time to stretch you open on his thick digits, palm pressing against your swollen clit.
“N-Need… fuck, I need more., please.”
David smiles to himself with a wolfish grin, thrusting his fingers fully into your wet heat, setting a deep, languid pace. Warmth flashes through your body, jaw hanging open, clawing at his shirt as your sensitive walls squeeze around his fingers. Your orgasm is building fast between your hips, the pressure deliriously intense, a feeling you don’t want to end as you lift your hips to meet his thrusts.
He works you up, up, up, paying special attention to the spot on your neck with tongue and teeth when he feels your pussy begin to flutter and hears your cries growing louder. He curls his fingers, almost instantly finding that gummy spot on the inside of your walls, and it takes nothing more than that. You cum with a squeal, nails digging into his t-shirt, face pressed against his hair as your arousal drips down his fingers with each wave of ecstasy.
“David, David, David~” You chant his name like a prayer, a plea, a word of salvation.
He kisses you then, consuming your cries of pleasure as he works you through your orgasm until the rhythmic flutter of your walls dies down to the occasional twitch of your hips.
“Look at me,” and when you finally manage to open your eyes, you watch David suck his fingers into his mouth, tasting you on his skin. He lets out a low groan, the flavor of your arousal thick and heady on his tongue and yet sweeter than his favorite wine.
“Fuck…” He growls. “I’m going to need more of you. I’m going to lay you out on my dining room table and feast between your legs. Amore miso bellissimo.” His words leave you gasping for breath, the promise of more after this night sending a pang of anticipation through your body that has your cunt feeling devastatingly empty. “Let’s take these off, yeah?”
Tongue too heavy to speak, all you can offer is a nod before you release his shirt so he can sit back on his haunches. He curls his fingers into your waistband, and when you lift your hips, he pulls them down completely. You’re focused on his face as his eyes roam over the newly exposed flesh. David grips your knees, thumbs rubbing soothing circles as he meets your gaze and whispers with intense honesty, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
He wishes, now more than ever, that he wasn’t seeing your body for the first time under the moon’s hazy glow in a run-down house on top of an air mattress. No, in his mind, you need to be laid out on top of the silk sheets of his king-sized bed, bathed in the orange glow of candles as he worships you the way you deserve.
Slowly, keeping his gaze locked on your face for any sign of hesitation, David hooks his thumbs into his waistband. He pushes his pants and boxer down just enough to free his cock, and a whimper leaves your throat at the sight of it, leaking and flush, bobbing between his thighs.
Your cunt pulses, saliva filling your mouth. “I… I want you…” You plead, voice husky, legs falling apart in invitation.
Groaning, David closes his eyes for a moment before gripping your thighs, fingers indenting the flesh as he drags you closer, forcing your hips up. “You can have me, every inch of me, Bambina.”
David holds his breath as he grips his cock, pumping it once, twice, before sliding the weeping tip through your soaked lips. His skin is incredibly hot against yours, especially when he glides the tip up, bumping against your clit before sliding back down to catch against your entrance.
Your breath grows short and ragged, a vine of anxiety and excitement twisting through your lungs. Pausing, David searches your face, a soft look dampening the burning lust in his eyes when he sees the pinch in your brows. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, leaning over you, elbows bracketing your shoulders, a hand cupping your cheek, grounding you as he finally pushes in. Your jaw goes slack, eyes rolling up, and David groans, his thick cock stretching your warm, wet walls; the exquisite heat of your body engulfing him.
“Ahh…ahh…” There’s a burning pain warring with the pleasure of being stuffed so full the further he sinks into you. Tears prick your eyes, your hazy, lust-laden gaze mirroring David’s as he snaps his hips forward, hilting himself fully inside you. “Oh fuck-!” You gasp, head lifting off of the pillows, mouth hanging open in surprise.
David grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses his forehead against yours. Sweat is already building on his skin, his hand fisting the covers as he tries to keep the strings of his self-control from unraveling. “CosÍ stretto, cosÍ bagnato…” he sucks in a breath, “so tight, so fucking wet, baby…”
A smile creeps up your lips, eyes fluttering as his thumb passes over your blushing cheek. “Looks… Looks like I need to brush up on my Italian.” Your joke resolves into a whimper when his cock twitches in your depths.
A breathy laugh falls from David’s lips as he shakes his head slowly, leaning back slightly to watch your face as he whispers, “I’ll teach you, Gatina.” He pulls out, your whimper tuning into a moan, feeling every ridge and bump of his cock, “I have a lot I need to teach you.” Then he presses back in.
You hide your face against his neck, running your hands up his arms as David sets a slow, steady pace, hip rising to meet him thrust for thrust. His cock presses into that spot deep inside your sensitive walls, making your thighs twitch, locking your legs around his hips.
“Oh… oh fuck, David…” You sink your fingers into his hair, desperate to pull him closer, and he complies by slipping an arm under your shoulders, drawing your chest to his and forcing himself that much deeper with each roll of his hips.
“I’m right here, just feel, let go, and just feel me.” You wish there were fewer layers between you as your hand slides down the back of his shirt, palm gliding over his shoulders where sweat has started to gather. A delirious heat is pulsing through your veins, growing into an inferno in your lower belly with each pass of his cock. You begin to squirm, loud moans falling from your lips as you rake your nails up his spine, causing David to shiver.
“More… ah- please more.” The desperate plea in your voice as you buck your hips has David tsking against your ear.
He leans back, cock throbbing at the sight of your pinched brow and glossy eyes, tears forming in your waterline. Slowly he rubs his thumb over the edge of your kiss-swollen lip as he whispers. “I’m going to take my time with you, enjoy every moment of your sweet pussy squeezing my cock until you come undone completely.”
His words have you dissolving into whimpers, barely able to keep your eyes open as he starts back at his languid, deep pace. “Look at you. All of you. So beautiful.” He slips his hand down your side, following the dip of your waist, over the curve of your hip before wrapping around the bend of your knee. He lifts your leg, spreading you open, allowing himself to enter you at an entirely new angle.
“S-so good… f-fuck feels so good.” You pant, eyes rolling up. You’re being eaten alive by the fire growing in your body, sweat coating your skin below your shirt, slick between your bodies where you meet with each thrust. You start to squirm at the feeling of it all, eyes pinched shut, thighs stiffening, and back beginning to leave the bed as that familiar, electric pressure begins to build, and build, and build.
David can feel your walls start to flutter. A satisfied smile, almost smug, curls his lips, and he squeezes your eyes to catch your attention. “Gonna cum, baby?” He cooes, the deep baritone reverberating through your body, making that pressure nearly crescendo as you nod. “Let go, let me feel you wet my cock.” His hand falls from your thigh to slowly stroke your clit.
A sharp gasp fills your mouth. Your hips burn from the angle, the pressure nearing a breaking point as you cry for him. His grip tightens around your shoulders, and with a groan, he kisses you deeply, swallowing your cries as you snap. Your orgasm that had been creeping up slowly suddenly consumes you like a strike of lightning. You break the kiss with a silent scream, tears squeezing out of your eyes and falling down your temples as the intensity of your pleasure peaks, and you crash.
“Fuck, fuck, baby, yes… that’s it, that’s it, Tesoro.” He husks, his thrusts becoming harder, faster; steadily growing more powerful.
“Dav…Dav…” You babble through tears, overstimulation setting in as he drills into you. “S’too much…”
He hushes you softly, slipping his arm free to brace himself over you, cupping your face. “I know-shit- I know. But I’m close, amore mio.”
There’s a flash of panic in your eyes, and you shake your head slightly. “M’not on the pill.”
David laughs huskily, sweat beading and dripping down his nose as he grinds his hips against yours. “Sweetheart, you don’t go through this many marriages without a prenup and a vasectomy.” Before you can truly comprehend what he is saying, he pulls out nearly all the way before slamming back into you, spearing you open again and again, making you squeal.
Lower back leaving the bed, thighs locked around his hips and nails indenting his back, all you can do is hold on as David chases his high. His grip on the sheets tightens, moans and grunts leaving his lips as his eyebrows draw together and a muscle ticks in his jaw. One, two, three more harsh thrusts and David stills, a low groan filling the space between you as his cock pulses and paints your walls with warm cum. You swallow against your dry throat, threading your fingers through his hair as he settles against you, head resting on your chest as you both cling to each other, catching your breath.
After several minutes, David eases out of you with a soft hiss, rolling onto his side of the bed, making you bounce slightly with a breathless laugh. Your entire body feels soar and used in the most delicious of ways, mind ditsy and quiet as your body decompresses and exhaustion crowds in. David draws you into him, peppering your neck with kisses as he tucks you back into his chest like before, whispering little phrases in Italian in your ear as you drift off.
*~*~*~*~*~*
There’s a warmth of a palm, sliding up and down the planes of your back, pulling you from your sleep gently before it grips your shoulder, shaking slightly. “Y/n, we need to move.” The words instantly cut through your sleep, your body jolting into action as you sit up, blinking into the early morning light. David is beside the bed, and you scramble to find your clothes.
“What-what happened?”
“Timothy Adam had a woman dropped off at his house. Morgan and Reid moved in.” You stand, dragging your pants up before catching the vest David throws at you, shoving your feet into your shoes. “I can’t get either on coms.”
Both of you are rushing from the house, guns held at your sides, crossing the quiet street on quick feet. Your heart pounds as you fall in line behind David, covering him as your eyes sweep the yard. The little brick house might have once been charming, but now it lies dilapidated in the middle of an overgrown yard with a multitude of broken-down cars surrounding it. The fog that clings to the brown, dying grass and hollowed-out shells gives you a sense of foreboding, like it’s foreshadowing whatever horrors wait inside.
The front door is wide open, splintered and dented in on the side, a sign of being kicked in. David holds his fist up, halting you as he draws near the door, leaning in with his gun drawn.
“Clear!” Morgan’s voice rings out, and your shoulders sag. David looks over his shoulder with the same visible ease before holstering his weapon and entering the house. Sirens alert you of the arrival of the rest of your crew and the local P.D., as you follow David into the house.
The next few hours are spent inside what felt like the grim reimagining of a Stephen King novel. The small two-bedroom house had been gutted and transformed into a slaughterhouse. The rotting floors and curling wallpapers are smeared in grime and aged blood. Barely working freezers scattered the main room, containing the missing pieces of each woman that had gone missing. A smell so retched and diabolical clung to every inch, making eyes water and stomach churn. And there in the middle of it all, on his knees, was the man who had orchestrated it all, not a single shred of remorse in his beady eyes as he smiles up at Morgan, who points a gun at the man’s head.
Finally, the monster responsible for the five women’s slaughter had been brought down, but was there ever truly any justice in a case like this?
Now was the time for a cool-down, letting adrenaline subside as everything was broken down. Soon, the entire team would be boarding the jet, only to wait in morbid anticipation for the next case to drop.
Back in the house you and David had spent the night, you’re breaking down your cot, struggling with a sticky leg when the door behind you creaks open. You turn and smile at Derek as he leans against the door jam. “Hey, mind giving me a hand, since you’re here?”
“I will once you answer some questions.” The accusatory tone of his voice makes you stiffen, straightening up as your spine tenses and muscles coil tight.
“Questions?”
Derek moves into the room, his boots heavy on the floor. “Tell me why, when I know for a fact that you were here all night, you showed up this morning with your neck covered in hickies?” He stops only a few feet away, pointing a finger in your face with a look of anger that sends a chill down your spine. Eyes widening, your hand shoots to your neck, having completely forgotten about them after the abrupt waking from this morning.
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath and swallowing against the raw anxiety building in your chest. “I-I… Derek, I can promise you that it isn’t what it looks like.”
“Oh?” He laughs sardonically, and you flinch inwardly as he shakes his head. “ ‘Isn’t what it looks like’? That’s rich, because from where I am standing, it looks like you cheated on Brian with David last night.”
You scrub your face, turning away as pain flares to life in your chest. You whisper, “I didn’t cheat…”
“Don’t give me that shi-“
“I DIDN’T CHEAT!” You snap, whirling around to face him with an open look of agony on your face, causing Derek to freeze. “I didn’t cheat… Brian and I got a divorce a month ago…” You suck in a shaky breath, eyes misting over, and Morgan deflates before you, confusion etching into his features, but you cut him off. “I didn’t… I didn’t tell anyone because I wasn’t ready, but last night I just broke and spilled, and David was there to catch all of those pieces and-and…” A blush scotches up your cheeks as you fall off, tears threatening to spill as you looked up at him.
The silence that stretches is heavy before Morgan sighs. “Y/n… I’m- I’m sorry.” Regret colors his tone and your tense shoulders sag.
“You don’t have to be… You didn’t know and I understand where you were coming from. Brian and I have been in the dumps for a few years now… and..” You heave a sigh and fan your face trying to cool your warming cheeks. “It’s a lot to talk about right now, but I can tell you everything in time just please… please don’t say anything to anyone else…”
“I won’t I promise… but I’m sorry for how I came in here hot headed, and I’m sorry you are going through this and didn’t feel you could come to any of us.”
Those tears you had tried to blink away spilled over your cheeks and you let Derek bridge the distance and hug you tightly. A long moment you let him squeeze you a little too tightly before you draw back, trying to laugh off your tears. “I didn’t want to keep it from any of you but I needed time to get myself back together… besides do you know how hard it has been keeping all of this off of Garcia’s screens?”
Morgan only smiles but it’s tight and small before bending down to help you with your cot.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The jet is blessedly warm, the seats a relief to sink into after such a long week.
Closing your eyes, you let your head roll back, a deep sigh passing through the cabin as everyone settles down for the flight home.
The seat beside yours shifts, and you crack your eyes open. David smiles, just the slightest tilt to his lips as he looks down at you from the corner of his eye.
He leans in, and your stomach flutters as a warmth spreads through your limbs. “Dinner. This week at my house. Okay?”
A blush lights up your cheeks, fighting against a smile rising on your lips. You shift in your seat, gently knocking your knee against his. Pitching your voice to a whisper, you nod your head. “I would like that… very much.”
under the cut: sweat, being chased in the woods, fear (so much fucking fear), soft ABO dynamics, soft sex-pollen vibes, heavy dubcon/noncon, forced orgasm, Joel knots, implied breeding, fingerfucking, did i say sweat? lots of sweat
A lot of the time, being stuck on an endless stretch of road is… well. Not your favorite idea, to say the least. Even with the day having been nice, and Joel being in a decent mood, it’s still hours spent in his truck. Sitting. Staring. Throwing bits of conversation at him while he occasionally interjects with a grunt or a laugh. It’s not that he seems to mind; he just seems distracted.
One side of the road is a big, grassy expanse, open field that’s occasionally graced by a few trees or patches of dirt, of swamp and thin, rotting logs. On the other side (your side, luckily), there’s a seemingly never-ending wood. The trees are fairly dense, all those green canopies joining together to shade the forest floor and its inhabitants from the late-day break in the clouds. The sun is already on its lazy descent down before any of it can really be seen. It’s been super overcast the last several days. Seeing snatches of sky is more than welcome at this point, not to mention feeling the weak warmth of the dying light.
Joel swipes a big hand over his forehead. He keeps peeking low to look up through the windshield, keeps craning around to glance at the sky.
“Look, if you’re seeing, like… a UFO or something, you gotta have to point that out to me. It would be super selfish to keep that to yourself.”
“A UFO?” Joel looks distractedly at you, half irritated, half completely lost. “The hell’re you talking about?”
“You keep looking around like we’re gunna get abducted by aliens or something.” You half-laugh, waiting barely a beat before shrugging a shoulder. “I mean it was a joke, but my feelings on the subject aren’t a joke. I’d be pissed if you, like… did see one and didn’t point it out, is all I’m saying.”
“You should try sayin’ less,” he mumbles dryly.
“Fat chance of that, pal.”
“Not your pal.”
“Well, that just makes you a liar, Joel.” You side-eye him a moment, watching him take a little breath and nervously flex his fingers on the wheel, his thick knuckles going white when he grips it once more. “Hey, are you… are you okay?”
“M’not thinkin’ so, no,” he admits, avoiding your persistent, searching gaze. A drop of sweat skims down over the side of his face until it disappears into his facial hair. “My mama used to call it ‘moon fever’. Every month, just about, for maybe - usually only a night, sometimes two.”
“Moon fever.” You roll the words around on your tongue, trying to figure it out. “So, you got, like - a disease, or something? Not a disease, a — I dunno. A condition? Something like that? Why’d she call it ‘moon fever’?”
“Moon’s always full,” he says gruffly.
“The moon’s not always -”
“Yeah, no shit, kid. It’s always full during the fever. Fuckin’ gotta listen to me.” Joel sighs and the muscle in his forearms flex as he squeezes the driving wheel again. He spares a quick glance your way, and to his credit, he almost looks guilty. Almost. “Sorry. Jus’ feelin’ irritable.”
“Okay, okay. I get it. Sorry.”
“No, y’don’t - don’t need to do all that. I’m the one that… yeah.” He trails off, and that nervous energy remains, filling the car like some invisible kind cloud, thick as cotton, muffling out anything that might make sense. For the first time, you feel a tiny pang of fear in your gut. Joel is being so unlike himself, and even if he’s sick, like… what exactly does that fucking mean? You need him to be solid, to be normal, and those aren’t things you can just ask him to do.
“Every full moon,” you parrot quietly. “So - so, kind of like a wer—”
“Do not,” he interrupts harshly. “Don’t fuckin’ say that.”
“Jesus, I was just -”
”Ain’t a fuckin’ joke. Listen, we’re gunna need to pull off soon. Ain’t staying in the truck. Not - not me, anyway, got it?” Joel turns and levels you with his gaze, and at this point the fear starts to build a little, a trickle of ice sliding up your spine.
“Joel, not to be, like… I know you don’t feel good, but you’re kind of freaking me out,” you say, and your forced laugh sounds more like a nervous scoff. “I’m sorry I said the thing about - um, I’m sorry I’ve been kind of annoying. Whatever you need, I wanna help…”
“I know you do, darlin’. I know you do,” he says, and the strain in his voice makes everything worse. He sounds awful. Sweat isn’t just beading on his forehead anymore - he’s got a sheen of it, and he rubs the back of his hands over his cheekbones, his forehead, running fingers through his hair to get the slicked strands out of his face. “And what you’re gunna have to do is - is you’re gunna have to keep the weapons in here. Givin’ you everything I have on me til daybreak, understand? Knife, gun - all of it stays in here. Locked. With you. M’sleepin’ in the woods tonight.”
“Um - what? Joel, no, that’s so fucking dangerous, and I can’t -”
“You will. I’m gunna be okay, honey, just fuckin’ listen to me. Lookit me. I mean it.”
Joel pulls the truck over by jerking the wheel, his breath heavy in his chest. The vehicle crunches on all that gravel, the dirt and rocks as he slams a foot on the break. The both of you rock with that motion and slam back against your seats, eyes silently meeting - yours, full of fear, confusion. His… what is that? Clouded? He looks like he’s being tortured alive. His sweat has started to slowly seep into the collar of his ratty t-shirt, turning it dark and damp. The cords of his throat are slick as well, cheeks pinked - he does look feverish. Feverish and upset in a way you don’t understand. Seeing Joel like this is throwing you off your axis, forcing you to reckon with a possibility that you’ve never considered before - Joel being out of control of something. He sighs, his chest shuddering with it.
“You promise me now,” he says, staring into your eyes. There’s something wrong with his, but before you can really figure it out. He reaches over to grasp your thigh and his grip is too tight, almost painfully so as he turns his whole body to face you. “You promise me that no matter what I say, you keep in this truck and don’t listen to a fuckin’ word I tell you. No matter - fuck, no matter what I say. No matter what I do. You gotta stay put.”
