Din Djarin doesn't remember the last time he felt the sun.
Sure, he can feel it through the suit in a way. It burns through the leather of his gloves, seeps between the gaps in his armor and leaves his skin damp beneath it. Heat latches onto beskar and builds on its surface until it's hot to the touch.
No, he doesn't remember the last time he felt it on his skin. The last time his eyes had to blink to adjust to its glare. The last time he basked in its glow and was completely vulnerable to its power.
He can almost take himself there, pull from memories of his childhood when he would lay against lush grass and soak in it's wonder. He can never quite capture it though, something is always missing. The warmth.
Nothing can manufacture it.
Not lowering the polarization on his visor. Not the relief that comes everytime he takes off his chest plate. Even in the rare moments without armor, when he turns the heat all the way up in the fresher and stands beneath it's wash until his skin burns. it still doesn't feel the same.
When he was a younger man, when he was most dedicated to his creed, he didn't think about it.
No, there was nothing he missed that couldn't be outweighed by a simple, self righteous reminder that this is the way.
The he met you, and for the first time he doesn't even know how many years, Din Djarin felt he Sun.
He met you almost a full orbit ago, a perfectly unremarkable engineer in need of a job. One Peli had vouched for over comms. Promising that while she wasn't around to help with his usual repairs, she trusted you enough to handle them.
'Handle you,' were her exact words. She'd laughed at the end, as if there was joke he wasn't privy too. He hadn't though much of it until he actually met you.
Until he landed in your port and watched as a pair of overalls and grease stains rolled out from beneath a speeder that's probably older than you are.
Until you approached him without hesitation, wiping grime from your palm before offering it in a fearless handshake.
Until you tilted your chin up and smiled.
Until you made eye contact without even trying, and Din finally felt it wash over him again.
That warmth.
It settles under his armor like a second skin, grows hotter when you kneel down to the kids height and coo something sweet.
Slowly, it festers.
A burning that covers every inch of his skin until it eventually becomes part of him. An ache in his stomach each time he finds you and the kid asleep in the copilots chair, big green ears fanned over your chest and both of your mouths open in a matching snore.
A sting in his chest when he catches your silhouette in the fresher door, frosted glass teasing him with curves he knows better than to covet.
A tightness in his pants when you use his blaster, a quick and precise hit after you realized someone was following the three of you on Canto Bight. You'd grabbed it from his hip without asking, stopped in your tracks and turned your body just enough to fire one devastating shot.
That last one haunts him often.
At night, when he's resting in the cockpit and you and the kid are downstairs. When his eyelids drift down and block his visor, so often he see it again. The scene replaying itself over and over.
So used to doing shooting Din can't seem to figure out what he's supposed yo do when someone shoots for him.
The next time he holds his blaster, he sees your hand around it, how you had to choke up towards the barrel to reach the trigger. He stares uselessly at it in his palm while his mind fills in the gaps. Quick math on how your hands would together clouding his better thoughts.
Din doesn't know why he asked you to travel with him. Sure, he can rattle of all the practical reasons until his modulator gives out. But none of them are enough, none of them erase the years of refusal and isolation. No matter how hard he tries, he can't find a reason why he needs you.
When he crawls down the ladder, finds you asleep on his cot with his son on your chest, he gets his answer.
Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Doctor Female Reader
Chapter Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)
Chapter Summary: He’s never felt so strong, so wanted, as he does when you’re under him and he fucks you through an orgasm, and then another, until your sobs echo across the meadow over the rain. He laps at the side of your throat, sucking the rain from your skin, and when he cums, it’s with a growl, teeth scraping your collarbone as he spills inside you.
Chapter Warnings: only joel's pov, smut, unprotected p in v sex, unprotected anal sex, pussy licking, fingering, ass fingering, in the words of @mothandpidgeon "time for mallory's rain kink", sex in a meadow, restraints, soft dom joel, joel sings my favorite george harrison song because fuck you i can write what i want, come step into my delusions
Words: 5,850
A/N: I vowed to finish Healed and post it all, no matter what's going on inside/outside this site, and I will keep myself to that. Thank you to @mothandpidgeon for her eyes and love, even if I eat frozen foods that should be cooked. Two chapters left.
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Previous Chapter
—-
What is this freedom called? Joel hasn’t worn anything more than his boxers in days, and this morning it’s not any different. And you, goodness, you’ve been living in only your robe and tiny dresses, and it’s the best wedding gift he could’ve ever received.
He holds his second cup of coffee, a midafternoon treat, gifted by Ellie and Dina for the honeymoon, and when he glances out the window, he loses his breath. He’s seen you naked hundreds of times, but nothing ever prepares him for it. You’ve gone ahead and shucked your dress, opting to sunbathe naked on the porch. It feels like the sunlight is going to blind him—the way it shines off your bare skin, stretched out on an old towel.
Good god, he loves his honeymoon.
He reaches down, past the waistband, cups himself, cock already aching at just one look at you. You’re not even moving, just basking in the sun, eyes closed, ankles crossed, chest rising slow. Your wedding ring glints as you lift your hand to scratch at your sternum, and the pink-gemmed stone glows against your skin.
He watches, ogles even. You must feel his eyes on you, because your hand moves, smoothing along your thigh, then between your legs, all casual as anything, as if you’re not the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
He toes open the sliding glass door and steps out onto the deck, coffee in hand, boxers tented with need. “Jesus Christ, baby,” he growls.
You open one eye, lift your face to the sun with a lazy smile. “Hi,” you say, and then—fuck him—you stretch your arms overhead, and his mouth waters.
He stares, quite rudely. You’ve got a bottle of oil in your hand… some sort of fragrant thing Wendy made you. You open it, pour a thin line straight down the center of your body, let it pool and run around your navel, then spread your palm wide and rub it slow, up one hip and down the other. Your hands trail up your sides, fingers running over your breasts, playing with your nipples.
He means for a chuckle, but it comes out as a whimper, and he’s already on the first step down when you lift your hand to stop him.
“Not yet, you’ll block out my sun,” you tease, hands dragging down your thighs, legs parting wider, heels dug into the towel to gift him a good look at your pussy. You pick the oil up, let a stream run down your stomach to your mound, it pools across your skin, and you rub it in, letting your fingers slip and trace circles across your cunt. You’re a slick mess for him, hips rolling as you begin to touch yourself.
He can’t help but stroke his cock, throbbing when he presses some relief into it, but you know… eyes snapping open, a temptuous smile on your lips. “No, baby. You can have your fun later. Just watch me.”
He wants to protest, but he’s never been so transfixed in his life. The restraint it takes to drop his hand is superhuman. You keep your legs spread, one hand circling your clit, the other splaying oil along your ribs and up to your throat, as if you were anointed. The pink wedding band beckons, bright against your finger as it moves over your pussy.
Coffee’s getting cold, but he holds onto the cup as if without it, he’ll float away from you. He’s sweating, feels like he’s shaking from the restraint, from the need to spread you wide open and know you.
You’re moaning, hips rocking up off the faded green towel. He’s obsessed with the way he can tell your whole body is clenching and releasing as you begin to fuck yourself with more urgency, panting his name. “Fuck, Joel. Fuck, Joel. Fuck, Joel,” floats up and out into the vast wilderness.
The muscles in his back and arms are so tight, he can hardly breathe, hand clenched around the mug, and his boxers grow wet from the steady leak of precum he wants to grip more and more out of.
“Do you want to fuck me, Mr. Miller?” you say it deadpan, head turned so you’re looking at him through your lashes.
He lets out a “Yes,” almost a bark.
“You want to put your cock in me, Mr. Miller?”
He nods, jaw too tight, tongue thick in his mouth. You keep up the torture, fucking yourself with two fingers, thumb pressing your clit. Your breathing turns into little gasps and you stare him down. You know exactly what you’re doing to him, it drives him even madder.
“When I let you. I want you to fuck me hard, Mr. Miller. Can you do that for me?”
He nods again, frantic now. “Anything. Just tell me what you want.”
You smile, lift your legs, and part your knees wide. The slick shine of oil and wet glistens, and you fuck yourself with two fingers, drawing them out and showing him how shiny they are.
“I want you to bend me over that railing,” you nod at the deck rail, “and fuck me hard. I want you to smack my ass, call me a good girl as you cum in me.”
He loses it and groans as his back turns to jelly.
Your face sets in determination as you slip your fingers out of you. You get on your knees, reaching your hand up. “Now, come here.”
His mug teeters on the edge of the table he tossed it on, coffee splashed across the withered wood. In two strides, he crosses the deck, takes your shiny fingers into his mouth, and tastes the sweet slick of you. You work his boxers down and off, and he grunts against your fingers when you take his hard cock into your mouth. Your tongue is warm and swirling as you suck him off, tasting his desperation for you. He hits the back of your throat, your chin shines with spit, hungry eyes staring up at him. Joel’s fingers slip into your hair, resting, anchoring himself to you. He can’t breathe, can’t even fucking think, his world is just this: the hot sun blazing down, the wet choke of your throat, your hands planted on his thighs, his fingers through your hair.
You pull off him, mouth leaking a sticky trail of spit and precum as you grin, tongue out, and slap his cock against it. It’s almost cruel in the way his legs begin to shake and he groans. He wants to beg, fall to his knees and worship you, his perfect bride, but you take his cock back, slower, letting the head of his cock drag over your tongue, sucking the crown. Joel’s hands tighten in your hair, and he can feel every muscle in his arm clench as he fights the urge to push farther, to fuck your mouth full of his cum.
“Fuck, baby. Fuck, you’re—” he chokes when you take him deep again and pull off with a gasp. His eyes grasp shut, and all he can see, hear, and feel is his need for you. He fights the pooling low in his belly, reaches for your shoulders. You read him, letting his cock drag out of your mouth, letting him haul you up and kiss you, sucking the taste of himself from your tongue and lips.
He picks the towel up from the deck, places it against the splintered railing, and bends you over it. The angle is perfect, your feet spread wide, your pussy presented to him like a masterpiece. He grabs the oil, pours a river down the crease of your ass, letting it cascade down across your pretty pussy. He runs his hands over you, smearing the oil across your skin, dipping in and out between your legs.
Back and forth, Joel rubs the head of his cock against your pussy, lingering through the oil and your slick. He pushes forward, just enough to rest at where you need him the most, his hands pressing into the cleft of your ass, pulling you open to watch himself rut against you, the tip of him kissing precum right against your hole. He smears it in, drags his hand across your ass before he pulls it away and delivers a sharp smack to it. The sound of his palm meeting your skin echoes across the cove. Your arms flex, head dropping as you moan.
He can’t help the incredulous shake of his head and the grin he sends to the sky when he pushes in and your tightness swallows him. You didn’t want slow and sweet, and he gives you what you want, setting a brutal rhythm, hands gripping your hips, pulling you back into each thrust. The towel scrapes against the bannister as you fuck against, just as desperate as he is. You’re a mess of sweat and oil, radiant and beautiful under the sun.
He slides his thumb up, pressing it against your asshole, circling it before rolling it into you. You gasp, arch your back, and ask for more. “Like that?” he growls.
“More,” you order again.
He grabs the oil, pours it over your ass until it drips down onto the deck. He rubs circles, works you open with his thumb, fucking both holes so hard the railing groans.
Your pussy pulses around him and he feels you cumming, cunt squeezing him so tight he has to grit his teeth and tell himself not to cum. “Good girl,” he snarls, “feels so good. Cum f’me.” His thumb delves deeper, stretching you as you flood his dick.
“Joel, please,” you gasp, babbling, “Joel, please I want… I need…”
He knows. He pulls out, letting the heft of him thump against your asshole. “You want me here, baby?”
You nod, a slithering “yesss,” answers him.
He slides in slow, waiting for the stretch to go from burn to ache for you, but you’re greedy for him, pushing back on him, and he doesn’t know if he’s ever loved you more than in this moment. The sounds that leave you are otherworldly, high, and beaming. He covers your back with his chest, arms locked around your sticky, sun-warmed body, grinding your ass back into him, both of you rutting against the railing.
His hand snakes between your legs, rubbing your clit, your whole body loses tension, knees almost buckling as your muscles go slack and his finger rubs another orgasm out of you. Joel’s arms tighten around you, keeping you standing as he fucks you through it and past it, until he lets himself go, cumming so hard he feels as if he might collapse the whole deck. His hips stutter, and he holds you tight, unable to move as his cum floods your ass.
When he feels his breath again, he nuzzles your neck, sucking at the sweat along your skin. “Good girl,” he groans as he pulls out. “World’s best wife. Jesus Christ.”
You chuckle and slump against the deck before he gathers your cumdrunk body into his arms. He’s never felt freer in his life. Sunlight, the blue sky, the cool wind and the smell of pine needles. His beautiful wife blissed out and smiling in his arms. Joel thinks maybe this is paradise.
—-
This is all Joel Miller could ask for… a crackling fire burning by the cove and a beautiful girl in a pretty dress watching him play guitar. He sits in the half-dark, back propped against a wood stump, legs outstretched, feet at the edge of the fire circle he made. You’re a little ways off, on a quilt, knees bent, dress tucked under your thighs. He picks up his guitar, tries to tell himself he knows the song well enough to perform it and gives you a shy smile before he begins to play.
“All alone in this world am INot a care for this world have IOnly you keep my eyes open wideYes it's trueI live for you”
You tip your head back, eyes on the starry sky as you listen, a sweet smile spreads across your lips. He can’t remember a time he wasn’t trying to earn a smile from you.
“Not a thing in this world do I ownOnly sadness from all that is grownIn this darkness I wait for the dayYes it's trueI live for you
For many years I waitFor many tears I wait
All this time my thoughts return to youGive my love, that is all I can doWait in line till I feel you insideYes it's trueI live for you”
When the chords fade, you clap a delighted sound. “That was beautiful,” you say. He grins, heat rising into his cheeks, hating and loving that he still feels bashful when it comes to you.
For the next song, he picks a low, moody tune that he knows you love. He plucks the strings slow, and you instantly know the song.
“Underneath the bridge, the tarp has sprung a leak…”
He doesn’t expect it, but you join in, your sweet voice joining his, voices harmonizing as you both repeat “something in the way.” Your face is set in thought, the flames flickering over it as you lean forward, elbows on your knees, almost studying the moment, the feeling. The two of you, out here, under the safety of the night sky and a ring of flames. Joel’s voice gravels towards the end, letting you take over.
When he finishes, your smile’s brighter than the fire. “That’s my favorite,” you say.
“I know,” he grins. “C’mere.”
You crawl to him, and he wraps himself around you, arms tight, chin on the top of your head. Your sigh warms the hollow of his throat.
“Play me another, tomorrow?” you whisper.
“Every day,” he says, kissing the crown of your head.
—-
“Homebase to Love Shack, do you copy?” Ellie’s voice echoes, and Joel can hear the smug little smirk in her tone even through the distortion. Joel clips towards the radio resting on the countertop, towel wrapped around his waist, hair still wet from your shared shower.
He grunts, presses the button. “Yeah, we’re here. What’s up?”
Tommy’s voice comes on: “Morning. We’re headed your way with the delivery. ETA thirty… so be dressed.”
You wander into the kitchen, also only clad in a towel. “Who was that?” you ask.
“Tommy ‘n Ellie will be here in a half hour.”
Guests during a honeymoon really aren’t a thing, but Joel doesn’t mind. Gravel crunching under horse hooves announces their arrival. Joel steps outside and waves before heading over to help untie the saddlebags. You’re on the porch, and when Ellie sees you, she hugs you. Joel feels the warmth spread from his heart through his body as you pull away, and straighten her collar in such a maternal way.
The bags are left by the floor, and Tommy pulls a sack from the pack and lays it on the kitchen table, revealing sandwiches from the Tipsy Bison, wrapped in waxed paper and still warm.
You sit at the table, next to Joel and across from Ellie, and he sees the happiness etched on your face. It’s in the way your hand rests atop his, the way you listen wholeheartedly when Ellie talks, and the way you smile at all her jokes… even the bad ones.
“How’s Jefferson doing?” you ask, napkin wiping away the mustard on the edge of your mouth.
Ellie chews, then wipes her mouth on her sleeve. “He’s good. He and Sally are happy. But I know he misses you.”
“How’s the honeymoon? Do we gotta worry about y’all never coming back?” Tommy asks.
Joel laughs and shakes his head. “As much as I love it here, I miss our house… ‘n Jefferson.”
It’s a strange thing to feel so content in a world built amongst chaos. For so many years, every meal was wolfed down in silence, every conversation was quiet, every moment of happiness overshadowed by loss. Now, there’s laughter, and food, and light shining in through the windows of his temporary castle.
He watches you and Ellie, talking and giggling. He looks over at Tommy, also watching the scene with a similar dumb grin, Joel knows is plastered on his own face. “Thanks for hosting us, we’ll get out of here, leave you two lovebirds to enjoy the rest of your time.”
Ellie hugs you again as she and Tommy leave, and Joel gets a clap on the back from Tommy. “Radio if you need anything,” he says before he mounts up. “Anything at all.”
“We will,” Joel promises.
Tommy nods and turns the horse, Ellie falling in beside him, and they ride away.
You slide your arm around Joel’s waist, resting your head against his shoulder as you watch them go. “That was nice,” you say.
“Yeah,” Joel agrees. It was. A reminder of the life waiting for them when this perfect week is over… a life full of people who love them.
You stand there together until Tommy and Ellie disappear from view, then turn to go back inside, hand in hand, back to your perfect honeymoon.
—-
Joel wakes before you do, most days he usually does, but today he lets himself lie there and holds you in his arms. Outside, the sky is beginning to turn from pink to gold to blue, and the light gilds you in a dreamy glow. He gets lost in admiring his wife, how you look asleep, the soft, unfurrowed peace of your brow, the line of your lips. He never imagined having this, a woman and a life so soft, he gets to watch the sunrise as he holds his wife.
He could stay here for hours, but he has a plan. He’s careful not to wake you as he gets out of bed, goes to the kitchen and puts the coffee on. He makes a couple of sandwiches, packs some strawberries, and wraps up a few chunks of cheese before filling the thermos with coffee and tucks everything into a rucksack.
When he comes back to the living room, you’re just getting up. “Morning,” you yawn.
“Mornin’, baby,” he says, and you smile sleepily for him.
“Better get up, we’ve got somewhere to go.”
“Hmm?”
Joel shrugs. “Just wanna show you something.”
—-
There’s something about the way you hold onto Joel as he navigates the horse. Your arms are snug around his waist, your thighs squeezing with every jostle. If he had to pick one way to travel for the rest of his life, this would be it.
It’s a crisp morning, but the sun is climbing and warming the world. You ride through the pines and the hush of the forest, the only sound is the soft plod of hooves and the birds in the trees. The trees break into a clearing, and Joel can hear the gasp behind him when you see the bright meadow full of wildflowers.
The horse is barely pulled to a stop before you’re bounding off, already giggling and spinning amongst the wildflowers as tall as your knees. It’s almost painful in the way he watches you, the smile that breaks across his face is wide and unwavering, and his heart aches in the best way at the sight of the woman he loves joyous amongst a field of purples, yellows, and little stars of white.
He dismounts and spreads the blanket on a patch of soft grass. The rucksack gets unpacked, and brunch is spread out across the faded blue blanket. You’re already deep in the field, plucking flowers from the ground, soundtracking the day with your happy hum.
“Gonna bring half the meadow back to the clinic at this rate,” Joel teases, dropping down onto the blanket. You soon join him, leaving your bundle of flowers at the edge of the blanket. You tuck a flower behind his ear, and he pretends to scowl as you giggle.
Coffee, sandwiches, and cheese are enjoyed under the sunlight in a field of wildflowers swaying in the wind. Joel saves the best for last, picks up a strawberry, and lifts it to your mouth. You take a bite, and then kiss the pad of his thumb that catches the juice dripping down your chin. He pops the other half in his mouth, never taking his eyes off your stained lips.
He grabs a smaller one, nestles it against your lower lip so you have to open your mouth for him. Your tongue flicks it in, and you lunge forward, climbing into his lap to kiss him, sweet strawberry on your tongue and coffee on his breath. His hands plant low on your back, splayed possessively over the thin cotton of your dress, and you kiss him slow in a way that makes him almost feel drunk off of joy and sharing a special morning with you.
He studies the horizon. Storm’s brewing, he sees it in the way the grey clouds choke out the blue and roll in. He wraps his arms tighter, presses a kiss to your hair.
“Rain’s almost here,” he notes.
“Mm, could just wait it out,” you say, pushing him down onto his back, straddling his hips, hands sliding under his shirt, nails dragging up his sides. “I don’t want to leave.” You grind yourself against his jeans, making little gasps that have his cock straining for you, and he digs his hands into the curve of your ass, squeezing hard as you rock against him. “Plus, don’t you want to fuck me right here?”
Joel’s breath stutters. “You want me to?”
“Mmmhm.”
The first fat raindrops pelt the blanket. Joel’s never seen anything so beautiful, your face turned up to the gray sky, mouth open to catch the drops. Raindrops patter faster and faster as you grind, the picnic blanket wilting in the grass, starting to soak through from the downpour.
