19┆leo ┆ she/her (pansexual) ┆ more of a reader than a writer^_^ ┆moot meeee!! ┆"The only thing more powerful than hate is love." - Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio
Welcome to my super cool blog! Get to know mee! And don't be afraid to be mootsꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵) my blog is a safe space for everyone except for homophobes, transphobes, tr*mpies, racists, misogynists/misandrists, zi0nists and ped0philes.
About me:
Hii! My name is Elliee, I'm 19 years young and I'm a Leo and I'm pansexual cisgender and I go by she/her! I'm a pathology student. I post mostly post fic recs right now is this one and this one I'm still working on others!
Things I'm into:
- politics
- music
- movies and TV shows
- reading
- animals
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿
My taste in music:
Lana Del Rey
Queen
Deftones
Slipknot
Bad bunny
Guns and Roses
System of a Down
Carpathian forest
Ayesha Erotica
Pierce the veil
Saint Avangeline
Chapel Roan
Behemoth
Young Miko
Limp Bizkit
Yaelokre
Ozzy Osbourne
Kali Uchis
Cupcakke
YUNGBLUD
David Bowie
Daddy Yankee
Prince
Lady Gaga
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿
Movies and shows I like:
The Walking Dead
Young Sheldon
Bohemian Rhapsody
The Wild Robot
Bones and All
Euphoria
The Conjuring
Freaky Tales
The Hunger Games
The Last of Us
Sweet Tooth
World War Z
Narcos
Victorious and Sam and Cat (FUCK DAN SCHNEIDER)
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿
What I love to read:
I loveeeee Pedro Pascal character fanfics also Madison beer fanfics tho they are hard to find
The hunger games
Noli me Tanghere
Percy Jackson
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿
Animals I love
Dogs
Spiders
Bats
Snakes
Cats tho I'm allergic
Deers
Birds
Butterflys
Ferrets
Bunnysss
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿
Extras!!
I loveeeee vanilla, I love the smell of vanilla I love the taste of vanilla I love vanilla
I love savory food
I study pathology
I love the colour black with all my heart
I love scented candles
I'm in love with the gothic aesthetic
I'm an Atheist but I respect all religions
English isn't my first language but im fluent
ANYWAYSS thanks for getting to know me!! Hope we become friends 🖤
Joel Miller slept with you once and now he’s wondering if he just changed both your lives forever.
Contains: smut, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, creampie, unprotected sex, pregnancy, praise, multiple orgasms, body worship, dirty talk, slightly insecure Joel, breast play, riding, fluff, angst, nervous Joel, flirting, panic, one night stand, unspecified age gap
Wordcount: 7,249
Masterlist
Wanna be on my taglist?
Joel tilted his glass a little, glaring at the bottom of it.
It had been his second glass, but he could hardly feel any effects of the alcohol, which wasn't unusual given his tall, broad figure. His high tolerance was a curse and a blessing at the same time, but right now, he wished he would feel a little more at ease. Especially because his little brother seemed to be on another planet, and his wild behavior was usually a lot more endurable with his head pleasantly buzzed.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Joel, do you see this chick over there?"
Seriously, what was wrong with his brother using such terms at his age? He was talking like some college freshman who had gone out for the very first time in his life.
"No, Tommy. And I'd rather not."
"Joel, she's basically undressin' you with 'er eyes." Tommy grabbed his shoulder, trying to get him to shift his attention toward her, but Joel just peeled his hand off.
"Well, I wouldn't really like that in this goddamn cold."
It was untrue that he despised any kind of interaction with beautiful women, specifically when he felt that he had sparked an interest in them, but he doubted that Tommy had a good eye for any of this. He was… difficult sometimes. After dating Maria for quite some time, then breaking up with her in a huge fight, followed by months of reunions and more fights that ended ugly, Joel wasn't so sure he was the one to turn to for advice. Even though he would obviously never tell Tommy that.
"Joel, she wants to fuck ya."
"Who are you even talkin' 'bout?"