You stare at him, wanting to nod, wanting to be good for him, but it sounds crazy. You’re scared. Panic rises up inside your chest and you watch mutely as Joel pulls out his handgun, his knife, anything he might have on him. It’s then that it becomes a little too real - you realize this entire excruciating moment, you’ve been waiting for him to go back to normal. To stop being so scary. And now that he isn’t, it’s too much. Your heart thumps in your throat, skin vibrating with fear as he sets his things into your lap. His hands shake, too. Fuck. Oh, fuck.
“C’mon, promise me. Need to hear it. I’m gunna leave the truck, okay? Say it. Don’t got a lot of time before -”
“Before what?” You ask weakly. God, you feel sick to your stomach as his eyes go too soft, sad, pleading with you. “Joel. Before what?”
“Before I can’t control myself anymore,” he manages, reaching for the door handle. He pushes the driver’s side door open and turns a last time toward you. “You fuckin’ lock these doors. Wanna see you do it, okay?”
Just as he asks, you lean over to push the lock, making sure each lock is set, each window rolled up. You slip his knife in your boot almost without thinking, putting the gun in the glove compartment as you watch Joel walk into the trees.
You sit like that for a long, long time, listening to the nothing-silence of nightfall as the truck settles, as the birds stop chittering. It’s just the occasional breeze and the sounds of your own breathing and shifting in the passenger seat, staring off into the woods where Joel walked off long after he’s disappeared. It’s hard to avoid the feeling of being completely alone and spooked. Afraid. Anxious. You crank the seat back so it’s nearly flat and stare at some of the stars dotting the darkening sky, all velvety dark blue now. No hint of sun. How much time has really passed? How long have you been gazing fearfully out that window?
Sleep takes you a lot easier than you think it might. One moment you’re forcing your eyes shut, thinking of Joel alone in the woods, how awful he’d looked. Then… nothing.
It’s a sound. There’s a sound; in your half-conscious haze, you think of that urban legend you knew from childhood - how did it go? Something about a scratching at the car door, a hook hand. Something.
The car door.
You slam solidly back into your body in a violent jolt as consciousness drags you back up from the depths. It’s still absolutely black out, stars and trees and nothingness. A wild-eyed glance gives you nothing - nobody at the windows, nobody scratching at the car door. No Joel. Just you, the cold truck, and the glaring, full moon keeping its luminous eye on the area. It takes very little time to adjust to it, to allow that light to seep into everything and allow you to really see.
And your bladder’s full.
Well, what the fuck are you supposed to do about that…? Joel never covered this in his frantic fucking panic, did he?
Waiting feels impossible. No position seems to help with the sharp, uncomfortable pressure, and there isn’t anything in the truck that could work as a good receptacle. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You stare out the windows for a long moment, anxiety making everything worse. God, there must be hours left until morning. But if you just - if you slip out really quickly, relieve your bladder, and run back to the truck? I mean - he must be deep in there, doing whatever the fuck it is he needs to do. You imagine him somewhere among the ferns and trees and spiders, slumped over, wildlife sniffing at his sweat before leaving him there. It makes your heart ache… but not as badly as your bladder.
Fuck it.
You open the door as quietly as you possibly can, cringing when it creaks a little. It’s eerily quiet as you make your way just into the line of trees, as if anyone’s going to see you. Relief is sharp and instant - you have to hold your breath, holding in that desperate little moan of pleasure as the pain instantly disappears. The finer things in life, right?
Cleaned up and pants zipped, you take a moment to silently step out into the middle of the road. There are so many stars; it’s absolutely breathtaking. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but there’s a special sort of quiet when you stop and really, really look, not worrying about the next step or the next move. It brings you a moment of peace and tranquility. The moon watches you, lit so expressively up - you can make out the hollow eyes, the wide, gaping mouth. The man on the moon, stuck in his eternal howl.
You admire this for a long moment, stuck in the tranquil beauty of it. Soft breeze. Trees waving so gently in it, speaking their own secret language through the fluttering leaves and swaying branches. There’s an intoxicating feeling of knowing the universe, being one tiny thing surrounded by an endless expanse of other tiny things, thrumming on one of a billion vibrational wavelengths to create the larger fabric.
There’s a tiny rustle off to the side and, expecting to see a deer, or maybe some raccoons, you’re absolutely floored to see a man.
Not a man - Joel. He’s nude, his flushed, strong body glistening with sweat. He’s covered in it, shining like some horrible beacon in the middle of the grass, and even from this distance you can see his chest heaving. The shock that paralyzes you to the spot is followed by abject fear, eyes wide and mouth open. Of all the things you’ve seen, of all the horrible situations you’ve encountered together, this is the most fear you have ever felt in your life. It rushes up into your head like static, making a home there like so much white noise as your blood roars in your ears.
He takes a few steps forward and you tremble there, hearing his ragged breath as he gets closer. His - oh, god. His cock is hard, pulsing, heavy as it bounces with each forward step he takes. He takes a ragged breath and almost looks like he’s glaring at you, face contorted in some awful mix of agony and anger, something… something else too horrible to name.
“Tol’ ya,” he slurs, voice slow. He licks his lips, moaning, his cock twitching. “Tol’ ya t’stay in the fuckin’ truck, didn’t I?”
That’s enough. He comes within a couple yards and the fear overtakes you in a way that makes your limbs tremble with adrenaline, your breaths coming in hitched, desperate gasps as you pound pavement. Pavement gives way to dirt and brambles and rocks, running blindly into the woods.
Should have locked yourself back in the truck.
Reason leaves you in a hot rush, replaced only with the hot, throbbing fear of a prey creature, and to your growing horror you hear his footsteps behind you somewhere. Running after you. You don’t dare glance back, ignoring the urge to - you can’t afford to fall. You just have to keep going.
It hurts - there’s a stitch forming in your ribs, a sharp ache as your muscles scream at you to slow down, to stop, to take a proper breath. No time. There’s nothing in the banner of your mind except RUN RUN RUN KEEP FUCKING RUNNING, ESCAPE, HIDE HIDE HIDE.
Eventually, the manic rush of adrenaline wears down enough that your body can’t keep running. You tuck behind the thick length of a tree in all that dark, slumping down to sit as you cover your mouth with both hands. It’s hard to breathe softly - it’s fucking near impossible, so you do what you can, in through your nose, out through your mouth. Isn’t that the thing? Fuck, who cares. As long as you can draw the breath slowly, as quietly as you can. The birds are quiet. Sleeping. There’s only the natural sounds of the woods, the random shivers of wind and breaking branches, a rustle here and there. It’s so fucking quiet. You can’t hear Joel anymore - the paranoid thought that he’s near enters your mind with every random snap or break or crunch in the woods, but he’s so big, so powerful and… so rabid right now. So unlike himself. You’d know, right…? Your heart beats in your chest, the rhythm so quick, so uneven. You can hear it in this weird silence, along with the gasping little breaths you take. Trying to be so slow and quiet is hard when your chest aches like this, when every single fiber of your being is begging you to keep running, to rush, to protect yourself. You close your eyes and drop your head slowly back against the trunk of this tree, trying to trick your body into calming down.
Time is weird. It feels like minutes crawl by in the relative silence, and your body gets used to each little sound of the forest. You find yourself relaxing as much as you can given your situation - heart rate going down, finding it easier to breathe. That awful stitch in your ribs finally eases up, your eyes get used to the stark darkness. It almost feels like whatever happened was a fever dream of your own. Joel would never - he… he wouldn’t.
You think back quietly, the eyes in the back of your brain roving over the image of him in the field, walking toward you, shining with sweat. Utterly naked and hard. The sight of him throbbing like that, being so shocked you could see the twitch of his cock, even from that distance, just by the light of the moon. His expression - and in your mind’s eye, it doesn’t look as feral. It looks helpless, it looks… hungry, yes, but… desperate.
“You - mmmh, I -”
The sudden voice makes you scream into all that cloying darkness, heart stopping in your immediate, panicky fear, and that scream closes up into an awful sound from your choked throat. All those muscles tighten up and it’s almost like a terrible little whistle as he grabs you, shoving you back down into the dirt, the leaves and grass and ferns.
“Told you. Told you, darlin’, fuckin’…. oh, fuck, I told you, I told you to s-stay… stay ‘way from me,” he moans, and it’s almost like he’s begging as you make his face out in the dim, still so sweaty, his eyes practically glowing. He looks just the same as before, like he’s a slave to…. to the - what did he call it, again? The moon fever. Fuck. He groans and grinds his hips between your thighs, terrifyingly hard as he fits himself there by force, holding your wrists down in his bruising grip, gasping his breaths. A drop of his sweat slides down his forehead and patters over your face, on your cheek. “Shouldn’t’ve - why… why’d you run?”
He moans as he leans down and buries his nose into the nape of your neck, skimming it up your throat. It’s followed by his tongue - he smells you, tastes you, the sound he makes so tortured and erotic it makes you shudder underneath him.
“Joel - Joel,” you whimper. “You’re not - it’s just me, it’s me, it’s - why are you -”
“Mmm, I know, honey, I - oh, I know, I know, I’m ssooo s—so fuckin’ sorry,” he says. He bites into your shoulder and there it is, his hard cock rutting between your thighs. You scramble to back away, to escape it, but he puts his big, strong hands on your hips and yanks you violently back underneath him, working at forcing your bottoms off. “M’sorry. Sorry, baby, I - ohhh, I’m… ohh yeah, I’m… sorry…-”
Kicking does nothing. He’s so fucking strong, and before you know it, he’s moaning against your collarbone, shoving his rough, thick fingers into your cunt. He works them in, his tongue on your skin, rubbing and searching until he discovers the pillowy little spot that makes you clench. You’re near tears at this point, useless in your struggle, shaking underneath him while he sucks little marks into your skin.
“All fuckin’ wet for me,” he groans. “C’n smell ya - that’s how I found you, honey. Could smell ya anywhere, your wet little pussy. So pretty, so fuckin’… wet… tight… mine.” Each word punctuated by the brutal thrust of his fingers, stretching you just a little bit, just enough that it feels too rough, too painful.
His lips pull away from your skin with a wet pop, the scrape of his teeth making you whine. He grabs your hips and ducks down, his shoulders undulating like a creature’s as he settles his scratchy face between your thighs. He buries his mouth against your cunt, licking, moaning. He devours you there even though you’re whining for him to stop, to let you go.
Those words melt off - all your “Joel please fucking don’t Joel please Joel you can’t you can’t”s turn slowly into a mantra of his name, over and other til you’re breathy and moaning with him. When did that happen? When did you stop struggling and start threading your fingers into his graying hair, gripping it, hips twitching under his hands as he rubs the pads of his thumbs into your willing flesh?
Sooner than you might think, you’re starting to scream - it feels like he’s making you come apart cell by cell, atom by atom, that horrible heat winding down your guts and into your pelvis until it grows too big to hold inside of yourself. His desperate, mindless lapping, his hands making bruises into the meat of your thighs. It’s too much - you have tears in your eyes and then it’s like you’re (howling) shrieking into that black, dark night, pulsing down hard on his beckoning fingers.
“Hurts,” you sob. “Hurts, hurts…”
“I know. I know, honey, I fuckin’ know. Just gotta - mmmm, gotta be brave, j’st - lemme -”
Wait - be… brave? What - what does that fucking mean? Panic blooms into your chest as your climax starts to fizzle out, all that heavy breathing turning into the same panicked, high-pitched, whining kind of gasping you’ve been doing since you saw him in that fucking field. Joel pulls you toward him, grunting, naked from the waist down with your shirt rucking up as he drags you. God, he’s drooling, making the most terrible, longing sounds from deep in his chest as he grabs you and forces you around to your belly, hauling your hips up into the air for him.
“Joel - no, no,” you say, and to your horror, you just can’t be loud enough. Everything else is louder - the scrape of the forest floor under your hands as he forces you into the position he wants, his labored breaths, growling, like the effort of it is breaking him apart, too. Maybe it is. It makes everything worse, one of his big hands creeping up the front of your shirt to paw at your tits, rutting his cock between your thighs. God, it’s so hot against your slippery folds, his calloused fingers too rough on your nipples.
He seems to envelop you as he reaches back to notch the fat, leaking tip of his cock against your hole. He rocks his hips in this barely controlled rhythm, working himself deeper and deeper and god, he’s big. Thick, stretching you open in his manic sort of thrusting, and your stomach lurches as you realize that he’s trying to be gentle. He’s barely hanging on to himself. He moans and gasps as he fucks your pussy open, and once he’s fully seated, the pain really comes. He rears back and slams it home, again, again, heavy balls against your clit with each pass.
“Fuck - oh, fuck, darlin’, so… goddamn tight…” Joel nuzzles his nose down against your shoulder blade and inhales your scent, the sound he makes so nakedly erotic it makes you clench around him again. He grunts and pauses for a moment before resuming his pace, pounding into you, the hand up your shirt reaching further to hold you by the throat. “Y’mine, you know that? Only mine. M’gunna make sure you - fuck. Oh, fuck. Gunna give you all of me.”
Joel reaches his other hand between your thighs, and there he is, holding you against him like a hostage. Hand on your throat, his fingers pressed right up against your pulse there, and wouldn’t you fucking know it - his other hand snakes right over your mound, fingers delving between those plump, spread cuntlips to circle your clit. He’s frenzied, but not clumsy - he knows what you like. It’s jarring at first; too much too quickly, his cockhead nudging up against your cervix with each roll of his hips.
“Needja to cum, honey,” he manages to whisper, and it’s a wonder he can do that at all with all the sounds he makes. “Seen ya do it like this. Mmm? I - ah, f-fuck - I know you’re already gettin’ close. Don’t lie to me, now.”
You make a tortured sound, the pit of your stomach swirling with a special, sick kind of fear. His fingers trace fire into your flesh, willing or not; he’s absolutely fucking right. You’re going to cum on his cock, no matter how much it hurts, how afraid and helpless you are.
“The - the fuck does that mean, Joel?” you ask desperately. You sound just as angry as you feel. Betrayed. It comes out cracking and pathetic all the same, drawn high and useless as he splits you in half. God, holding your breath doesn’t even help. You’re going to cum - it’s only a matter of time.
“Don’t fuckin’ be like that, “ he growls, his breaths coming ragged. “M’not as stupid as ya think, not - not… ohh, not even close. All those times y’thought I was sleepin’, hmm? Yeah? Whimperin’. Hand down between these thighs… whispering my name, like I’m goddamn deaf. Heard you loud ‘n clear, honey. Y’let me take care of you.”
As if to drive his point home, Joel changes both the angle at which he fucks into you and the rhythm of his fingers, forcing an unexpected gasp from your throat that exhales into a loud, keening wail, so exquisitely erotic that he holds himself flush to your body for a moment, cock throbbing, and it’s those aching little throbs that shove you over the edge along with everything else. True to his word, Joel knows what you need, and he forces you to cum. The pleasure crashes down like a tidal wave, molten and overwhelming enough to white you out behind the eyelids for a moment. It’s incredible. Your body ripples and contracts and squeezes against him, all that hot pink velvet flesh wrapped around his thick cock, and he kisses along your back where he’s shoved your shirt nearly off your body. His lips trace patterns of fire over your exposed skin, wet, open-mouthed kisses between your shoulders.
“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl.” His voice is more of a rumble against you as opposed to a voice; so low, deep, rabid. Curses fall from those lips like a font, and there it is - he’s so engorged it hurts, and it must be the combination of your overlapping climaxes. It’s almost painful, and then it keeps going. The stretch, the feeling of him expanding impossibly inside of you as he pumps jet after jet of his seed inside, hips twitching, holding you close as he humps forward.
“Joel - fuck, it - it fucking hurts, please…”
“I know. I know, I know, I know, just… hold on, babydoll, let me…” he trails off, dragging his tongue up your spine as he moans. “Don’t move. Don’t you move. Be so still f’me.”
The pressure in your cunt reaches a point that is actually painful, too filled, and a new sort of fear fills you as you struggle with it. Joel keeps… expanding, his cock getting thicker, thicker, stretching you so that it burns.
“Joel, I can’t,” you gasp, trying to pull away. He keeps his hands firm on your hips, groaning and yanking you back so you remain flush against his body, his hips rocking so softly. ”Why does it - fuck, it fucking hurts, it hurts!”
“Few minutes,” he grinds out, holding his breath just as much as you are. “Just a few minutes. Stay still. I mean it. Gunna hurt us both if you keep fuckin’ squirmin’ like that. It’s gotta take.”
“It’s gotta —” Your mind races in that moment, with the pain of his enormous cock, the way it just seems to get bigger and the way you want to pull away from it even though it hurts so fucking badly to try. “Take? Joel, what - what does that mean?”
Joel shushes you, his scratchy facial hair, his lips on your hot, sweaty skin, and he licks you, he tastes the salt of your body and moans, one hand fixed firmly on your hip. There’s going to be bruises there, later, proof of his strength, his utter control of you in this moment. You shake underneath him and make the worst little noises, somewhere between a sob and a whimper. Like a kicked dog. You just want it to stop.
“Y’know what it means, darlin’. Almost done. Fuck… y’so tight, baby. How you been keepin’ this from me all along, huh?” Joel hums and you can feel it against your body, the low rumble of it like a living force as it finds a home in your ribcage, all the way down from where your back meets his chest to where his cock is still buried immovably tight in your cunt. All his cum caught inside, sealed… taking. He seems so calm now, so drained. Like he got all the poison out. “Mmmh - there we go. There we fuckin’ go.”
His cock seems to finally soften, finally releasing all that pent-up pressure, the pain, the aching stretch. Both of you make these little sounds of relief as you can ease the physical tension and he’s finally able to slip out of your body. Your first instinct is to keel over and roll to your back, sticks and stones and dirt be damned. You pant there, legs spread, and Joel looks… like Joel. He’s still sweaty and still very, very naked, but he doesn’t look scary anymore. He looks like him, his brow pinched in his way as he looks down at you. There’s a secret sort of sorrow in his expression, and despite it all, your only impulse is to reach up and take his scruffy face in your hands. You manage to coax him down and kiss him on the lips - surprisingly soft, yielding. He moans a little, but it’s less sensual and more longing. Like he’s wanted this part all along. Wanted your gentle warmth, your comfort. Your brush your thumbs over his cheekbones as you kiss him like that, chaste, no tongue. Just tenderness. You rub the pad of one thumb over those worry lines between his brows, down over the bridge of his nose as you kiss.
Joel reaches down to gently push his fingers inside of you. You’re sopping, dripping with his cum, your poor little cunt all sore and wet and aching from all of that.
“M’sorry, babygirl,” he murmurs against your lips. “Didn’t wanna hurt ya. Swear.”
There’s a little stretch of silence as you kiss and he slowly, lovingly fucks his cum deeper into your body with his fingers. He’s so gentle - there’s no real goal, no end point. Just Joel, just his rough, thick fingers being as kind as they can be inside your sensitive body. Just the two of you. The sweat starts making you cold and Joel pulls away, helping you brush off and work your clothes back into place as you awkwardly make your way back to the truck to sleep. He’s got a blanket in there, and on the way to the vehicle, you catch him glaring at the moon. He looks beautiful, even in all his exhausted anger. The lines in his face. The drawn, tired eyes. His chest, his body. Everything about him is beautiful - does he even know that? You don’t have the heart to tell him. Not now.
For now, all that exists is his big, warm body, the nook you settle in where he wraps his strong arm around you so you can lie on his chest in the bed of the truck, covered in a couple blankets, listening to the insects start up again. The big, fat moon now has a sliver of dark on its edge.
Look at the mess you’re in now, sweetheart, cryin’ on a cock that’s too fuckin’ big for you. What am I gonna do with ya?”