You unspool his belt, pop the button open, and drag his zipper down. Your wet hand wraps around his cock and gifts him a sweet, wet stroke. He grunts, jerks your panties to the side, finds you already soaked for him, heat searing him even through the rain, two fingers slide through your folds, spreading you, coaxing out those sweet whimpers that float out into the damp air.
Rain streams down your back, soaking your dress plastered to your skin, but you don’t care. You just grab the hem and haul it up and off, baring yourself to the empty world. You’re a tangle of soaked dress and thighs atop him, running your soaked cunt along him.
He surges up, twists and rolls you over, covering you, body hunched over yours, rain pelting down and dripping from his nose and chin to your. He noses at your jaw, sucking your bottom lip, then trails kisses down your neck, your collarbone, your chest. Your breasts are glossy with rain, and he bites at your hard nipples, tongue circling, drinking the water from your skin. The rain makes you taste even sweeter.
You push your hips up, seeking his cock, and he easily finds you and sinks into you, slow and so fucking deep. He waits, groans into your breast, and you clutch his damp hair with both hands. The grass and wildflowers tangle around your bodies, the blanket a sopping mess beneath you. He thrusts slow, letting the pulse of you patter along with the falling rain. Your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back. Rain plasters your hair to your cheek and forehead, and you’re gasping his name with every drive of his cock. You’re keening under him, hands all over his back, clutching, holding, pulling.
He’s never felt so strong, so wanted, as he does when you’re under him and he fucks you through an orgasm, and then another, until your sobs echo across the meadow over the rain. He laps at the side of your throat, sucking the rain from your skin, and when he cums, it’s with a growl, teeth scraping your collarbone as he spills inside you.
He collapses atop you, huffing against your skin, rain washing over him and pooling across the divots. For a long time, you just float amongst the wildflowers like that, the storm subsiding over the two of you and the small world you can call yours.
When he finally rolls off, everything gleams in the aftermath. You reach for his hand, fingers twining. “I can’t believe it’s almost over.”
“Don’t say that yet,” he says, thumb brushing the rain from your cheekbone. “We got all day. All tomorrow.”
He wants to stay here, just like this, forever. You and him, both lying in a puddle, grass and dirt sticking wet to your skin, in a perfect meadow after a thunderstorm.
The storm slackens to a soft, foggy drizzle on the ride back to the cabin, and neither of you say much, trying to commit the memory of today to your hearts and minds.
—-
Once back at the cabin, you unload all of the flowers you picked while he ties off the horse. There’s a way in which you’re watching him untie the ropes and leads. He looks up, catches your gaze, cocks an eyebrow as he knots the rope and stows it. “Something on your mind, Mrs. Miller?”
“Just thinking.”
“Yeah? About what?”
You step closer, run a hand down his arm, fingers pausing at the rope looped. “I like the way you look handling these ropes.”
He stares at you, surprised, then grins. “That so?”
You nod.
He tucks the rope in his back pocket, grabs your waist, and pulls you in. “We can do something about that.”
He leads you inside and pours a glass of whiskey in the kitchen. You enjoy it together, staring into each other’s eyes with each drink. The empty glass is left on the countertop, and Joel escorts you upstairs to the bathroom.
It’s a team effort as Joel undresses you and you undress him. He turns the shower on, lets you step in first, watches from outside the large panels of glass. God damn, how did he get so lucky? You stand under the spray, water streaming down your face and shoulders, eyes half-closed as you let the warm water wash over you. He follows you in, crowding you up against the tile, hands roaming all over your body, washing away the mud and grass and wildflower pollen from your skin. You do the same for him, over his chest, down his arms, across his stomach. The care you show him, the gentleness of your fingers almost undoes him right there.
When you’re clean, he towels you off, walks you to the bed, and lays you down. The rope is already waiting, coiled on the table.
“I have an idea,” he says.
Your lips part, and he sees the hitch in your breath. You smile, a devilish smirk. “Show me.”
He ties your left wrist to the headboard, then the right, just loose enough that you can move a little, just tight enough that you can’t get free. He stands back, takes in the sight of you, arms stretched, wrists tied, body offered up like you’re his own gift.
He walks to the closet, grabs the blue bandana he usually keeps in his pocket and holds it up. “Can I?”
“God, yes,” you gasp.
He wraps the bandana over your eyes, ties it snug, and you gift him a moan before he’s even touched you. He kisses your forehead, your cheek, your lips. “You tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”
“Okay.”
Joel takes his time, lets himself savor you, hands dragging down your arms, your chest, your ribs. He licks and kisses your nipples, bites gently at the soft skin of your breast. He trails kisses down your belly, nips at your hipbone, then kneels between your legs and spreads you open. You tremble, you’re so wet for him, and he wants nothing more than to get lost in you, drown in you, live in the heat between your legs forever. His tongue finds you, licking you, savoring and slow, tongue pressed flat against your clit, drinking down every moan and surge you bestow upon him. Your arms are spread tight, anchored to the bedposts, straining against the blindings, and it only makes Joel want you more.
He spits across your cunt, slicks his fingers and slides two in, slowly fucking you, pressing into you until you cry his name. Your hips are bucking, frayed pleas of his name leaving your lips.
Joel works you, one hand in your cunt, one hand pinning your hips to the sheet. He pulls away, lets his breath feather over your wet, swollen clit and grins. “Look at you, sweetheart. Can’t even sit still for me.”
He fucks you deeper, curling his fingers against the sweet, gushy spot that makes you squirm. You’re close, he can feel the strain, so he pulls out, denies you exactly when you’re on the edge for him.
You whine a desperate keen, yanking at the ropes. He loves how gone you are for him, how you beg for him. He denies you his fingers, but gives you his tongue, licking a broad stripe from your hole to your clit. You gasp, and he returns it with a hum into you as he sucks your clit. His cock aches, leaking against the mattress, but he ignores it… he’s having too much fun.
“Joel—fuck, I can’t—” you beg.
Every desperate shake, every bead of sweat, every taut muscle of yours only makes him want you more.
His fingers interrupt you, three of them now, stretching your tight hole. He doesn’t pump, only lets them settle and he just waits, feeling the way you clench, seeing how strung up your body is for him.
“I can’t,” you repeat.
“Oh, you can, sweetheart. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” he growls, fingers twirling, thumb pressing against your clit. You tighten, flutter, and clamp, cunt gripping his fingers as you orgasm for him.
God, he wants that to be his cock so bad. He can’t take it anymore, he grips himself, stroking slow, matching the rhythm of his fingers inside you.
“You look so good,” he gruffs. “I’m touchin’ myself, baby.”
That gets you, your body tightening as you give him an orgasm, shaking so hard the ropes creak. He watches your lips part, head thrashing, sweat and desperation slicking your body. You’re the most beautiful mess he’s ever seen.
He finally climbs up your body, kisses your mouth, lets you taste yourself on his tongue as he palms your thighs, pushes your knees wide, then folds you up so your calves press against the backs of your arms. You’re folded and wide open for him at the same time. “Can you take more for me?” he asks.
You nod all eager and desperate, so he gives it to you slow, watching your face as he seats himself inside your eager hole. You moan so loud he’s sure you’ve moved the mountains back, and he can’t help but groan at how perfect you feel wrapped around him. He fucks you like that, slow and steady, hands locked around your calves, folding you up. He whispers your name, tells you how good you are, how perfect your pussy is, how much he loves you.
He’s obsessed with the way you’re splayed out under him, hands bound to the bed, blue blindfold across your eyes, bottom lip captured between your teeth. Fuck, you’re perfect.
The bed creaks and the sound just makes him want to go harder. He pistons into you, lets his rhythm drum faster and faster into you. There’s a wet slap echoing across the vast bedroom, escaping out of the cracked picture window. Sweat drips from his brow, and his vision stays locked on where you take him, greedy and gorgeous, wet and swollen.
He leans forward, lets his weight press down onto your body, arms braced by your head, hands clasped around the crown of your head, holding you in place. Your breathing is wild, body and rope and pussy so impossibly tight.
You cum again, your whole body quaking under him, your voice hoarse with tears and Joel knows he can’t last, not with you like this. He pulls out, jerks himself twice, and cums all over your stomach and chest, white and hot, marking you as his. His legs want to give out, but he unties you first, peels off the blindfold, and gathers you up, kissing your wrists, your throat, and every salty tear on your cheeks. He rocks you in his arms, lets you come back down to earth, grounds you with each kiss and “I love you.”
The sun sets, and the cabin is filled with the smell of whiskey and wildflowers and sex. You lie tangled together, your head on his chest, your hand over his heart. He looks down at you, kisses your hair, and he feels it again—the peace, the rightness, the sense that maybe he deserves this after all.
—-
Every day of Joel’s life begins perfect now. Even on the days his knee aches, or he wakes up with a knot in his back, or his shoulder clicks when he reaches for something, the first thing he sees is you—warm, soft, still tangled in sleep. And every time he does, he’s reminded that he survived for this. Not just the world, but you, this impossible grace.
He slips out of bed in the early gray of morning, careful not to wake you and pulls on his robe. He pads into the kitchen, sets up the percolator, and leans against the countertop, savoring the ritual. The grounds, the gurgle, the first rich waft of coffee.
The early morning cold hits his face when he walks outside on the porch, but it feels good, makes him feel even more alive and present at this moment. The world is alive, and he’s alive, all because of the woman he loves.
The porch step digs into his thighs, but he doesn’t mind when he settles atop it. He thinks about all the things that should have killed him. Guns, fungus, loss, heartbreak. Things that haunted him every night before you. Anything could still happen, he knows it’s not a safe world by any means. But, he’s grateful to still be here, with you by his side.
You join him outside, robe cinched tight.
“Morning, baby,” he greets.
You smile, sit beside him, and lean your head on his shoulder. He holds out the mug of coffee, and you take it, hands brushing, eyes still half-closed.
Later today, you’ll head back to Jackson, back to the old world and its routines and worries. But for now, he savors you, the early morning, and the happiness you’ve given him.
Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)
Summary: You’re not sure how it happens, how you two end up on the ground, sliding in the mud, clutching at each other. His big hands lock your wrists above your head, pinning you to the moss and mud. You could slip out from under him easily, but you let him scan you, checking to make sure you’re okay, helmet tilting when he sees your racing heart in your chest.
Warnings: Smut, mud, rain, Din uses that line from the movie, helmet stays on, gloves stay on, we only get Din dick glimpse, author used Wookieepedia. Not beta read because it just needs to be released so I can move along with my day.
Words: 1,600
A/N: 🤷🏼♀️ I saw Mandalorian & Grogu while ovulating. I've had this idea half written in my docs with Joel, but once I figured out how good this would be for Din, well, I had to change it. This is partially based from my favorite sex scene (Emmanuelle IV nation, rise) that I've shared with some of you. Titles from the Marías song "Care For You" which is the hottest song/video in the world. Uhhh. Enjoy?
Masterlist
It hasn’t stopped raining since you set foot on this planet. It’s a sheet of water, unforgiving and smothering, hammering down so hard you can hardly breathe, let alone see in front of you. The storm soaks you all the way through, your boots dipping deeper into the muddy ground.
You couldn’t move, even if you wanted to. The throaty and deep growl that told you “stay put” keeps you planted in the forest. You’re out, in the open, the clearing barely wrapping you in any sort of protection. You’re shivering, arms shaking, blaster held up as if your measly little pistol’s going to do anything to protect you.
Far away shots radiate through the tall trunks of the trees, coming closer with every sway of the foliage. Your breathing rattles when you gasp a wet, rapid suck of air. You want to call out for him, but you stay quiet and armed. Just how he likes you.
Another blast of shots echoes out into the air. Then a weird silence that seems to mute the cacophony of raindrops and thunder.
If he doesn’t come back, what the fuck do you do next? Do you even know where the ship is? And how the hell are you going to pilot the thing? You still feel like the bounty hunter’s little charity case, proving herself to the big, strong Mandalorian after you were left all alone when the Hutts ran your crew to the ground on Nar Shaddaa and your captain ditched you to save his own skin.
Your feet are growing numb, water trickles down your whole body, and you’re too anxious to get mad at yourself for not bringing your poncho. He told you to wait. So you do. Body quaking, teeth grinding. Every shadow looks like an enemy hiding in the bushes. You thought you’d have more courage with Din, that you’d be brave like him. And yet… all you want to do is get back to the safety of the ship.
A hunched shape breaks through the dense foliage. Tall, looming, broad, shiny.
Din.
Your blaster drops to the ground, and he says your name, speakers crackling just loud enough to hear over the rain. You slip in the muck as you cross the clearing.
“Din,” you whisper.
He bounds towards you, gloved hands gripping your arms, his armored shoulders rising and falling. The metal of his helmet clunks against your forehead, and he takes a moment.
“Are we okay?” you ask.
“We are.”
That unlocks you, and you choke on relief, collapsing against the Beskar wall of him. “I was scared,” you blurt to the dark T of the visor.
You’re not sure how it happens, how you two end up on the ground, sliding in the mud, clutching at each other. His big hands lock your wrists above your head, pinning you to the moss and mud. You could slip out from under him easily, but you let him scan you, checking to make sure you’re okay, helmet tilting when he sees your racing heart in your chest.
“Don’t be scared, I’ll protect you,” he thunders above you, pressing his body down, full heavy weight against you, the edge of his thigh armor digging between your legs. Lightning strobes and thunder cracks, and you’re flailing, greedy, grinding yourself against the hard edge of his armor. The rain still sheets down, droplets of it leaking down his helmet, tasting like precious metal and need.
He’s repeating your name, barking it almost, over the tinny speaker in his helmet, gasping it out. You clutch at his pauldrons, trying to bring him closer and closer to you. He’s heavy, but you’re slippery.
The world turns when he rolls, and you’re straddling his hips. The clasp of your soaked tunic is ripped open by Din, cold rain hitting your bare skin, and you welcome it to cool your burning skin.
His hands slide up your thighs, leather gripping hard, and he groans, that low, mechanical sound you crave. His visor is fixed on your breasts, the rain making your skin glisten in the flashes of lightning.
“This is dangerous,” you say, and yet Din’s hands pull you harder against him
“I’ll take care of whoever comes.”
He sits up, holding you against him, your legs twining around his waist. You grind, the soaked seams of your pants and the scrape of his flight suit sparking warm friction along your needy cunt. It’s almost primitive in the way you rub and moan, head tipped back, rain filling your mouth as his big, meaty hands grip your ass, moving you sweeter and deeper along him.
The mud squelches beneath you when he presses you back down into the ground, his helmet knocking against your forehead again. “Your heart,” he growls. “I can hear it.”
There’s a desperation shared between you, it’s been there from the first moment the dark T of his visor met your eyes. You tug at his flight suit, needy for his skin, but he stops you with his hand on your wrist. Instead, he slides his hand down your stomach, under the waistband of your pants, and you gasp when the leather finds your clit, thick finger pressing against it and circling. The rain continues to pour and pelt, washing the mud from your skin only for your writhing body to replace it with more, but you don’t care about the mess, not when Mando has you captured like this. You don’t care about anything now, just the way he watches you through that impassive visor.
“I want you,” you beg.
He tugs your pants low, exposes your pussy to the rain, to the unknown planet, and to him, not even pausing before grinding himself against you.
You wonder what he looks like when he sees you like this, naked body offered to him amongst the dirt and mud of the planet he landed on just a few hours ago. Are his eyes greedy? Does he lick his lips, craving the taste of you? You want to see his face, want to see his eyes, but you know you can’t… and it only makes you want him more. He groans and grunts, desperation through the speakers, and he rips down his flight suit, just enough to give you a quick glimpse of his golden cock.
The thick tip of Din nudges at your slick entrance, and when he pushes in, you see a galaxy behind your eyes. You moan, loud, an almost primal scream, and he answers it with a growl of “good girl,” like he always does.
He gives you all of him at once, shrouding himself in your wet heat, he doesn’t take it slow. There’s no time for savoring. It can’t take long out here in the middle of the forest. Later, after you’ve scrubbed yourself in the tiny shower of the ship, he’ll lay you down on the metallic floor and take his time… maybe even wrap a blindfold over your eyes and bestow the precious gift of his tongue between your legs, but for now, you have to be fast.
He presses you deeper and deeper into the forest floor, hands bracing on your shoulders, using you as leverage as his cock spears you. The Mandalorian overpowers you, makes you ache in the way he fills you, thrusting into you with the same rhythm as the quick thunderclaps overhead. Din’s breathing hard, fingers gripping you so hard you welcome the ache across your skin.
“Look at me,” he rasps, visor locked on your face, and you do, all soaked, crumpled, and ruined by his big cock.
Your back bows in the mud, mouth open to the rain, and his helmet presses into your forehead in the way you know he’s thinking about feeling your skin against his. Every tattered breath he takes through the speakers vibrates through your body, his tremors meeting yours as your cunt clenches around him. You wonder if he’s sweating under there, if his sweat tastes metallic.
You cum first, noisy and shameless and writhing, out in the middle of the forest. Your pulsing pussy drags him with you, and you can hear the panic of his own orgasm in the flatline of his breathing. He pulls out and gives you what you crave, the sight of his big, gloved hand wrapping around his fat cock, stroking his release out of him.
Thick white webs of the Mandalorian land across your wet body, the rain instantly washing away the cum he’s bathed you in. You’re panting, curses you’ve gathered from far-off planets escaping from your mouth as you come down, and for a split second you pretend he could take off the helmet, feel his plush lips against yours outside the privacy of his ship… but the moment never comes.
He rolls off, grunting, tucking himself back into his flight suit, all of the Mandaloian now shrouded and protected, while you lie splayed amongst the forest naked and shivering. He drags you over to him, gathers you in his arms, gauntlets pressing against your skin. He cradles your head against his throat, your face mashed up against the pulse point under his helmet, pressing into the scratchy flight suit.
You savor it, shaky and sated, his body heat radiating through the panels of armor. He traces the line of your spine with his hand, full of softness not many people know the bounty hunter is capable of.
“I care for you,” he finally says, hushed and flattened by the rain.
Your eyes close, and you memorize the sound, pulse slowing when you realize you're safe for once, because of the impossibly big, shiny bounty hunter.
“And, I care for you,” you tell him, his arms answering your confession when they bound you tighter against him.
— Chapter summary: After Joel's safe return, you find a rare quiet solace in his presence and the safety of his home. It’s a blurry line, and you're not quite sure if giving in to this feeling is the right choice. But for now, you choose to stop questioning it and just let yourself feel safe.wc: 22.4k
A/N: WARNING! This chapter contains fluff and smut, LOADS OF IT. Also, while I was editing this chapter I was listening to Jeff Buckley and noticed that I mention windows and sunlight streaming through them a lot here. It instantly reminded me of his song with Elizabeth Fraser, "all flowers in time bend towards the sun." I truly feel like the lyrics apply so much to Snow and Joel. If you haven't heard it yet, I highly recommend giving it a listen! Anyway, thank you so much for reading, and for waiting 2 months for this update. I hope you enjoy this part! In case you want to support me, buy me a coffee - ko-fi
If you liked it, leave a comment or reblog 🩷 your feedback really helps me keep writing.
Joel’s house. Morning.
Your body felt warm as you started to wake. Sprawled on your back with your right arm stretched above your head and your frame angled diagonally across the mattress, you were tucked comfortably beneath the warm blankets. And pressing down on the left side of your body, the heavy weight of Joel anchored you against the bed, the faintest hint of a snore slipping out now and then.
He was lying face down, his cheek resting against your chest just beneath your collarbone. His arm draped heavily over your ribs and the rest of his body followed that same diagonal line as yours.
You shifted slightly, extending your legs and reaching both arms over your head, but you had no intention of moving further; you were far too cozy. Joel’s weight was a welcome pressure and his body heat radiated like a furnace. He was wearing nothing but his pajama pants, leaving nothing but bare skin against you, while you remained covered in his shirt.
After one last stretch, you lowered your left hand to his back, letting it rest there for a moment. You leaned into him, just a fraction, and finally allowed your fingers to climb toward the nape of his neck, disappearing into his hair. Joel didn't stir in the slightest; he was out like a light.
Without a second thought, you hugged him, letting your chin rest on the crown of his head. Even with your mind still foggy, you knew the feeling washing over you was overwhelming; he was in your arms, alive.
No. Don't think about that.
You pushed the thought aside and let your breathing sync with his, surrendering to a long while of drifting in and out of sleep as the sunlight through the window climbed higher and higher.
Sometime later.
At some point in the middle of your idyllic dream, Joel climbed out of bed. You noticed immediately because, obviously, his weight disappeared from on top of you and suddenly you felt far too exposed.
Half asleep, you heard him shuffle to the bathroom; the toilet flushing, water running from the sink, and then, a couple minutes later, he was back beside you. He slipped under the sheets and blankets and, with one rough tug, hauled you against him again. You stayed there for a while, tucked against his chest, but you could only hold out for so long.
You seriously, seriously had to pee.
You shifted a little, trying to pry yourself loose; Joel pulled you right back against him. A quiet laugh slipped out of you.
Again, you started wriggling away.
“What’re you doing? Where d’you think you’re goin’?” he mumbled. His voice was low and gravelly with sleep and his eyes still completely shut.