Okay, now he was interested. Just a tad. Despite its recent growth and all the new refugees coming from the East, Jackson was still a small town, so people knew each other. Especially Joel, who had been living there for four years now.
"The pretty one."
"Jesus…" He drew a heavy breath through his nose as he finally wheeled around to see who his brother had been watching for the past minute.
Oh. He had expected a lot, but not the person his eyes now landed upon.
At first, he assumed that he was mistaken, and that Tommy was talking about one of the women at the table beside you, but no. His brother was very clearly watching you.
"Are you fuckin' serious? You think she's starin' at me?" Joel chuckled, reaching for his glass only to remember that it was empty. How pathetic.
"She is. And she almost looked like she was about to drool."
"Christ… Tommy, she's like – I don't know, 35. What would she want from me?"
"I told you, she – "
"Yeah, yeah…" Joel grunted and determinedly put his glass back on the counter, turning the idea of getting himself another round over in his mind.
"Well, I'm gonna go over to this other group now and introduce myself like a polite gentleman would do, and if I were you, I'd join so I could talk to that pretty woman and…"
At this point, Joel stopped listening to his brother and just gave a nod when Tommy excused himself to execute his plan and approach the group of ladies next to you.
Tommy was insane, Joel thought, scoffing to himself while the idea of refilling his drink became more and more appealing with every passing second. But then again, drinking with his brother was one thing, but sitting alone at the counter sipping beer while Tommy was off flirting with women was even more humiliating. No, he would have to find different ways to deal with the loud noises and indistinct chatter without the liquor. At least until he was sure that Tommy was either safely at his house or had gone home with one of the women he had just met.
"Hey."
Joel's head spun around quickly, his breath catching in his throat. Shit, his body was too old to move that quickly, he thought, pressing his hand against the side of his neck.
Only then did he realize whom he was facing. It was probably the last person he had expected to see right now, maybe except for his brother, who seemed to be only just getting started throwing around compliments and lighting up the women with his widest smile.
"Oh, hey, how are you?"
Joel wasn't a friendly or particularly charming man, but he tried his best for you. What were you even doing here, talking to an old grump like him? Well, no matter what the reason was, it didn't change anything about the fact that you were pretty, had a beautiful smile, and were flashing your eyes at him at that moment.
"Oh, I just spotted you across the room and thought that maybe you – I don't know, you'd like some company?"
So you had been watching him? His brother was right? Otherwise, you wouldn't have headed straight over to him the second Tommy had left him alone at the counter.
"Of course, always," Joel said, but cursed his rough voice that might have just told you to fuck off. Hell, he just wasn't well-liked amongst women, and there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn't a natural, he wasn't the kind of man women really liked to spend a great deal of time with. Waste their time, rather.
"Can I sit?" you asked sweetly and didn't even flinch at his gruff tone. You were definitely either immune to it or hoping to crack his shell the moment you began having a conversation with him. He genuinely didn't know which he would prefer to be true.
"How are you? I feel like I haven't seen you in town forever. Did you attend last week's town meeting?"
Joel shook his head, feeling grateful to be able to talk about something that wasn't just superficial small talk.
"No, I was really busy fixin' my brother's window that day. The storm, you know… The glass broke out of the frame, so I had to replace it."
"Wow, that's impressive… I could use your help sometime, I think."
"Oh yeah?" Joel scoffed, averting his gaze to hide his flushed cheeks. He just wasn't used to this, talking to beautiful women at the bar who seemed to have a genuine interest in hearing about his daily life. "With what?"
"I have some lights in the living room that don't work. It's not too bad because I have others that light up the place, but I'd like it fixed sometime."
"Yeah," Joel growled and nervously turned his glass in his hand, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Goddamnit, was this really all he was capable of? Saying yeah and staring at the floor like he'd rather be buried beneath the parquet than spend another second in your presence?
It wasn't even true, for that matter. Joel didn't mind talking with you, which was remarkable since he couldn't stand half of this town's population. And for fuck's sake, you were pretty. He just couldn't stop thinking about how. He had seen you many times before, of course, but had never paid attention to you in such a way.