WARNINGS - Mean!joel, dom!joel, cock hungry!reader, impish!reader, one shot, size kink, Joel miller monster cock, ‘We shouldn’t be doing this’ vibes, cause Joel’s all guilt ridden and sexually frustrated, lots of dirty talk, guided masturbation (joel talks you through fucking yourself), mid-fuck pep talk from a man old enough to be your father, girthy legal but unspecified age gap, fingering, pain kink, brief mention of tummy bulge, dacryphilia, dubcon, unprotected PIV, cream pie, cum eating, aftercare in the form of oral sex (f!receiving) wedgie kink if you squint, horny brain took over when I wrote this, dingy motel sex.
FIC HELP - @tofics!!! Thank you for the thorough beta, sweetheart!!! you did so fucking much to help me with this fic and i'm really fucking grateful, more than words could say!! @beefrobeefcal @cum-a-calla and @/endlessthxxghts (rip i miss your presence on this shitshow of a website every day) thank you sweet babes for all of the encouragement and support!! I love you all!!
A/N - Long time no see! It’s been a while since I’ve posted a fic, even while since I’ve written for Joel. Gosh. I hope you’re all surviving the winter as best you can <3 it’s been a rough one, huh? Enjoy and have a safe rest of your week :)
The bed frame groans for the seventh time in a span of five minutes. Through his nose, Joel sighs in irritation at that sharp, grating creak, the sound of the bed hitting against the wood paneled walls to match. You’ve been at this for the last hour and a half - wriggling, flipping back and forth in the bed, tugging that old, scratchy, floral comforter off of Joel’s body to swaddle around yours, only to throw it off again seconds later. You’ve flipped your pillow more times than he can count, adjusting where you lay your head in search of that coveted cold spot.
It’s hard to sleep when you keep touching him. Mindlessly, you press up against Joel, and inch away again. His patience for this routine of yours wore thin long ago, sanded down by too many nights of this same ordeal.
Joel feels the mattress dip and shift a little, the subtle warning of you gearing up to toss your body again, but he’s had enough. He grabs you by the wrist before you can do so, holding you tight enough so that you feel the rough calluses of his palm on your skin. “Enough. Quit fuckin’ squirmin’,” he rasps, his voice tired but edged with warning. “I told you to go to sleep an hour ago.”
“I can’t,” you snap.
“Bullshit. Y’ain’t even tryin’.”
Joel’s heard this from you before. You’ve always been more restless, whereas Joel’s a heavier sleeper by nature, aided by the alcohol and the pills that lull him off into dreamless unconsciousness. But you’ll keep him up anyway, usually complaining that you’re too hot. Or too cold. Or you’re thirsty, and you need some of his water. No, you don’t have any. Yes, you know you’re a pain in his ass.
Joel will get you settled, only for you to start all over again. In the subsequent mornings, you’ll be crabby and snapping at him, and he’ll bite back just as hard, pissed off hours of his sleep were lost to you.
“So what’s your excuse this time?”
“It’s nothing,” you mumble, adjusting in bed again. You kick your feet, toeing at the tangled fabric of your pants bunched up around your legs. Joel squeezes your arm in warning, nails pressing into your skin a little. “Joel - stop. Just let me—”
Joel cuts you off, “Yeah, I know. Sit up.”
Obeying him, you sigh and sit up straight, playing with a loose thread in the comforter as Joel leans over your side of the bed, his body radiating warmth and his own scent of something you couldn’t name, something distinctly Joel - perhaps some sort of heavy soap or maybe whiskey. It radiates thick in the space between you and him. He fluffs your pillows a little, then places them back down. “Lay down,” he tells you, and you fall back onto the soft, warm mattress. “S’that comfortable?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
Joel nods quietly, then reaches for the comforter next. He shakes it a little to smooth out the bunches in the material, then lays the flannel sheet over your torso, following with the comforter itself.
“And you have to tuck the blanket in—”
“By your shoulders, I know,” Joel says, tucking the blanket under your chin and your shoulders. “Everything, huh?”
Joel settles himself next, situating his own pillows before lying on his stomach. “Now get some sleep. Do that slow breathin’ I told you ‘bout, remember?”
“I remember.”
“Good girl. G’night, then.”
“Night, Joel.”
Joel closes his eyes and nestles into the mattress, drifting off to something halfway between asleep and awake, but closer to the side of unconsciousness. You close your eyes too, counting your breaths. In for four seconds, just like Joel told you. Hold, out for four seconds.
Maybe it’d work if you weren’t trying to force your body into it. If you weren’t thinking about how very awake you are, when you should’ve been asleep hours ago. If you weren’t thinking about Joel.
He’s been on your mind lately, more than usual. You spent so much time alone with him, learning all the neat things about him. He was such a brute at first, and speaking honestly, he still is. But there’s a gentler side of Joel. Softer. Tender, in his own way.
You really, really fucking like Joel. You’ve never liked anyone the way you like him. He makes you feel all sorts of sensations. Anger, annoyance, joy. He makes your heart pound and makes you breathe funny sometimes, but not always in a bad way. You spend a lot of time just looking at him, tucking away the parts of him you love deep inside your brain, saving it for moments alone. His body is softer with his age, but his arms stay strong, shoulders so vastly broad. And his face, the wrinkles in his skin, those neat scars. That look he gets in his eyes when he’s pissed at you, and his lips and his frown. You watch the way he eats sometimes, fixated on the way his lips move, wondering how they’d move against another’s. Maybe your own. His hands, as he traces maps, books, whatever. Veins and tendons twitching. His palms are so fucking big, so masculine.
Joel keeps his distance, always decent. It’s not lost on you. You know he knows how you stare at him, contemplating whatever it is you think about in that head of yours. He doesn’t want to know. Can’t know.
His breathing is evening out now. His lips are parted, and you feel his warm breath on your cheek, tickling your earlobe. He looks so handsome bathed in that milky, bluish moonlight that pours in through the window over his face.
There’s an ache throbbing between your thighs, the same thing that’s been keeping you up recently. Arousal. Joel seems to worsen the pain, just by existing, somehow. Even just thinking of him makes you throb a little harder.
Squeezing your thighs together alleviates that ache momentarily, so that’s what you do. You cross one leg over the other and squeeze tight, but it’s not enough. Of course it’s not. You know what you need, something more sustainable than this. Something real, something raw. Something…Joel.
You give your underwear a gentle tug while rocking your hips, just needing that extra bit of pressure. Gripping tight the waistband of your panties while wiggling your hips, shaking the creaky bed a little in the process, the motion rouses Joel from his sleep. He opens one eye to watch you wriggle and jerk, noting that look of concentration painted across your features.
“What’re you doin’?”
“Joel!” Your whole body jolts and you straighten your legs quickly, flattening your hands at your side. “Nothing.”
He sighs, “If you’re gonna lie to me, sweetheart, y’need to be better at it. Now what is the matter with you?”
You have to be sharp here. You could tell the truth and have Joel inevitably scold you, call you a fucking pervert and that you should be ashamed of yourself or…
…you could bend the truth some, not much. Just a little fib. You spin the story quickly in your head. Something something…you can’t come on your own - lie, and you just need Joel to do it for you - another lie. Far be it from him to leave a girl in distress, right? He’s got to be the hero, always. Has to save the day while bitching that you’d be dead without him. Because that’s Joel Miller, always carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and always by his own doing. How your heart bleeds for him as you proverbially rub your pointer finger and your thumb together, the world’s tiniest violin playing just for him.
“It’s - fuck,” you groan, shifting in bed as you play up the lie. “It’s nothing. Just - something kind of hurts, that’s all.”
“What hurts? Let me see.” Joel sits up quickly, reaching for the light. “Show me,” he says.
“No, Joel. You can’t - it’s like, I don’t know. It’s…embarrassing, I think.”
“I don’t care,” he grumbles. “Y’gotta tell me. So spit it out, kid.”
You exhale softly, closing your eyes. Joel’s lying on his side, sitting up a little as he carefully searches your face. You can’t look at him right now because fuck, you’re a bad liar. You turn away so you don’t break and smile or something. “I’m like, throbbing,” you murmur, “And wet, uh…down there, I guess. I don’t know–”
Joel holds up a hand, “Alright, enough. Jus’ - go deal with it. I’ll give ya some privacy,” he says, sitting fully upright and taking off the covers.
“Deal with it how?” you ask, feigning ignorance. You’ll take this as far as it needs to go, or until you’re caught red-handed.
“You know, like…” Joel waits for you to get the picture, but you just stare at him blankly.
“Won’t it just go away?” God, you are so full of shit, you almost make yourself sick.
Joel scoffs quietly, and you have to bite down on your smile. You’re playing him like a fucking fiddle. “It don’t work like that, sweetheart,” he says. “You have to handle it on your own.”
“Can you do it?”
“Fuck, no,” he answers quickly. But Joel looks down at you, contemplating. God, you’re fucking...this is the reason you keep him up so late? Part of him wants to leave you here, just like this, to figure it out and deal with it on your own. But Joel’s not confident that’ll happen, since you’ve gone this long without it, apparently. Feels like a lie.
“Or can you help me?”
“Help you how?”
“Just…make sure I’m doing it right. Like, how you’d do it to your lover or something.”
“You are fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel sighs under his breath. “How I’d do it to my lover, huh?”
“Right.”
Joel thinks for a moment, then speaks, against his better judgement. “Alright.” He takes a deep breath in and out, taking in you on the bed, scanning the gorgeous outline of your body. “I’d spread her legs,” he says, watching the comforter move as you part your thighs. “Wider than that,” he adds.
“Like this?”
“Jus’ like that, s’good,” Joel nods. “And I’d take my hand,” he says, reaching for your wrist, “Put it right here, between her thighs,” laying your palm over your mound. “Under her pants.”
“Fuck, yeah,” you murmur, sliding your hand beneath your pants and panties. You press down a little, groaning softly at the pressure. Fuck, it feels good. Even better with Joel’s presence. “Feels good,” you sigh, pressing your fingers down harder against the sensitive bud. You can feel it throbbing beneath your fingertips.
“I’d rub her in circles.”
“Hard or soft?” you ask. “Fast or slow?”
“Whatever she wants,” Joel answers.
You spread your legs a little wider, your knee nudging against Joel’s tummy, and it takes everything he has not to touch you. It wouldn’t be right, he believes. This act alone is pushing the bounds of his morals.
“Like this, Joel?”
Joel watches the comforter move above your hand as you trace steady circles into your clit, and stifles a groan. As his cock thickens and twitches in his pants, he inches away from you so you don’t feel his arousal. “Yeah, darlin’. Like that.”
“And then what?”
“I’d keep goin’ til…well, you’ll figure that out.”
He takes a moment to watch, admire the show. Brows pinched together, a little bit of sweat sparkling on your temples. Joel can feel the heat radiating from your body as you work yourself, chest rising and falling, hips and legs twitching. “M’gonna leave you to it, then,” he mumbles finally, getting up to leave.
“No,” you gasp, reaching for his arm with the hand you used to fuck yourself. Joel feels your arousal on his skin, and notices how wide your pupils are. “Stay.” He does consider it for a moment. His fucking balls ache, desperate to find his own release too.
“It’s - it’s not enough, Joel.”
Clarity hits him then, and he shoots you a knowing glare. You’re such a bad fucking liar, laying it on way thicker than you need to be. “It’s plenty,” Joel snaps, “I’m leavin’. Hurry up an’ sort yourself out.”
“Don’t go,” you beg. “Can you try it?”
“What? No.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Joel says. “It’s not a good idea. C’mon, honey, I know you’re smarter than this.”
“But I can’t do it on my own,” you argue back. “I think - fuck - I think I need you to fuck me. I need to come on your cock.”
“Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you can’t say shit like that. M’old enough to be your fuckin’ daddy.” Joel rolls his eyes. This absolutely tracks for you, averse to doing any hard work at all. He pauses, then speaks, “You don’t need me to take care of this for you. Y’just want it. I know you, kid. You don’t like doin’ any hard work yourself. Am I right?”
“No,” you insist, “I really think I need it. Need you.”
You look at Joel, silently begging him to give you what you’re asking for. Joel’s eyes dart left and right as he searches your face, breath hitched in his throat. God, the way you look at him. Your eyes are all wide and innocent and pleading, he knows you’re giving him that look on purpose. “Don’t look at me like that, you fuckin’...Christ almighty,” Joel groans. “Fine,” he concedes.
“You’ll fuck me?”
“Absolutely not,” he snaps. “You can have my fingers. If I do this for you, will ya settle down an’ go to sleep?”
“Yes,” you agree, nodding quickly. “I’ll go right to sleep, Joel, I promise.”
Joel eyes you from the side. “You’re fuckin’ trouble,” he mumbles, scooting closer to you. His bulge presses against your hip, eliciting a gasp from you. “Jus’ ignore it,” he says. “Don’t get any ideas.”
He loops his fingers over the waistband of your pants and panties, then tugs them down your thighs until he can’t anymore. “Take ‘em off the rest of the way,” he tells you.
You wriggle off your pants, then pull off your shirt, now lying bare on the bed underneath the covers. Joel’s eyes widen, then he shakes his head. “Selective hearing,” he grumbles.
“What?”
“Just needed the bottoms gone, sweetheart.”
“Oh,” you whisper, sliding down the mattress a little more, covering your shoulders with the sheets. Joel props himself up on his elbow, the side of his head resting against his knuckles. His free hand travels over to you, fingers drumming against your hips.
“Y’ready?”
“Mhm,” you hum, anxiety and excitement permeating the air. Joel’s hand slides down to your inner thigh, and he can feel the heat from your pussy, the way you vibrate with desire.
Joel should tease your pussy. He should make you ache for it, more than you already are. Trace your lips, press his finger against your wet slit to gather your arousal. Like he would with his lover, right? But he shouldn’t even be here with you right now, god. He’s too fucking old, and you’re too fucking young. The age gap alone makes his head spin, but fills a dark part of him with an animalistic type of hunger. A hunger to ruin you, you pretty, young thing. He reminds himself that this is simply a means to an end, nothing more.
He slides his warm palm over your mound, nudging your thighs apart a little more. When his fingers touch your clit, you sigh in relief. That alone feels miles better than your own fingers, so much more concentrated.
“Jesus,” he murmurs, then rubs your clit. Not in circles, like he instructed you to do. He just rubs you there, fingers sliding back and forth over your clit as you relax into his touch. “Y’should be doin’ this yourself.”
“But it feels…it feels…”
“I know,” Joel says, slipping his fingers down the seam of your cunt to collect your arousal. You’re so fucking wet. He drags them back up, then rubs practiced, steady circles over your clit. It’s efficient and very bare bones, no bells and whistles or pulling out his usual stops. Joel has one goal, and that’s to get you off as quickly as possible, and that’s it. “Feels good,” he answers for you, then adds under his breath, “You’re playin with fuckin’ fire.”
You whimper, clutching Joel’s forearm as he guides you to orgasm. What he doesn’t realize is just how close you are, only from a little bit of his touching. You know you’re on the brink of orgasm, but you also know that when you reach that point, that’s it. You’re done. Joel’s made that much clear, that this is all you’re gonna get from him, and it has to be enough. But of course, it’s not. Not even close.
Joel dips his fingers lower, pushing his middle and ring fingers into your pussy. He keeps a palm pressed against your tummy, then curls his fingers rhythmically, bringing you to a place you’ve never been before. You moan loudly, writhing as he curls his fingers inside you, stroking that special little spot he loves so much on a woman. Silently, Joel moves his thumb to circle your clit, guiding you closer and closer to the edge.
Joel can tell you’re about there, and he’s correct in that assumption. You feel like you’re about to break, staving off release. Everything feels heightened, thrumming with something electric and almost sharp. Your moans come out all breathy, Joel’s name broken as it spills from your lips. Lost in your head, Joel pulls you back down to earth, speaking softly to you. “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”
“N-no,” you whimper, shaking your head.
“Yes ya are. You’re right there, honey. Let go.” Joel rubs your clit a little harder to coax release along. He’s waiting for that golden moment, where you tense up and gasp before falling to pieces, a melting, shuddering mess in his hands. Only…it never comes. Joel studies you intently, watching the way your face moves. Finally, he realizes that you’re fighting it.
“What’re you doin’? I’m givin’ you what you want, sweetheart, just fuckin’ come.”
“No,” you repeat, squeezing Joel’s wrist. “I don’t want to yet.”
“Why not?” You squirm a little, and Joel stops fucking you on his fingers. “Hey - why the hell not?”
“Because I want you to fuck me,” you whisper quietly.
Joel scoffs. “Oh, you are workin’ my last goddamn nerve. I already told you, sweetheart. You come on my fingers or you don’t come at all. Choice is yours.” Joel continues circling your clit, but you still fight him.
“But I want you to fuck me,” you repeat, begging, balling your hands into tight fists as you stave off release. “I just - I told you already, but you’re not - you’re not fucking listening to me, Joel. I need–” Your desperation makes the mask slip. You have got to pull yourself together before you fuck this entirely.
“Hey - adjust the fuckin’ attitude. I already told you no, sweet pea. And I don’t have to listen to you. You listen to me,” he grits, his tone biting. “Get that through your skull, because m’sick of repeatin’ myself.”
“Why?” you complain. “Why won’t you do it?”
“Because,” he explains, “You can’t handle it, kid, I know you can’t. Too big f’ya. And it’s wrong,” he adds, “I shouldn’t even be doin’ this to you.”
You love the challenge his words incite. Oh, you’ll show him what you can handle, alright. Filled with a renewed sense of perseverance, you ground yourself and focus hard.
Joel focuses too, hellbent on not being a worse man. What he’d really like to do, really, is split you in two with his cock. He’s not unaware of his size, what he does to a woman. Especially one like you, who’s absolutely in over her head and has not the faintest notion of what he could do to her. He’d teach you a fucking lesson, maybe. Shove his cock down your throat to watch you choke on it, feel that delicious pulse as you gag. He could fuck your ass, too, watch your eyes roll back into your skull as he makes you take all of him. That’d teach you to listen to him for once, right? A little pain to put you into place, you fucking brat?
You’re right on the edge. You know it, and so does Joel. The way you soak his two thick fingers, your cunt pulsing around them erratically. Your brows are knit together as you twitch and shudder, trying your goddamn hardest to not come. Joel’s amazed at your will.
“C’mon, kid, just come for me. Be done with this,” Joel urges, frustration laced in his tone. “Don’t piss me off, sweetheart. You don’t want that.”
You shake your head, “Mm-mm - n - I wanna, I need your -”
Joel holds his palm over your mouth, cutting you off. “No. You’re not ready for it,” he tells you. “Y’don’t know at all what you’re askin’ for. Not a fuckin’ clue.”
Joel lifts his palm. “I do, too,” you argue. “Please, Joel, I can handle it.”
“Sure you can, sweetheart.”
“I’ll be good.”
Those three little words make Joel’s breath hitch in his throat. You have to know exactly what you do to him, with the looks you give him and the way you beg. You’ll be good. God, he’s gonna end up fucking giving it to you. He shouldn’t, he really fucking shouldn’t.
“Please?”
Joel sighs heavily, worn down by your incessant, sweet fucking begging. And honestly, what he wouldn’t give to ruin you. To fuck you in half, shatter you into pieces. So be it, he decides.
“Fine,” Joel says. “But this didn’t fucking happen. Do you understand me?”
“I understand,” you answer sweetly. Christ, your fucking good girl act. You have to know what you do to him.
“A’int fuckin’ right,” Joel mumbles, rising and yanking the covers off the bed. He quickly takes off his shirt and shucks off his pants, gripping his cock tightly as he hovers over you. He never should have fucking indulged you, but here he is. Joel reaches between your thighs to collect your arousal on his fingertips, then coats his cock in your mess. He’s fucking huge. He’s generously thick as well as long, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to handle it like you said you would. “No backin’ out now,” Joel says.