“Gotta use the bathroom,” you whispered through a laugh.
Without another word, he let go of your waist, and you pushed the blankets off yourself too.
Oh, it was cold. The air wasn’t nearly as warm as it had been a week ago, and the floor beneath your feet felt freezing. That, and the fact that you were barely dressed. Your legs were completely bare, every inch of your skin prickling from the temperature.
“Oh, shit,” you muttered as you shut the bathroom door behind you. Sleep was making the cold feel twice as bad.
You rushed through everything as fast as possible, washing your hands and splashing warm water on your face afterward.
Jesus, your hair was a disaster. You fixed it as best you could with your fingers while staring into Joel’s tiny mirror, and the second you were done, you hurried back out.
On your tiptoes, you rushed back to bed and practically launched yourself onto him.
“It’s so freaking cold,” you whispered as you crawled beneath the blankets again, pressing your chest against his, sprawled on top of him.
Joel wrapped both his arms and half the blanket around you. The warmth of his chest seeped into yours almost instantly.
A sudden rush of happiness climbed from your stomach to your chest and burst right beneath your collarbone; you slid your hands along the sides of his head and pressed your lips to his jaw. You scattered little kisses there, trailing them up his cheek, then just beside the corner of his mouth.
His lips pulled into a smile that you kissed too.
“Gettin’ warm?” he asked, tightening his arms around you as his hands slipped beneath your shirt. On the way there, he hooked a finger under the elastic of your underwear.
“Yeah. Thank you.”
You kissed him again, but this time it was slower and deeper. Gradually, your right hand cupped his jaw, your thumb pressing against his chin and tipping it down, coaxing his mouth open wider for you.
You slid your tongue slowly into his mouth, grazing his lower lip with a lingering stroke before deepening the kiss; the lower part of your belly tingled at the taste. The sound that left him was a low soft moan.
The shift in Joel was instantaneous. His breathing hitched and his grip tightened until there was no space left between you. One of his hands slid down from your waist and his palm squeezed your hip, then moved lower to cup your ass. And driven by pure instinct, you shifted too, parting your legs to hook them around his hips.
You pressed yourself firmly against the lower part of his stomach, seeking more friction, and the contact drew another ragged breath from his lungs. Every point where your bodies met felt like it was suddenly sparking to life. Every point, wich basically was… every part of your body.
Your tongue keep exploring the heat of his mouth, sweeping against his in a slow, languid dance. He met you with the same unhurried hunger, his tongue tangling with yours as he tasted you deeply, because there was no rush, no world outside the four walls of this room; no one waiting for you, no one needing you, no looming shadow of duty. In the quiet safety of this room, the only urgency that existed was the pull of your own skin.
The kiss remained sensual and low, a long drawn out luxury you were totally entitled to.
Then, you pulled back just enough to graze your teeth against the soft swell of his lower lip, nipping it once, softly. The small bite broke his composure.
Joel’s breath hitched, and he brought his other hand down, both palms now heavy and big and commanding as they anchored to your ass. He squeezed firmly, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp against his mouth. And with a possessive grunt, he hitched you higher, dragging your body down against his as he ground his hips upward. The movement was precise, so precise, pressing exactly where you needed it most.
As he pulled you flush against him, you felt it; the unmistakable, rock hard weight of his erection through the soft fabric of his pajamas, pressing big and hot right against your center. The friction was enough to turn your knees weak even as you clung to his shoulders and the mattress under him.
You began to shift against him, a slow and rhythmic glide up and down, grazing yourself against his hard cock through the thin cotton. But you didn't break the kiss; you were too desperate to drink in the sound of the ragged groans catching in his throat.
Your body felt like it was nearing a boiling point. Skin to skin and heart to heart, your pulse was thundering in your ears; frantic, heavy and delicious beat that matched the insistent aching throb between your legs.
Joel’s hands abandoned his grip on your hips then, reaching up to fist the hem of the oversized shirt. He began to bunch the fabric upward as you straightened, sitting up to give him access and raising your arms to help him pull it off. He tossed the shirt blindly to the side, leaving you bared to him, wearing nothing but your underwear.
Suddenly, the cool morning air hit your skin, sending a visible shiver through you as your nipples peaked and goosebumps blossomed across your chest. But the chill was short lived; Joel’s hands were immediately back on you, his warm palms searingly hot as they settled on your waist.
You remained seated over him, looking down as you resumed that torturous, slow movement.
From this vantage point, you felt a surge of pure unfiltered power. What a beautiful sight Joel was, a beautiful wreck beneath you; his salt and pepper hair disheveled against the pillow, his cheeks flushed a deep, rugged red, and his eyes... they were blown wide, dark and glittering like black diamonds in the night. And scattered across his cheeks, forehead, chin, and chest, the cuts and bruises remained vividly visible as a reminder of just how fragile he could be. But not right now, not under your hand.
It was a feeling nearly impossible to put into words. You had never known yourself to be capable of this kind of intensity, or this kind of hunger. With him, and only with him, you felt like a version of yourself you’d never met before. A reclamation of your own body. It wasn't just lust; it was a vivid, electric sense of being alive, a hunger for life that burned brighter than the morning sun creeping across the floor.
You kept moving your hips, and even through the layers of fabric, his cock felt massive; a hard and pulsing weight that throbbed in perfect sync with the wet heat between your legs.
You leaned in, pressing your palms against the broad expanse of his chest, being mindful to keep your fingers away from the dark bruises on his skin. He was burning up, his body like a furnace radiating a heat that seemed to melt you so easily.
As you angled your body over him, Joel let out a wrecked sound and one of his hands traveled upward, his calloused palm sliding over the curve of your ribcage until it found your breast. He traced the swell before settling his thumb over your peaking nipple, rolling it with agonizing pressure until your back arched.
A broken moan escaped you, but he didn't let it fade. His hand drifted higher, until his fingers wrapped around the column of your throat for a fleeting second, just enough to feel the vibration of your next gasp, before his thumb pressed into the center of your jaw, coaxing your mouth open.
He slid his thumb inside, past your teeth, and you took him in without hesitation. You swirled your tongue around the pad of his thumb, tasting the faint salt of his skin and the heat of his touch, all while your hips never stopped their desperate move against him.
Looking down at him through hooded eyes, you watched the way his expression fractured into desperate need as you sucked on him. And then, he slowly withdrew his thumb, replacing it with his index finger. You took it into your mouth without hesitation, swirling your tongue around it until he slid his middle finger too; you sucked on them greedily, letting the wet, slick sounds filling the space between your heavy breaths.
Just after a few moments of watching you, he pulled his glistening fingers from your lips. He didn't let the moisture go to waste; he dragged his damp fingers down the length of your throat, then over the swell of your breasts, the cool air hitting the wet trails he left behind. His hands eventually settled on your hips, digging in with a possessive strength that anchored you to him.
"You're so beautiful," he rasped. "Just perfect."
A deep blush crept up your neck as you smiled down at him, but the sweetness of the moment shifted into something more commanding as he began to nudge your hips upward, sliding you further up his body toward his chest.
"Grab the headboard," he ordered.
You obeyed instantly, eyes locked on his as you reached to grip the wood of the bedframe. Joel adjusted you, dragging your body exactly where he wanted you, before he shifted himself downward until you were positioned right above his face.
"Joel," you whispered, letting out a shy breathless nervous little laugh. "Whare are you doing?"
He didn't answer with words. Instead, he leaned in to press lingering, warm kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you down firmly, silently demanding that you sit heavier against him. Then, he reached for the edge of your underwear, hooking his fingers into the lace and sliding them to the side until you were completely bared to him.
Joel went still for a moment, his gaze intense as he took in the sight of you, wet and swollen just for him.
"Perfect," he murmured, his breath hitching as he stared. "Look at you... look how ready you are for me."
The sound of his voice sent a jolt straight to you. You could feel the warmth of his exhales puffing against your folds, making you ache.
You lowered one hand from the headboard and brushed the curls off his forehead.
“Just for you,” you whispered softly. “Only for you.”
Joel went still for a few seconds, his eyes locked on your face. Gently, he turned his head and pressed soft kisses to the inside of your thighs. Your hand sank a little deeper into his curls, feeling the anticipation build as his mouth moved closer and closer to where you needed him most.
And then, finally, Joel leaned forward and let his tongue touch you. It was a slow, agonizingly long stroke from the bottom to the very top. He started at a crawl, tasting you with a flat tongued pressure that made your hips buck instinctively. He followed the line of your body, swirling his tongue around your clit with a gentle teasing flick before burying his face against you to drink in the taste of you. Every lap was steady and unhurried, a masterpiece of patience that had you whimpering his name into the quiet morning air within seconds.
But he didn’t break the rhythm. If anything, your soft and broken whimpers only anchored him deeper between your thighs. His tongue continued its steady kiss, flattening against you to drag another slow soaking stroke from bottom to top.
You couldn't stay still. Your hips began to roll in a slow, desperate circle against his face, chasing the pressure of his mouth and trying to sink yourself fully onto him. And the moment you moved, Joel’s warm hands slid down from your hips, cupping the meat of your ass. His fingers dug into your flesh with a possessive soft grip, pinning you down and silently forcing you to take every bit of it.
It was dirty, the slick heavy sounds of his mouth eating you, but there was an overwhelming tenderness to the way he was doing it. His mouth was so hot, so incredibly wet; he swirled his tongue right over your swollen clit with a teasing flick that made your entire body shudder against his face.
"Joel—" your voice broke, a strained sound as your fingers white knuckled around the wooden headboard behind you.
He let out a low vibration of a growl against you and his thumbs pressed hard into your bottom, lifting your hips slightly just to angle you better for his tongue. He began to lap at you faster now, his patience clearly fracturing into something a little more desperate as he drank you in.
The heat inside you was coiling tight, pulling into a heavy ache right where his mouth was working. You were so close; the friction of his flat tongue and the hot puffs of his breath against your folds were pushing you straight over the edge. Instinctively, your spine snapped taut as you leaned back, your head falling back as your neck strained. One of your hands pressed against his stomach to steady yourself, your fingers splaying as the first waves of the climax began to tighten violently around your core, leaving you completely at the mercy of his mouth.
The moment you broke, you broke completely. You clamped down in violent, desperate pulses against his mouth, a sharp, choked cry tearing from your throat as you rode the peak. Your hand buried hard into his stomach, your fingers digging in as your hips bucked helplessly into his face, forcing him to take the thick, soaking heat of your climax. Joel didn't pull away; he held you there with that bruising grip on your ass, drinking you in, his tongue catching every heavy tremor until the ripples finally began to slow.
Your chest heaved, every breath a ragged, costly struggle that rattled in your throat. Slowly, the possessive tension in his hands softened. He let out a low, satisfied exhale against your wet skin, pressing one last, lingering kiss right over your swollen center to seal his work, before sliding his lips to your inner thigh. You shifted your hips back, letting out a weak whimper as the cool air hit the slick trail he left behind.
His large hands began a slow soothing path, stroking up and down the length of your trembling legs, before sliding over your hips to rest heavily at your waist. Joel tilted his head back against the mattress, wearing a breathless smirk on his lips as he looked up at you.
"You okay, honey?" he rasped, his voice rough and incredibly deep.
You managed a breathless smile, your hand leaving his stomach to wipe at your flushed cheek.
"Give me a second," you whispered, feeling your poor little heart hammering like a trapped bird against your ribs.
Joel let out a soft chuckle and you felt the sound against your thighs.
You bit your lip, tilting your head back for a moment as you tried to catch your breath, before carefully shifting your weight. You slid your knees backward, moving off his chest and unstraddling his face.
That’s when your eyes fell on his lap.
Even through the soft fabric of his pajama pants, his cock was tenting the material so fiercely it looked ridiculous. It was massive, a thick rigid ridge pointing straight up toward his torso.
A purring sound escaped you. Crawling back up his body, you leaned over him, pressing a slow kiss to his mouth, tasting yourself on his lips. Your hand drifted down the broad expanse of his chest, tracing a path down his flat stomach until your palm cupped the hard length of him right through the cloth.
"And are you okay, Mr. Miller?" you whispered against his wet lips, your fingers tightening around the thick shaft.
Joel's thighs parted instinctively at your touch and a low hiss escaped his teeth.
"Take everything off," you commanded.
Without wasting a single second, Joel pushed himself up onto his elbows. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pajamas and dragged them down his long legs, kicking them off the edge of the bed. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. He fell back against the pillows, completely bare, his chest rising and falling as you sat back on your heels and your gaze traced every inch of him.
Hooking your fingers into the lace of your underwear, you slid them down your thighs and tossed them carelessly to the floor before immediately moving over him again, knees framing his hips.
Looking down at him, you pooled a thick layer of saliva into your palm and shifted your hips slightly back to give yourself room, and wrapped your wet hand around the heavy head of his cock. You smeared the slick moisture over the crown before sliding your palm all the way down to the base.
Oh god.
He was stone hard, his shaft scorching hot and silky smooth under your wet grip. Along the side, a thick vein throbbed violently against your palm, pulsing with his heartbeat. You began to slowly stroke him, wearing a friction that coated his entire length in your spit, while you leaned slightly forward, teasingly rubbing him right against your soaking wet folds.
Joel’s eyes snapped shut and his head slammed back into the pillow; a deep groan ripped from the center of his chest, his jaw straining as your hand and your body drove him crazy.
Seeing him completely undone brought a wicked smile to your lips. You knew he was fighting with all his might not to grab you by the hips and sink into you right then and there. So while he stayed there, eyes closed and at your mercy, you guided his cock to your opening. You tilted your hips forward, aligning him perfectly, and began to sink down.
Slowly. Agonizingly slowly.
The sensation was so full of him, so intensely sweet, it made your vision blur. He stretched you completely wide, breaking you open millimeter by millimeter as you swallowed him inches at a time. Every internal muscle you had coiled up tight, wrapping around his thick pulsing width like a glove, gripping him impossibly close as you took him all the way in.
You froze, adjusting to the sheer size of him stretching you open from the inside, plugging you so completely that there wasn’t a single millimeter of empty space left between you. Joel let out a heavy, bottomless groan that seemed to echo from the pit of his stomach, his chest expanding as he took a ragged breath. And a long relieved sigh slipped past your lips; you leaned slightly forward, fixing your gaze on his face.
That was when his eyelids fluttered open and his dark eyes locked onto yours. Your expression instantly softened and your eyes filled with sugar and honey; unfiltered devotion as you took him in. His cheeks were flushed with heat, and his gaze was beautifully weighed down by the lingering remnants of the night; his eyelids were just a little heavy and swollen from sleep. His peppered hair was ruined, exploding in messy and wild peaks, little chaotic horns pointing in every direction where your fingers had gripped and tugged at the curls only minutes before.
And then, he smiled. His hands slid up from the mattress, tenderly stroking the curves of your hips and the smooth skin of your thighs. You smoothed your palms flat against his chest, caressing the warm skin as you began to lower your torso toward him, letting your hands slide up his chest until they wrapped around his shoulders. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his.
The moment your mouths met, Joel wrapped his arms around you, locking you against him with a squeeze at your waist. And then, he began to move.
He tilted his hips up, sliding out of you with agonizing slowness; he held himself there, teasing you for a suspended heartbeat, and then buried himself back inside you with one single, deep thrust.
You let out a muffled whimper straight into his mouth.
He pulled back again, dragging his cock nearly all the way out; paused for a agonizing second, and then rammed back in another sudden, deep thrust.
Another broken cry escaped you, but this time, the torturous pace was too much to bear.
Impatient and burning for a steady rhythm, you broke the kiss and pushed yourself up. Arching your spine, you planted your palms against Joel’s chest for leverage and took control.
You began to roll your hips in a slow tilt, rising up and sinking back down, feeling every ridge of him slide out and slide back in, filling you to the brim only to empty you again, over and over. But the slow torture was suffocating; the sheer hunger and raw need for more overtook you almost instantly.
Your pace quickened, your movements growing deeper, the friction escalating rapidly until the wet hard strike of your thighs crashing against his skin sounded loud and scandalous in the quiet room. Joel’s hands immediately clamped onto your ass, his fingers digging into the meat of your hips to help anchor your new found rhythm.
You looked down and completely melted into his gaze; his pupils had blown so wide his eyes looked entirely black, glittering with intense unvarnished lust, while a dark sudden flush crept rapidly up his neck and across his face.
Behind his head, the wooden headboard began to rattle, thudding against the wall with every frantic downstroke.
Overwhelmed by the sensation of him bottoming out inside you, you let your eyelids slide shut, throwing your head back into the morning air as you rode him.
Your hands stayed locked onto his chest, your fingers digging into his warm skin as you kept setting the pace, driving yourself down onto him with unyielding hunger. You were entirely in control, riding him with a desperate rhythm that had your head spinning from the delicious heat radiating from your core. Every single stroke was pure pleasure, a throbbing sensation that started deep between your thighs and rushed like wildfire all the way up your spine, leaving your skin tingling and your senses completely overwhelmed.
Joel was losing his mind beneath you too. His large hands clamped onto your hips, his thumbs digging into the bone to steady you, but he couldn't keep still. His hips began to roll upward, bucking his groin against yours with every stroke, using his own strength to shove his massive length as deep as it could go so you wouldn't have to work as hard for that agonizing depth.
"Ah... fuck," he whispered, a broken curse slipping past his lips. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscles in his face strained, his neck completely flushed as he looked up at you through those beautiful eyes.
You looked straight down at him from your height, your chest heaving, refusing to break eye contact even as a ragged whimper tore from your throat. Joel stared back, his teeth grinding together.
"Look at you," he rasped, his voice dropping into a whisper that was dripping with an overwhelming sweetness. "Taking every single inch... such a good girl. Ride it, baby, take whatever you want from me."
The adoring words sent a shiver through you, but before you could even gasp out his name, Joel’s right hand flew up from your hip.
Crack.
The sound of his palm striking the meat of your ass was loud and sharp in the quiet room.
A loud, shocked gasp ripped from your lungs, your hips freezing for a split second as the sudden, stinging heat of the slap bloomed across your skin. It didn't hurt; it was a delicious possessive claim that sent a jolt of pure electricity straight up your back, making your interior muscles squeeze around him in a tight desperate clench.
Joel’s eyes flared, a dark, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he felt you react. He immediately brought his hand down again, landing another stinging slap on the other cheek.
"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" he growled. He squeezed your hips tight, tilting you perfectly before his hips bucked upward once more, burying himself to the absolute root. "Keep going, don't stop, just…"
"Joel, oh my God—please."
You leaned down, your face just inches from his. The stinging heat on your ass and the thick stretch inside you made you completely shameless.
"Look at what you do to me," you whimpered, right against his lips as you ground your hips down. "You're fucking me so good, Joel, I’m so full of you."
The effect was instantaneous; a deep crimson rushed up his neck, staining his cheeks as a tight, guttural sound ripped from his chest. His hands clamped onto your hips with a bruising desperate strength, and driven by his reaction, you shifted your weight, changing the angle. Instead of just the steady up and down, you began to move your hips forward and backward, sliding your slick warmth right against his root. The friction was so intense, so devastatingly good, that your eyes rolled back under your hooded lids.
Your body was boiling, sweat slicked and heavy, and you could feel him hitting every sensitive, swollen internal muscle with a terrifying precision.
"Tell me how it feels," Joel rasped, his voice breaking as he bucked his hips upward to meet your grinding slide, shoving himself deeper. "Let me hear you, baby. Tell me how good you take it."
"It's too much," you cried out, your voice fracturing into a desperate sob as you quickened the pace. "It feels so good, Joel... you feel so good."
"Yeah? You gonna come for me?"
You nodded.
He squeezed your hip, releasing your skin for a fleeting second before another sharp slap landed against your ass. A devastating desolate moan tore from your throat.
"Use your words, c'mon," he rasped, weak. "Let me hear it from that pretty mouth."
The headboard began to crash with violent erratic thuds against the wall as your movements turned frantic. Joel’s thumbs pressed hard into your bottom, helping you rock against him, his teeth bared as his own breath rattled in his chest.
"Joel, I'm gonna come," you gasped out desperately, your eyes snapping shut as a single bead of sweat rolled down the valley of your breasts.
Your fingers balled into tight fists against his chest, your nails instinctively scratching deep into his warm skin as the tension coiled into an intolerable knot. A moan tore from the absolute depths of your throat as the climax finally broke over you; your entire body shuddered, your legs trembling so violently that your rhythm shattered completely, leaving you helplessly riding the explosive waves.
As your strength gave out, you fell forward onto his chest like dead weight, your chest heaving against his. But Joel didn't let you rest. His grip on your ass never loosened; he simply took the control you could no longer maintain.
Shoving his hips up with a raw, relentless hunger, he began to move your limp trembling body to his own liking; driving you up and down his thick cock while you buried your face into the crook of his neck, letting out helpless, broken whimpers and wet sobs against his heated skin.
He was moving you however he wanted, penetrating you hard and incredibly deep, his own breathing fracturing as his groans grew louder, sounding more and more desperate with every heavy thrust that bottomed out inside your soaking warmth.