"Your brother went over to talk to some of my friends over there."
Yeah, that was it. Now you were about to come up with a lame excuse for why you had to head back over there and throw yourself at Tommy's chest like everyone else did. Joel just wondered why you had even come over in the first place rather than just staying with your friends and his handsome brother, whose brassy laughter was soaring through the entire bar.
"Yeah… That's Tommy, mhm?" Whatever, perhaps it was time to go home, and it wasn't such a bad thing that you were about to leave him alone.
"I don't really get it. Without being mean, of course."
"Get what?" he murmured, narrowing his eyes and planting his palm flat on the wooden counter.
"Why they all wanna talk to him… I mean, I just think there is an even more appealing Miller brother."
His brain short-circuited, and for an instant he was speechless. There were no thoughts running through his head, but when he had finally caught up on what you had said, he wanted to laugh.
"What?" Joel chuckled and awkwardly shifted his weight onto his elbow, trying to seem casual with his cheek resting on his palm, but he assumed it just looked ridiculous and forced.
"I just… wanted to talk to you. That's all."
"Talk about what?"
Now it was you who laughed, throwing your head back, which looked incredibly endearing. "Nothing specific, Joel… Just you. I just felt like coming over to you."
Your words stole his breath again, only this time his heart rate picked up as well, causing an uncomfortable hollowness to swell in his chest. So all of it was true, you were here because it was where your heart had led you? Tommy had been right when he had claimed that you had been subtly watching him?
His mind hadn't fully processed everything when your lips were already moving again.
"Not that I have anything against your brother, of course… He's such a polite man. But I just – I saw you by the bar. And you looked… handsome."
"Handsome?" Joel repeated, his voice a low, raspy drawl. At this point, he didn't even take your words seriously anymore, as you were probably just too drunk to think before you spoke, which was the very reason for your mindless stammering.
He wasn't handsome, he was harsh and mean to the people around him, while the ones he didn't want around were treated coldly and without any interest in getting to know them better. Joel didn't know where to place you in that… Sure, you weren't someone he usually saw on a daily basis, but at the same time, he didn't mind having you around. Seeing you briefly in the grocery store or at a town meeting had the advantage that there wasn't much potential for you to piss him off. Most of the time, the two of you just exchanged a few words before everyone went on their way.
"Yeah, handsome. I like what you – did with your hair today."
Joel had no idea how he had ended up in that situation, but when he later looked back, he assumed that this sentence had been the reason for it all, that with those words, the seeds had been planted.
The conversation about hairstyles and clothing had led to one about favorite seasons of the year, and then, all of a sudden, you had asked if he wanted to catch some fresh air.
Of course, Joel had agreed, since a crowded, noisy bar was high up on the list of the most uncomfortable places for him. He had agreed so quickly that you had asked him why he had even come in the first place if he hated it so much, but Joel had just shrugged, mumbling something about his brother, who had the talent of always getting what he wanted. And tonight, he had wanted to go to the bar with him.
One thing had led to another, you had caused his cheeks to flush with more of those sweet compliments, and ten minutes later, Joel and you had entered his house, your back crashing into the wall the moment he had locked the door behind you.
Your mouths were pressed together so tightly he couldn't breathe, and he didn't care about it either. All he cared about was savoring as much of the feeling of your soft lips as possible and getting his fucking hands on you.
"Holy shit," he choked after a while, grabbing your wrists with both hands and pinning them above your head. He didn't even intend to restrain you or cage you in, he just genuinely liked tracing your soft wrists and your pretty skin.
"Joel," you panted, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him back, which made his head spin. You, desperately crying his name just because you desired him so much. You, stretching your body toward him just because you wanted to be closer to him. It was a beautiful dream, impossible to believe.
After accepting that his hands weren't so successful in their mission to remove more layers of clothing from your body — he kept getting distracted by every inch of skin he uncovered — Joel pulled back a little to guide you to his bedroom.