“I’m a little nervous,” you admit.
“I’ll bet you are,” Joel says, and your heart races. He lowers himself, then presses the thick tip of his cock against your pussy, dragging it through your folds before notching it inside your tight entrance. “Your pussy’s too pretty f’ya to let me do this to you,” he says. “Now take a deep breath.”
You take a deep breath in, and that’s when Joel begins working himself inside you. You whine in pain, scooting back towards the headboard to try to slow it down.
“Where d’ya think you’re goin’, huh? You stay right there, sweetheart.”
“Slow down, please—”
“What’s the matter? Thought you could handle it, tough girl,” Joel taunts, squeezing your hip while sliding further inside you. He’s not even a quarter of the way in yet, and you’re already reeling from the pain of his thick cock stretching you out. He draws out a little, admiring the tip of his cock coated in your arousal, then inches back in. “S’really hurtin’ ya, huh?”
You grab any part of him that you can, attempting to temper the way he enters you. Make it slower, gentler, less…less. He pulls out a little, then pushes in further than before, earning another high-pitched whine from you.
“Who tried to talk ya out of it, sweetheart? Hm? Who warned ya? You remember how to say my name? It's Joel, darlin’. Sound it out.”
Joel’s being so mean, and it makes you feel like crying. He draws in and out of you, still yet to bury himself all the way inside, watching your reactions as he holds a hand on your ribcage, making you take it all.
“Yeah, I know. S’a big stretch, huh? Hurtin’ pretty bad?”
“Yeah,” you whimper, looking down at where your bodies connect. You’re not even close to taking all of him in, and already it feels like he’s fucking you in two.
“Mhm. In over your head, aren’tcha, kid? You gonna listen to me next time?”
“Yes - fuck!” Joel pushes in another inch or so, and it makes you yelp in pain. “Yes, I’ll listen,” you say, voice thick with tears. Joel watches them begin to fall, and he quickly wipes them away with the back of his hand.
“Won’t hurt forever,” Joel grunts. “S’easier f’ya rip off the bandaid. Want my help with that, sweetheart? I’ll make it quick.”
“N-no,” you sniffle. “I need you to go slow.”
Joel nods silently, continuing working himself inside. A small movement of his hips out, then in, then out again, and in a little further. He could make you take it all right now, be done with this whole song and dance. It really would be easier on you. The proverbial mercy-kill. That dark part of Joel sort of likes the pain he gives to you, though. He tries not to think about that too hard, stuff that feeling down deep.
Oh, the tears you cry. The pretty face you make, features all contorted in pain. Joel gives your hip a soothing little rub before moving his hand to your clit, massaging the sensitive bud as he pushes into you, making you whimper even more.
“I know it hurts.” Joel presses his palm against your cheek, rubbing your lips with his thumb as your cunt pulses around his length. “Let it be a lesson to ya, huh? Stay out of a grown man’s business. He knows better’n you. ‘Cause look at the mess you’re in now, sweetheart, cryin’ on a cock that’s too fuckin’ big for you. What am I gonna do with ya?”
“I don’t know,” you sniffle.
“I know you don’t. Tried to tell ya this wasn’t a good idea, sweet pea,” Joel whispers. “Now buck up. You’re halfway there.”
Joel takes the liberty to speed the process up, to sheathe himself in you fully, and does so quickly. At least, quicker than you’d like him to, as evidenced by your high-pitched whines. “Shhhh,” Joel hushes, pushing his fingers into your mouth as if to pacify you, or distract you at the very least. “I know, I know, I know.” You bite into Joel’s palm, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel his cock splitting you in two.
“Quit your cryin’, and breathe. I got you, kid,” he says, “We’re finishin’ this,” then pushes in you the rest of the way, the blunt head of his cock kissing against your cervix. “There,” he grunts, “Worst is over.”
You open your eyes, first looking at Joel and then between your bodies, where his connects to yours. You don’t see any of his length left, only the long, wiry, bits of graying hair that surround his member. What you don’t see - what Joel does see - is that pretty, thick bulge his dick makes against your tummy.
He lifts his hand from your mouth, “I did it?” you ask.
“You did it,” Joel affirms. “Good job. Proud a’ ya, kiddo.”
Joel gives you a second to get used to the feeling of him buried inside you, to wrap your head around it. There’s not much thinking going on in that head of yours, though, that much he can tell. All cockdumb and he’s barely even fucked you.
It doesn’t feel good yet, like it should. It’s an intense pressure, an awful stretch, and it worsens with every throb and twitch of Joel’s massive cock. You squeeze his biceps as he lowers his head and bites your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark, and then you bury your face in his curls. He draws out of you and oh, there it is. “Attagirl, easy does it,” he groans, “You just lie there and take my cock, sweet girl. Take it good for me.”
Joel sets his pace then, steadily pushing in and out of you. It’s not violent or cruel, not even particularly harsh, but the hurt is still there. Joel rocks his hips, pulling out of you all the way and filling you right back up again with each and every stroke. Soon enough, you’re moaning.
“Yeah, that’s it. Goddamn, sweetheart. Don’t hurt so bad anymore does it?”
“No.” You shake your head. “Still hurts,” you murmur, voice tight with pain.
Joel chuckles. “Oh, it does, huh? Tsk. Well, you’re in it now, darlin’. Gotta see it through. Don’t try an’ quit on me.”
Joel increases the speed at which he fucks you, damp curls falling over his forehead as sweat glitters on his skin, a bead of it rolling down the length of his aquiline nose. He watches you intently, a stern sort of expression painted across his features. That dimple on his right cheek flashes as he purses his lips, a grunt escaping his throat.
“Joel,” you choke out.
“M’almost done, sweetheart. Gimme five more minutes. You can do five minutes, can’t ya?”
The pain is relentless, unwavering, until it starts to vanish, replaced by a dull pleasure. It builds in time as Joel pounds into you, increases with every brush of his pubic bone against your clit. He keeps a hand on your breast, squeezing the flesh there hard enough to bruise, pinching your nipple before soothing the ache with a practiced flick of his tongue. Jesus Christ, you feel good. Your soft body, all for him. The way your poor cunt hugs him so sweetly - he’s not lasting much longer now.
“Why don’t you try an’ come for me, pretty girl? Can you do that f’me?” Joel licks his fingers and starts to rub your clit in those same circles from earlier, coaxing along your release.
It’s no surprise you come as hard as you do, as quickly as you do. All pent up for god only knows how long, and the way you were hellbent on staving off your climax earlier. It’s enough to ruin anyone.
With a couple more good, hard thrusts, you’re clenching around Joel’s cock, his name spilling from your lips as you come undone. Poor girl. You look so overwhelmed, so fucking wrecked as you come so hard, and it’s no wonder to Joel why exactly that is. “There it is,” Joel coos, wiping away the tears you cry. “Ohh, yeah. That’s a good one.”
Joel guides you through your orgasm as he chases his own, fucking you harder and deeper. He pounds you in non-rhythm, his thrusts frenzied and frantic before he’s coming too, spilling load after hot load of his come inside you, filling you with the most soothing warmth. He pulls out of you quickly to watch his spend spill from between your thighs, and it’s so intimate, the way he watches you experience that private pleasure.
“Goddamn, baby. I fuckin’ ruined her,” Joel whispers, gathering a bit of his spend on his fingertips to push it back inside. “Why’d you want me do that to ya, huh?”
You only shrug. Words are hard for you right now.
“She still hurtin’ a little?”
“A little,” you answer quietly.
“Mhm, she’s all swollen. M’gonna kiss her all better, alright? I’ll be nice an’ gentle.”
Joel taps your hip and mumbles something you don’t hear, what with the ringing in your ears, then lifts your bottom half and slides a pillow beneath you. He parts your legs, and is so profoundly tender as he drags a thumb through your sensitive, slick flesh.
As promised, his lips replace his fingers. Joel begins with a quick kiss, then another, and another. His facial hair feels almost sharp against you, almost painful, but his tongue is so soft. So practiced as he licks up the seam of your cunt, tasting his own work - not that he minds, really. His lips quickly attach to your clit, and he suckles gently. You don’t need much, not right now. He keeps himself buried in that beautiful space between your thighs until you’re coming again, a little softer than before. Gentler. The quiet after the storm.
You’re crying, all overwhelmed still. Joel scoops you up into his arms and covers you with the comforter, quietly shushing you. “I know, sweet girl. It’s over now. Was a lot, wasn’t it?”
“Mhm,” you hum, sniffling still.
“S’why you gotta listen to me, hm?” Joel pushes some hair out of your face, then kisses your warm cheek as he lays you on your side. He fixes the blankets, lays them all out flat and even before taking his place next to you, curling his frame around you. “I gotcha, kiddo.”
As you settle into bed, Joel scratches up and down your side, and kisses your shoulder. “Two orgasms,” he mutters. “You made out like a fuckin’ bandit, sweet pea. You know that?”
Another shrug, and Joel chuckles. “You gonna be a good girl and go to sleep now?”
“Yes, Joel.”
“Alright. Sweet dreams, trouble.”
If you enjoyed, please please please reblog with some sweet thoughts or hop in my inbox 🩷🩷 your kind words go farther than you know in keeping me motivated to write. It’s been a while. I’ve missed my Joelie perverts 🫂💕
in which you’ve been acting up all fucking day and Joel has to put you back in your place with a punishment tailored to fit the crime.
——
under the cut (a little something new): serious daddy kink/ddlg vibes, rough spanking, pet names, lots of crying, some dubcon vibes, fingerfucking, pussy eating, PIV sex, creampie, aftercare.
——
It’s been miles with this fucking clicking sound.
You sigh, heavy, trying to squeeze your eyes shut and not be irritating - though you can feel it, a ball of growing frustration and annoyance that just hasn’t gone away in - what? 50 miles? 75, 100? Does it really matter?
Joel’s stopped a couple times now to check things over - yes, the check engine light is on. That’s typical - he’s good at working with machines, good at fixing a problem. Good with his hands. You stare out the window and, feeling like a fucking kid in a coming-of-age movie and not a fully grown adult with an attitude problem, you lean your forehead against the passenger window and stare. The clouds outside are fluffy, the sky a deep, open blue, the kind that isn’t tinted and dusty with pollution. It’s like a photograph. Soft, open fields, yellowing with the deep summer sun. Windows slightly cracked to allow in the fresh air. Abandoned, broken fences, wandering animals, dusty roads and those shimmering phantom pools in the distance that disappear the closer you get, a trick of the heat on the asphalt. You imagine dipping a toe into it, the toe of your dirty boot trying to dip into a glittering, morphing puddle and finding the stiff barrier of cracked road and dirt. Reverie over.
“That noise,” you grumble.
Joel grunts. He barely spares you a glance, glaring stonily ahead, focused on your destination. It should be coming close now, actually - some place in some barely-existent town you have to spend the night in, somebody’s spare room. Something Joel needs to collect. The hot air blows through the cracked window, through loose hairs you didn’t tie up, and you’re grateful for the sweat dripping down the back of your neck and all along your hairline.
“What the hell is that fuckin’ noise,” you grumble at the window, your own breath fogging it up. In a fit, you rub it out, putting a smear on the glass. It only annoys you further and you fix yourself eyes-forward, glaring out the windshield instead. It’s dented, cracked a little in the corner. Smeared with fucking bugs.
“M’not gunna talk to ya when you’re like that. It’s unpleasant.”
“Unpleasant,” you repeat sourly, the taste of the word in your mouth making your mood worse. You eye Joel out of the corner of your eye and the crease in his brow, the distinctive frown in his lips, well - that just serves to piss you off even more. “Well, sorry about that.”
“Ain’t sorry.”
“What?”
“Ya ain’t sorry,” he repeats slowly, loudly. He finally turns to look at you, brows drawn. He looks exhausted. Well who isn’t, right? Fuck. Fucking - you turn and look out the windshield again, beating your own pervasive guilt down by counting rusty old street signs, some of them so worn or vandalized you can barely guess where you’re at. The end of the goddamn world.
You choose to not answer Joel at all, or even acknowledge him, instead choosing to marinate in your own irritation and slight guilt. It’s not hard to do… it’s been a long day, and Joel’s been carting both of you in this fucking hot truck for hours, stopping occasionally to check on whatever might be going on. Apparently it could mean something or nothing at all. All you know is that the sound of it is grating, and Joel’s complete absence of commentary - as usual - is somehow bad today. Everything feels bad. Everything feels like a big, heavy chore, weighing you down, and you actively know you’re being unpleasant - he’s right. But facing that fact seems impossible in the face of your own displeasure.
You’re only human, right?
What-fucking-ever.
Joel’s not apparently as willing to give it up as you might have thought. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him shoot you a glance - a glare, likely. It makes you feel justified in some weird way, but mostly it makes you even more miserable.
“Actin’ like a fuckin’ brat.”
Well, there it is - can’t ignore that, can you?
“Excuse me?”
“Y’heard me, kid. Actin’ like a goddamn brat. Spoiled little baby.”
“Oh, so - ” at first you ball your fists, but then you explode your fingers open in a stupid little display, throwing them up in defeat, scoffing, huffing, acting exactly like he’s describing and only getting angrier that he’s right. You want nothing more than for this trip to be over, for you to be able to lie in a bed and sweat there instead of this fucking truck, but here you are, going through hell with Joel. Knowing exactly how you’re being and having no intention of quitting anytime soon, your better sense be damned. “So, I’m a baby, huh?”
“Mmm. Reckon so.”
The next several miles are spent in silence, your burning, impotent rage filling you up until you can feel your own angry flush on your cheeks. No matter how long you stave off from looking toward Joel - which you do as subtly as you can, staring ahead and flicking your eyes toward him only once in a while - his expression never seems to change. It’s the same stoic, pinched brow, the set in his jaw that makes you want to (lick it) scream at him.
Joel pulls down a gravelly road, dust pluming up behind the tires. The air is clouded with it, but there isn’t a fucking thing either of you can do about all that. Joel glances your way as if daring you to bitch and moan about it, and for a shining moment, you consider it. You really consider it, licking your lips, going as far as to open your mouth, but ultimately you stare miserably out the window and watch the dust fly.
Up ahead, there’s a little property - a small house with another, smaller one sitting kitty-corner on the lot. Joel pulls over beside another beat up, dusty car and shoots you a look.
“Wait here,” he says simply, grabbing a duffel bag from the backseat and slinging it over his shoulder.
“What’re you doing? Why can’t I go?”
Joel simply shuts the door on your questions, the tiniest hint of a smirk on his lips as he turns and walks up to the house, knocks on the door. A man glances over at the truck and allows Joel inside. You slump down in your seat with an impatient sigh and play with a frayed edge on your shirt, feeling the weight of the pout in your expression but doing nothing to fix it. Who cares.
He comes back and you’re standing outside the truck, leaning against the passenger door. You open it back up and he gives you a curt shake of the head.
“Stayin’ here tonight. Get your shit.”
“Yeah, let me just grab all my luggage,” you mumble sarcastically.
“You’d do well to be a little more grateful,” Joel snaps, and his tone makes you look up at him for a second, a little twinge of fear blinding the irritation you’ve felt all day long. He looks angry and even a little disgusted, and it makes you feel even worse. “Gunna stay in that little house over there for a night or two. My friend up there doesn’t have to do that for us, but he is. Now fix your fuckin’ bad attitude. Should be apologizin’.”
“I haven’t needed a daddy in a long time, Joel, and I don’t need one now,” you snap, slinging your bag over your shoulder and slamming the truck’s door a little too hard. You turn and glower toward the house, more of a shack than anything but still a sight for sore eyes - and sore backs. If there’s actually a bed in there, you might just cry.
After you both deposit your bags on the bed, you sigh and swipe a hand over your forehead, working to open each and every window while grumbling.
“Fucking hot in here,” you mumble, crossing your arms like a petulant child as you look out the bedroom window. Insects buzz and chirp outside.
“Y’ain’t gunna quit, huh?” Joel’s glaring, and he nods toward the mattress, snapping his fingers. “Get on the bed.”
“What?”
“On the bed. Now. On your belly.”
There’s a brief moment of pause in which you’re both staring at each other. Joel sighs impatiently and comes to you, his big hands reaching for your pants. The moment you try to block him out he lightly slaps your hands away.
“Stay still, kid. Fuckin’ gunna do it m’self for ya - what’s new,” he says, voice dangerous and low. He sounds pissed. He makes quick work of the button, the zipper, and yanks them down your thighs, looping his thumbs into your panties to take them down all at once. He shoves you so that you lie on your back and then your fight-or-flight kicks in a little, and he has to grunt and struggle to get your legs under control to rip your jeans clean off your legs. “Be fuckin’ still. Quit squirmin’.”
“Joel, stop -” You wriggle a little up the mattress, lifting up on your elbows to scoot away.
Instead of answering you, Joel yanks your ankle and you’re sliding down again, on your back, the tiniest yelp leaving your lips as your face flushes. It’s embarrassing, Joel seeing you like this - no bottoms to speak of, completely bare to him while you kick and half-heartedly struggle; but there’s a little give, there, isn’t there? A part of you that likes it. That likes the feeling of his calloused fingers hooking underneath the soft, silky flesh behind your knee to keep you in place, his eyes roving over your nudity, your bare pussy.
Joel grabs your hips with purpose and flips you easily to your belly, climbing up onto the mattress himself until it’s dipped beside you. He has one large, warm hand on the small of your back, anchoring you there.
“Been a goddamn brat and a pain in my ass all day long. I know exactly how to take care of a little fuckin’ brat.”
His other hand is warm on your ass, but now, everything is clicking into place and you squirm a little again, heart pounding in your chest. “Joel, you - you can’t.”
“Sure fuckin’ can, and I will. Y’gunna stay nice and still for me so we can get this over with, hear me? Gunna listen to me for once.”
The first slap stings. The sound you make is mostly out of disbelief, your eyes widening as they train on the scratched old wall behind the headboard. There’s a nightstand, to the side there, a candle on an old, yellowed doily. Joel’s hand comes down again, harder, and this time you hold your breath. There’s a drawer - you wonder idly if there’s a bible in there.
If this is happening, you’re going to have to hold out. Not think about it too much, even though your face is already flushing. It can’t be that bad, not really - right? He’ll get it out of his system and it will be over. Joel wouldn’t really hurt you. He wouldn’t. He -
The next slap is followed immediately by more, raining down against your ass so that it really starts to fucking sting, and there you are - spine arching up a little, feet kicking again, but he has you. He holds you down against that mattress and it’s not even a contest; he’s so strong, so sure of himself, and he grunts and clucks his tongue at you.
“Y’ain’t goin’ anywhere, darlin’. Gunna take it all for me. Teach you a fuckin’ lesson.”
His callouses skate over your warm, tingling flesh and it kind of hurts. You’re already starting to hyperventilate as he raises that palm up again, body screaming with anticipation before he slaps one ass cheek and then the other. He repeats this, over and over, harder with each go.
It’s only minutes - it can’t be longer than a few minutes of this before you’re squealing under him. Your breath hitches in your throat and the tears come so fast it’s dizzying, sniffling as you press your hot face into the mattress and wring your fingers into the sheets.
“Joel, please - I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you bawl.
“Mmm. Betcha you are. Not sorry enough, though - not yet, kiddo.”
“N-no, wait -”
“Deep breaths, honey,” he interrupts, and fuck - he sounds tender, his voice heavy with something. Something you’ve never heard in his tone before, a deep, pleasant rumble that is so unlike the way he continues to spank your ass raw. “C’mon; in, out. Good girl.”