"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned into your skin, as he felt your interior muscles pulsing around him in the aftershock. "You're squeezing me to death, baby... I'm right there."
Desperate for the taste of him, you forced your torso up just enough to find his mouth, capturing his lips in a messy kiss. Joel met you instantly, his hands sliding up your back, wrapping his heavy arms around you with crushing strength to lock you tight against his chest. He was fucking you like an animal now, his hips snapping upward in a fast, brutal way that had you gasping for air against his tongue.
You wanted it so badly—you wanted him to fill you completely to the brim, to release everything inside you and feel his thick cock pulsing against your interior walls as he came, wanting him to stay buried deep inside you long after it was over.
But the explosion caught Joel by surprise.
Just as he reached his peak, a rough almost pained groan ripped from his throat. He abruptly tore his mouth from yours, his eyes flying wide with a wild dark light, and before you could even realize what was happening, his hands flew down to your hips, his fingers dig in with an iron grip, and he lifted your body up and off him.
His thick cock snapped out of your tight cunt just as he broke.
"Fuck—!" Joel choked out.
Without the tight seal of your body, his release shot high and heavy thick white ropes splattering across the lower part of your thighs. He stayed frozen beneath you for a few seconds, his chest heaving violently, his hands still trembling where they held your hips.
Your eyes scanned his entire face; his closed eyelids, flushed cheeks, lips swollen from your kisses, and the thin sheen of sweat coating his skin.
You reached a hand to his cheek, holding him still just long enough to press a kiss against his jawline. Smiling softly as he blinked his eyes open and locked them onto yours, you spoke.
"You okay, honey?"
Joel huffed a laugh, his hand sliding up your back. His palm was sweaty, matching the curve of your spine and likely the rest of your bodies. It was a gorgeous disaster.
You rested your head in the notch of his neck.
The heat in your body lingered for about ten more minutes. While Joel got out of bed to grab something to clean you up, you lay face down in the open air, feeling the sun on your skin. It was warm and comfortable, lying there naked in the sunlight on top of his sheets, but the moment your body temperature began to drop back to normal, the chill returned.
Your body was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but at the same time, you felt sweaty and sticky. That was why, when Joel came back and climbed into bed with you, you resisted a little as he tried to pull you back under the covers.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Can I take a shower?"
He gave a lopsided smile, his eyelids heavy with sleep. He stretched his arms over his head and rested one hand against his forehead. "Sure. Right now?"
"I won't be long," you said, starting to get out of bed. You felt a sudden wave of shyness being completely exposed, so you yanked the top sheet off the bed and wrapped it around your body.
Joel laughed. "Hey, what're you doin'?"
Walking toward the bathroom, you looked back at him. "I'm naked!"
"Nothin' I haven't seen before, from every angle."
You pressed your palm against the door and started to push it open, but not before looking back at him one last time.
"Yeah, through the lens of lust!"
You rolled your eyes and stepped into the bathroom, feeling the cold floor beneath your bare feet. Unwrapping the sheet from your body, you carefully folded it in half and hung it on the hook behind the door. Then, you leaned half your body into the shower to turn on the water, adjusting it to the perfect temperature to take the chill out of your hands and feet.
Once you were fully inside with the hot water cascading over your head, you let your sore muscles relax. Your thighs and hips burned a little, and your abs felt pretty tender too. That was a hell of a workout you’d just had with Joel; you knew it was going to hurt a bit more in a few hours.
You washed up at your own pace, cleaning your neck, legs, thighs, back, arms, shoulders and everything. You ran your fingers through your hair and over your scalp, breathing in the scent of the shampoo you always smelled on him. You were just washing your face when the bathroom door opened.
You heard a few short steps approaching the shower, and a second later, the curtain was drawn back.
Joel’s face appeared through the steam. "Need a shower too."
You smiled. "Okay, come on in. I was just about to get out."
He slid the curtain open further and stepped carefully onto the wet floor. Moving forward, he walked right under the stream of water, trapping you against the wall. The cool metal handles pressed softly against the skin of your lower back.
Joel looked down and closed his eyes, water dripping from the wet strands of hair on his forehead straight onto your face. He shook his head, sending a spray of droplets over you.
Laughing, you lifted both hands and placed them over his brow. He smiled, and for a split second, you swore he looked completely different; a light transparent smile that brightened his entire face appeared on his lips. But a second later, your focus shifted to the bruises on his cheek, the cut on his forehead, and down toward his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Joel had plenty of old scars there, but your eyes lingered on the fresh bruises, the scrapes along his ribs. It looked like it had to hurt.
Carefully, you reached out and grabbed the soap and the soft sponge next to it, working it between your hands until you had a good lather before you began to clean and massage his shoulders.
"You know," you started, running your palms over his collarbones, "if you wanted to shower with me, all you had to do was ask."
Joel closed his eyes. "Was fallin' asleep. But I got cold cause you stole my sheet."
"What about your comforter?"
"It's on the floor. But I was cold, and I heard the water, and I got tempted."
You moved your hands down his stomach.
"Mhm. Your skin is really soft."
Joel’s hands settled on your waist. "You think so?"
"Yeah. Which is funny," you said, gently touching just below his ribs, "because you wouldn't think so. Your hands are rough, but everywhere else is soft."
He opened his eyes. "They feel rough when I touch you?"
"Not really. They just feel… warm."
"Hmm."
Your hand settled over the bruise on his ribs. For a second, you remembered sinking your fingers into that exact spot just a few minutes ago.
"Does it hurt a lot? Did it hurt earlier?"
Joel shook his head. "Didn't feel it then. But it hurts now, that's for sure."
You crinkled your nose. "I'm sorry."
"No, ain't your fault. It's been hurtin' since before. Always hurts worse after the body relaxes."
"That's true," you said, sliding your hands back up to his shoulders. "You know what? I'm gonna go grab those oils I brought you. When you get out, I'll give you a massage."
Carefully, you nudged Joel aside a bit and squeezed past him. He turned toward you, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he let the hot water wash down his back.
He sighed. "You're gonna turn me into a puddle."
Smiling and feeling a sudden wave of tenderness for how exhausted he looked, you stepped closer and wrapped your arms around him for just a moment, pressing a delicate fleeting kiss to his chest. His hand slid up to the nape of your neck, his thumb resting just under your jawline to tilt your face up. There, beneath the falling water, he gave you a brief kiss on the lips.
A minute later, you reluctantly stepped out of the hot shower. But it had to be done. You knew that if you stayed in there with Joel, you’d both end up leaving the bathroom at the same time, and by the time you finished getting dressed, he’d already be completely passed out on the mattress.
You found the t-shirt of his you’d slept in tossed to the side of the bed, along with your underwear, and changed while you listened to the shower still running. After drying your hair the best you could, you slipped back into the bathroom to run a comb through it. Joel was just stepping out of the shower as you headed downstairs.
The morning sun was pouring bright through the kitchen windows, and the early air carried that delicious fresh scent you loved. You took in the view through the glass for a quiet moment before grabbing the oils, then poured yourself a massive glass of water, drinking it down as if you’d spent days stranded in a desert. You poured a fresh glass for Joel and made your way back upstairs.
When you walked into the bedroom, he was already sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing his pajama pants. He’d gone ahead and changed the sheets for clean ones, and the comforter was no longer crumpled on the floor.
"Here," you said, holding the glass of water out to him.
He took it immediately, murmuring a soft "'Thank you" before draining the whole thing.
"You ready?"
He furrowed his brow. "For what?"
You smiled, climbing onto the mattress. "Lay down."
He eased himself down onto his back, and you settled in right beside him. Opening the small bottle of heartleaf arnica oil, you poured a tiny amount into the palm of your hand.
"Just a little bit of this, you'll see," you murmured, rubbing your palms together to warm it up. "You're gonna feel much better."
You gently began to work the oil into the bruised and battered parts of his chest and ribs, taking extra care around a few open scratches. You kept your touch light near those spots, massaging the skin around the scrapes to make sure you didn't press on anything that might sting. Joel let out a sharp breath just once, right as your hand passed near his breastbone. When you paused to ask if he was okay, he muttered:
"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about it."
You smoothed your flat palm over the spot, barely applying any pressure at all.
"Okay, roll over."
He complied right away, letting out a soft groan as he turned over. You repeated the whole routine, pouring a bit more oil into your palms and working your way across his entire back, focusing heavily on his lower lumbar area. You’d noticed that was the spot he reached for most often whenever he sat down or moved a certain way; a familiar ache you felt yourself from time to time. And as you worked out the tension, you knew you were doing something right; Joel was making soft relaxed sounds he probably didn't even realize he was letting slip.
Next, you focused on his shoulder blades and shoulders, applying a bit of steady pressure with your thumbs. That was right when you caught the first faint sound of him snoring. Your movements softened into a light soothing touch, until you finally decided he was out for the count and that you were getting pretty sleepy yourself.
You tucked the bottle of oil back into its small pouch and left it on the nightstand, where the little clock caught your eye: 8:23 AM.
So many more hours left to sleep. You had absolutely nothing to do all morning but rest, and Joel’s bed looked so incredibly comfortable and warm, like a field of clouds.
You snuggled in right beside him, pulling the covers up over both of your bodies. Stretching your arms up over your head, you let out a long yawn, and a minute later, you drifted peacefully back to sleep: utterly exhausted, perfectly comfortable, and completely relaxed.
Still morning, close to noon.
It was a place you didn't recognize. Cold, with tall dark canopied trees that blotted out the meager light in the pale grayish sky. Ruins surrounded you; broken walls eaten away by a pervasive dampness that claimed everything, with green moldy vines bleeding into the old cracks.
Your heart hammered violently as your legs moved with frantic speed, trying not to trip over the clutter covering the ground. Rubble, branches, old trinkets, and fragments of machinery that looked like computers or something similar; you couldn't fully tell. You didn't really know what to do, only that you had to run and run and run, because something terrible was happening.
You could feel that sensation in your chest, that painful hollow that nothing can fill once it's already too late. Your bare arms were freezing, just like your cold neck and cheeks. Your entire body felt numb, and no matter how hard you ran and ran, you couldn't seem to make headway fast enough.
No, just the opposite. Your body could barely move, and you wanted to scream with all your might. But you couldn't stop, because you could hear it the entire time: thuds, noises, voices laughing and suffering. Louder and louder and louder, your legs straining until every muscle synthetic ached, until your body plunged forward and your palms struck the splintered ground.
You scrambled up, getting back on your feet however you could, and plunged into the dark room where the sounds and noise were coming from. A hallway to the right; you ran more, and more, and more, and more into the pitch black, letting yourself be guided solely by the small rings of light filtering through the cracks in the ceiling, until at the very end of the hall, your aching bloody hands slammed open the door and—
"No!"
A gut-wrenching scream tore from your throat like dozens of thorns piercing you from the inside out.
Men —so many men, you couldn't tell how many, only that there were man— filled the room, their faces hidden behind black cloth, and right in the middle of them lay Joel, unconscious.
No, not unconscious. Dead. His face was covered in blood, his clothes soaked through with it, and a massive wound tore through the flesh of his neck. Beneath him, a pool of blood expanded outward, swallowing up more and more of the old wooden floor, quickly reaching all the way to your feet.
You fell backward, unable to stand, and the pooling blood reached your scraped palms, his blood mixing with yours inside your trembling fists.
"No, no, no, no… Joel …" your shaky voice repeated, trying to get a better look at him, trying to reach him, but your knees kept slipping, and so did your hands and elbows. You couldn't…
You couldn't.
"Hey, hey, wake up."
A hand nudged your shoulder, rolling you over at the exact moment your eyes flew open and locked onto the ceiling.
"Hey, you're okay. You're okay."
You snapped your head toward him. Joel was sitting up, leaning his body over yours, his hand resting gently against your cheek.
You were in his room.
"Joel."
"It's okay. Breathe."
A shaky breath hitched in your throat. Your cheeks were soaked, and your chest physically ached.
He lay back down beside you and pulled you close. You buried your face into the notch of his neck, clinging to his body like a frightened helpless creature while a few lingering tears continued to track silently down your cheeks.
His arms wrapped tightly around you, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
"What happened?" he murmured, rubbing his hand up and down your back.
You closed your eyes, not wanting to talk about it.
Your hand drifted up his chest. "Nothing. Just a nightmare."
He squeezed you a little tighter against him. "You said my name. Scared me, thought it was somethin' else."
You opened your eyes and tilted your head back slightly, looking into his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"No, don't go apologizin'. It's okay."
You tucked your face back into the notch of his neck, feeling your heart still hammering away, erratic and loud against your ribs.
"What time is it?" you asked.
He shifted slightly to check the clock, then quickly settled right back into place.
"Ten to eleven."
"Mhm. We should get up."
"You hungry?"
You nodded. "Starving. You?"
"My stomach was growlin' a little bit ago."
You let out a soft laugh, noticing how the sunlight was no longer focused right on the bed, but had spread out to wash evenly over the entire room.
He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Five more minutes. How's that sound?"
You pursed your lips. "Sounds good to me."
Joel's kitchen. Noon & afternoon.
Concerned that you’d get cold wearing nothing but a t-shirt, Joel insisted you put on a pair of pajama pants from his closet. They were huge, but they had a drawstring at the waist that let you tie them tight enough to fit. Then, he handed you a fresh warm pair of cotton socks.
Today was noticeably colder than yesterday. You could feel a crisp breeze drifting through the open kitchen window while he made breakfast (or was it lunch?) and you sipped a hot cup of coffee, sketching out a list of prep work for school. Joel was frying up bacon and scrambling eggs, having just dropped some bread into the toaster less than a minute ago. The kitchen smelled incredible.
On the notepad resting on the kitchen island, you had a brief breakdown of the material for the first few weeks, along with your reading plan and curriculum for the kids.
Classic fables. The Jackson library and the homes of a few townspeople held a solid collection of all kinds of stories, mostly the foundational ones. You figured it was the perfect starting point for the first group, who were right around five to seven years old. They had been born entirely into a different world, and you believed literature could provide a safe haven for them; a good way to spark their imaginations and give them the words to express them.
The morals could be incredibly useful, too. Lessons on survival, cooperation, cleverness, and above all, fear. As a community, Jackson felt like a safe place, but these kids had fear woven right into their DNA. Many of them had witnessed terrible things before arriving here, and many others had never set foot outside the walls. Fear was deeply rooted in both perspectives.
"And what're you gonna do about the books? Ain't exactly a lot of copies lyin' around," Joel asked, looking over at you for a moment as he pulled the toast from the toaster.
"Well, some of them don't know how to read yet. I'll read aloud to them. It's great for building listening skills," you smiled, "and really fun too. And if the stories aren't too long, we can make handwritten copies. I already talked to a couple of people who volunteered to help transcribe."
"That's great," he said, raising his eyebrows.
"Yeah. What about you? Would you like to help?"
Joel looked up at the ceiling, his mouth dropping open slightly. "Uh… I—I mean, sure. My handwriting's awful, though."
"That's not true. You have nice handwriting, it's perfectly legible."
"You think so?"
"I do. Besides, the copies need to be written in block capital letters," you said, looking down at your notepad to jot something else down. "I was also thinking it would be a cute idea if every kid brought in an object, and we came up with a story for each one. What do you think? Think that'd be fun?"
"Somethin' like, if a kid brings in a teddy bear, you make up a story for it?"
You nodded.
"Yeah," he replied. "That'd be fun. Mostly 'cause I imagine they're gonna show up with all kinds of strange objects."
You laughed. "Yeah, just imagine the possibilities."
Joel began removing the bacon from the skillet, placing it on each plate alongside the eggs, before grabbing another dish for the toast.
"And what about the older kids?" he asked, setting one plate down in front of you and the other right beside it. You murmured a soft Thank you. "Fables for them, too?"
"Oh, no. I have much bigger plans for the older kids," you said, raising your eyebrows.
Joel gave a lopsided smile and went to grab the toast, placing it in the center of the island before turning toward the fridge. "Is that so? Like what?"
A spark of excitement flared in your chest. While you were looking forward to working with the little ones, you knew the pre-teens and teenagers in Jackson were going to make for a much more interesting group when it came to discussions and deeper perspectives.
"Well, we're gonna read books too, but I was thinking it'd be a great idea to introduce the concept of diaries and chronicles. There are three copies of The Diary of Anne Frank and a few about the Lewis and Clark Expedition. They also brought in The Giver and Frindle. I think it's a good way for kids to learn a little more about what the world used to be like. Have you ever read that one? Frindle?"
Joel smiled faintly, pulling a tub of butter from the fridge and shutting the door.
"Yeah. Sarah liked Frindle."
It took you a moment to find your voice after that.
"Oh."
He sat down next to you, letting out a quiet sigh as he settled in.
"Called pens Frindle for a whole year," he added, shifting his gaze over to you. "I think it's a good idea."
You smiled. "Thank you."
"What else?" He reached out and grabbed the butter knife, digging it into the tub to scoop out a generous amount.
"Maybe they could write their own chronicles? Or diaries, just as an exercise. And they wouldn't necessarily have to read them aloud or show anyone," you said, lifting your mug to take a sip of coffee. "But it might be a nice way for them to express themselves or blow off steam, as long as it's not hurting them, of course."
"Think they'll all want to do it?"
You smiled and shook your head. "I doubt it. I don't know."
Joel hummed, bringing his mug to his lips.
You popped a piece of bacon into your mouth, and it was so delicious your eyes nearly closed. You tried the eggs right after. Then, after a moment of savoring, swallowing, and giving yourself a little more time to think, you asked:
"You think they'll like me?"
Joel had his mouth full and raised his eyebrows at the question. While you waited for him to finish chewing, you took a bite of toast.
"They're gonna love ya," he said finally.
"And how are you so sure? Teenagers can be..." Your eyes drifted up the walls and across the ceiling before landing back on him. "They can be complicated. And these kids, these kids have been through things. Maybe I show up with diaries and chronicles, and they just think, 'Who does this nobody think she is and what the hell is she doing'?"
He huffed a laugh. "Don't go lettin' them walk all over you. Let them know you're the one in charge."
"Okay, and how do I do that without being bossy in the process?"
"You gotta be bossy, but that don't mean you can't still be nice to them. You can pull it off, I've seen it," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Saw you orderin' the guys around on some of the construction sites before. Even me."
You furrowed your brow. "I am not bossy."
"Yes," he said, looking right at you, "yes, you are."
You frowned. "I'm—"
"And when you're in a bad mood?" He brought his mug to his lips and rolled his eyes.
Your eyebrows shot up in pure disbelief, your lips twitched into a tight smile.
"Excuse me?" You tilted your head. "And you're the one telling me this, Mr. Uncle Grumpy?"
Joel smiled and shook his head.
"That's literally what Benji calls you, isn't it?"
"That don't change a thing," he grumbled, furrowing his brow. "You are what you are. Might as well make use of it."
"Oh," you nodded, "okaay. I will. But don't you go complaining later."
He poked his fork into the eggs and brought them to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours.
"Ain't complainin'," he said.
You ducked your head, hiding a smile.
Joel and you ate in comfortable silence for a while, occasionally making notes and chatting about your lesson plans.
The whole thing excited you for different reasons. The little ones had you looking forward to it because you just liked little kids in general; they were adorable and sweet, and their minds came up with a hundred interesting things. That was why you’d loved chatting with Sophie when she was that small; the conversations were always unpredictable and fun, and her imagination was endless. But of course, you’d always made a point to show her all kinds of books and stories, so she had a rich source of inspiration. You didn't know what some of the kids here would be like, or how much they’d interacted with the world, but you were eager to find out and, if possible, be useful to them.
The teenagers were a different story, since you hadn't had much contact with kids that age. But it was just as exciting, and you wouldn't hesitate to ask for help if you needed it. You had no intention of pushing past their personal boundaries and you kept a firm reminder in your mind to be careful with everything you wanted to teach them.
Overall, it was exciting.
After eating, you cleared the table and washed the dishes even though Joel insisted you shouldn't. And while you were doing that, he stepped out through the kitchen's back door, returning a few minutes later.
"Ellie's not out there," he said as he walked back in. "Don't know what she's up to these days."
The moody tone in his voice made you look up immediately. You were drying your hands with a dish towel as you turned around to face him.
"Have you asked her?"
He sighed. "She ain't exactly talkative lately."
"Well, I've seen her around with Dina," you said, resting both palms against the counter. "Just hanging out, nothing weird. They spend a lot of time together, maybe she's with her."
He nodded slowly, pursing his lips. "Keep an eye on her if you can, alright? She really likes you. Maybe... maybe she'd rather talk to you than me, about certain things, you know."
You nodded. "Of course, I will."
He ran a hand over the back of his neck and you watched him hesitate for a second before he moved toward the fridge and pulled it open. He took out a glass bottle about half filled with water and grabbed a clean glass from the drying rack.
You checked the clock on the wall, mounted right above the window next to the table. It was already a little past noon.
It was probably about time for you to head out, wasn't it? You didn't want to overstay your welcome, and you doubted Joel would ever be the type to tell you to leave. So, pushing yourself away from the counter, you walked to the other side of the room and stretched your arms behind your back.
"I think I should probably get going."