You gasped for air, your flushed cheeks dimpling with a mischievous smile as you took the hand he offered you. You followed him with light steps, the anticipation tangible in the way you held yourself and squeezed his hand, which made it hard to believe that you weren't drunk. You had promised him as much after all on the walk back to his house.
Still, he took the liberty of asking you again the moment he had guided you onto his bed, which practically invited the two of you to take advantage of it with its wide mattress and plush pillows.
"You promise you're not drunk?" he huffed while sliding your shirt over your head before he got sidetracked once again.
"I'm not. I promise." He hadn't tasted any alcohol on your tongue, he had to admit.
"Why, do you think I'm acting drunk?"
Joel scoffed and dropped your shirt on the ground next to the bed, struggling to keep his gaze on your face while he yearned for a glimpse of your torso. He wanted to be respectful, of course, and not make you feel like he only appreciated your looks and couldn't have cared less about the things coming out of your mouth.
"No, I'm just… I don't know, I'm wonderin' what you want with an old guy like me. You could have anybody you want, sweetheart."
Now it was you who chuckled, though something was also shimmering in your eyes that prompted him to nervously shift on top of you. Your gaze was intense, that was all. The fire in your eyes seemed to burn off the layers of his clothes, making him feel vulnerable, which was remarkable since you were the one half-undressed.
"Are you serious? Joel, you… Of course I want you. You think I would only want you if I were drunk? Is that what you're trying to say?"
"No, I mean…" He started, but then his voice trailed off as he realized that it was precisely what he had assumed. It just sounded a lot worse out of your mouth.
"Let me show you," you whispered and put your hand on the back of his neck, tugging him closer so that the words that followed could barely be heard, nothing but a breath between you.
"Let me show you how much I want you."
Joel grinned, coming off a lot more casual and natural than he viscerally felt.
"How?" he grunted, his lip twitching when you took his hand and brought it to rest on your lower belly.
"I want you to feel it… Can you do that? I want you to feel how wet I am for you."
His ears grew hot at your blunt words, his stomach coiling with a mix of anxiety about messing this up and a desperate urge to melt into you. Shit, he had an extraordinarily beautiful woman under him who was inviting him to touch her most intimate parts. He would never forgive himself if he messed this up.
"Yes," was all that he breathed.
You moved his hand to the waistband of your jeans, but the moment his fingers brushed against the cool metallic button, he took over and undid it himself.
Without yanking your jeans down your legs, Joel slipped his hand inside your pants. There was something enthralling and nerve-tingling about leaving your lower half dressed while he touched you, and he might get a proper look at you later. If you let him, and if he hadn't done something wrong by that point.
"You look pretty," Joel murmured, just to fill the silence surrounding the two of you. He wasn't sure if you minded the quietness, if he was doing both of you a favor by speaking, since your expression was unreadable. Actually, it wasn't entirely unreadable, there was still sweet longing etched into your features, but Joel supposed that this was just your standard look for tonight.
"Thank you," you murmured, batting your lashes and opening your thighs wider for him, allowing him to settle between them.
His hand was now nicely sheathed between your jeans and your underwear. He had to twist his wrist a little to move freely, but he liked your warmth and how your pussy seemed to have a magnetic effect on him. He wished he could touch your bare skin, maybe even slide a finger inside, but you hadn't asked him explicitly yet, so he —
"Joel…" you whimpered, which came so suddenly he twitched slightly. "Please… Please, touch me."
God, you seemed on the brink of begging him, which wasn't at all what he had expected. The sight of the sheer hunger in your eyes, how you chewed on your bottom lip as though it would quench your needs, was both terrifying and heart-warming. Terrifying because Joel felt a little overwhelmed by your undisguised desire, and heart-warming because it was simply an endearing sight.
"Like that?" he whispered and pressed the heel of his hand against your clit, or at least he assumed he was pressing against the right spot beneath the fabric.
When your breath hitched and your muscles tensed, his suspicions were confirmed, and his shoulders eased a little.