Joel hums as you sob and twitch and writhe, nowhere to go while he punishes you. It feels like your tender flesh is going numb and becoming more tender with each pass, somehow, all that sensation mingling together impossibly until your mind is screaming with panic each time his hand lifts up. When he takes his hand off your lower back and there’s a moment of peace, you don’t even move. You just shudder and hiccup, hands shaking. The clink of his belt, the sound of a zipper. His deep groan and then a hot, slick feeling against your ass cheek.
Joel’s cock. He rubs the leaking, fat head of his cock over all that burning, welted expanse. It hurts. It makes your stomach flip. He does that for a moment and then his fingers are gently probing between your thighs. Even with them pressed together, he works himself where he wants to go, parting your slit and feeling you there.
“You’re soaked,” he mumbles.
“S-Sorry, Daddy,” you whine. Oh, god, his scoff of a laugh.
“Thought you didn’t need no daddy, remember?” After a beat in which you’re too humiliated and confused to answer, Joel’s humming again, pushing one thick finger inside of your cunt, then two. “S’okay. Normal for baby girls to get wet for their daddies after a hard spankin’. But we ain’t through - not yet. Just a little more.”
He clucks his tongue again and shushes you as you whimper a weak protest.
“None of that. Be good. Be good for Daddy, sweet thing. Little more.”
The rest of the spanking is so much more intense; there’s been a moment to cool down, to start relaxing away from the sharp, burning pain of it all, and it’s so fucking rough going all the way back to 100 after that. His fingers are wet with your own fluids and it makes the spanking worse, somehow. He goes out of his way to press his broad palm right up against your cunt, grinding the heel of it so that your wetness covers his skin. He delivers the hardest slap yet with that hand, a deep, predatory sound coming up from his chest. It scares you. The fear is fleeting, however, as the hot wave of blinding pain rushes up your spine and it’s almost like you’re whiting out, just for a second. Tiny, glittering sparkles waver in and out of the edges of your vision for that moment before they burn out like fireflies, and you realize that you’re moaning, wailing. It’s like your hearing comes back into focus, your mind viciously slamming back into your own body after Joel nearly beat it out of you.
You’ve never shaken this hard before, not really. Not from anything like this.
Joel’s cock is back against your ass and it stings so fucking bad when he drags his slippery cockhead over his own welted handprints. He strokes himself and the sound of it is so lewd, seemingly louder than your own choked sobs.
“Hurts pretty bad, huh, darlin’? I’m sorry I had to do that to you,” he says, and his voice is still that deep, low tone, but instead of anger, there’s a kind of tenderness there. A warmth. “Understand why Daddy had to give you a lickin’ though, don’t you?”
“Yes…” The word barely comes out whole, drawn high and shuddering like your gasps.
“Yeah?”
“Yes, Daddy, I - I’m… I’m s-sorry fuh-f-for -”
“Shush, now - no more’a that. Just let Daddy make you feel good, babygirl. Mean part’s over.”
Joel fits those long, big fingers back against your cunt, rubbing your clit in slow circles. Gentle - lovingly, almost. He does this for a long few moments while you catch your breath, murmuring little words of praise. Done so good for me. Just breathe. Good girl. Go ahead, let it out; give it all over to your Daddy. And soon enough, you’re throbbing, rocking back a little against his touch. His cock rests against the back of your thigh and you focus on the way it pulses against you, little twitches. It’s dripping, there, a hot, slippery gathering of it on your skin. Feels so warm. So do you. Your face, your aching cunt, your poor, abused ass.
Joel leaves your clit and his hands are gingerly at your waist, helping you to roll to your back as he gazes down at you.
“I know, I know. Know it’s all sore. Lemme make it better.”
God, he’s gorgeous. Big, broad, his heavy cock freed from his jeans and visibly throbbing. His eyes are so soft and heavy-lidded, licking his lips as he parts your thighs and gazes down at your pretty, pink pussy, open and swollen like some delicious little gift, like ripe fruit. Just for him.
“Baby… oh, lookit you. All this for me, huh?” Joel pushes his fingers slowly inside, crooking them to nudge against that spot inside that makes you gasp, makes your spine arch just a little bit. “That’s it - so good.”
Joel leans down between your thighs until you feel his breath against your molten, waiting flesh, his fingers still working that spot inside of you. He drags the flat of his tongue up the open seam of your cunt and moans, losing himself in the act of worshipping you like this. Making it all better - what a good Daddy. Maybe you can be good, after all. You could.
You allow your eyes to slide shut as you rock your hips against his ministrations, already so embarrassingly close for him. He inhales through his gorgeous nose and hums in pleasure, taking in your scent - that’s what he’s doing. Fuck. This realization pushes you even closer and there it is - the slow roll over the edge, falling down into that star-filled wave that has you gasping.
“Daddy, I’m fucking - oh, my god, it’s so - it’s -”
Joel only moves a little faster, a little deeper, milking your climax for everything it’s worth. He doesn’t want to put you off track, doesn’t want to fuck up the trajectory. The way your cunt flutters and twitches around his fingers makes him squeeze his free hand around the base of his cock, groaning, forcing himself to wait. He wants to take all of it from you - it’s his, after all. It’s all for Daddy.
When your loud moans melt off into sweet, keening little whimpers, Joel pulls away, sucking his fingers clean and steadying his hands up underneath your knees, pushing gently forward until you’re bent in half.
“Gunna be a lot, little girl,” he murmurs, eyes on yours. He grinds his hips and the weight of his body hovering over yours, his dick on your pussy, the sheer pressure of the thick head as he presses it up against your hole has you scared all over again. “Might hurt a little, but it’s a good hurt. Ready for Daddy? Wanna hear it.”
“… yes.”
“You know what I need to hear. Try again.”
“Yes, Daddy, I’m… ready for you.” Oh, you sound so pathetic, so small and nervous. Your big, shining eyes, lashes still wet. Lips all pink and parted like your beautiful slit.
“That’s my fuckin’ girl.” Joel sinks his cock inside little by little, thrusting shallowly in and out to gather your own mess all over his length. Easing the passage the best he can, memorizing the way your brows draw together and you wince with each passing inch. “Daddy’s gotcha. Daddy’s gotcha…”
He whispers it like a mantra as he reaches up to tenderly wipe new tears from your eyes. They gather there, big fat drops that roll silently down the sides of your temples to wet your hairline.
It’s not hard to melt you against him, and he shifts, bending you just a bit further now that he can sheath his long, thick cock all the way inside. It grinds softly up against your cervix as he waits there a beat, hissing a breath through his clenched teeth as he enjoys the slight discomfort of your tight little pussy around him.
“Fuck, honey… y’perfect,” he murmurs, rolling his hips. He works into a new rhythm, knowing he won’t be able to last long. Not with you all pressed beneath him and whining with all that flush on your cheeks, down your chest. That spray of freckles glow against the fever-spots of your cheekbones and Joel stills himself only for a moment, lest he cums on the spot. Just a little more. Just a little fucking longer.
By the time he absolutely can’t hold it in anymore, his heavy balls bouncing off the warm flesh of your ass, he reaches up to stroke your face. He pushes a thumb between your lips and there’s not a single word exchanged; you take him in, cheeks hollowing slightly as you suck. You wrap your hands around his strong forearm as if to keep him there, and you suppose it’s true - the feeling of the rough pad of his thumb over your tongue is intoxicating. Soothing.
Joel looks as though he’s in agony, and then he’s fucking into you hard enough that he can feel your teeth on this thumb as you lose focus, and fuck - you’re cumming for him again. It’s gorgeous, the sound of your tortured moans as it catches you by surprise, fingers trembling and digging into him a little. There’ll be tiny, crescent-shaped hints of your nails there later on, and he’ll run his lips over them when you’re not paying attention.
Joel grunts with each brutal thrust and finally the pressure bursts. He pumps his cum as deeply as he can, bodies flush together until you’re squirming.
“Be good, baby, you c’n take it - fuck, let Daddy fill you up…”
Joel sounds like an animal as he shoots his load in thick, hot ropes. He’s so utterly deep that if you focus, you can feel each little spurt right up against your battered cervix, each contraction as he empties his balls into you. He hangs down low enough that you manage to push up and kiss the bridge of his nose. A shiver runs up his spine and gasps, nuzzling mindlessly into it.
He unfolds your legs, slowly bringing them back down before he pulls out of your body and lies beside you. You’re both panting, and Joel traces his fingers over the ball of your shoulder as you come down in the comfortable silence. You’ve never felt this exhausted in your life. You can’t seem to muster any energy at all, eyes slipping shut. All there is are the sounds outside the window, Joel’s even breathing, the almost imperceptible rasp of his rough fingers on your soft skin.
“Feelin’ better? …get all the poison out?” His voice, so soft for once. You nod and he exhales an amused little laugh through his nose. Even with your eyes shut, you can feel his wry, handsome smile. “That’s my girl.”
(The best of this post and its reblogs, but with links that work)
Here is a website where you can scroll down to all the different levels of the ocean
Here is a website where you can see the future of the universe
Here is a website where you can press a ‘make everything okay’ button, over and over, until things really are okay
Here is a website that you can read if you feel like a burden
Here is a website where you can look at strobe illusions (TW strobe/flashing)
Here is a website where you can cut stuff up (TW blood/sh)
Here and here are websites where you can play with sand
Here is a website where you can draw with macaroni and other fun foods
Here is a website where you can paint someone’s nails
Here is a website where you can grow a garden with emojis
Here is a website with hundreds of videos of people hugging you (rightfully dubbed ‘the nicest place on the internet’ because it really is, y’all, it made me cry)
Here is a website that will take you to other useless websites
Here is a website where you can make a tiny cat play bongo drums (and other instruments!)
Here is a website to help give you gentle reminders <3
Here is a website where you can grow a tiny farm
Here is a website where you can take a bunch of scientific personality tests
Something something getting on your knees for Joel Miller and kissing the inside of his creaky knees and his thick thighs until you reach his cock and you suck him off so passionately that spit is coating your chin. The best part? When your forehead presses against his lower tummy as you keep him deep in your throat, breathing in through your nose to keep him there without gagging. He’ll even keep a hand on the back of your head, heavy palm holding the crown of your skull to get him just a tad bit deeper before pulling you off just to do it again and again. And he’ll do it with a smile and a groaned snarl of your name once he spills on your tongue.
My current WIP is for all of my David Rossi babies out there, who (like me) are struggling to find any smut with our Italian daddy. Here is just a tiny excerpt that I am blushing and squealing over:
“I’m going to need more of you, I’m going to lay you out on my dining room table and feast between your legs, Amore miso bellissimo.”
a/n: this ain’t very good and not proofread either but i needed to get my thoughts written down cause… i want Logan to put a baby in me or whatever. if i forgot any tags or warnings let me know!!
maybe you should have worn a condom. in all honesty, the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, you’d been too occupied with the need to feel every single inch and vein of Logan’s rock hard cock inside of you.
now, here you are, getting pounded into the bed from the back, with Logan thrusts growing more and more desperate. his moans of pleasure match your own, with your face turned to the side, cheek squished against the mattress. the tip of his length kisses that sweet spot deep inside repeatedly, and you’re close, so close. and by the twitching of Logan’s cock inside you, he must be as well.
“ngh! I’m close, Logan!”, you mewl, struggling to even make words come out by the sheer intensity of his thrusts. Logan only grunts in response, his body coming to rest on top of yours while he keeps rolling his hips into you with no remorse.
“f-fuck, come for me, baby. n-need you to” he stutters out, his thrust growing unsteady but desperate. he hits that sweet spot again, and with a cry of his name, you tip over the edge, your eyes rolling to the back of your head whilst he keeps pumping into you relentlessly. he feels you clenching down on his cock, and he lets out a ragged moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. then suddenly, without warning, he empties his load inside of you. you gasp as you feel his seed spill into you, a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Logan slumps down on your body, nearly crushing you beneath his weight, but he’s trying to hold himself up with his forearms planted on either side of your head. to your shock, he keeps lazily drilling his cock into your overstimulated cunt, somehow spilling even more of his cum. you whimper beneath him, unable to move much.
“Logan!” you try to scold him, stop him, but he only growls in response. eventually, his emptied all of his cum into your aching hole, and his hips still.
“m’sorry… needed to cum in you” he mumbles, but there’s no real apology in his voice. despite your better judgment, his words are so hot, and you can just about mutter out a response.
“I’m not on birth control…” you remind him, but you’re shocked when you feel his cock become hard again. he growls in approval, his teeth latching on to the soft skin of your neck.
“good. gonna have you stuffed full with my seed, your belly all swollen with my cubs…” he says, his tone gruff, his eyes almost feral. your eyes go wide, equal parts terror and arousal in your expression. his teeth sink into your skin, not hard enough to pierce, but enough to make you squeal.
you can’t bring it in yourself to refuse, to protest. so you let Logan flip you over on your back, and he almost immediately starts thrusting into you with a newfound vigour and urgency.
at the end of the night, when Logan is finally spent, and you feel like a used ragdoll, you lie on your back, feeling your mixed releases slowly spilling onto the bed. you whine and when you suddenly feel Logan’s two thick fingers plunging into your used pussy, plugging his cum in you.
(( it won’t let me post the URL for part one, so please visit the link below to my Master List where you can find Part One!))
The complete Collection: Apollyon’s Master List.
Summary: What do you do when you run out of heat suppressants? You turn to the only person who can possibly get you more medication; even if it means airing your biggest secret. But when Joel doesn’t have what you need you must travel together to meet another dealer. Surely you’ll get more medicine score your heat starts… right?
Warnings: 18+ content, post-apocalyptic world. A/B/O alternative universe, (A/B/O dynamics including: Scenting, Marking, Knotting, Heats) age gap (Reader is 26, Joel is late 40s), reader has been on suppressant most of her life, Joel teaches reader about guns, parental lost (not depicted on page), he falls first, angst(?), gore and violence. SMUT: Fingering, PIV, no use of protection (wrap it up y’all!), slight breeding kink if you squint, knotting, marking, heavy praise kink. ((Please let me know if I missed anything))
The day creeps on into the late evening, and as stars begin to speckle the sky you finally draw yourself away from the window, unable to see anything but your own reflection. Joel sits by the fire, trying to make it seem as if he wasn’t watching you the whole time your back had been turned. He shuffles his legs, picking at the ruminants of the rabbit on his plate.
“He’ll be here.” Joel glances up as you pace over, biting at your thumb nail as you stare into the orange and blue embers.
“Yeah, yeah I know.” But there’s a catch in your voice, your smile wavering slightly when you catch his eye.
He holds your stare for a moment, and you’re unable to hide the pinch of worry between your brow, your smile falling further. “Come on, sit.” Joel nods at your sleeping bag, sliding the rest of the rabbit towards you. “Gotta eat, kid. It ain’t gonna do you any good to make yourself sick while we wait.”
He has a point. You slide your bag closer to him and the fire, crossing your legs as you sit, pulling the plate into your lap. The silence stretches between you, filled only by the pop of the logs in the brick fireplace. You dare a glance towards Joel, finding him leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out and staring into the fire. Both of you lost in your own heads, wondering what could have happened to make Mark so late.
“Let me ask you something.” You’re caught staring, your cheeks flushing as Joel turns to look at you.
“W-What?”
“How long have you been on this medication?”
“Oh um… Eight? Nine years, maybe.” You shrug your shoulder, popping a piece of meat into your mouth.
Joel stares at you, stunned. “That long?” His thoughts turn instantly to how the medication could have affected you, how your body works, down to your biology. He can’t stop the spark of horror showing in his eyes before you notice.
You blanch slightly, stammering over your words. “Well… well yeah. I mean I couldn’t let anyone know, obviously. It’s… mom explained it like it was pretty much birth control. Never have a heat, never have to worry.” You try to shrug it off but Joel shakes his head, turning his body towards you.
“Yeah, but even then birth control isn’t supposed to be used your entire life… Are all of your instincts suppressed?”
The look on his face, how his eyes have grown wider, it makes you fidget. “Um… I guess so. I don’t really know what though.”
Joel shakes his head slightly, finally resting his gaze on the fire. “How come you never decided to find an Alpha to settle with? Someone you trusted?”
Your cheeks grow warm, the plate long forgotten in your lap, staring at Joel as the firelight dances across his features. “Well, I…” You don’t advert your gaze when he looks back at you, your heart steadily beating faster. “I thought about it… but I’m… I’m scared. I’m scared that the moment an Alpha finds out that he’ll use me, strip me of everything I am until I am nothing more than my biology…”
Your words are heavy in the air, the two of you staring at each other as the logs shift and crack in the hearth. Joel sits up a little straighter, resting his arms on his knees and glancing you over, breaking eye contact first.
“You told me.” His voice is gruff, underlying emotions caught at the back of his throat and your eyes widen.
“Of… of course I did-You’re…”
“Different?” He offers, eyebrows lifting, gesturing with a hand. You nod, suddenly all too aware of how close you are to him, how his eyes burn into your own, how he’s a larger than life presence in the room and that…
It doesn’t scare you, nothing about Joel has ever scared you. Unlike most of the Alphas you had the misfortune of crossing paths with.
It’s a startling realization, stealing your breath as you turn away.
Joel is different. He’s always been different.
“Y/n?”
You set the plate down clumsily beside him, the clunk loud on the wood floor, before you stand with your bag.
“I’m tired… do you mind taking first watch?”
Before he can answer you’re walking away, setting your bag down near the wall farthest from his. You crawl in and turn over, the pounding of your heart keeping you up for most of the night.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Day one of staying in the safe house slowly rolls into day two. Then those hours bleed over into day three and the anxiety that was pumping through your veins has morphed and transcended into pure terror.
There is still no sign of Mark as you and Joel pick at breakfast.
There is still no sign of Mark as you pace back and forth across the house when Joel tries to convince you to sit and eat lunch.
Now the sun is beginning to set, and the limitations of your calm have reached a breaking point. The empty pill bottle lays by your bag, an orange beacon of what is to come should Mark never show. The heaviness of the situation is slowly suffocating the air from the room, and there is nothing either of you can do as you wait, and wait, and wait.
Joel watches you from his spot by the window, lines of stress carve your face, your body jerky with how tightly strung your muscles are as you fold another blanket from the pile you had found in one of the back rooms. He isn’t sure what more he can do, though his instincts beg to comfort you, to take you in his arms and soothe your fears. But he knows it would be a lie, that as soon as the medication begins to work out of your system you’ll go into heat at any given moment, if not immediately.
He glances out the window for what feels like the hundredth time, willing the short blond man to materialize on the empty street.
Your breath is staggered in your lungs, panic slowly tightening its grip around your neck by the minute, no matter how hard you try to keep it at bay. You toss another blanket onto Joel’s sleeping bag before bending to pick up the next, shaking it free of the dust that had gathered over the years. You try to focus on the feeling of the soft material beneath your fingers, or the way the particles float through the air, catching the sunlight. You count the blankets in each pile, trying to even them out.
“One, two, three-“
“Honey.”
You jump at Joel’s deep voice, turning to find him staring at you, his arms folded across his chest, his eyebrows pinched once more. “Y-Yes?” Your eyes flickering to the door expectantly, a spark of hope wishing to fan to life.
Joel rolls his lips together, adverting his gaze. “Ya might wanna take all those blankets into that back room… Make somewhere comfortable for yourself later.”
Your heart plummets into your stomach, the feeling flooding from your hands as the blanket falls to the floor. “W-What? Why?”
“I don’t think Marks going to make it.” Joel watches the color drain from your face in an alarming amount of time, his back stiffening as he pushes off the wall, suddenly afraid you’re going to faint as you sway on your feet.
“N-no… No.” Denial takes a head, your eyes becoming watery. “He said he would be here, he-he has to be here!” Despair makes you raise your voice, and the look of pity in Joel’s eyes only makes the feeling worse. “Why isn’t he here?”