Joel turned toward you, the glass of water still at his lips. He swallowed and set it down carefully on the counter.
"Yeah? You got somewhere to be?"
You mentally scrolled through your imaginary schedule: no, you had absolutely nothing to do.
"Uh, not really."
He nodded and pursed his lips, shifting them to one side. "We could watch a movie if you want."
The offer caught you off guard, and it was briefly reflected in the few seconds it took you to answer.
"A movie?"
"Yeah," he said, stepping away from the counter and taking a few paces toward you. "Got a decent collection, if you wanna pick one out."
You smiled, lacing your fingers together behind your back. "I get to choose?"
"I'll give you some recommendations," he said, ducking his head slightly, "but yeah, you get to choose."
Joel's living room. A couple minutes later.
In Joel’s living room, tucked beneath the TV stand, were two players: one DVD and one VHS, both functioning and in perfect condition. Right below them were two small cabinet doors, and when you opened them, there was his collection.
His DVD collection was smaller than his stash of VHS tapes, but that didn't mean it was small by any means. Discs were harder to keep intact over time; most of the ones out there in the world were scratched or cracked, but Joel had stumbled upon a massive stash of DVDs in mint condition at an apartment complex near Jackson a while back. Good Will Hunting, Magnolia, Drop Dead Gorgeous, Seven, Wayne's World, Thelma & Louise, Fargo, Pretty Woman, The Green Mile… and more. There were so many options it was hard to choose. A lot of them you’d never even seen. Most of them, in fact. So, you asked him to give you a quick rundown of each one and which he thought was best for right now. He suggested The Truman Show and Pretty Woman.
"It's got romance and all that," he said, sitting on the couch as he held up the plastic case of his second suggestion, using the romance angle as his main selling point.
You inevitably remembered his harsh words about romantic comedies from many, many weeks ago.
"From the first damn second I saw you," he continued, "half-dead out there in the snow—I felt sorry for you. Everythin' I've done since then's been outta pity. That's all it was. I can't even look at you without thinkin' you're broken. And it makes me sick."
Your throat tightened, something forming behind your eyes. You blinked, hard, and swallowed down the heat rising in your chest.
"If that's what you think, then—"
"And that night? That was a mistake. A fuckin' embarrassment. I hate thinkin' about it. It won't happen again."
"Good. I hated it."
Joel looked at you, jaw clenched, eyes sharp.
"Yeah. Good for you. Cause this ain't one of those fuckin' pathetic romantic comedies you like so much. So give it up."
You took the movie from his hands and looked at the cover, running your thumb over Julia Roberts' face.
"We can watch something else if you want."
Joel’s eyes scanned your face. "No, it's fine. I think you're gonna like this one."
"You sure?" You gave a slow, lopsided smile. "Isn't it just another pathetic romantic comedy?"
His brow furrowed in a confused look, mixed with a faint smile. "What?"
A beat. You sighed.
"A while ago, after what happened at my place that first time, remember? You said this wasn't like one of those pathetic romantic comedies I like."
The expression on Joel’s face began to soften piece by piece, his furrowed brow relaxing as the memory clearly came back to him.
"Right," he said, ducking his head a little. He laced his fingers together for a moment, looking down at his hands for a second before looking back up at you. "I said that, huh?"
You nodded, pursing your lips slightly. "Yeah. You said a lot of things."
He looked at you in silence.
"Can I ask you a question?" you asked after a moment.
"I don't think romantic comedies are pathetic."
"Don't worry about it," you smiled.
"It was mean. I'm sorry. I know you and Sophie liked 'em."
Your eyes locked onto his in complete silence. He looked genuinely ashamed.
"It's okay. And I know we talked about this, but," you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "did you really mean it? What you said that day? Be honest."
Joel leaned back a bit and looked toward the coffee table, where several DVDs were piled up.
Maybe, maybe he didn't even remember it.
"Did you feel sorry for me?" you prompted him. "You said that every time you looked at me, you just thought I was broken and—"
"No." He shook his head. "I don't feel sorry for you, and I didn't back then, either."
A tight pressure gripped your chest. He looked back up at you.
"I needed to push you away," he confessed.
A beat.
"I know that. But… why?"
His eyebrows twitched. His eyes dropped down to your lap for a brief moment before tracing back up to your face.
"Because I ain't like this. Snow, I," he shook his head, "I don't do this. Not in a long time, I… For me, this is, this is new. That night at your place, things got out of hand pretty quick. I lost control."
You sat up a little straighter, your mind parsing through everything that had happened between you over the last few months.
You knew he wanted to keep his distance; you knew he had a tendency to shut down. But you had never considered it was about physical intimacy. It hadn't even crossed your mind that that would be an issue for him. He certainly hadn't made it seem like one.
"There wasn't anyone else before?" you asked. "I mean, in these last few years."
He squeezed one hand with the other, his brow furrowing slightly.
Yeah. There had been. He didn't have to say it out loud; you could read it plain as day in his body language.
"It's okay, you don't have to tell me."
Joel bit his lower lip, a rare hint of nerves, and watched you as you shifted further back into the couch until your spine met the cushions.
He hesitated for a moment, and you instantly resented yourself for throwing out such a blunt question without thinking it through.
"Tess," he said.
You froze. Tess. You turned the name over in your mind. Speaking felt risky right now.
"She was by my side for a long time, before I came to Jackson," he continued, keeping his eyes away from yours. "But it wasn't like this."
"How do you mean?"
He looked up at you. "Don't know. It was... We kept each other company for a lot of years, did a lot of things where we used to live. They weren't necessarily good things, but they were what was needed."
"Where did you live before?"
"Boston."
"Oh, right."
He rubbed his hands together, a nervous habit. "Yeah. Anyway."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you something like that."
Joel gave a gentle shake of his head. "It's alright. Don't worry about it."
You dropped your gaze to your hands. "Well, if it's worth anything, this is all pretty new and strange for me, too. I've never really done this with anyone before. Not like this."
"And what're you thinkin' so far?"
You smiled little by little, lifting your eyes to meet his. "It's been pretty nice."
Joel nodded, a soft smile spreading across his lips as he reached out and took the Pretty Woman DVD case from your lap. He held it up next to his face.
"We're watchin' this one."
Unable to help yourself, you grinned and slid over toward him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips against his. Joel seemed caught off guard for a fraction of a second, but his arms came around you immediately, pulling you flush against his chest.
You weren't going to tell him, but that tiny glimpse into his past meant everything to you. You knew he wasn't one for big words, and you knew how hard it was for him to open up about certain things, but he had done it in his own way, and that meant so much.
"Want somethin' hot to drink?" he murmured against your lips.
You hummed. "Yeah."
"Tea or coffee?"
You thought about it for a second. "Whatever you're having."
The sun poured warm and bright into Joel’s living room, even with the curtains drawn. At least with the fabric blocking the glare, the harsh rays weren't striking you directly.
It wasn't even two in the afternoon yet. Resting on the coffee table in the center of the room were your two empty coffee mugs and a plate scattered with crumbs from the blueberry pie you’d brought over yesterday, which you’d both finished off a little while ago.
With your stomach full and the quiet peace of the early afternoon settling in, your eyelids were growing heavier by the minute, even though you’d already slept for hours last night and earlier this morning. It didn't help that Joel was right there beside you; you were tucked into his side, wedged comfortably between the back of the couch and his outstretched body, your head resting on his chest while your eyes stayed glued to the TV screen.
You could tell he’d been drifting in and out of sleep because the second you asked a question or made a comment, he’d snap awake to answer before instantly passing out again.
"She is so gorgeous," you murmured at one point, watching Vivian appear on screen in that stunning red dress with the white gloves and her hair elegantly pinned up.
Joel’s eyes flew open. He stared blankly at the screen for a split second and muttered:
"Yeah."
A second later, his breathing went heavy again. He was already fast asleep.
By the time the movie neared its final act, you had formed a definitive opinion on it: you absolutely loved it. You deeply envied anyone who had gotten to live out their adulthood during that era. You would have loved to see a movie like this in a real theater, to let Vivian inspire you in a few ways; her hairstyles, maybe, or that radiant smile. Or maybe you'd have gone out to find your very own Richard Gere. Then again, right now you had a handsome older man of your own right beneath you. That had to count for something, didn't it?
Carefully, you slipped off the couch, trying not to disturb Joel, and walked over to the TV to take out the DVD. You tucked it back into its case and left it on the coffee table, where the other stacked discs caught your eye.
Inevitably, you ended up sliding another one into the player. The Bourne Identity. A man who can't remember who he is but possesses a lot of inexplicable skills. It caught your attention simply because it sounded interesting, and you remembered having a crush on Matt Damon back when you were little and your dad used to watch movies in the living room.
You took the disc out of its case, popped it into the player, and the moment the movie started, you hurried right back to your spot next to Joel, being careful not to press too hard against his chest or any of his sore spots.
As you rested your face against his chest, your eyes locked onto his neck, just inches from your face. He had that prominent mark running around his throat, purple and slightly greenish at the edges; the clear evidence of an act of violence you didn't even want to picture. It looked like exactly what it was: someone had bound him, choked him, or tried to do something worse.
Yesterday, the mark had been much more vivid, and while it still looked bad, it had softened just a fraction.
You let out a quiet sigh, your eyes continuing to trace his face and the marks left behind while Joel remained fast asleep. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling in total relaxation, while a hundred different thoughts and questions raced through your mind. Above all, you wondered: what on earth had happened to him in Ridgeway?
It wasn't like you were going to ask him, and it wasn't like he was going to tell you, but just thinking about it brought a dull ache to your chest.
Instinctively, you draped your arm across his chest, holding him gently as you closed your eyes.
The movie was barely ten minutes in when you drifted off to sleep.
A nap later
At some point in the afternoon, a few knocks at the door jolted you out of your comfortable nap.
Joel woke up instantly, and the sudden movement of his body jolted you awake too. You were still draped over him with your arm resting across his stomach, but you quickly pulled back as the knocking came a second time. The TV was still on, but the movie had already finished and the main menu had been looping for God knows how long.
Joel rubbed his face with one hand, giving your arm a gentle squeeze before he began to sit up.
"What time is it?" he asked, his eyes half-lidded and covered with sleep.
"I don't know."
He sat on the edge of the couch and looked back at you. His hair was a bit messy, his eyes glossy, and a faint smirk lingered on his lips as he stood up with a quiet groan.
"Be right back."
Lying back down, you watched him walk away and stretched your arms over your head. Then, you sat up on the cushions and grabbed the remote, muting the TV and leaning back to stretch your body one more time.
From where you sat, you heard Joel walk to the door and swing it open.
Were you even supposed to be here? Should you hide? Was he going to let whoever it was inside?
You didn't know. You weren't sure how careful you both needed to be with all of this; you’d never stayed over at his place for this long before. You’d already had that slightly awkward encounter with Ellie a while back, though of course, that was different. Joel trusted her, and you trusted her, too.
"Emily." Joel’s voice sounded flat and tinged with surprise as he said her name. You froze on the couch.
"Hey. Sorry, were you sleeping?"
"Uh—"
"I came by earlier this morning but I figured you were sleeping then, too. Just came to drop this off."
Footsteps, a few of them. Emily stepped inside the house. You pressed yourself harder against the back of the couch, though it was mostly pointless; it was positioned right in front of the archway separating the living room and the hallway.
"You didn't have to do that," Joel said. "Here, I'll take it."
Quick, get up and move to the other corner.
You shifted immediately and the hardwood gave a slight creak beneath your feet.
Emily laughed. "No, it's fine—Oh."
Her laugh stopped short.
You looked up toward the hallway, feeling a sudden wave of heat rush up your spine to the back of your neck and your cheeks, feeling completely exposed for a split second. She was looking at you.
And just like that, the cozy safe bubble you’d been sharing with Joel since last night had been abruptly shattered by the eyes of an outsider. Well, not an outsider. Emily. She stood there frozen, holding a glass baking dish with a white plastic lid. Inside, you assumed, was food. Obviously.
Standing entirely still, you became painfully aware that you probably looked like a creature caught red-handed; wearing Joel's t-shirt, Joel's pants, Joel's socks...
Not that she explicitly knew they belonged to him, but she could easily piece it together seeing how everything was completely oversized on you. And either way, everyone knew what pajamas looked like, or what someone looked like when they'd just rolled out of bed.
"Snow," she said, her smile turning tight. Her eyes scanned down and up your body, flicked over to the paused TV screen, and then landed right back on you.
Beside her, Joel stood just as still and caught red-handed as you were, wearing a white t-shirt and sweatpants with no underwear underneath.
But Emily didn't know that. You did.
"Hi," you said, smiling like an idiot. You crossed your arms over your chest to cover yourself up.
She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't seem to find any useful words.
Turning back to Joel, she held out the dish. "Anyway, this is for you. And Maria said you can take tomorrow off too, if you want."
Joel’s eyes were fixed on you. He took the dish from her. "No, it's fine. I'll be there."
"Alright," Emily said, nodding as she stepped past Joel toward the front door. "Well, see you tomorrow." She glanced back at you, lifting her hand in a brief wave. "Bye, Snow."
"Bye, Emily."
She gave a faint smile and, in less than three seconds, turned and walked out the door. She left Joel standing in the middle of the hallway clutching the baking dish, and you, standing in the middle of the living room with your arms tightly crossed and an expression you weren't even sure how to label.
You looked over at Joel as a nervous, slightly baffled smile began to tug at your lips.
He raised his eyebrows. "Didn't know she was comin' by."
"Yeah, no shit," you said, shaking your head. "She saw me like this."
Joel’s eyes drifted down your body before he shrugged a single shoulder, completely dismissing your worried tone.
"She ain't gonna say nothin'."
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and started walking toward the kitchen. Your mouth dropped open at the sight of him, and you followed right behind without a second thought.
"How do you know that?"
"Ain't none of her business."
You huffed a laugh. "And?"
"Eh, I don't think Emily's the type to go gossiping around."
Once inside the kitchen, he set the baking dish down on the counter.
You stopped right beside him. "Oh, because you know her so well."
Joel tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, as if to say of course I do.
You felt your cheeks flare up again. "And now she's bringing you food?"
Joel hummed.
You furrowed your brow. "Does she always just walk in like it's nothing? I could have been naked or something."
He snorted a laugh. "Naked, huh?"
"You know perfectly well that was a possibility."
"Yeah, well," he dipped his head, "good thing you weren't."
Without blinking, you stared him down and crossed your arms tightly over your chest.
"Yeah, lucky us," you said, pressing your lips together. "Next time, tell her it's rude to just barge into a house that isn't hers. Unless you don't mind it, of course."
"It's the first time she's ever come by here."
You raised your eyebrows in pure disbelief. "Worse then."
Joel laughed softly and leaned both palms against the counter. He shook his head gently, his eyes bright with amusement, and asked:
"You don't like her, then?"
You clenched your jaw slightly before forcing yourself to relax, letting out a sigh as your gaze drifted down toward the fridge and the magnets on it. Your eyes lingered on the photo of Joel.
Uh-uh. "No. No, I don't."
"No? Why not?"
You shrugged a shoulder and looked back at him. "I don't know. I know she isn't mean or anything, I just don't like the way she deals with people."
Joel furrowed his brow. "How's that?"
You searched your mind for the right words, but the only ones you could find were simple and honest.
"She can be a bit cold. Or dismissive," you said, raising your eyebrows. "Sometimes I've seen people go up to her to ask a question or request something, and I just don't like the way she treats them. She isn't mean," you lifted a hand, "but she's just a bit indifferent and detached."
He gave a slow nod.
"And I had that completely confirmed this past week," you continued. "Every single time I asked her if there was any news about Ridgeway, she wouldn't tell me anything, she wouldn't even look me in the eye. She just kept saying there was no news," you tilted your chin up a bit, "and then later I'd find out they'd gotten a radio call or something. Even Eliza didn't know about half of it because Emily just wouldn't tell her anything. And it's not like it was confidential information or anything like that. She needed to know, her husband was out in Ridgeway too."
Joel let out a slow breath through his nose. "Didn't know that."
"Yeah? Well, I'm not surprised. She seems plenty nice and attentive with you," you said, raising a single eyebrow. "Maybe she's just selective."
He narrowed his eyes slightly, and you bit the inside of your cheek when you caught the faint smirk on his lips.
"I just don't think it's right for someone in her position to look down on people or act like she can't be bothered," you continued. "Because I’ve been there too and I know people are constantly asking questions and looking for things they need. So, okay, it's her job," you crossed your arms again, "then she should do her job. I swear I cannot stand people who get the tiniest bit of authority and immediately turn their backs on everyone else. We're all in the same boat here in Jackson, anyway, even the ones making the calls."
Suddenly, he stopped blinking. He just stared at you, nodding slowly as he began to straighten up, leaning his hip against the counter. Mimicking your posture and never breaking eye contact, he crossed his arms over his chest.
"Well, you're right," he said. "And I believe you, 'cause you're gettin' so fired up you're actually blushin'."
You clicked your tongue. "I am not fired up."
"Really?"
"Really," you said, opening your eyes wider. "Just… just tell her to do her job. I know you can do that because you used to do it to me all the time."
He frowned. "That ain't true."
"Joel," you smiled, "come on."
"I never—"
"Yeah."
"I never told you to do your job because you did your job," he said, pointing a finger at you. "What I did tell you was to stop botherin' me with everything else."
You snorted, knowing he had a point. "That is not true. You used to get annoyed even when I was just in silence."
He pressed his lips together. "You weren't exactly in silence, properly speakin'."
"Why? Because I was breathing?"
"And those little sighs you'd make every few pages while you were reading," Joel said, gesturing with his hand. "Always made me wonder what the hell was happening in that book to make you react like that."
"Oh Jesus," you rolled your eyes. "How many more times are you going to bring up the sighs? Get over it, man. You were annoying too."
Joel furrowed his brow, but a lopsided smile broke through. "Was I? Not anymore?"
"I'm not so sure about that."
"What was it you called me once?" He narrowed his eyes, trying to recall. "The most insensitive, proud, arrogant man you've ever met?"
Mmm. Something like that. If you remembered correctly, he was actually leaving out a few choice adjectives.
You're the most insensitive, thoughtless, proud, arrogant man I've ever met. And believe me, I've met a hell of a lot of assholes. It was something along those lines, if your memory wasn't failing you.
"Yeah, well," you shrugged, "you told me I was the most unbearable, incoherent, reckless, and delusional woman too. But who's counting, right?"
A low laugh broke from his chest.
What was so funny, huh?
Uncrossing your arms, you turned back toward him and said,
"Why don't you use some of that attitude on Emily, huh?" You tapped his arm. "Maybe that way she'll actually do her job right."
Without waiting for an answer, you spun on your heel and turned your back to him, your legs moving with determination toward the hallway as you planned to head back to the living room. But before you could even take five paces, Joel caught you by the elbow. He arrested your movement, pulling you gently backward and anchoring you flush against him with one large hand wrapped just above your belly button.
He brought his chest right against your back, his mouth dipping down close to your ear.
"Well, I got a better idea. Why don't I just tell Emily we need her help somewhere else and you put that pretty little ass of yours back at the desk across from mine?"
Your mouth dropped open, completely caught off guard by the words. "Joel."
"What?"
You clicked your tongue. "I can't, and you know it."
"I know. And I get the school thing, but Erin’s got plenty of help from Fabrizio and everyone else, and you could still keep doin' your work at the greenhouse either way."
"I do patrols now, too."
He hummed. "Only two days a week."
The way he was talking (like a little red devil perched right on your left shoulder) was pretty manipulative. But you knew exactly where his insistence was coming from.
You were having a good time, and you were getting along well too. You’d be lying if you said you didn't want to spend more time with him. But that was exactly where a clear sharp line needed to be drawn. Because what kind of relationship would you even have if you saw each other almost every single day, and during the nights, too? Didn't he think about that?
Since this whole arrangement had started, you really did enjoy being with him. To be fair, you’d always enjoyed his company, even back when you got along terribly, and you’d actually told him that. You didn't know why, just that you felt comfortable around him. But now, there was a much deeper layer to it, because you were genuinely getting along.
You’d told him just last night: how long could a good streak like this really last if you saw each other every single day, and how long would it take before you or he completely got sick of each other again?
"We already talked about this last night," you said.
"I know, and I get it, alright?"
"Do you?" You turned your head a bit to get a better look at him.
He pressed his lips together, puffing out the top one the way he always did.
"It's just a suggestion. Think about it."
You bit your lower lip slightly, your eyes scanning his face as Joel leaned forward; you could feel him hanging heavy against your lower back.
Averting your eyes from his face, you leaned back, pressing harder against him until you could feel his outline perfectly defined against your backside. You felt him let out a soft huff against your ear.
"Talk to Emily," you said, placing your hand over his on your stomach before brushing it away and stepping away from him.
Joel chuckled low behind you, letting out a rough sigh.
Without looking back, you made your way to the living room.
The clock above the fireplace read half past four in the afternoon, and the light filtering through the curtain and the window was still bright, though just a fraction paler than before.
You sank into the couch and folded your hands in your lap, wondering if this was the right time to leave. You weren't entirely sure. Joel wasn't giving anything away, but then again, you couldn't really rely on his cues. Maybe he wanted you to go, or needed some time to himself and didn't know how to say it. But then again, had he ever actually held anything back?