It wasn't like he was completely talentless when it came to the art of making love, it was just that he was a bit rusty. Here in Jackson, Joel didn't have a recurring partner to have sex with, which was why he was afraid the things he had learned over the course of his life were slipping out of his head the older he got.
Someone like you, though, someone who was many years younger than him and surely had a lot of sex, given that you were so beautiful and charming, definitely knew what you wanted. So what if he just wasn't competent enough to compare with those other men and please you?
"Joel?" you whispered, clearly aware that his mind had drifted off again.
Your warm hand rested on his cheek, your thumb drawing a few vague circles over his skin.
"It's okay. It feels good. Very - fucking good."
Your voice was breathy, lips parted as you forced large amounts of air into your lungs. Which was a good sign, right?
"You like that?"
"Yes, Joel, fuck... I like it - so much. Please."
The corner of his mouth instinctively curled. He liked hearing you beg. A lot. Besides its obvious effects, it also made him more secure in his own skills and caused his hand to rock against your core with more force.
After a few more minutes, he couldn't wait any longer and pushed your underwear to the side to gain access to your hole, which was hopefully dripping for him by now.
"Is that okay?" he panted against your lips, the sweat pooling on his brow most likely trickling onto your head at that moment, but it was better not to think about it and perhaps become self-conscious. Instead, he focused on your sweet whisper and your swollen lips.
"Yes, Joel. Please, just—put them inside. Please."
It was all the assurance he needed to remove the damp fabric and let his fingertips circle your hole. He hoped they were warm enough to feel pleasant, but sensing no hint of startlement from you, he was confident you didn't mind.
Goddamnit, you were soaked. He had hoped to find some wetness, prayed that there was enough to comply with your request and push his fingers inside you, but he hadn't dared imagine your juices running down your legs like that.
"Do you believe me now?" you laughed, burying your hand in his locks and yanking his face against yours, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss.
"I... Yeah. Yeah, you... fuck, you're wet, baby."
Joel dipped his fingers in a little deeper but moved his thumb to your clit to keep up the friction that had evoked so much pleasure within you in the first place.
"It's all for you, Joel... 'Cause I want you. I want to feel you so bad."
Your words, in combination with how you felt, how your pussy sucked him in greedily yet so effortlessly, drove him near insanity. Joel's head was spinning like he had just gotten off a roller coaster and the earth beneath his feet had yet to stop tilting. It was a tad unsettling, still, he wouldn't trade the feeling for the world. It was too precious, you were too precious, for him to take a second to calm himself.
"Ohhh fuck. Yes, Joel, please, I—yes, like that."
He was working his middle and ring fingers inside you, thinking that you were relaxed and wet enough to take two at once. The idea of you being so comfortable with him that you opened up for him just like that was filling his heart with pride, even though he knew that he shouldn't get too presumptuous about it. You were just confident and experienced, that was all. There was no reason for you to get nervous with him, because it was just him. Just a slightly insecure, awkward old man who didn't really have a clue what he was doing.
"Feels good, Joel," you whimpered and rolled your hips forward, inviting him to start moving.
Which he did gladly. At first, he thrust them in and out of you slowly, occasionally going knuckle-deep while other times just feeling how beautifully you stretched around him.
But after becoming certain that you had accommodated the size of two of his fingers, he allowed himself to match the pace of his digits with the tight swirls over your stiff bundle of nerves, which he didn't forget no matter how tight and warm you felt around him. How much he wished he could experience it with his cock as well.
"Oh my god," you cried out, arching off his bed and digging your toes into the mattress.
He loved how your entire body responded to him, not just your hot, pulsing pussy. He wished he could tell you that, but he didn't know how without coming off as strange. Was that a normal thing to say during sex? Would your pretty smile broaden, or would your eyebrows draw together? Or would you show no reaction at all but internally question whether it had been a good idea to go home with him?
"Joel. Joel, I—I'm gonna cum," you informed him, causing his stomach to flip.
He couldn't help it, the idea of bringing you to the edge so quickly made his chest flare with pride and excitement, filling his veins with adrenaline.