Shaking his head, Joel runs his hands through his hair. “Darling I wish I knew. There’s a number of things that could have happened. From him deciding what I was trading wasn’t good enough to he could have possibly been attacked.” Joel’s words hold reason, and you want to accept them, you want them to make you feel better, to understand that this journey was a risk with no guaranteed reward.
“I can’t go through this Joel. I can’t.” Your voice breaks as he becomes blurry, tears burning your eyes that refuse to fall just yet. “I can’t go home, I can never go back to the QZ.”
“Baby… Yes you will.”
“No I can’t! The moment I get remotely close to those walls an Alpha is going to hunting me like I am some kind of-“
Joel is suddenly before you, gripping your shoulders, and his solemn features are extremely clear as the first tear falls. “Ain’t no one, and I mean no one gonna lay a finger on you. I wont let that happen.”
“I’m an unmated Omega, Joel…” You whisper, trembling under his grip. “I’m prey.”
The words are heavy, laden with the truth. Where as the few mated Omegas there are, are relatively safe in the presence of their Alpha or pack, an unmated Omega is injured prey in a room full of predators.
Joel cusses, his grip tightening ever so slightly, fingertips digging into your sweater. He ducks slightly, bringing himself to your level, and this close you can see the slightest specks of colors hidden amongst the brown in his eyes. Golds and greens swirling together. You get so lost in the depths of them for a moment that you start slight when he speaks.
“Listen… I’ve been thinking about this and I just… You need to hear me out, alright? You know I’d never do nothing to hurt you, but this is the only option I see.”
Hesitation bubbles uncomfortably in your stomach, your nod small as you suddenly realize how close you both are, how strong his smell is growing.
Joel swallows thickly, searching your eyes. “Let me mark you.”
You gasp, pulling away and Joel lets you, raising his hands in the air as you stare in growing disbelief. “What?”
Joel rushes to explain, sensing the rising fight that is about to ensue. “After. After you get through your heat, when it’s time for us to leave let me lay a mark on you. It wont be a mating mark, just a claim. Any Alpha that dares to come near you will scent me immediately.”
A trembling hand flutters to your throat, the most traditional place for a mark of any kind. “That’s… That’s a really big commitment Joel…” You breath, looking up at the older man. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t ask that of you.” The thought of bearing Joel’s mark though makes the blood in your veins feel thick, something deep in your stomach clenching as you imagined what it would feel like, how his mark would appear on your skin.
“You aren’t ask anything of me, Y/n. I am offering you a solution.” Joel insists.
A solution.
Is that all it is?
Though claims are not as strong as Mating marks, Joel’s scent would be imbedded into your very being; and as he said, not a single person would dare mess with you. Him being one of the most powerful people in the QZ… But there is something whispering at the back of your mind, a fleeting feeling of disappointment that startles you.
Is this just a man doing whatever it takes to uphold his bargain?
“I mean… I understand. It-It’s just… what if there is someone you find later on, they aren’t going to be happy that you have already marked another person.” You feel stupid just saying that, but apart of you wants to know, some part that is is suddenly feeling small and insecure as you stare at Joel.
Joel’s smile is bemused, the corners of his lips hardly lifting as he cocks his head. “I ain’t been worried about such things for a long time, darling.” There’s a gleam in those brown eyes as he looks at you, “Is that a problem for you?”
Your skin flushes, the color filling the apples of your cheeks, and you can no longer hold his stare. Joel takes a testing step forward, and when you don’t retreat, he closes the distance. He curls a thick finger under your chin, tilting your head up with no where else to look but at him. Your pupils are blown out, covering the beautiful color of your irises, and he feels the slight bit of weight as you seemingly, unknowingly press your chin into the warmth of his hand. “Hmm?” He prompts, easing a little closer, the toes of his boots brushing yours, and you squirm in place. His presence is overpowering, making you feel small in a way that has your breath hitching. “Got someone you’re sweet on?”
The low rumble of humor in his voice makes you blink, stuttering your answer. “What? No-No of course not…” You think back to the conversation just a few nights ago, how you realized that you found more than comfort in Joel presence and you suddenly feel as though you’ve been doused with cold water.
His smile grows with your silence, a dimple peaking through the scruff of his beard, those crows feet reappearing by his eyes as he slips his hand along your jaw. “No one? Not a single soul?” He teases, his voice soft like the stroke of his fingers over the back of your jaw. You push his hand away, turning your back to him as you shake your head in embarrassment.
“I’ll consider it.” You mumble over your shoulder, a shudder ripping through you.
“That’s all I am asking for.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
As the sun dips past the rising building, needs you’ve never felt before begin to surface with the creep of night. Sitting on the floor of the back room, you readjust blanket after blanket to your liking. Every one that Joel lays out you have to pull and tug into the right place, wadding up some and discarding others.
Joel watches you, patient as he follows your instructions on how to help as you make your bed. You worry your lips between your teeth, sitting back on your heels as you stare at the mess before you. “It’s alright, your instincts to nest are starting to come out. It use to be that when Omegas lived with their Alpha’s they would have specific rooms designed just for their nests.” His voice is calm, trying to quell your anxiety.
“Really? That must have been nice…”
“It was. The space was sacred to an Omega, it was completely filled with things that they desired and found comfortable as well.” An intrusive thought fills Joel’s mind, an image of you, curled up amongst soft blankets and pillows. Your face no longer pinched with fear, instead soft with contempt.
Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, a sheepish look crossing his features as you shake your head. “Something is missing… It doesn’t smell right… I need…” You whisper dies off as you look over, catching Joel’s stare. Your eyes move lower slowly, zeroing in on the dark green flannel he has thrown on over his t-shirt. Joel follows your gaze in confusion, cocking an eyebrow.
“Whatcha’ need, sweetheart?”
You swallow, his scent had been filling the room over the last few hours, calling to you, blanketing your nerves. He smells of pine woods, and whiskey, and the way a campfire clings to your clothes the next day. It’s intoxicating, a mouth watering scent you could easily become addicted to.
“Could… Could I have your flannel?” You can barely get the words out, embarrassed by the need for his scent to feel comfortable in your nest.
Joel stares at you in surprise, his eyes widening. “My shirt?”
You smooth out a wrinkle in the blanket you’re sitting on, unable to look him in the eyes as you stammer. “You… You smell good and it-it’s been comforting this entire trip…” Whatever you could possibly say to justify your request dies in your throat, sizzling with shame.
The room is quiet for a long moment before Joel moves out of the corner of your eye. He rolls his shoulders back, working the garment off his arms and handing it over. “There ya go.”
Your hand trembles minutely as you take it, his eyes locked with yours as you draw it to your chest, your heart pounding in your ears.
Joel’s next breath is cut short, a sweet smell beginning to permeate the air and he realizes your medication is leaving your system. Your natural scent is sweet, like peaches and chocolate, and something fresh like the first rain of spring.
It makes Joel’s stomach tighten, fire starting to kindle low in his groin, and he realizes he needs to put distance between the both of you while he can.
“I’m going to get you some food.” he stands from the crate and your gaze follows, traveling up the expanse of his body. Past his long legs clad in dark denim, past his tapered waist; further up his wide chest and corded arms until your focus is finally of his face.
You’re noticing things you hadn’t before, like how his salt and pepper beard has a heart shaped patched just under his jaw. The wild way his hair curlers, framing his face, and once more you’re drawn to the set of his lips. They look soft, warm, like they would move perfectly against your own.
“Honey?”
Joel’s thick accent washes over you, and a blazing heat licks up your spine making you whimper. Pain rips through your abdomen, your body suddenly feeling wound tight full of sudden need that leaves your panties slick.
His eyes widen, hit by the full volume of your scent as it perfumes and envelopes the room.
“Fuck, I’m-“
“You’re in heat.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
If you had to take a bet on who would be the first to break, you would have bet on yourself.
And you would have lost.
48 hours of hell.
48 hours of crying and silently begging for anything to end the pain.
Your fingers have hardly dented your heat, whatever relief you can bring yourself is too short lived, the agonizing pain eating you up until the point you’re certain you will die in this cramped little room. Joel’s flannel is damp with tears as you burry your face into the wad of material, the scent bringing you as much comfort as it brings you pain. The need for him is becoming too much.
You want to scream for him, beg for him to fix it the only way an Alpha can, but you force yourself to bite your lip.
The floorboard creaks suddenly on the other side of the door, and you know it’s Joel, checking on you once again, unnecessarily taunting you with what you can’t have. You whine, frustration eating at you as your hand cramps once more between your slick thighs, forcing you to stop rubbing cruel circles around your clit. You stare up at the ceiling, tears spilling along your temples and catching in your damp hair as you count the cracks in the drywall. Anything to focus on that isn’t the pain and need between your legs, or the way your skin sticks together with sweat.
The moment is to short lived and your body is moving, trying to find a comfortable position as you roll onto your knees, pressing your chest to the mound of blankets. You groan softly, letting your weight rest on your chest as your knees slide apart, your hand once again finding your pulsing clit. Burying your face into Joel’s flannel you huff a sigh, working yourself towards a quick high when the sound of the brass doorknob turning catches you off guard.
You shoot up, wrapping one of the loose blankets around your naked form just as Joel steps into the room.
Embarrassment and shock keep your tongue glued to the roof of your mouth as you stare at each other. The dying sunlight in the room casts him in shadows, his tan skin appearing darker, but his eyes shine as they rake over you.
He is quick to note the change in your smell, how the stress and pain have caused your scent to become overly sweet like turned fruit. The next thing he notices is his crumpled shirt, and the bright flush of your cheeks as you tighten the blanket around you, sweeping the garment underneath. Joel steps closer and you lean back, your breath hitching at the hunger in his eyes.
“Joel…” You try to warn, but he cooes softly and your cunt clenches at the noise.
“baby doll…” Tears fill your eyes at the softness of his tone, and he hurts to ease your pain. “Let me help you, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, ragged like he hadn’t spoke in days.
“No-No… I’m okay, I’ve got in under control.” You lie even as your body begs for the help.
Joel gets to his knees before you, hands clenching over his thighs. Your cheeks are bright red, your hair in a tangled mess on top of your head from where you had tried to tie it up. He has to keep himself from follow the beads of sweat that roll down your jaw before disappearing down the curve of your neck.
“I can’t sit out there a moment longer, listening to you crying and whimpering. It’s just me, you know you’ve always been safe with me.” You don’t reply, your eyes squeezing shut as a sharp shudder rips through you and it tugs at his heart. “Can I come closer?” You freeze, realizing that he’s asking to come into your nest. A delicious feeling of comfort rolls over your muscles at the idea, and you nod slowly.
Joel’s knees pop and creak as he climbs onto the pallet behind you, where he grips your shoulders and digs his thumbs into the tense muscles.
A small sob rips from your chest, leaning heavily into his grip. “I’ll do whatever you need, just say the word. If I need to leave I will, if I need to just sit here a while and talk you through this I can. But I can’t sit on the other side of that door and listen to you cry.”
His words simmer through your mind, stinging your already aching heart, and another sob is forced from your throat. Joel hushes you softly, his rough palms slipping up your neck then back down, as he pulls you back letting you rest against his chest.
Joel’s warmth bleeds into your own but it feels different, soothing. His scent is the strongest it’s ever been, filling your lungs with each shakey breath, and you feel something shift. Hushed words muddle together in your ears, your head leaning back against his chest as a breathy moan leaves your throat.
Without thought your hips begin to grind slowly, need pulsing so hot and heavy between your thighs that your hand travels down thoughtlessly. Your breath hitches as your fingers swirl around your swollen clit, slipping through your lips and pressing into your opening.
“Little Peach.” Joel’s voice is gruff, and another sob spills from your lips.
“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t ask for this Joel, I didn’t ask to be born like this.” Before you can snatch your hand away, horror flooding through your body, Joel is there. His hand finds an opening in the blanket so loosely wrapped around your body, gripping your wrist stopping you.
“I know… I know you didn’t but there ain’t no reason to fight it now baby. It’s said and done.” His clauses are rough against your skin, and you hold your breath as he covers your hand with his own. “Use me. Take what you need, whatever it is.”
Your eyes are droopy with lust when you turn your head to look up at him, the softest whimper leaving your lips when Joel shifts behind you , pressing the hard ridge in his pants against your back.
“I…” You swallow, thighs trembling as you feel your laced fingers brush the thatch of curling hair covering your pussy. “I don’t want to make you do anything…”
When he chuckles the sound reverberates through your back, “Darlin’,” He drawls the word out close to your ear, “You didn’t make me stay, you didn’t make me come in this room. And you certainly aren’t making me do this.”
He emphasizes his point by tracing the drenched slit of your cunt, earning a high pitched squeak. “Fuck, peach… So wet, she’s just fucking dying for some attention isn’t she?”
Your head, feeling heavy, falls back against his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as bliss fills your body. Joel tugs testingly at your blanket and when it slips from your fingers, Joel pulls it away revealing your body to him.
Joel sucks in a breath, his pupils dilating as he drinks in the sight of you laid out between his legs. Your chest rises and falls with each quick breath, the sheen of sweat gleaming on your body in the dim golden light of the room. “Look at you…” A hunger permeates his words, his breath growing more ragged as he draws a delicate circle around your clit, eliciting a gasp. “You are beautiful, so very, very beautiful.”
Your hips circle, seeking more of anything he is willing to give you. “Please, I need you… I need you, Joel.” You turn your face into his neck, your breath fanning over his skin.
“Ain’t gotta beg, pretty girl. I’ve got ya.” His fingers draw lazy patterns around your clit and you moan, slow and drawn out, hips bucking as he keeps a steady pace. Joel works you up easily with a few expert swipes, your back bowing as your orgasm crashes through you. Your cries of ecstasy are muffled against his throat, thighs squeezing his hand.
He shushes you as you float back to reality, gasping for breath as you relax against him; your muscles loose, bones feeling like jello. “Atta girl, easy Peach.”
You try to catch your breath, reviling in the small reprieve he’s given you. “peach… why peach?” You whisper, making Joel chuckle softly.
“It’s all I can smell ever since your medication wore off. Peaches and chocolate .”
You hum, a small smile playing at your lips. “Are you sure the chocolate bar didn’t melt in my bag?”
Joel smiles, lazily dragging his fingers across your stomach. “Yeah, I’m sure. Bakers chocolate doesn’t smell this sweet.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and your heart flutters, a calm washing over your mind at the same time a spark flairs to life in your stomach.
You lean back, eyes hazy, lids heavy matching the look of his own. The few seconds you spend staring at each other feel like an eternity before you close the gap.
It’s hesitant, as most first kisses are, a little puff of surprise between your lips before they seal together. Finding the rhythm that works so well as one moans softly and the other swallows the noice. Your hand slips up his chest, feeling the wild thump of his heart before it travels up his neck to rest against his jaw.
Joel helps you as you turn, never letting the kiss break as you shakily straddle his lap, pressing your body tight against his own. The spark catches quickly, setting fire to your body as you grind against the hard bulge in his pants. His hands grip the dent of your waist, encouraging your movements with soft squeezes, while you tug fitfully at his shirt.
“More.” You mumble against his lips, letting your heat take the lead, turning off all thoughts of shame as his shirt slips up and you lay your hands on his bare skin for the first time. He pulls the shirt off completely and you lean back, admiring him with lust blown eyes. Joel sighs softly, his head dropping back as your fingers run through the dense curling hair across his chest. His body is strong, sculpted by years of manual labor and survival, yet his stomach is a little soft with age. You scratch your nails down his stomach lightly, following the trail of hair down to the buckle of his jeans and Joel closes his eyes.
“I want you.” You lick your lips, salivating at the thought of what lies just below the thick blue denim. Joel moans again, his chest rising with the need for air as he nods.
“Gonna need to work you open for me, honey.” He breaths, his eyes falling to where your hands fumble over the button of his jeans.
“Just… I just need you, it’s okay.” There’s a frantic note to your voice, all logic thrown out the window at this point, need and instinct pushing you forward.
Joel sees this, and slips his hand around your throat, squeezing softly and forcing you to sit back, ignoring your desperate whine. “Ima give you what you want, but you’re gonna listen to me little girl. Am I clear?” There’s a touch of command in his voice, forcing your gaze to his and waiting until you finally nod your understanding.
He keeps his eyes locked on yours, sneaking his other hand between your bodies, stroking your pussy. You groan, eyes fluttering closed as your grind yourself against his hand, supporting yourself by gripping his arm. “That’s it… go ahead baby…” Joel’s voice is hoarse, his pupils dilated as he sinks two fingers into your heat. You gasp at the sudden stretch, the burn of his thick digits spreading you open. Your jaw falls slack, eyes rolling up as bliss radiates through your body. “Fuuuck, baby girl…” Joel pulls his fingers out before sinking them back in, the calluses he’s built from years of working with his hands rub along your sensitive walls, reaching places you never thought possible. “Y’er so tight… squeezing my fingers like that.” Joel’s Texan twang seeps into his words as his arousal heightens, his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans as he works his fingers in and out, faster and harder, mesmerized by the way your hips buck and twitch; climbing towards your next orgasm. “Come on baby… cum fer me darlin’.”
Your body sings for him, the force of your orgasm shaking you as your back bows and light explodes across your vision. Your thighs quake, Joel’s name falling from your lips as you sob, rutting against his hand as your cunt squeezes his fingers with each radiating wave of pleasure.
The soft, comforting sounds of his approval reaches your ears, his grip slackening around your throat as you slump against him. “So beautiful, cumming all over my fingers like that. I need to see you cum on my cock baby.” His words have you preening, his voice husky as you lean back, your grin lopsided and your eyes glossed over. Joel strokes a thumb over your cheek, and you turn your head, kissing his palm. “Lay back for me. Let me take care of you.”
With much effort you manage to lay back in your nest, your legs spread, hips circling invitingly as Joel climbs to his feet, finally stripping off his jeans. All that remains in the way of what. You need the most, are his thin pare of threadbare boxers. Your mouth salivates at the bulge in his underwear, giving you a good peak at the size of his member hiding just underneath. “How do you want me?”
Your voice is so soft, yet wrecked with lust, ready to please Joel. He smiles, his cock twitching. “why don’t you roll over for me huh? That’s right, goood girl.” You follow his instructions, knees slipping on the blanket, head resting on your arms as you try to catch your breath through the thickness of your anticipation.
Dropping his boxers he groans as his cock springs free, bobbing between corded thighs as he takes his place behind you, hands steadying himself on the small of your back. He sighs deeply, cock twitching and knot swelling slightly at the sight of your drenched cunt, inviting him to sink into your heat.
You wiggle your hips impatiently, turning your head and catching sight of him leaning over you, the predatory hunger in his gaze. “I know… I know you need this little one.” His voice drops to a husky vibration in his wide chest and all you can do is nod, your tongue feeling thick in your mouth. “It’s alright baby, I’ll make it better.” Gripping his cock, Joel glides his fingers over the long length of his shaft, teasing the throbbing vein running up his cock before slipping the flushed tip through your folds.
“Please… Please Alpha.” You beg through thick tears, gripping the faded purple blanket below you as Joel notches his cock against your entrance. He presses his hips forward, both of you moaning loudly as he sinks into your warmth. “Joel…” You simper, rocking your hips back, attempting to take more of him. You thought his fingers had been a stretch, now you understand why he was so adamant about opening you up. His cock is long and thick, spearing you open and stretching your walls in ways that feel like you might be ripped in two at any moment.
“Fuck… fuck y’re so tight.” Joel breathes raggedly, his focus torn between not busting right here and now and not thrusting into you savagely. “Easy baby, gotta stretch you out nice and slow.” You mewl, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel him slipping deeper and deeper with small thrusts. every ridge and bump rubbing across your sensitive walls, working you higher and higher.