"What're you doin'?" he asked, appearing through the archway a second later and dropping down beside you. Shifting his hips forward slightly, he took your outstretched legs and rested them across his lap.
A soft laugh escaped you.
Jesus, he truly could act like a needy man.
"Nothing."
"Watch Bourne Identity?"
"Only a few minutes. I fell asleep right away."
He nodded, looking at the screen where the menu was still looping on mute.
"Want to watch somethin' else?" he asked, looking over at you.
You stretched your legs out further across his lap, and he gave your knee a squeeze.
"Do you?"
He pursed his lips. "Sure. Choose somethin'."
You smiled faintly and straightened up a bit, resting your hands between your knees.
He clearly noticed your hesitation; his eyes locked onto your face, waiting for you to speak.
You gave a slightly uncertain smile, feeling your heart flutter with a touch of nervousness.
"You know, I was wondering just a minute ago," you swallowed, dropping your gaze down his chest, "is it really okay for me to stay here this long?"
"What's that mean?"
You looked at him in silence for a second, wondering if he genuinely wasn't understanding the question.
"Well, I mean, is it okay? Or, you know, maybe it's too much?" You frowned, frustrated with how you were phrasing your thoughts.
He lowered his gaze to his hand on your knee.
"You wanna leave?"
"No," you rushed to say, and his eyes snapped back up to your face. "It's not that. I just thought that maybe, I don't know, maybe you wanted some time to yourself? Or something."
Joel let out a soft, lopsided smile, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.
Gradually, he turned his head toward you, taking you in completely.
What could he tell you? He certainly couldn't tell you that he didn't want to be alone. Though that was a bit limiting; Joel didn't want you to stay just because he didn't want to be alone. He wanted you to stay because he wanted to be with you.
Was that wrong? Was it too much?
Every time he asked himself that (and it had been several times between yesterday and today), he answered himself in silence with the memory of the last seven days. Those five days of the journey to and within Ridgeway had nearly drained the life out of him completely. His body had been beaten and cut; his eyes had seen more violence in a span of days than during his last year in Jackson.
He really thought that was it. The first few times they pressed a gun to his temple, he was sure they would pull the trigger, and that time they wrapped a rope around his neck and pulled and pulled until he thought his bones would snap, he swore that was it.
But it wasn't, somehow. And he thought of Ellie, of the last hug she’d given him before he left the house; he thought of Tommy, of Benji perched on Maria’s lap. But he thought of you too, and how he’d only left a simple letter. Because he’d thought it wasn't necessary to wake you—what for? He figured he’d be right back. Two days at most. But the time dragged on, and so did the suffering.
Upon his return, his body began to ache. It was as if every muscle and nerve had stayed rigid and numb right up until he crossed the gates into Jackson. He didn't even know how he’d managed to make it all the way back without collapsing. But the moment he arrived, and after settling everything with the guys (even after Hale checked him over and patched him up) his body remained tense.
He didn't feel anything, just a strange ache that ran through him like a massive bruise, one so constant it had already gone unnoticed.
But when he saw you outside Hale’s place, he knew he must be broken. Because on your face, he found the pain he was feeling. You looked at him like he was a ghost; your glassy eyes pierced right through his chest, and he felt the urge to touch you. But before he could do much of anything, you left.
You left, and he didn't see you again until that afternoon, when you made him understand in a rather direct way that you wanted him to leave you alone.
And he wasn't gonna tell you, but he saw right through you. It didn't hurt that you pushed him away. Well, maybe a little; it was hard for him to admit he'd been excited to see you. But he knew your attitude under that weeping willow was a normal reaction. You were angry. And you’d probably been scared, too. So, in situations like these, he just had to give you space; that was a lesson he’d learned many, many decades ago.
The next day, when he ran into Zach at the dining hall and Zach told him you were heading over to his place, he wasn't surprised. He’d been waiting for it, though he felt a wave of relief knowing the wait had been short.
The night before, he hadn't been able to sleep much, but with you here, he’d slept so deeply his eyes were still a little puffy. You tangled yourself around him like ivy; arms, legs, fingers, every part of you intertwined with his, keeping him warm after so many cold and cruel nights.
And it might be selfish, this need to want you here. Surely you had other things you wanted to do, other people to see. Or maybe you didn't, but you had to leave anyway. Joel didn't care; selfishly, he wanted you all to himself, just for today.
So yeah, he wanted you to stay. Just a bit longer. Because he needed and wanted the tenderness of your presence. And the wasn't anything he could do against it.
"Don't need no time to myself," he assured you then. He swallowed. "Stay here tonight."
Your eyes widened just a fraction. Joel knew what he said had caught you by surprise.
"You sure?" you asked softly.
He nodded. "Yeah. And tomorrow mornin' we both go back to our own things, how's that sound?"
You smiled. "Sounds good to me. Though I don't have any clothes," you raised your eyebrows slightly. "I should go grab something to wear tomorrow."
"Alright."
You nodded. "Okay."
He nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure we'll find somethin' to keep us busy later."
That surprised a chuckle out of you.
You placed your hand over his on your knee. "You really are a dirty old man."
Joel rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation, and shook his head.
"I meant watchin' movies or cookin'. You're the one with the dirty mind."
You hummed, not buying it. "Yeah. Well, you're probably already tired anyway."
He clicked his tongue. "Don't be so sure about that. That nap was pretty revivin'."
Hours later
"See you in a bit." Stretching up on your toes, you gave Joel a quick peck on the lips.
A second later, he opened the front door and you stepped across the threshold, wearing the dress you’d arrived in, your boots, and one of his jackets. Today was much cooler than yesterday, and if you walked back to your place with nothing but what you'd brought, you were going to freeze.
Joel watched you walk away for a moment, closing the door only when you disappeared from his line of sight. Immediately, the house felt quiet again.
For a while, he distracted himself by tidying up and cleaning. He went up to his bedroom and made the bed, straightening things here and there, and left the pajamas he’d lent you neatly folded on the mattress. He dusted the dresser in front of the window, arranging the picture frames on top, and swept every corner of the room as best he could.
Downstairs, he wiped down the already clean kitchen counter. He cleaned the cabinets, then the windowpanes and the backyard door, and just as he was drying the glass, he noticed Ellie arriving at the garage.
She opened the door and slipped inside right away, and Joel didn't hesitate for a single second to seize the opportunity.
He stepped out into the yard, feeling the cool air raise the hairs on his arms, and hesitated for a second before knocking on the garage door.
From the other side, he heard a few muffled noises, and a moment later, the door swung open.
"Hey. What's up?" she said. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was a bit a mess.
"Out early today," Joel said, stepping inside. The girl moved aside to let him pass. "Where'd you go?"
"Had plans with Jesse."
"Ah, Jesse," he rested his lower back against the desk and crossed his arms, smiling. "What kind of plans?"
Ellie frowned and shook her head. "Don't start. It's not like that. What're you doin' here anyway? Don't you got company?" She raised her eyebrows.
In a split second, the smile vanished from Joel's face, and he went completely still.
Ellie tilted her head and waited a beat. "Look, I know Snow's here. I saw you guys earlier."
Joel frowned but didn't say a word.
"I was hungry," she tossed her head back, "so I went into the kitchen to grab some food and heard the TV. You were wiped out."
He stepped away from the desk. "Ellie, look—"
"Please, just don't say anything," she said, holding up both hands and shaking her head. A faint smirk tugged at her lips. "I already knew. I mean, I knew there was something, I just didn't think it was so... you know—"
"We're just friends."
"Yeah, right," she rolled her eyes. "Great friends."
Joel hesitated as he tried to speak again, suddenly feeling really nervous. He rubbed the back of his neck and let out a sigh.
"Snow and I... we're gettin' along, and—"
"Joel, chill, you're not my dad," she cut him off, waving a hand. "You don't gotta give me some speech like you're tryin' to convince me to like my new mommy or whatever—"
"Ellie."
She stopped talking, and her eyes softened, but Joel still had his brow furrowed, his thoughts tangled up in his head.
"I like Snow," she said. "And I like that you guys are... friends."
Joel pursed his lips and watched her for a brief moment; the look on her face and the softness in Ellie's eyes held no lie or forced reassurance.
He knew she liked you. He knew the two of you had formed a bond while he was away. And suddenly, he wondered if his relationship with you would affect yours with her. Lately, Ellie hadn't been very expressive with him, but he’d seen how she was around you. He hoped that wouldn't change.
"I'm fixin' to make a good dinner tonight. Snow's stayin' over too," he rested a hand on his hip. "How's about you come on over and join us?"
Ellie smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sounds great. But… maybe another time? I'm pretty wiped, and I still gotta go see Dina."
"Yeah? What for?"
"She found a few parts we were missin' to finish some traps," she leaned back, dropping onto the couch. "We're headin' out early tomorrow to test them."
Joel nodded. "Rabbits?"
"Hopefully."
"Right. Well, I'll leave a plate out for you anyway, alright? We'll have dinner around eight, just in case you change your mind," he nodded. "I know Snow'd like to see you."
Ellie nodded. "Okay. Did you give her the portrait?"
Joel nodded. "And how're you comin' along with the herbs and all that?"
"Almost done with a few of them," she smiled. "I'm headin' to the greenhouse tomorrow to show Snow what I got."
"You could show her now, you know. She'll be back in a bit."
"Nah, I'm good. Don't wanna interrupt whatever's about to go down in there," she said, holding up a hand.
Joel clicked his tongue.
"What?" She raised her eyebrows. "I didn't know you were the type to cuddle up on the couch like that. Ugh," she shuddered, faking a chill.
Joel let out a chuckle, Ellie echoed it.
"Alright. Take care of yourself then," he lifted his chin. "And tomorrow, let's get some dinner, just you and me. How's that sound? Whatever you want."
She pursed her lips. "Can you make that meatloaf you do?"
"Course. An extra large one."
"Alright," she nodded.
Joel smiled and took a few steps toward her. Reaching out, he gave the crown of Ellie’s head a quick affectionate rub. She ducked her head, immediately clicking her tongue.
"Watch yourself out there, alright? And don't be gettin' back late," Joel said, moving toward the open door. "Don't go doin' anything reckless."
Ellie snorted. "You neither, Casanova."
Joel hid a chuckle as he turned around to head back inside the house.
Your house. Ten minutes later.
You got home around half past five in the afternoon. Stepping inside, you caught the scent of the flowers on your coffee table and the entryway stand, mixed with the soap you used for your laundry.
You didn't linger. You went straight to your bedroom, tossed your dress onto the small couch in the corner and kicked your boots to the side, wrapping your arms around your bare body.
The closet doors stood open, and your naked reflection stared back at you as you stepped closer to find something to wear.
Your cheeks were flushed from the walk, and your hair was a bit a mess. But there was a particular shine in your eyes that made you pause and just look at yourself for a moment. It was as if your skin were glowing, as if the expression on your face had suddenly softened.
On your neck, there were two small marks, faint and nearly invisible, that Joel had left either last night or this morning, you weren't entirely sure. But your fingers brushed up to touch them, and it was as if you could feel his mouth there all over again.
You smiled like a fool, your eyes drifting down your body; they passed over the scar on your jawline, the scars on your collarbone, just beneath your ribs, and further down on your right thigh, where several small but distinct marks barely revealed themselves.
You tilted your head, observing yourself and suddenly seeing a difference. As you did, a lock of hair fell across your face.
You caught it between your fingers and breathed it in, then gathered a handful more. Burying your nose in the strands, you closed your eyes.
You smelled like him. From the strands of hair between your fingers to your very skin; his soap, his shampoo—him. The same clean scent of his fresh sheets, the exact same scent that was woven into his skin. You carried it now, and the feeling brought a flutter to your stomach that made every hair on your body stand up.
Well, that, and the fact that you were naked and your house was freezing.
Jesus, stop being so corny, what's the point?
The more time you spent staring at yourself in the mirror, the longer it would take to get back to Joel. So you finally turned away, moved along, and headed into the bathroom.
You took a quick shower without getting your hair wet, since you'd washed it just that morning, and went through your usual routine. With your skin soft and clean and your body much warmer than before, you stepped out of the shower wrapped in a towel. Your feet weren't cold anymore, and neither were your fingers.
Back in the bedroom, you misted yourself with rosewater and put on a little bit of everything you owned, smelling like a dessert all over again and feeling like one, too. You ran your fingers through your hair, brushed it out a little, and reached for the small wooden box inside your nightstand. From it, you took your necklace and fastened it around your neck.
Opting for comfort and practicality, you pulled on a pair of straight-leg jeans that hugged you perfectly up top, thanks to some alterations Isa had done, along with a cropped white tee and a slightly loose black sweater. You were right on the verge of putting on sneakers, but you chose your boots again. There wasn't much use fighting against something both cozy and cute.
Okay, what did you need to bring for tonight?
You grabbed a tote bag and tossed in clean underwear, your hairbrush, and a few other small things. Carefully, you folded the jacket Joel had lent you earlier and slid it inside as well.
You didn't waste any more time. You bundled up in his other jacket (which, technically, was already yours) and went into the kitchen to grab the blueberry pie you’d left in the fridge yesterday. You’d only tried a tiny slice to make sure it tasted right. You packed it into a plastic container and carefully settled it into your bag, strategically arranging everything underneath and around it so it wouldn't shift in any way.
Giving yourself one last look in the mirror and knowing that at Joel’s place, nothing but a tiny little hand mirror awaited you, you stepped out of your house just as the sun in the sky began to turn that sea of blue into a field of orange and pink.
Joel's house. Late afternoon.
The second Joel opened the front door, a delicious aroma hit your nose.
"Mmm," you breathed in, stepping into the entryway. "What am I smelling?"
Joel took the bag from your hand and closed the door behind you. With a smile, he lifted his chin and nodded toward the kitchen.
He’d changed his clothes and wasn't in his sleepwear anymore, but in jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt.
He look so good.
"Go on and look," he said.
Smiling, you walked over as the scent grew even richer. Your eyes instantly locked onto the pot on the stove. You stepped closer while he carefully took the container with the blueberry pie out of the bag and set it on the counter.
Inside the pot, vegetables were simmering away, releasing a thick sweet steam, covered and surrounded by a dark glossy sauce.
"Is there wine in this?"
He nodded, and your mouth watered instantly.
"Started a good while ago," he came up beside you. "Seared the venison, took it out, cooked down the veggies with the wine, and threw the meat back in. It's been stewin' for a while now. You real hungry?"
Smiling, you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. "I didn't know you knew your way around a kitchen like this."
"I don't know that much," he shook his head. "Just a few things I'm fixin' to stick with forever."
You laughed. "Is this one of your specialties?"
"Yeah. This, and the meatloaf I'm makin' for Ellie tomorrow."
"Oh, did you see her? Is she here?"
"No, she left a while ago. But we talked for a bit," he nodded. "Said she was headin' to the greenhouse tomorrow to see you. Wants to show you what she’s done with the herbs."
You were genuinely excited to see what Ellie had been working on. You thought it was incredibly sweet of her to want to help you out with all of this, and you were sure you’d find a way to thank her properly. Favors are favors, and they ought to be repaid right.
"I can't wait to see what she's done."
Joel smiled. "You're gonna like it."
It was only fair that you set the table. While Joel cooked, you arranged the plates, silverware, and everything else, though you still felt like you had too much time on your hands. But you distracted yourself by picking something to listen to; Joel had a box full of cassettes and handed over the authority for you to choose the music. You picked a Fleetwood Mac compilation and spent the rest of the time keeping yourself occupied with the glass of wine he had left on the table for you.
You had rarely ever had wine. Looked like almost never before arriving in Jackson. But here, they had a decent amount of alcohol, both produced by the community and brought in from the outside. Cider was pretty common, as was whiskey, but wine was a much trickier thing to come by for some reason. Joel, being who he was and knowing the people he knew, had a few bottles tucked away in a small cabinet in his kitchen.
He wouldn't let you help with the cooking, insisting he had it under control. That left you with only one job: sitting at the kitchen island with a glass of wine, just watching him. It wasn't like he had a whole lot to do after a while anyway, since the meat pretty much cooked itself, only needing a quick check every now and then. During that stretch of time, he pulled up a stool next to you with his own glass of wine, and the two of you talked about everything and nothing, mostly just casual drift.
"Pet Sematary," he said, bringing the glass to his lips.
"Never read that one."
He raised his eyebrows. "You ain't ever read Pet Sematary?"
You shook your head. "No. I only read Carrie, and honestly it didn't really make me feel any better."
"You gotta read Pet Sematary. Reckon it’s one of the few books I actually finished cover to cover when I was a kid."
"Weren't you big on reading?"
"Preferred doin' other things," he said, tilting his head. "But I got that book for Christmas one year, and then I caught the flu and spent a week in bed. Read the whole damn thing. Let me tell you, havin' a fever dream after readin' somethin' like that wasn't nice."
You laughed. "Is it really that terrifying?"
"Well, I was eleven. Doubt it’d scare me none now."
"I remember my parents watching the movie once, but I didn't pay much attention. I wasn't really into horror. Either that, or it scared me and I just didn't want to look." You suddenly sat up straighter. "You know what book I know you’d love?"
He frowned just a fraction.
"Lonesome Dove, by Larry McMurtry," you said. "You ever read it?"
"Not that I recall."
"It's about two old Texas Rangers who decide to drive a huge herd of cattle all the way from the Mexican border up to Montana. But they run into just about everything along the trail. It’s a Western, so you can picture it. Storms, bandits, different towns. I loved it when I read it, it's incredibly entertaining and," you raised a finger, "deep. It’s not just about the adventure, you know? It’s about the fact that the whole world around them is changing. It's the end of the Old West."
He nodded. "Modernity."
"Exactly. And they’re old men from a generation that spent their entire lives chasing outlaws and living in places where the government had no control. But everything’s becoming obsolete, you know? Their whole way of life."
"Yeah," he smiled, "it happens."
"I've got it on my bookshelf if you'd like to read it," you raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I'd like that. I gotta give you my notes or somethin' afterward?"
You laughed. "Only if you want to."
Dinner turned out to be an absolute triumph. You sat with him at the table by the window, savoring every single bite. The venison was incredible; the meat was so tender it practically melted in your mouth, to the point where you didn't even need a knife; you could cut it with just your fork. The vegetables were delicious and just as tender, their rich flavors almost making you want to roll your eyes in pure bliss.
Joel, of course, got a little cocky about it. There was a smug smirk playing on his face that he was clearly trying to hide. Still, you secretly suspected the man hadn't even realized it was going to turn out this damn good.
Between the waiting in the kitchen and the dinner itself, the two of you finished the first bottle of wine without even noticing. Midway through the meal, Joel cracked open the second one, which turned out to be just as delicious. You were really starting to get a taste for it; the flavor paired so well with the food that you couldn't bring yourself to turn down another glass, and then another, and maybe another.
And you weren't sure if it was the alcohol or something else, but you’d gotten so hot you shed your sweater before your third glass.
By the time you finished your second helping, you knew the alcohol was starting to do its thing. You felt it first in your feet, in that pleasant buzzing warmth around your skin, and then in the floating lightweight feeling warming up your chest. But most of all, you knew it because your eyes started losing their modesty.
You caught yourself tracking the movement of his lips every time he spoke or took a sip from his glass, your gaze lingering without a shred of hurry. You got completely pulled in, watching his profile under the soft light; the sharp line of his jaw, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled. Your eyes drifted down to his hands, tracing the veins standing out against his rolled up sleeves, and you couldn't stop a clumsy wine addled thought from taking over your mind: oh wow… his fingers are really, really thick.
But there wasn’t a thing you could do about it; the wine had already hijacked your filters, and your eyes stayed exactly where they wanted to be. You knew you were being obvious, taking way too many seconds to meet his gaze whenever he spoke, like a woman suddenly turned shy.
And Joel, of course, wasn’t any fool. He noticed.
You caught the shift almost instantly. He stopped talking so animatedly, and his rhythm eased into a lazy drawn out cadence as his voice dropped a register, turning deeper and huskier.
His posture in the chair relaxed, leaning just a little closer to your side of the table, cutting down the distance between you. His eyes, which had been fixed on yours, began making their own unhurried sweep across your face. They lingered on your wine flushed cheeks, dipped for a split second to your mouth when you bit your lip, and drifted back up. He held your gaze for a long stretch of time, sending a tingle straight down the back of your neck.
When he picked up his glass, his fingers traced the curve of the crystal. A tiny, barely there tug pulled at the corner of his mouth; he knew exactly where your attention was anchored.
Oh, Jesus... you wanted to tear him apart.
But not here.
Dinner having ended quite a while ago, you got up from your chair and gathered your plate and his. Joel was up right after you; he cleared the glasses and the rest of the table, tucking the used napkins between his fingers while balancing the wine glasses and the empty bottle in his other hand.
Weaving your way into the kitchen, you placed the dishes into the sink with extra care, trying to let the clatter of the stoneware drown out just how hard your heart was thumping, and turned on the faucet. The rush of running water filled the room for barely a second before you felt his heat right behind you.