A hand travels up your bowed spine, gripping your neck and pressing your face into the blankets. “This sweet pussy must have been made for me, huh? the way she squeezes me so tight.” Joel curves over you, his weight settling against your hips as he drives forward, burying himself to the hilt. You squeal at the sudden force, your legs shaking and weak profanities spilling from your lips.
Joel chuckles quietly, bracing his weight on his hands, trapping you below him. “You can take it can’t you baby? You’re doing so well.” He rocks back, sliding out a few inches before burying himself back into you, a gruff moan falling from his lips. He continues his shallow thrusts, like he can’t stand the thought of leaving your drooling cunt for to long.
“Y-yes, yes Alpha.” You stutter, the euphoria coursing through your body threatening to break your mind, as the engorged head of his cock presses against a sensitive spot along your gummy walls. “Please… Please I’m gonna-!” Your muscles lock, mouth agape, as your orgasm suddenly begins to crest.
With a growl, Joel presses his forehead between your shoulder blades. “Cum for me.” He grunts, already feeling his heavy balls drawing tight as your cunt starts fluttering. “Cum for me and I’ll give you my knot.”
A shrill scream bubbles out of your throat, your body jerking below his as you fall into that black pit of pleasure. Joel’s hand slaps over your mouth, muffling your cry of pleasure as his head shoots up, eyes locking on the window for the briefest of moments. “There you go baby, let go for me.” He breathes into your ear, pulling you tight to his chest as he plows himself into your pliant cunt. Fat tears spill over your cheeks, your desperate whines and whimpers caught in his meaty palm as his thrusts become harder, deeper, faster.
“This little pussy, she’s just begging for my cum.” The rhythmic sound of his hips snapping against your ass fills the room, just below it is the sloppy sound of his cock spearing into you. You nod weakly, working your hips back to meet him thrust for thrust and he grins. The look almost triumphant. “Yeah she does… Gonna let me breed her, huh? Gonna let me fuck her full of me?”
Joel drops his hand, circling your throat holding your head against his shoulder. “Yes! Yes oh god, cum in me, cum in me please!” Your cry is all he needs, his control snapping as he bully’s his cock against your cervix.
Joel grunts, his eyes closing and head tilting back as the first jet of cum paints your walls. You squeal, a noise so high and piercing that Joel jerks slightly. His knot swells stretching your cunt beyond what you think you can take, locking you to Joel.
“Fuck baby… you can take it, let go and relax.” He whispers, nipping your shoulder as he grinds his hips against your ass, his spend filling you to the point it has no where else to go, your stomach bulging ever so slightly before it leaks past his knot.
You whimper softly, your thoughts dissipating completely as Joel pants above you. He slowly rolls you both on to your side, cradling you close as he pulls a blanket across your shivering body. Smoothing the sweaty hair from your face he rains kisses down on your shoulders and neck, hushing your whimpers with praises, even as his cock still twitches in your depths.
“I’ve got you, rest baby, I’ve got you.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
“Hng- Joel… oh god…” Your head lulls back, Joel’s hand keeping you from hitting the floor as he cradles your neck. Fingers twitching around locks of grey hair, you moan Joel’s name as he drags his cock from your sodden pussy, only to press back in a second later.
Fingertip shaped bruises and dark red love bites littler your body, mirroring Joel’s. A new one popping up every few minutes, consequences of how you’ve spent the last four days.
Even now, Joel circling a pebbled nipple with the tip of his tongue, laving the delicate skin before pulling it into the warmth of his mouth. Your jaw drops, back arching in a silent plea for more, which Joel is happy to accommodate. His teeth scrape over the sensitive peak, sucking deeply before twirling his tongue around your nipple.
You bask in the feeling, your senses having finally starting to become your own as your heat subsides. You tug on Joel’s hair, pulling him from your breast with a wet pop, his brown eyes meeting your own. They’re heavy with lust, soft pants falling from his lips as he grinds against your core. Snuggly wrapped in your wet warmth, his hips barely move as he languidly fills you with every inch he has. The course hairs at the bottom of his shaft, made sticky with the mix of your releases, rubs against your swollen clit; giving it the right amount of friction to keep you on the edge of bliss.
You drag Joel’s lips to your own, moaning as he sweeps his tongue into your mouth, tasting you in the same manner as which he ravishes your body. Pulling back Joel stutters for breath, taking in the rose color of your kiss bitten lips, the seemingly permanent stain of color on your cheeks, how your eyes shine with need as they never leave his.
You lean up, pressing kisses along his jaw, down his neck tasting the salt on his skin. Joel’s hand moves from its place in the bend of your knee, to the plush of your hip, holding you as close as he can. He can hear you breathing in his scent with soft little whimpers, your hands gripping at him as if he is likely to disappear at any given moment.
Joel knows the feeling too well, it threatens to cave his chest in, to pull him into an inky void of loneliness if you decide, by the end of this, that it was all a big mistake. His long fingers tangle into your hair, pulling you from the crook of his neck with ease to stare into your laden eyes.
“You look so pretty like this.” Joel’s voice is thick, sticking in his throat. You make a soft noise of appreciation, rolling your hips to meet his shallow thrusts.
Joel’s pace slowly increases, his cock sliding further and further out before finding home again. Your lashes flutter, gasping quietly as he presses his forehead to yours.
“J-Joel…”
“I want to mark your pretty little neck, I don’t ever want to let you go.” A whine falls from your lips at a particularly hard thrust, your pussy becoming more sensitive, your bud grinding against his pelvic. “Want to keep you all to myself, keep you covered in my scent and filled with my cum.”
Joel moans as your cunt flutters, your legs starting to shake, nails digging into his shoulders.
You nod your head, bliss building under your skin. “Joel… Joel!” He leans closer, practically bending you in half as his grip tightens on the back of your neck.
“Say it baby, tell me I can mark you. Tell me your my Omega.“
“I’m yours! M-Mark me Joel, please!”
With a harsh thrust Joel sends you spiraling, dropping you over the edge into oblivion as his teeth sink into the thin skin of your neck. Your eyes widen, your grip tightening around Joel as the new sensation washes through your body.
For the briefest of moments you can feel everything Joel does, though his emotions pelt you so rapidly you can’t catch on to any of them before he draws away. There’s blood on his lips, a needy manic look in his eyes as his hips falter, moans falling off his tongue as he fucks into you. Joel grips the backs of your thighs, bending you in half, letting gravity work with him as he bears his teeth and molds your pussy to the shape of his cock.
“Mine, my sweet Omega. All mine.” Little whimpers and babbled prayers leave your lips, too limp and compliant below him to do much else. You watch his face twist, his nose scrunching, lips pulling back from his teeth, eyes closing as the first twitch of his cock sends a jet of seed deep into your cunt.
Knot catching, plugging your dripping hole, Joel collapses, hardly catching himself from crushing you under the heft of his weight. Your thighs burn from the stretch, your limbs loose and yet tight all at once as he nips and peppers your jaw and throat with kisses. Your head falls to his chest, a wave of exhaustion crashing into you as Joel rolls you both over, welcoming your weight on top of him.
*~*~*~*~*~*
“We’ve used up most of our food, but that doesn’t mean we can’t hunt down a few rabbits to hold us over until we get back.”
Joel squats by the packs, sorting through them, transferring all of the lighter things to your bag. You watch from the center of your makeshift nest, now fully dressed in your travel clothes, your eyes trained on each item he rearranges as your fingers pick at the blanket below you.
A large part of you doesn’t want to leave this room, it wants to stay buried in your nest with Joel beside you. Never to emerge again, growing oblivious to the world outside. But you know that isn’t how it works, that you have to take the next steps and navigate this new life ahead of you.
Joel doesn’t need to look at you to see your discomfort, your scent gives you away. The sweet smell now is too strong, bordering on sour. He looks over his shoulder, catching your eye. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“Is it?” You look like your verging on tears, your lip starting to tremble. Joel sets the bag down, his eyebrows furrowing as he turns fully. “I’ve never… I’ve never lived as an Omega, Joel. I-I mean, yeah I have been an Omega this whole time but I’ve lived as a Beta, I didn’t have to worry about going out of my apartment, I never had to fear an Aloha taking interest in me. I-I don’t know what to do with all of these emotions and-and feelings burning in my chest.” Tears spill over your cheeks and Joel quickly moves to you, sitting on his knees in front of you. You suck in a harsh breath, a sob threatening to swallow your words. “I don’t want to leave my nest.”
“Baby…” Joel pulls you into his lap, cradling you as he smooths a hands down your back. “I’ve got you baby girl.” He whispers into the crown of your hair, your sobs wracking your body as you cling to his jacket. “You aren’t alone, I’m here and like I’ve said, I ain’t gonna let a thing happen to you. You’ll still live your life just as you did before. We just need make a few changes is all.”
You sniffle with a nod, closing your eyes as you inhale his scent. “I’m sorry.” You mutter timidly.
“Ain’t gotta be sorry. Just need ya to trust me, okay?”
“O-okay…”
*~*~*~*~*~*
The sun is so bright after being locked inside the house for so long, you squint at your surroundings as Joel ushers you outside and down the steps. You look around at the sunny world, the bright lights and hues of approaching fall. It all feels so conflicting with the turmoil of emotions you feel inside.
You start down the walk way, Joel’s presence at your back, he’s talking about the trip home, how often you both will need to stop, the things that need to be restocked. Vaguely you are listening, your focus drawn to everything around you, something wrong scratching at your bones as you turn onto the street.
You draw to a halt, your breath leaving your lungs in a whoosh before you stumble back, knocking into Joel.
“Oh my god.” You gasp. Joel goes ridged, seeing the body splattered across the road at the same time you do. His gun is drawn in seconds, coming around you, instantly scooping the surrounding areas and you are following suit. Your gun trembles between your palms, your heart pounding in your ears as Joel takes steady steps towards the corpse. “Joel…” Your voice is hardly a whisper, your eyes darting away to the darkened openings of the building on every side of you.
“Fuck…” Joel’s voice is louder than you expect, your skin prickling under your clothes.
“Wh-what is it?”
“Mark.” Widened eyes shoot to his, your mouth dropping open in shock. Joel glances at you briefly before crouching down, grabbing Mark’s bag and dragging it to his side. Quickly looking away you swallow the growing vile rising in your throat at the glimpse of his desecrated body. Despite the hefty distance you can smell the copper tang of Mark’s blood, can see the pool of it dried against the black asphalt and the flies that buzz about his body.
“Your pills are here.” Joel’s knees pop as he stands, heaving the bag over his shoulder as his gaze snags on you. Your body trembles like an unsteady fawn, eyes riveted to the ground before you as you gulp in lungfuls of air. He sighs, glancing down to step around the dealer as he speaks. “Hey, it’s al-“
His next words are lost in a flurry of motion, a yell erupting from his throat as he’s slammed to the pavement, sliding across the rough ground as a weight lands on his body.
The rotting stench wafts into his face, just before graying chipped teeth gnash mere inches from his throat. A scream rips from you at the same time the creature shrieks, struggling against the handle of the shot gun pressing into its throat as Joel struggles to fight against its weight.
Without thinking you raise the gun, the crash corse you learned running through your brain all at once. You aim and fire, the first bullet whizzing past its head feet to the left. The thing claws at Joels thick jacket, looking for a hold to retch itself closer as Joel kicks out his legs, tangled in the bag he had dropped.
The next shot burst into the ground, a foot above Joel’s head and you cry in frustration, anger filling your bones, burning your nerves as you scream. “FUCK!”
You step forward, one arm lifting as you aim, twisting your wrist as you squeeze the trigger.
Everything goes still, your heart, Joel’s breathing, as the zombie drops. the ruminants of its head splattered across the ground and Joel hefts its body to the side, rolling out from under it. A nervous laugh builds in your throat, your hand trembling worse than ever but you can’t bring yourself to lower your gun. Joel looks up at you from the ground, his chest heaving and eyes wide as he takes in your stance.
“D-Does he l-o-o-ook like a BITCH?!” Your voice rings off of the surrounds walls, hysteria making you stutter as you recall the only line you could think of. Joel springs to his feet, despite his bodies protest, and quickly makes his way to your side. Slowly he pries the gun from your hand, turning you away from the body of the cordio before he scoops up the fallen bag and drags you from the bloodied mess.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The fire crackles lowly, just barely lighting the area around it as night descends over the forest. You sit on the moss covered floor, knees tucked into your chest as you stare at the glowing embers, watching as they flicker in and out. Joel is across from you, his knife chipping away at a branch, whittling the wood down into a small figure, hidden in the width of his palm. The boarders of the QZ sit just a mile away, waiting for your return, but what is it you are returning to? The trip back had been far quieter than before, you had retreated into yourself, haunted by the question.
The bottles of pills are a reminder every time they jostle and make noise in your bag. Would you go back to taking them, only to risk reliving this trip all over again? What is your life now if you don’t take them? Do you live with Joel now or on your own? The mark on your neck burns at the thought of being separated from your mate, a concept your hormone free brain is having a hard time understanding.
“I can hear you thinking.” His gruff voice makes you jump, your eyes darting to his, blinking away the bursting dots of light that cloud your vision from staring at the fire for so long.
“What?”
Sighing he tilts his head to the side, pinning you with the inky depths of his stare. “I can practically hear your mind working itself into a tizzy. Plus you’re flooding me with your emotions, darling.” You blanch, mumbling an apology as you shift in your spot. Joel watches you, like he had the entire way home. The dark circles under your eyes, the dullness of your skin, the soft scared whimpers you’ve made in your sleep these last several nights.
He knows worrying like this will only make you sick, physically and mentally, being an Omega only makes it worse. “Come here.” He opens his arm, signaling for you to curl into his side and its like your body is wired to follow his commands. You move without a second thought, tucking yourself against his side, a weak sigh slipping past your lips. Being this close your muscles relax, your thudding heart slowing to a steady beat to match Joel’s own. “Talk to me, pretty girl.” He whispers, kissing the crown of your head as you shuffle impossibly closer.
After a long moment of silence, basking in the way his hand runs up and down your back, you finally relent. “I am so scared.” You breath, your gaze traveling to the luming walls in the near distance. “I-I know you will do anything to keep me safe but… but there is only so much you can do.” Your words sting, the hushed way you whisper them against his flannel nearly unbearable. Joel tightens his grip on your shoulders, about to deny your claim but you press forward. “Should I take the pills? Save us the trouble? But then we will have to do all… all of this all over again and I just… I don’t know if I can.”
Tears fill your vision, turning your face into his chest as you sob quietly.
“Y/n… baby girl.” He drops his knife to the ground, carding his fingers through your hair, pulling you in tighter. Almost as if he could press you into his very being, keep you there so that you never have to fret or worry again. Joel lets you cry, lets your tears soak through his shirt until there is nothing left but a few soft hiccups in your breath and your sagging against him for support.
“Look at me, peach.” His fingers sweep under your chin, lifting your face to his. Your eyes are swollen and red, your face blotchy but he cooes softly. His heart hammering against his own ribs but he can’t let you see that. Not yet. Not when there is still so much you have to face and need his strength for. “If you want to take the pills that is entirely up to you, I don’t have a say in the matter.”
“But you’re my-.”
“No. No matter what I am to you, I don’t have a right to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do with your own body. But,” He holds your stare for a moment, searching your tear stricken face. “But if you decide not to take them, you need to trust me. My scent is already marred into your skin, anyone can tell you are mine with or without being able to tell you are an Omega under neath. I’ve got you, you just need to trust in that.” Joel holds so much certainty in his words,so much need for you to trust and understand what he means, what he’s hoping to convey in the silent moments that follow.
You swallow, your throat working and Joel can’t help but to look, to see the mark that rings the side of your delicate neck. Whipping the remnants of your tears with the sleeve of your jacket you give a shallow nod, Joel had always protected you, had always made sure you were never without. Deep in your heart you knew he would hold true to his words, he would do everything in his power to keep you from falling prey to anyone else.
You just needed to trust him.
“Okay…” You breath, nodding your head as Joel does.
He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, sucking in a deep breath. the fire crackles and pops in the silence that follows, both of you lost in the comforting presence of the other. When Joel leans back there’s a smile playing on his lips. “You’re wrong by the way.”
“Huh?”
“Jules never shoots his gun like that. You’re thinking of Menace To Society.” Your mouth drops open, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief.
“Yes he does! When he has that guy kneeling on the floor!”
Joel laugh with a shake of his head. “Nu-uh sweetheart. You’re wrong.”
You glare up at him, and his smile broadens, “We will just have to see about that.”
Your challenge only earns you a deep chuckle, before he pulls you in, planting a soft kiss on your lips. “What do I get when I prove you wrong?” The suggestion in his words reflect in his eyes, the deep dark brown swimming with excitement. a flush works up your neck, your hand tightening on the front of his shirt. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Too bad we will never find out.” Joel lets out a little growl, squeezing your waist playfully making you squirm.
Summary: What do you do when you run out of heat suppressants? You turn to the only person who can possibly get you more medication; even if it means airing your biggest secret. But when Joel doesn’t have what you need you must travel together to meet another dealer. Surely you’ll get more medicine score your heat starts… right?
Warnings: post-apocalyptic world. A/B/O alternative universe, (A/B/O dynamics including: Scenting, Marking, Knotting, Heats) age gap (Reader is 26, Joel is late 40s), reader has been on suppressant most of her life, Joel teaches reader about guns, parental lost (not depicted on page), future smut, he falls first, angst(?), let me know if I missed anything for this part!
A/N: what? Who? Apollyon didn’t disappear off the face of the earth after all?! Yes, hello, I live! I’ve been working on 7 different WIPs and this is the first one I finally finished!!! 🤣 All I can think about is a nice, warm, rough Alpha Joel lately and so here you go!
Part One, Part two vvv (tumbler is acting so weird with this story and not letting me link the parts together!))
Staring at the scratched orange bottle in your hands you suck in an uneven breath.
Eleven little green pills rattle in their plastic container, signifying that your time to find help has dwindled down to a little over a week.
You closer your eyes, tapping the bottle against your forehead as you come to your forced conclusion. You know what you have to do, you know that there is no longer another option. No one else to turn to.
It’s the panic seizing your heart that makes it feel impossible to ask.
The secret you harbored, that these little pills kept under control, would have to come to light, if rumors hadn’t already spread. The thought alone makes your empty stomach lurch with nausea.
You hadn’t been neglectful. No. You had tried desperately to find more medication before time ran out. You had gone to six different shady dealers. Six different people who all worked for the same boss.
It was inevitable he would find out one way or the other. Maybe it would be best coming from you.
Steeling yourself, you hold your breath, forcing your brain to focus on the slow burn building in your lungs, until you are no longer trembling. Only then do you let loose a deep sigh.
You go for the brown messenger bag you keep by the door, slinging it on the kitchen counter before stuffing the main pocket with ration cards. the slips of paper crinkle loudly, taunting you even, as if they know they came from selling your furniture. As if they knew you had to stoop so low that all you have to your name is a mattress and torn up blankets.
Next is a thick brick of bakers chocolate, a gift from your elderly neighbor after you had fixed her small space heater. You examine the brick, no expiration or best by date can be found before you shove it into the side pouch. All you can hope for is that it isn’t too far gone.
You frown, the bag still half empty, and you glance around your kitchen to see if there is anything else to be added. To make what you are about to ask for a bit more reasonable. Coming up empty handed you snatch the bag and leave.
Your destination is only two floors above you, and you wonder if he can sense something is coming his way, as you start down the hall, like the crackle of a close storm in the air.
The nauseous feeling grows stronger as you recite the scripture you’ve created in your mind of what to say. But your legs feel as though you’ve been shackled with heavy balls and chains, making your feet drag over the dirty, curling carpet of the hall.