Joel stepped up right against your back. You felt the solid pressure of his chest nearly brushing your shoulder blades a moment before his arm shot past your side, planting his palm firmly against the edge of the counter, trapping you completely against it. His other free hand reached up without a hint of rush, gripping the handle and shutting off the faucet, cutting the water dead.
"Later," he said.
You felt his breath hit your neck, and your head tilted back on instinct. Understanding the invitation, Joel pressed his entire weight against your back. The solid unyielding feel of him felt so damn good you squeezed your eyes shut and smiled shamelessly.
His hand shifted from the edge of the counter, sliding down to your lower stomach. He flattened his palm there, pressing gently into the soft heat of your belly, before his hand began a steady inching crawl upward. At the same time, his lips found your exposed throat; he kissed you right there while his hand kept drifting up, caressing your chest. And as his palm brushed over your chest, his thumb grazed your nipple through the fabric of your shirt, catching a quiet sigh in your throat.
Your eyelids felt too heavy to keep open. Joel’s mouth kept tasting your neck with short nipping kisses and soft suctions, his hand traveling higher until his long fingers and broad palm wrapped around your throat, squeezing firmly from the sides.
A muffled groan tried to break free, but his grip trapped the sound against your skin, making the vibration rattle right in your vocal cords.
With a tug, Joel pulled your head back, forcing your spine to arch as he locked his hips tight against yours.
His other hand traced down your side, mapping the curve of your waist and hip, squeezing your flesh with a hunger that was driving you out of your mind. The wine and the friction of your bodies sparked a desperate ache between your thighs, and you didn't know how much longer you could go without tearing his pants off.
Sensing your restlessness, Joel nudged one of his legs between yours. With a firm shift of his thigh, he forced your legs apart and hitched his knee right into your center. You let your weight drop, desperate for the pressure, grinding down against him, but the thick denim of your jeans blocked the full sensation and the partial friction only fueled your frustration.
Joel caught onto your desperation and surged even harder against you, and you could feel him fully hard, a rigid ridge pressing into your backside through the layers of clothes. Unable to hold back, you reached a hand blindly behind you until you found the front of his pants, and wrapped your fingers around his crotch, squeezing firmly through the fabric.
The sudden boldness caught him off guard; Joel let out a low groan right against the skin of your neck as his grip on your throat tightened just a little more.
With a sudden jerk, he hauled you away from the counter. His hands dropped to your hips instantly, digging firmly into your flesh as he started steering you out of the kitchen.
A breathless nervous laugh slipped from your lips, cutting through the silence of the house as the two of you moved toward the hallway. And before you could even plant a foot on the bottom step of the stairs, you slapped his hands away, spun around, and bolted up the flight.
Halfway up, curiosity got the better of you, forcing you to glance back over your shoulder. Joel was already tracking you; his posture was stiffer, his eyes so dark and locked on yours. You let out a soft amused gasp and scrambled up the rest of the way.
As you cleared the final steps, your fingers hooked the hem of your shirt, yanking it cleanly over your head and dropping it behind you like a breadcrumb on the trail. Right before hitting the doorway of his bedroom, your hands flew to your back, unhooking your bra and letting it fall, too.
Joel trailed you without missing a beat. You heard him pause for a split second below to scoop your shirt off the floor, and then he kept coming, completely unhurried, stopping to grab the bra next. He was giving you a head start. He was granting you the exact window you needed to slip into the bedroom, kick off your boots, and shed your pants.
Hearing his heavy tread approach the threshold, you padded silently on bare feet into the bathroom. From inside, you caught the low huff that rumbled from his chest when he stepped into the room and found the bed empty.
The cool night air drifting through the bathroom window instantly prickled your skin, making your nipples harden and the hair on your arms stand up, but you didn't give a damn about the chill. You planted both hands flat and firm against the edge of the marble sink, arching your spine completely and tilting your ass toward the doorway; right at the perfect angle for where he was bound to appear in less than a heartbeat.
And yeah, just a heartbeat later, Joel filled the bathroom doorway. He stopped dead in his tracks, going completely still, frozen under the frame.
A thrill shot through you just from watching his reaction. Joel held your clothes in one hand, his eyes locked onto your bare skin, tracking the curve of your hips and your exposed ass. His jaw was clenched so hard the muscle bunched, and that sudden paralysis of sheer awe and desire on his face let you know you had him exactly where you wanted him.
Joel tossed your clothes onto the bathroom counter without a shred of care, while you stayed completely still, watching him. He tightened his jaw and brought his hands down to his waist.
Slowly, he unbuckled the metal latch of his belt; the leather creaked and the metal clinked in this quiet bathroom as he whipped it through the loops in one clean yank. Your pussy throbbed just looking at him; so mean, so serious, so intensely focused as he popped the button of his jeans and dragged the metal zipper down with a harsh rasp, never taking his eyes off you for a single second.
As he began to close the final few inches between you, an intense flutter turned your stomach over. Joel settled right behind you, planting one of his big heavy hands flat against your hip, digging into your skin to anchor you in place, while his other hand went straight for your center, hooking the fabric of your panties to the side.
Your breathing was already ragged and heavy, and your throat felt so dry you could barely swallow. Trying to hold onto that thread of control from the game, you tried to look back at him.
"You should get yourself a mirror," you murmured.
Joel huffed a laugh.
His thick warm fingers parted your wet folds. "Yeah," he said.
You shut your eyes instantly, letting out a low moan as you finally melted into his touch. His fingers were soaked in you immediately, sliding top to bottom. He brought the pad of his index finger up until he found your clit, pressing and rubbing in firm circles that made you flinch and arch your spine even deeper against him.
The wet obscene sound of his fingers moving inside you filled the bathroom instantly. But Joel took his time to torment you, sliding his middle finger along your slit and stretching your wetness before pushing a single knuckle inside your pussy. He went in easy, stretching you open, and a choked moan escaped your lips. A second later, he slipped a second finger in, opening you up from the inside, and began to thrust into your depths, curling his fingers upward to hook the exact spot that made you lose your mind.
"Shit, baby... you're fuckin' soaked," Joel growled in your ear, and the sound of his dirty voice only deepened the spasms already starting to ripple through your walls.
Your hands gripped the edge of the sink so hard your knuckles turned white.
The wet sounds of friction between his hand and your pussy were loud, giving away just how ready you were; every time he buried his fingers to the hilt, your eyelids grew heavier.
You started to lose all sense of rhythm, rolling your hips back on pure instinct, begging for more and more and more. But Joel didn't give in; he kept his hand steady, pumping inside you, catching your dirtiest, most shameless whimpers right out of the air.
"Joel, please," you stammered, letting your head drop forward. "Fuck me already, don't make me wait."
He cut his movements instantly. With a dragging touch, he slid his fingers out of your wetness. You lifted your head and licked your dry lips, desperately trying to catch your breath.
"You gettin' bossy on me now?" he asked.
A small smile tugged at your lips, and you glanced back over your shoulder. Joel already had his cock in his hand, stroking it up and down, using the same hand that was coated in your own slick. The sight of his size and the heavy veins tracing his shaft made you swallow hard.
"Over the sink, now. Put your hands further out and lean down," he ordered.
You obeyed instantly. You stretched your arms across the surface, planting your palms firmly against the cold marble that clashed sharply against the heat of your body. You slid further forward, arching your spine to the absolute limit and pushing your backside out, offering yourself to him completely.
Joel stepped forward, erasing the space between you. You felt the burning tip of his cock hunt for your entrance, pressing right where the ache of your need was loudest. Easy, he broke into you in one controlled heavy push, burying himself deep, inching further and further until he filled you to the brim.
He stretched you so wide you choked back a cry against the marble. He went dead still, granting you a few agonizing seconds for you to adjust to his thickness and squeeze tight around him. Feeling his pulse throbbing inside you was pure heaven.
Then, he started to move. At first, they were short testing thrusts, but as the rhythm leveled out, a whimper of pure relief slipped from your lips.
Joel took you at your word; he fucked you with relentless consistency, driving deep into you with every single stroke, making the wet echo of his hips slamming against your cheeks ring out through the bathroom. The moans spilled uncontrolled from your mouth, impossible to hold back.
Bit by bit, any trace of patience melted from his movements, turning harder. Joel reached a broad hand up to your shoulder and, with a firm yank, forced your upper body back, arching your spine flush against his chest. And without giving you a second to catch your breath, he shifted that same hand straight to your throat, squeezing with just enough pressure to pin you tight against him while he kept hammering into you from behind.
The shift in the angle made him sink even deeper, ripping cries and sobs of pure pleasure that vibrated right against the flat of his palm.
And just when you thought you couldn't open up any wider, Joel used his boot to nudge your foot, forcing your legs further apart. With a quick heavy grip, he hooked his free hand under your thigh and hoisted your leg up over the edge of the sink, splitting you completely wide open.
Locked in that vulnerable position, he started fucking you hard and fast, a pacing that completely stole your balance. Desperate, your hands scrambled to find a handhold on the wall or the counter, but you couldn't reach a damn thing; the sheer speed of his thrusts was rattling your entire body.
Joel had you pinned so tight against him that the only thing you could do was cling to his arms, burying your nails into his skin. You held onto him, feeling your one steady foot on the floor nearly lift with every strike, suspended in the air by the force of his hips.
To say you didn't recognize the sound of your own voice was an understatement; you didn't think you’d ever made noises as broken as the ones Joel was ripping out of you with every single thrust. It was a completely new sensation, being entirely undone, unable to do a damn thing but cling to him so you wouldn't shatter completely.
Slowly, his movements began to lose their speed, turning heavier. You felt his chest heave hard against your back as he dialed back the pace, locking you tight in his arms. He let your dangling foot finally find the floor, easing the strain on your muscles, and softened his grip on your body, though he stayed buried deep inside you.
Driven by the lingering slip of pleasure, you reached an arm back over your shoulder, searching for the touch of his skin. Your fingers found the nape of his neck and sank right into his curls, tangling in that soft hair you loved so much.
You tilted your head back, offering your lips in a silent plea, and Joel caught your jaw gently and planted a deep dragging kiss on your mouth.
While kissing you, his free hand carefully guided your leg down from the sink, helping you find your footing. He steered you away from the marble counter, backing you up toward the bathroom door.
Only when you hit the threshold did Joel pull out of you all at once, leaving a choked whine on your lips at the sudden cold absence. Before you could even protest, he brought his palm down in a stinging smack against your flushed ass.
"Bed," he ordered.
You moved toward the mattress immediately, your legs shaking and a delicious ache pooling between your thighs. You collapsed flat on your back against the mattress, sinking into the sheets, and hooked your fingers around the waistband of your wet panties, yanking them off and tossing them onto the floor. All while you watched him shadow over you from the dim light.
Your eyes, completely blown out, tracked Joel’s body as he stripped down under the faint light. He yanked his shirt off in one motion, revealing that broad torso, then kicked off his boots, and finally shed his pants, letting them pool on the floor.
God, he was so big. Huge everywhere; the width of his shoulders, the thickness of his ribcage, his massive arms, and that tremendous length pointing right back at you, glistening and heavy with thick veins.
You spread your legs wide on the mattress, begging him back, utterly unable to look away.
Joel climbed onto the bed, making the springs groan as he settled immediately between your open thighs. He gripped your knees, pushing them back toward your chest to split you open even wider, and lined his cock up with your pussy.
He slid in inch by inch, savoring the fit, stretching your already sensitive walls, but the second he was buried completely inside you, he gave you no quarter. He picked his rhythm right back up.
You held onto him with everything you had, wrapping your arms tight around his neck and digging your nails into his broad back while he fucked you hard, deep thrusts making you bounce right against the mattress.
The wet friction of your bodies took over the room again, mixing with Joel’s pants directly in your ear and your own shameless moans.
"Joel, please," you cried out, squeezing him tighter. "Put all your weight on me."
He lifted his head, locking his eyes onto yours.
"Put all your weight on me," you repeated.
"I'm gonna crush you."
"No, you won't," the heavy impacts chopping up your voice. "Please."
Joel let out a rough pant and buried his face right next to yours as he slowly let his body drop over you. You felt his weight gradually press you down into the mattress; his chest flat against yours, his stomach against yours, blanketing you in sheer heavy man.
"Yes, yes, yes," you started to babble, letting your eyelids flutter shut as your arms wrapped around him and your fingers buried deep into the hair at the nape of his neck.
You were right on the edge, suspended in that eternal second where the pleasure gets so sharp it almost hurts. Your legs were wrapped tight around his waist and your nails were dug into his shoulders, feeling the coiled tension in every single muscle.
Then you felt it. You caught that subtle unmistakable shift in the vibration of his body; the way his cock went even harder, pulsing and throbbing inside you, expanding to its absolute limit. Joel let out a guttural grunt, a purely animalistic drawl of a sound that drowned in the crook of your neck as he completely lost his rhythm and his grip on control.
Knowing you had him right there, that he was about to fall apart for you, was the final push that shattered your gravity. Your own orgasm hit you all at once, a hot burst that clamped your internal walls in violent desperate spasms around his length.
Joel roared against your skin the second he felt you clamp down on him, completely trapped by your climax. He delivered a few brutal frenzied thrusts, driving so deep you felt like you were splitting in two, before cursing loudly and dragging himself back with desperation.
You unlocked your legs from his hips to let him clear, and he grabbed his cock, letting go right over your belly. He was so flushed, his face so raw and undone, that your eyes could do nothing but watch him, panting and silent, while your own muscles kept riding out the tail end of your release.
He leaned forward, planting one forearm beside your head, and brought his face down to yours.
You cupped his face; your fingers pressed gently against his jaw as you pulled his mouth down to meet yours.
Joel's room. Half an hour later. Night.
You flicked off the bathroom light and shut the door behind you.
The effects of the wine were still floating through your system, but now it was pure exhaustion weighing you down. You knew you were gonna sleep like a baby tonight, so before climbing back into bed next to Joel, you went straight for the alarm clock on his nightstand.
"Six thirty sound good to you?" you asked, turning the clock around to set the dial.
"What time is it now?" he wanted to know. He was lying back with his hair still a little damp from the shower, wearing a dark blue cotton t-shirt and sweatpants.
"Quarter to ten."
"Ain't as late as I thought."
You smiled. "Right. I figured it was at least eleven."
"Six thirty's fine."
You set the alarm and slipped the clock back into its spot.
Carefully crawling over Joel’s legs, you slid under the covers as he pulled the sheet and the comforter up over you. You dug your toes into the mattress, stretching out on pure instinct just from the happiness of being comfortable, warm, and knowing you were in for a perfect night of sleep.
You draped your arm over Joel’s chest, and he leaned into you, shifting onto his side to blanket you with his body heat.
"Oh," he murmured, pulling back for just a second to click off the lamp on his nightstand before wrapping his arms right back around you.
The bedroom fell into darkness, but the moonlight streamed through the window; pale, soft, and soothing. It was a full moon tonight.
"Goodnight, Joel."
He let out a low sigh. "Goodnight, Snow."
divider by: omi-resources
(if you want to be added or removed from the taglist, let me know!)
can you blame me for having thoughts of nothing but the mandalorian?
a/n i threw this together in about five seconds sorry
sleeping on the little cot in the den of the razor crest, an incredibly sad excuse for a bed, your dreams are light and hazy as is the quality of your rest. you toss and turn in your slumber every once in a while, comfort evading you no matter how your body tries to seek it out.
when he returns to the ship, he's as quiet as he can be, knowing that even a single loud noise might disturb you. that's the last thing he could possibly want. except it's impossible to avoid the whirring of the door to the ship as he enters, impossible to eliminate the sound of his armor clinking as he walks, the patter of his heavy boots against the metal flooring beneath him.
he would take the time to return his weapons to his small armory if he knew the noise would not be a bother. except he is more concerned with allowing you your rest. the small cot may be enough for him, having learned to sleep wherever possible, rising at the sound of a pin dropping; however, you are not like him.
you're soft. delicate. you need your slumber, unlike him, and he knows you find it difficult to rest in his subpar sleeping quarters.
he curses himself when he hears you stir.
you've already begun to wake, so instead of making his way directly to the cockpit, he makes his way towards you. taking long strides as softly as possible so as not to jostle you with the weight of his movement within the ship, then laying beside you with as much caution as he can manage.
"you're back," you whisper to him in your sleepy state. one of his gloved hands comes to your waist, and he longs to bury his face in your hair, in the crook of your neck.
he shoves the urge to the back of his mind as he pulls your figure closer into his.
"did you sleep well?" he asks you, and you grunt in disapproval. he frowns ever so slightly beneath his mask, gripping you tighter upon hearing it.
"no," you speak up, curling into yourself as his arm remains tightly seated around your waist. "can't get comfortable."
"I'm sorry. I'm working on it," he tells you in earnest. he watches as you fidget, moving around every few seconds as you try to adjust until you feel comfortable enough to find your slumber again.
you try your best to remain near the brink of sleep, try your best to keep your constant shifting and light grumbling to a minimum so as to not make him feel any worse about the fact that his bed is so cramped and hard.
clearly, your attempts are in vain as he speaks up again.
"can I help?" he inquires, and you immediately begin to feel apologetic for being so ungrateful, so much of a bother to him.
"no, I'm sorry, it's alright," you whisper, except as you speak, he's already gripping you by the hips and turning your body around to face his.
you take a breath in preparation to apologize once more. he speaks again before you can do so.
"don't say that you're sorry again," he tells you as he repositions the both of you, urging you to lay on your back as he hovers above you. "I'm going to get you a better bed, don't you worry."
his hands wrap around the flesh of your thighs, spreading your legs just enough for him to slot his own thigh between yours. the rough beskar plate that protects him from bodily injury is now pressed up against your most sensitive parts, still covered in the cloth of your trousers.
"let me make you comfortable, huh?" he goads as he presses his leg firmer up against you, inciting a whine from low in your throat. "sleepy little thing. let me help put you back to sleep."
your eyes cinch shut even tighter as he begins rocking his leg up against you, your hips beginning to chase the feeling and thrusting helplessly against him as the pleasure between your thighs grows.
"gonna get you a better bed. take you to Coruscant, rent the nicest room in the nicest inn we can find."
that sounds heavenly, you think, as you remember what it feels like to sleep on a bed nicer than the one you're in now. you can't imagine how nice it would feel to sleep in a fancy Coruscanti room, luxury unlike any you've experienced before.
"please," you utter under your breath between whimpers as your movements grow weary, and he ever so softly shushes you.
"no need to beg," he assures you, "go ahead."
your body is already so spent from lack of sleep, and this small piece of pleasure that he's offering you takes over your restless body with ease. it's not long before your body tenses underneath him for a few long seconds, then falling back against the cot as what little energy you have left leaves you as you reach your peak.
"good girl," he encourages, holding you there for a few seconds as you begin to drift off again.
when you feel him begin to move away from you, however, you groan in displeasure. "where are you going?" you mumble.
"we're still on the ground. I need to input the coordinates to Coruscant, remember? then, if you're still awake, I'll come back and fuck you until you're so sleepy you can't stay awake for another second."
Warnings: 18+, Sexual tension, solo masturbation, Mando is a virgin and very touch starved so baby ;)
4.9k words
You joined Mando on his mission to take the child back to its people. But as tension grows between you two, you make the move and ask him to stargaze. What happens next?
The Mandalorian was scared. He never did this whole ‘love’ thing. Too busy for those things.
So why did his heart make an excuse for you?
He knew how hard all of this was, he was told to bring the child back to its people. Those who use the force.
You tucked the child into Mando's sleeping area, little babbles reaching Mando's ears.
He watched as you smiled, closing the door and turning to him. Beautiful.
It was the best word he could use. He always thought you were pretty but, in the lighting and way he knew you now… beautiful was the best term.
He slipped into the cockpit, as she was working on something. He stared out into space as the stars passed as streaks of white glitter.
He knew you were behind him as you settled into the passenger seat. You often would curl up in the seat and look out the window. You loved the stars and loved seeing the planets pass by.
Then he would turn back around and you would be asleep. The blanket you kept folded, he would gently grab and tuck you in.
“What are you thinking about Mando?”
You softly asked looking at the back of his helmet. He was relaxed, looking out the glass as well.
He couldn't answer honestly.
“The future of the child” was somewhat honest… he was worried about that, but at the moment his thoughts were full of you.
You nodded softly, looking out the window. An idea slowly bubbled in your mind.
“Mando, have you ever gone stargazing?”
The question was so simple it almost caught him off guard. “No, don't have time for that.”
A smile worked on your face. Neither of you had anything to do. The baby slept and you felt like getting to know Mando better, he was a mystery.
You shifted around a little and he wasn't paying you any attention, fiddling with something on the dashboard but he did listen to the movement.
“Mando, take a break?”
He thought for a moment, then turned to tell you no.
But you were lying on the ground, on the blanket looking up through the rounded top of the razor crest glass.
“What are you doing?”
You laughed a little, crossing your hands on your stomach. “Isn't it clear? I'm stargazing. You should join me.” A smile on your face as you waited.
You didn't really understand why but a good chunk of the time he would do whatever you asked.
He shook his head. You thought he was going to say no. Then stood up and took a small step over you. Settling on the ground and lying down.
The only issue is the cockpit wasn't made to be big, being used to fly the ship not do this. (He thought that to himself) The pilot seat blocked the view from that angle, you had your legs scrunched up to dodge the other seat and so your head wasn't against the passenger seat above you.
There was no room for him so you scooted over and over until he stepped in next to you. Armor flesh against your sleeved arms. “I'm sorry” his voice said coming out of the vocalizer.
You were so close to his face, the tip of your nose would softly brush his helmet randomly. A soft smile found your face as you searched the dark part of his helmet to see if you could see the eyes you never saw. “No reason to apologize.”
You looked up watching as the stars still blurred by. Mando did too. Lying there he didn't understand what you thought was fun about this. It was quiet, the only sound being the razor crest staying alive.
But it was peaceful, the blue hue from the sky, and lying there… he could feel your heartbeat. You were so close.
He knew so much about you, but you knew nothing of him. He wanted to tell you everything… But did you want that?
His inner turmoil was cut off by your soft voice. “The stars blurring on your armor looks so pretty.” peacefulness gracing your features. He didn't say anything for a moment. “Thank you.” Was all he could offer.
You turned looking back out the glass. Taking a deep shaky breath you hoped you could hold a conversation. You guys chatted before but nothing super long.
“So… Mando.” He turned his visor brushing your cheek as you turned, your breath making his armor slightly foggy. “Are you human under there?”
A slight huff came, knowing that's how he thought something was amusing. “And what if I'm not?”
Not ready for the counter response you paused. Then smiled at him again. “I'd still be here on this ship.”
You both got the funny heart flip thing.
Both in turmoil and shoved it away.
Mando nodded at your response. You giggled softly “I just always wondered since I can't see your face.”
At this he decided at that moment he wanted to be daring. His heart was beating as he nodded. “I understand. How about I… show you?”
What.
You were caught off guard. Immediately shaking your head. “Mando I can't ask that of you-”
An actual short laugh left him.
You were stunned. But didn't say anything. He shook his head slightly. “I won't show you my face. Close your eyes.”
Then he reached up and began undoing his armor plate and glove on the arm smooshed against yours.
You kept your eyes closed a little worried at what you were hearing when…
“You can open them now.”
Right above him, the glowing blue hue from the stars played on his hand and wrist. No glove or beskar, just skin.
Veins ran up and met his fingers, but danced down his sleeve across his wrist. His skin had a pretty tan warmth glow, scars softly decorating his knuckles that formed small 'x's'. Peaking out of his sleeve was hair up his arms.
You reached out, not thinking about it. With his breath held he watched as you took his hand into yours, softly turning it and admiring the scars. His hand was extremely warm, coarse on the pads of his fingers but incredibly soft elsewhere. Zoned in on feeling the way the skin turned tough.
Actually infatuated was a better term. Not just his hand but him. He was quiet, smart, strong, and so kind.
His looks didn't matter to you, his heart already alone made you attracted to him.
Mando didn't say anything, he watched your hand slowly wander across his wrist, a finger softly tracing a vein trailing up from under his sleeve. His breath caught, worried you heard it from how close you were.
You did, this causing you to finally stop zoning out. A soft blush decorating your features as his hand slowly fell down to his side. “I'm.. sorry. That was strange huh?” You said with a nervous laugh.
He didn't make a sound for a moment, silence filling the space between you. He didn't really know what to say, he didn't think telling you to rub his hand again was appropriate.
You gave him relief by changing the topic while adjusting yourself. “What's all the planets you've traveled? I haven't traveled much.”
And Mando began to list off some of the prettiest planets he had been to. Another question falling from you.
“Where are you from? Mandalore?”
He stiffened. Not expecting that type of question. You noticed and softly nodded. “You don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable.”
But he cut you off gently turning his helmet to face you, nose brushing the beskar once more. “Aq Vetina”
A planet you hadn't heard of. “Is it beautiful?” Mando continued staring at you. Then with a shaky breath:
“I… I don't remember too much about the beauty. Most memories are dark of my home planet.” His voice stayed strong still, but you could sense the unease from him.
Your hand had fallen from your stomach to the side, the same side where his bare hand rested. Your voice is soft, almost a whisper. “... Do you want to talk about it?”
Mando usually didn't like to talk about it but… he wanted to share more about himself with you, even if it was one of the hardest things for him to think about. It was who made him what he is.
A mandalorian. He wore it with honor.
The vocalizer crackled as his voice spoke, low and soft. “Something terrible happened when I was a child.”
You nodded, giving patience and letting him take his time. Your hand accidentally brushes his. He slightly jolted but relaxed.
“I remember bombs, fire, blasters. As my parents went to hide me for my safety.” His voice was even, not showing emotion.
“I… would soon find out my parents were killed by droids.” This part was always the hardest for him to say, no matter how much he worked on doing better with being around droids. This now made a lot of sense to you, never knowing why he hated droids so bad.
You felt something brush your hand… his pinky softly tracing up the side of your pinky. You took a shaky breath still holding eye contact with him. Watching the dark blurry reflection of your eyes where his should be.
“When the doors opened to my hiding spot, a mandalorian saved me. They took me in and when the time came, I became one as well.” he said voice still so soft as your pinky started to trace back.
“Your very strong Mando.” You said with a gentle smile. “Thank you for telling me something so hard.” Your voice was like a daydream, soft skin with that soft blue tint.
His heart wouldn't stop hammering his chest, especially now, your pinky intertwined his in almost a pinky promise way.
As he heard you say Mando… he knew he wanted to tell you his name. It felt like a blood rush in his head as he spoke. “Din.”
You didn't say anything for a moment. His fingers now traced yours, softly rubbing the knuckles.
“My real name is Din Djarin.” His voice shook. Why was he nervous?
You felt the tremble across your knuckle as he still rubbed little circles into your hand, goosebumps dancing up your arm from the light touch. Only his hand gently shook.
“That's… your real name?” Somehow you found words, as you played back with his hand. Not daring to look down. He gave a short nod.
“I think it's a beautiful name.” You said a warm smile on your features. At this his hands finally begin to settle, fingers lacing with yours, falling into you holding his hand. Both of your guys hearts were beating hard.
“Din Djarin” as you said it a soft almost giggle left your lips. Your fingers tightened around his.
And in that moment he knew he would be willing to do whatever it took to keep you right here, by his side.
He wanted to keep looking at that sparkle dancing in your eye as you looked at him. Your soft skin under the blue low lights. This had to be heaven, he was sure of it.
Your name fell softly from his lips in the same matter you said his name.
You blushed and bit the inside of your cheek at that. It wasn't often he said your name but always a treat when he did.
Maybe he was touch starved, maybe you needed company. Neither of you were quite sure what this meant. Looking at each other with a deep mutual feeling.
Then you let the words you had wanted to ask the whole time fall from your lips.
“What color are your eyes Din?” your other hand had started subconsciously tracing the rim of his chest plate. Pointer finger making invisible lines across the shining armor.
He wasn't prepared for this question. He didn't really get the chance to look at himself in the mirror. But for some reason, he didn't want to tell you…
He actually really wanted to look right at you and say “why don't you find out?”
But instead he leaned so close your forehead was against his helmet. And said so low and quiet. “Maybe one day I'll tell you.” With that brightness in his voice he got when he was smirking.
You smiled at that. Face almost feverish with a blush. Not thinking about what you were doing…
The tip of your pointer finger kept following the rim of his armor. Him studying the invisible path you drew. All the way up the side of the armor plate closest to you. Your finger drifts higher and higher.
Then slows down as it reaches the cloth of his throat. Really wanting to trace the edge of his helmet.
Your forehead still against his helmet, hands held tightly as he rubbed your knuckles with the coarse pad of his thumb.
“Can I touch your helmet? I won't take it off.” He knew you meant that too but he couldn't help the panic trying to fill him.
“Sure.” His voice didn't show the inner turmoil. Heart being pulled hard. He wanted to see where this was going.
Gently your finger followed up his neck, a content sigh fell from him. He wanted you to keep doing that, never feeling hands that meant good things there. Always someone trying to choke him instead.
Then it settled on his helmet. You had a playfully but peaceful look on your face enjoying all of this. As your finger begin to trace the under edge of the helmet
His breathing shaky, trying to remind himself this wasn't a trick and he was fine. Your hand got lower and traced around the edge of the helmet where it turned to flesh from fabric, feeling his skin that was revealed there. But not able to see it. Neck so warm from the helmet, just slowly tracing the skin.
He said your name in almost a grunt.
He loved this, but he was feeling things he wasn't used to. His heart wouldn't stop beating so hard and he felt like he was about to have an adrenaline rush. His hand trembling slightly from not being used to being touched and loved on.
And he didn't dare shift around, he had one leg slightly lifted to shift his armor enough his pelvis was covered. The blood rushing through his veins from the wonderful feeling your hands gave… starting to give him an erection. The seam of his pants rubbed almost deliciously against him.
He kept his lips tightly sealed in fear of making a noise.
You didn't notice really, just kept rubbing where his collar where fabric and skin met. How long has it been since you both crawled on to the floor? minutes? Hours?
You both were aware of each other for years. But actually held a conversation months ago. And now… at this moment. You knew you were done for, you had fallen for the mandalorian.
Mind pondering, you were so glad Greef made you go on that mission with Mando.
Maybe even loved him, you weren't sure.
But you loved this. Loved being on this journey with him, seeing the ugly and messy of what he does, to the moments where he is so sweet and loving. He was brilliant.
You both were still lying there softly looking at each other.
And the words fell from you before you could register it.
“Din… I want to kiss you.”
He didn't pull away, he did stiffen up.
How could he tell you he never kissed someone before? He had never been this intimate with someone else his whole life.
But…
He wanted your hands in his hair. He wanted to taste you, wanted to know what pretty noises you could make.
What would this change? This mutual feeling being brought to the surface.
Your voice cut him out of his spiral “Din. We don't have to if you don't want to.” Your smile wasn't ugly it was sweet, like being told no on this wouldn't be hurtful to you.
“I…” he needed to tell her. But what if she didn't want him anymore? He knew there was a way to be intimate but never did it.
He was honest.
“I want to kiss you.” He said so gently, his vocalizer almost seeming too loud.
“But I… I don't know how.” His confession hangs in the air.
You were actually surprised. This handsome man never kissed someone? It made some sense due to his creed, but… if he wanted to kiss you. Would he be okay with you being his first?
You now are becoming nervous. This could actually be happening. “I mean… I can show you how.” You wanted too. Wanted to shove your tongue right in his mouth and suck on his lips.
If you could see Mando's face you would see the dark blush decorating his face. He couldn't believe you would want to still do that. With a sharp breath. A shaky ‘okay then.’ left him.
“Close your eyes.”
And you knew why, so you closed them and to even make him feel better, turned your head away as well.
A moment of silence and then a soft click was heard. There was a moment where you felt a warm breath against you, a shiver running down your spine. Then the sound of metal on metal was heard. His helmet placed above your head on the ground.
You swallowed thickly, nerves filling you. Then that warm hand you felt earlier covered your eyes.
“Okay.” But he no longer had that electric vocalizer voice. Just his warm deep voice.
You turned his hand followed. Your hands softly reached up, one going through his hair, it was slightly damp with sweat where he hadn't taken his shower yet. Hair with soft curls but not extremely long. You wished you knew what color it was.
Your other hand fell on his cheek. An almost sigh left his lips. Your nose bumped his, his skin was warm. You felt a soft scruff as your thumb rubbed into his cheek. A smile formed from you even though you couldn't see him.
“Didn't think you had a beard” you said playfully as a small almost laugh left him. “I'm glad that's what you're concerned with.” he said, hearing that smirk once again.
You wanted to listen to that pretty voice all day. It was so deliciously close.
Then with a small wobbling breath he said “can… can I touch you?” You didn't even hesitate, biting the edge of your lips.
“Please.”
You felt the warmth on the underside of your neck before his fingers fell. Softly tracing your jawline like you did his helmet. Your skin was incredibly soft, he swore to himself nothing physically felt this good against his hands.
His hand worked up until it rested on your cheek. Your hands are still playing with his hair and rubbing his face with gentle fingers. Causing goosebumps to run up his spine as he leaned dangerously close.
His breath mingled with yours, his nose no longer brushing but now bumping against yours. You reached up, helping pull him closer. Your lips only 2 inches from his.
“Are you okay?” You wanted to make sure feeling the nervous energy from him. He nodded in your hands. “Okay.” You said with a soft smile and then.
Pulled his lips against yours.
It was just a peck, quick to show him what it was like. When he pulled away it was silent… his stand still over your eyes.
“Can I kiss you again?”
And at that you giggled and nodded. His lips now immediately fell on yours.
They were soft and plump, his mustache brushing your top lip as he turned his head slightly in an effort to deepen the kiss. His lips tasted slightly like metal but slightly salty from the broth the two of you had just two hours before this.
You helped him deepen the kiss, moving your lips against his until both of you were out of air pulling away in a quiet gasp. You couldn't see anything done blindly with only your hands to help guide you. The feeling making your blood run hot and your thighs clench from that feeling working its way down.
You didn't know how long you both went back and forth until the words left you. “Can I try something?” Now Mando was never scared but hearing you say that did make him nervous. But like you said earlier…
He seemed to always give into anything you asked. You felt his head nod.
With both hands you reached up and pulled him forward, lips crashing hard against his. You worked your lips until you shoved your tongue into his mouth.
The warmest grunt leaves him as he opens for you to taste him. He tasted as amazing as you thought he would. Pulling back and giving his lip a nip that made him gasp slightly. Your name left his mouth, his voice trembled as if he ran a marathon… you both were out of breath.
You wanted, no… had to hear your name from him again.
Using your elbows you sat up hearing him asking what you were doing as you leaned over him now, his one hand still covering your eyes.
Face to face with him, your chest slightly smooshes against his chest plate. The cool beskar cools down the heat radiating from your breasts through your shirt.
You shoved your tongue into his mouth once more. Pressing hard. Loving the soft noise that would occasionally fall from him. Knowing his eyes were screwed shut. The one hand not daring to move from your cheek and feel your body.
Take it slow.
You reminded yourself that he hadn't done this before. He would eventually want to brush your skin. You pulled back again. Face rosy and swallowing from the saliva in your mouth.
He was basically panting as he looked up at you. You would give anything to see his face.
Things were escalating, your hand falling down to his side. The side where you dug the seed out months ago. His breath hitched. Not in pain but you moving down his body.
He just kept hoping the almost painful erection he had would go unnoticed, but this position made that hard for you not to see it.
You took the tips of your fingers and went to pull his shirt up. You wanted to feel his skin, to pull the armor off and touch his warm skin.
His breath sucked in as his hand gently reached out and stopped your wrist. “I-” he said, his voice strained.
“Not yet. Please.” He said his voice became almost a note higher at the end. He was too nervous. He just kissed you, he wasn't ready to go… that far. “Take it slow.” He said softly.
He didn't know you didn't want to take it that far, you wanted to feel his skin. But you weren't going to push him, you wanted to take this at his pace.
With a soft nod you still have a gentle smile as you closed your eyes again and his hand fell from your eyes. The click of his helmet being pulled back on and you opened your eyes.
The helmet looked back up at you as you both sat in silence. You then smiled hard “thank you for letting me be your first kiss.”
You heard that huff almost laugh thing again from him and knew he was smiling too.
With a gentle push off his chest and a small bite of your lip, you helped him up. Him gently folding the blanket you two just laid upon and handing it back to you. Things were great, just awkward? You both were just tense and Mando was even surprised this got to him having his first kiss.
So with a soft voice he said:
“I'm glad you were my first kiss.” and at this you blushed darkly and turned away with a little laugh. “Goodnight Din.”
But before leaving for good you walked right up to him and kissed the helmet right where his cheek would be.
He was smiling, you didn't know that but in a warm affectionate tone he said goodnight back.
You were head over heels for him.
…
The shower was made for one person alone. Mando finally got to shower after the long day. But he couldn't stop thinking about you and him lying arm to arm just two hours ago.
The water ran down his skin, chasing past scars and fresh healing wounds. His fingers grazed the 1 inch wide cut where you dug that seed out. The moment he realized there was more to you then he had originally thought.
As he stood there with a sigh, the hot water kept running. Silencing all sounds and noises as he stood in the tiny bath area.
He also was trying to figure out if everyone was asleep so he could deal with the erection that hadn't gone away since you lied next to him.
The tip was angry red with pre-cum bubbling out at the top, the veins running up his shaft begging to be touched.
As his hand reached down and wrapped around it a content sigh already left his lips from the tight grip his hand gave. Soaked curls dripped in his face as he looked at his cock already pleased to be touched.
But he wasn't the only one who was dealing with the same problem.
Your panties were soaked after kissing him. Satisfying that fantasy to shove your tongue down his throat. You lied in your sleep area, knowing he was showering so he shouldn't hear you and the baby was asleep in his area.
Your fingers ghosted over the wet spot on your panties. Pussy begging to be touched. You kept gently rubbing circles biting your lips as your panties grew darker.
Mando kept a steady pace as his cock fucked his hand. Very quiet grunts leaving him and sighs as his tip gets wetter and wetter. He wanted you to kiss him again, he wanted to shove his tongue down your throat. His thrusts were getting shakier. His hand is getting wetter.
Your fingers pushed your panties aside, tips softly brushing your lips feeling how slick you were. A soft gasp left you as you slowly worked a finger in.
Mando's head fell back, mouth slightly open as his one arm held him up against the shower wall. ‘Fuck’ he kept saying softly.
Two fingers worked you open as you softly mewed and moaned into your shirt you had bunched up in hopes of keeping yourself quiet. Panties hanging from the ankle in the air as your fingers plunged in and out over and over.
Mando felt that tight knot starting to pull. He bit his lip and forehead fell hard against the tile as he said your name softly over and over. He was panting and… the knot snapped. A growl left him as he came on the wall, thick glossy white ropes decorating the silver wall, his cock wouldn't stop pulsing from how long it had been since he did this. As he came down from his high he realized the water had gone icy.
You had tears in the corner of your eyes as you felt your orgasm coming, thinking about your eyes covered. Wishing his hands rubbed all over you. Your walls clenched deliciously around your fingers. Pussy soaking the sheets under you. Grabbing your breast and squeezing the nipple hard, you attempted to push a third finger in. The stretch was so good it sent you over the edge.
The sound almost sounded like a strangled cry as you spasmed around your fingers. Soaking them. Thighs shaking and leg trembling. Mando's name falling from your lips as your head hit your pillow.
Wiping your fingers off on your shirt. You knew you were screwed, the blush running from your cheeks to your breasts. You wanted this man badly.
As Mando wiped his cum off the wall he knew he was screwed, he was a virgin and didn't know his way around a woman at all.
The last thought you both had was “what would he/she think of me?”
i really love how much emphasis the mandalorian and grogu placed upon how kind din djarin is.
is he an incredible fighter? yes... it was cool to see him kicking ass on the big screen.
but more than that, i really appreciated his interactions with the anzellans how empathetic he was to rotta and of course how patient and loving he was with grogu. i loved how it was highlighted that din is actually kind of averse to violence, and mostly views it as a last resort that should only be turned to when talking doesn't work. that is one of the things i adore most about his character.
he's a walking beskar-played contradiction. he appears like a terrifying mandalorian warrior to the rest of the galaxy, but underneath that steel is a heart of gold. that part of him means so much to me, and i'm so glad it was present as he took the leap to the big screen!
He's inside you. Around you. Embraces you with all his love and affection, clinging to you as if he's afraid you will vanish beneath him forever.
"Y-yes," you reply back, his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their path as he kisses your neck and sucks so tenderly on your nipples. He trusts inside you with unbridled passion, giving you every inch of his body and soul.
"I love you. please, don't ever leave me. If i can't have you, no one else will."
The words flows through your mind like a distant echo. They should concern you, feel like a threat. But something inside you numbs those thoughts out. All you feel is him.
Din. Your beloved Mandalorian.
He brings you to the peak of pleasure, lifting you to new heights as your climaxes ripples through your body. His growls of pleasure vibrates through the room as he fills you with his love, his shaking voice whispering your name as his seed paints the inside of your womb.
A smile graces your lips as you embrace him, caressing the top of his head as he buries his face in your neck.
Your beautiful Mando.
A loving and passionate man who loves you beyond words and would move heaven and earth to protect you. To you, he is everything.
~
Seeing you beneath him, Din still can't comprehend the truth of it.
That you're his.
The first time he laid eyes on you, his soul felt connected to yours, your bodies and souls intertwined in a messy chaos. He was a part of you, and you were a part of him. You were one. His love for you seemed to have no limits, no boundaries. It grew and deepened and consumed him. Every inch of his body ached for you. Every thought in his mind pertained to you.
Din wish you could feel the way that you make his heart soar with a simple look. He wish you could comprehend the infinite times a day he thinks of you and smile. You tore down his walls like they were nothing and showed him what it meant to live. Really live.
How can he ever let you go?
When you are the one he wants to spend eternity with. His red string. His friend. His lover. The love of his life.
blakekathryn
tangentwithtanner