It would be a lie if you said you hadn’t thought of turning tail and hiding. Of slinking off to some hidden, far away place where hopefully none of your problems would attract consequences. The only thing that is stopping you is the thought of your mother.
You can practically see the shame that would have dimmed her blue eyes, the curl of her lip as she realized her daughter was nothing more than a coward.
Less of an Omega and more of a pussy-cat.
You take the stairs up, up, up, slowly; hand gripping the railing so hard your skin is white across your knuckles. You rationalize your predicament in the back of your mind, arguing that you never thought you would live to see the day your medication would run out. That every day you survived after the loss of your mother was a gift, having been so cruelly hindered by your own biology. Having to depend of medication just to survive the only true horror of the world ending. Humans.
Too soon you are ascending the next set of steps, finding yourself standing in front of a faded green door, the imprint of the long missing metal numbers your only indication you are at the right place.
That you are at his door.
The man on the other side is the only reason you had made it thus far, you should feel confident that he will help, that he would accept the truth without faulting you or your mother for never trusting him enough to bare it. But then again…
You stare at the door, your chest tightening, turning your breath into shallow pants. Your limbs suddenly feel numb, the tips of your fingers tingling and it spreads through your palms and up your arms. Trying to swallow against your dry throat you lift your knuckles to the door, forcing your body to go through with the motion. The wood sounds hallow under the weight of your fist, your eyes growing marginally larger, as if you hadn’t full expected to make contact.
Before you can decide to turn and run, or stay rooted to your spot, the choice is made for you.
Joel Miller, with his ever watchful gaze and scowling features, is suddenly towering over you from what feels like the top of the door frame. His deep brown eyes lighten, the pinch between his brow softening as he realizes who’s at his door. Checking the hallway his rigid posture relaxes, leaning his shoulder into the frame. “What brings ya here, darlin’?”
Unexpected tears well up in your eyes at the innocent question, and you’re helpless to stop them as they roll down your cheeks. Before you know it you’re sobbing, throwing your hands into the air with defeat as you try and fail to form words around the constricting sobs.
Joel’s eyes go wide, a chorus of emotions pelting him at your sudden display of emotion. Having known you for so long to be a level headed woman, every warning bell is going off for Joel as he stiffens, reaching for you. “Woah, woah, honey what is the-“
You shake your head, cutting him off as you push past into his apartment. You sling your bag around to your front, fighting with the buckles. Joel shuts the door quickly with another backwards glance, watching bewildered as you struggle with your shaking hands.
“I-I have all of this, and I know-know that this is how people pay you.” You manage to get out, flipping your bag over and dumping the cards onto the table. His eyebrows shoot to his curling hairline, watching the different colored slips spill across the wood, some floating to the floor. You struggle with something else in your bag, yanking and tugging and he steps forward to possibly offer you help when you snap. “God damnit!” Finally ripping the chocolate free, you slam it down, the brick cracking in half audibly. “Chocolate… everyone loves chocolate… I just…” When you turn to look at him with such wild, desperate eyes Joel can only think that the worst has happened. “I need your help.”
Joel steps closer, his hands raised like your some skittish animal ready to dart. “Darlin’. Let’s calm down, you know you ain’t gotta do all of this. Just tell me what it is you need.” And he’s right, you’ve never had to pay him for anything, an agreement made when your mom and Joel worked together all those years ago.
Her knowledge of pharmaceuticals mixed with his innate abilities to smuggle any kind of contraband into the QZ made them the best business partners. Your mother had given him her knowledge willingly as long as he agreed to her terms; use what you can to help those around you, and should anything happen to her, watch over her only daughter.
A fresh wave of pained tears rush forward, letting Joel close the distance between you. He grips your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into your tense muscles as you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold onto any semblance of your dignity. “It’s bad… That… That’s why I brought all of this.”
His heart starts to thunder in his chest, your words spiking his own anxiety. ‘Please don’t be pregnant. Please don’t be-‘
“I need heat suppressants. I only have eleven left before I run out completely.”
Joel pulls back like you had suddenly slapped him, shock and denial playing across his features. “You… What?” He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, running a hand through his greying hair when you flinch. You don’t answer him, instead turning your eyes to the dirt stricken floor below your feet. Joel paces away, turning back to inspect you, his eyes tracing over your smaller figure. He’d known your mother was an Omega, but seeing as you had given off no smell or any signs he chalked it up to you having struck gold and been born a Beta. Never once did it cross his mind that you were on suppressants.
Passing a hand over his face, he turns away, afraid to witness the devastation about to wreck your face. “I don’t have any.”
Your insides lurch, the nausea from earlier hitting you like a punch to the gut, making you grip the back of a kitchen chair. “What?” You squeak, face turning pale as you stare at the side of Joel’s face. “Joel, please… Please I have all of this, there has to be someone! If I go into heat every Alpha in the QZ will be after me like I’m- I’m some kind of prize!” And in a sick, demented way, you’re telling the truth.
Omega numbers were already dropping before the start of the outbreak, causing Alpha’s who couldn’t control their instincts to become possessive, and unruly. That same reason is why there are so few Omegas to count now, most new Alphas becoming rogue with the need to mate, leaving those of us left in constant fear.
“Please,” You whisper brokenly, pressing your hands to your chest. “Everyone said you were who I needed to go to. There has to be something.”
Joel cusses under his breath, turning to look at you and the sight alone is enough to break his heart, hearing you plead is only driving a stake through it. “Look… It’s a bit of a long shot but there is someone I know. It may take me a few days to get in touch with him but if he does have any suppressants it’ll be about a weeks journey.”
“You… You mean leave the QZ?” You haven’t stepped foot outside of these metal walls since you were brought here as a young teenager, nearly 13 years ago. The thought alone is enough to make you want to back out, throw in the towel and hide somewhere where no one can find you. Joel sees your hesitation and splays his hands.
“Yes, but you know I’ve been out there hundreds of times now. I know this route like the back of my hand. If you don’t come with me there will be no way for you to get the medication in time for your…” Joel trails off, a soft rosy color surfacing on his tan cheeks. “You’re gonna have to come with me.”
You glance away, gnawing on your lower lip. With a curt nod you agree, knowing that there isn’t another choice.
*~*~*~*~*~*
It takes two agonizing days before Joel is showing up at your door, telling you he’s heard from a Beta named Mark; the dealer you’ll be meeting with. With Joel is a well worn map, the paper soft under your fingers as Joel shows you exactly the route he and you will be taking to the next town just north of here. You listen to him intensely as you both lean against the kitchen counter, mentally noting everything he tells you as he explains what dangers you could potentially face.
Next is for him to show you what needs to be packed. Joel notices the furniture and other necessities your apartment lacks as he goes through your cupboards and then your clothes, all of it explaining how you had secured so many ration cards.
After Joel is sure you’re packed to the extent that you can carry, he takes the next few hours before night fall to teach you the ends and outs of the pistol you’ll be carrying. He shows you how to dismantle it, then how to build it back, explaining each part in detail as you watch in fascination how nimbly his large hands move over the small parts. Once everything is in place, he spins the unloaded gun around, holding out the handle.
Though you’ve been around enforcers the majority of your life, you knew very little about guns. Your mother had kept you away from the more violent parts of the QZ, her high statues ensuring you had more mundane jobs on your rolls. All of that being said the first thing that comes to mind when you think pistols is the only movie you had in your apartment. You spin around, pointing the barrel at the little white refrigerator with one hand cocked sideways. The same way you’d seen Samuel L. Jackson’s character do in the movie Pulp Fiction.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Joel snaps incredulously, stepping up behind you.
“What? I’ve only seen Pulp Fiction, this is how they do it.” You argue back, dropping your arm to your side as you turn to look up at Joel.
He glares down at you before he steps closer, his chest pressing against your back. “You ain’t no Sam Jackson, woman, now pay attention.” His hand grips your wrist and he guides you to bring the gun back up. You try to pay attention, you truly do, as he instructs you on where to place your palms on the hilt, how your fingers should over lap the others and squeeze; but the heat radiating off of his body makes it nearly impossible. Joel curls around you slightly to get to your level, holding your hands steady between his own, and everywhere that his skin touches yours sends electricity crackling across every nerve.
If he feels even a fraction of what you do, he hides it well as you turn your head to look. You trace the outline of his face, the small sun spots across his Castilian nose, down to the frown of his lips; completely forgetting what he is showing you. His eyes flicker to yours, hardened with concentration , “You never put yer finger on the trigger unless you are absolutely certain yer ready to shoot.” His voice is rough and firm, searching your eyes as you dip your head in agreement. “Good girl. Now, pay attention.”
It’s easier said than done as his hands correct your shoulders, his boot nudging your feet apart to widen your stance, or when he finally steeps away how you can feel his gaze burning into your flesh. You try to hold the gun steady, aiming down the sights at the litter of ABC magnets that adorn your fridge but your arms begin to shake from the weight.
“This feels wrong.”
“You’ll get use to it.” Joel mutters with a shrug as you hand the gun over. “When we get far enough away we’ll find an area where we wont draw too much attention to ourselves, and you can practice.”
You nod, fallowing Joel’s lead as he takes a seat on the once grey carpet, watching how he loads the magazine. You pick at a stray thread on your jeans, watching how his fingers move. After a few moments of silence you shift around. “Thank you… for doing all of this.”
Joel sighs through his nose, looking over at you, trying to peek at your down turned face. “I just wish you’d a come to me sooner.” You rest your cheek on your knee, eyebrows pinching in the center. “You use to come to me for a lot, I know this is well… Different, but it don’t change the fact that it’s just me.”
“It’s just,” You suck in a deep breath, “I’ve been asking around for a few months now… It was just the thought of coming to you directly was… embarrassing? I thought that if you knew I was an Omega you would start to treat me differently… I don’t want that.” You pull the strings free before rolling it into a little ball and flicking it somewhere across the room.
Joel is silent for a moment, rolling a bullet back and forth across his palm. “Sure it ain’t got something to do with me being an Alpha?” The question is weighted, and even though you don’t say anything he can see the blush spreading across your cheeks. He stretches his leg out, nudging your calf with the toe of his boot. “Hey. It’s alright. I understand, I ain’t blind to how things are now. I wont treat you no differently than I have before, darlin’. Swear it.”
You glance up at him, the smallest of smiles playing across his lips as you stare at each other in the dim light of your living room. You nod once.
*~*~*~*~*~*
It had been extremely unnerving how easily the two of you had slipped from between the metal walls under the blanket of a starless sky. How the patrolling officers didn’t so much as catch a glimpse of your slinking forms as you dashed across the bare field for the crop of trees. Even though your body is riddled with anxiety, you can’t help but marvel at life outside of the city. You can take your first full breath of air, no longer chocking under the overpowering stench of human and trash.
When you both slow in a clearing you are able to look up and see the blue-black sky beginning to change colors as dawn crept in. There’s no haze, no smog, or dust. Just the sun painting the leaves in beautiful shades of golds, purples, and reds. You close your eyes, letting the light warm your face as you take it all in, your shoulders relaxing, your chest no longer feeling taught.
And Joel is there, watching you from a short distance away as your skin is cast in a thousand shades of morning. You’re glowing, and for a brief moment Joel wonders how you would have thrived in a normal world; a better world.
“It’s so beautiful out here.” Your voice floats across the space between you, soft so as not to disturb the birds waking. He startles slightly, knowing he’s been caught staring at you and he adverts his eyes to the sky. He’s seen it a million times, his mind and body roughened by the losses he’s endured; the brunt of the world chipping away at him. He knows the dangers, the risks, the things that lurk just out of sight; but… as he stares at the sky, then back to you, the amazement playing across your face…
“Yeah… it sure is.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
“Now, just squeeze the trigger.”
You suck in a deep breath, arms tensing as you exhale, flinching when you pull the trigger. The pistol kicks back, jarring your joints and sending pain through your wrists. The bullet wizzes well off to the side of the can set on the old wooden post.
Your lips tug down, turning to look at Joel so he can correct where you went wrong. He smiles at the pout you throw his way, pulling away from the tree he has been leaning against.
“Good try. Let’s give it another go. This time keep your wrists locked, you need to hold through the kick. You need to get use to the sound and the feel of it, otherwise you’re gonna flinch and miss each time.”
You follow his instructions, digging your heels into the earth as you aim. The soup can catches the light, almost mocking you as you squeeze the trigger once more and miss.
“It doesn’t feel right.” You complain, switching the safety off and shoving the gun back into the holster on your hip. Joel scoffs and you roll your eyes, lifting your empty hand and pretending to shoot the same way Jules does in the movie.
Joel laughs, scooping his bag and riffle off the ground. “I’m telling you, ya ain’t gonna shoot nothing like that. Will only manage to break your wrist.”
“And what if I do?” You snip, turning to face him your glare unmatched to his own.
“You won’t.” He replies more firmly, crossing his arms over his chest as you step closer, raising your chin in defiance.
“What if I do though? Huh?” You poke his arm, a smile growing as you see the frustration rising in his face.
“Fine. You get something like that and you get to say a one liner. Alright?”
He has to look away as your grin grows to an infectious smile. “Deal.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
Over the next several days you both trek through deserted roads and isolated woods, slowly working your way towards the safe house. The trip was filled with things you never imagined, trees growing straight through the road, houses and building over run with ivy vines with critters living amongst them. Even though the cause of it all was so horrendous you couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of it all.
Though you were moving slower than Joel was use to, he felt like it was worth it, watching how you came to life. You asked every question that popped into your head without hesitation, and he found himself enjoying answering you, recalling how the world used to work. It didn’t occur to him how easy he would find it, opening up to you, talking about this or that. He just knew that he hadn’t found peace like this in a long time with another person.
The sun is peaking high over the tree tops, making it easy to see all around in the sparsely wooded area you have stopped at for lunch. You’re lying on your stomach, head resting on your folded arm as you swish your hand through a small creek, watching how the water swirls around your palm and passes through your fingers. It’s cold and soothing, your thoughts racing away, wondering what it must be like to swim in lakes, or see the ocean for the first time. Feats you’re sure you will never accomplish, but dreams you can have as you close your eyes.
Joel can’t force himself to look away from you, you’ve captivated him completely. He knows he should stop it, kill the thought before it leads him down a path he can’t change. But it’s instinctual, every Omega brings it out in an Alpha. That sense of home. Maybe it was because he’d never spent much time with you over the years, your mother keeping you away.
But the longer Joel was around you, watching, listening, talking. He could feel it, the calmness that even a drug couldn’t smoother, of an Omegas presence…
Coughing slightly he stands from the stump he’s been perched on, “We need to get moving if we want to make it before night fall.” When you turn to look at him over your shoulder he curses wildly in his mind. Your face is soft and your eyes warm as you nod, and he knows he’s doomed.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The light, joyful feeling you had through most of your trip abandons you entirely the moment the small town comes into view. A deep sense of wrong and sorrow settles into your bones as you step foot onto the streets, surrounded by haggard, foreboding buildings that remind you of monsters from old story books; ready to spring at any moment.
Riffle in hand, Joel shifts entirely before your eyes. His shoulders are tight, head on a swivel as he surveys the surrounding areas. Each step is thought out three moves ahead, a practice skill you admire as you follow behind, covering him from the back. You carry the pistol just how he has shown you, finger resting away from the trigger, your grip firm on the handle. But you wonder what good it will do should something, or someone, appear.
Fear and anxiety is a sticky concoction making it impossible to do anything but breath as you travel farther into the heart of the city.
A few more desolate streets over and Joel abruptly stops, holding his hand out for you to do the same. Your heart kicks into double time, your gaze frantically shifting from one spot to the next trying to see what he does as he draws his riffle up, looking through the scope.
You wait, body tensing preparing to hear his gun go off, before he lowers it once more. “Alright. Ya see that blue building over there?”
You look down the street and nod at the simple one story home, smaller than the rest of the houses on this street. “Teal, but yes.”
Joel gives you a sideways look that heats your cheeks. “Well the teal house is it. It’s supposed to be locked up, but that doesn’t mean a thing. You will follow me and do exactly as I do, stay quiet, and keep your eyes open. Do I make myself clear?”
Joel holds your stare as you nod, your throat working as you swallow. “Yes, okay.”
Making it across the street on quick feet Joel ascends the steps of the dilapidated white porch as you scan the streets. A moment later Joel is back, a small silver key in hand. He leads you around the house, making sure each window and the back door are firmly locked and boarded over before heading back to the front door. Once standing in a deserted living room Joel instructs you to stay by the door as he ventures deeper into the small house, his foot steps nearly indecipherable as you wait tersely, your fingers shaking around your gun.
You visibly relax when he comes out of the hallway, gun slung over his shoulder. You drop your pack to the floor, sitting down hard beside it with a sigh. “How long do you think it will be until Mark gets here?”
“Mmm… Hard to say, probably in the morning. He’s got a day longer trip than we had. How many pills ya got?” Joel leans against the window seal, squinting through the slats of wood as the sun sets in the horizon.
“Uh, just one more after tonight.” No matter how good natured you’d been there is still anxiety festering in your blood, bespite being at the halfway mark there is still so much that can go wrong from here. “Did he… did he say how much he was bringing?”
“‘Bout three months worth.”
You know that it is probably all he could get his hands on, but the dread of having to do this all over again weighs heavily on your chest.
“What did he ask for them?” You glance at your pack where the ration cards are all shoved into the side pocket, knowing that it can’t nearly be enough.
“I’ve got a gun I don’t use.” Joel comes over, groaning as he sits down next to you, happily taking the water bottle you offer.
“That… That is kind of a lot though… isn’t it?” Guilt eats away at you and Joel can hear it in your voice. He catches your eye, and there’s something in the depths of his that makes a warmth spread through your veins, soothing your worries, if only slightly.
“Ain’t too much for you.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
The sounds of birds echo through the empty living room with the first break of dawn, the light filling the space casting everything in its amber glow. You shuffle in your sleeping bag, groaning softly at the slight ache in your hip. The floor was unforgiving, and you wondered how Joel faired through the night.
Joel.
Your eyes fly open and you jolt up right. The room smells of dust and mildew, underneath it all the faintest smell of Joel’s scent. It should be stronger. Why isn’t it stronger? Your heart begins to thunder as you scramble out of your bag, panic setting into your bones. Where could he be? What happened to him?
You grab for your bag, ripping the zipper open to grab your gun when suddenly the front door opens. You nearly scream, falling back on your ass only to find Joel standing in the door way. Three dead rabbits clutched in one hand, his riffle slung over his back.
“You okay?” He steps in, closing and locking the door as you gape up at him.
“Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell me?” You demand as he walks over to the small fireplace, tossing the rabbits onto the floor with a wet thud.
Joel’s eyebrows knit together, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he turns away, placing his gun against the wall. “I woke you up, said I was going for food and you answered me, darlin’.”
Heat creeps up the back of your neck, your ears turning red as you stutter. “What?”
He turns, his smile growing and growing as he folds his arms across his chest. “You said, ‘Alright. Be safe.’ Ain’t my fault you fell back to sleep.” Sheepishly you glance away, taking a deep breath before you answer. Not only has Joel brought in the smell of the dirt and earth, the smell of drying blood and wet fur; but his sent encompasses it all. It soothes your panic, settles your racing heart beat and your shoulders slouch as your muscles relax.
“I’m sorry… Maybe next time make sure I’m really awake before you walk out…”
His boots thump against the floor as he walks over, he leans down, ruffling your hair with a big hand. “You worried about me, honey?” The heat leeches its way into your cheeks, embarrassed and feeling silly about the entire thing, you shrug. Joel chuckles, straightening up as he shucks off his jacket and throws it onto his sleeping bag.
“Come on now. I’ll teach you how to skin a critter while we wait. Sound good?”