"That's it, baby," he whispered in your ear, driving his fingers all the way out of you, which produced a squelching sound. The moment you began whining for his fingers to stuff you full, he worked them back inside you. All the way, until his knuckles were inside you. He curled them a little, hitting your spongy, sensitive walls and using your natural wetness to smoothly glide his pads along your insides.
This was downright obscene, and doing something like that with a woman he hadn't exchanged more than a few words with in the past made it feel even more brazen. Though in a good way, if that made sense.
"I'm gonna cum," you pressed out, cheeks turning red while you moved your left hand to his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his shirt firmly.
"I know, sweetheart. I know you are. It's okay, you can cum any time you want."
It took him another minute of circling your little nub and keeping you full of his fingers before you unraveled for him. The sight was the most intoxicating and gorgeous thing he could imagine. Your head was thrown back, eyes pinched shut, and mouth open while throaty moans spilled from your throat. Since you couldn't see him, Joel felt nearly intrusive for regarding you in your most vulnerable state, but he couldn't look away either.
"Ohhhh fuck. Huh. Joel, fuck."
Your hands fell away from him and instead came to rest next to you on the bed.
You looked so exhausted and weak, he considered rolling off you to give you some room to breathe and restore your strength, but he didn't dare do so when you slung your legs around his hips.
"Shit, that was good," you grinned and looked up at him through your lashes, both tiredness and devilment glinting in your eyes.
"Yeah? You liked it?" he growled casually, trying to make his voice sound as carefree as possible.
"Yes. Of course. I don't think I've ever come so quickly while being with a man."
"Oh, you... you like women too?"
You burst into laughter at once, which made his brow furrow in confusion.
"No, I meant I've never come so quickly except when I do it myself. And when I have to be fast, you know? Not that there's anything wrong with liking women."
Shit, he really did turn into an idiot the second he got close to a beautiful woman.
"Oh, yeah... I get it now."
"Joel?"
The tender skin of your hand traced his patchy beard, seemingly not minding the stiffness and sharpness of the little hairs.
"Yeah?"
"I wanna do something for you now."
"Oh, you—you don't have to, sweetheart. You really don't."
You narrowed your eyes at that, licking your bottom lip.
"But I want to. Will you let me ride you?"
Despite feeling a rush of arousal go through him and head straight to his core, he was slightly taken aback by your words. Not that he doubted in any way that you were capable of doing it, it was just that no woman had ever asked him that question so bluntly.
"Yeah, sure..."
Joel grinned wryly and trailed his thumb along your cheekbone, wondering how it was possible to look so breathtaking and adorable at the same time. Your hair was a little messed up, your face blotchy after your high, but that didn't decrease his lust for you in the slightest. No, it only added to it, if anything.
Within seconds, you had climbed on top of him, straddling his clothed thigh while Joel slowly placed his hands on your waist as if to gauge where to touch you best.
You took your lip between your teeth, the grin you were wearing making your whole face gleam.
Then, you reached behind you and unclasped your bra with a seductive sheen in your eyes. His mouth dried at the sight of your bare chest. Instinctively, his fingers jolted upward, which didn't seem to escape your notice.
"You can touch me, Joel."
While he ran his index finger along the underside of your breast, careful at first as though he were afraid you would break under his hands, you took care of your pants and underwear, then of Joel's clothes. He helped you by lifting his hips and sliding his arms out of the sleeves of his shirt, but for the most part, he only paid attention to your body and your protruding nipples, which were a sight for sore eyes, hardening under his touch.
At times, you squealed or jerked when he twisted your nipples, which filled him with anticipation and made his skin prickle. Faster than he could process, the two of you were naked, except for your socks, but neither of you had the patience to remove another piece of clothing, which was why your eyes went straight to his cock.
Joel maybe would have felt embarrassed about being so eager for you if he hadn't touched your soaked pussy a moment ago. He was rock hard, the tip swollen and red, which caused a flicker of pity to appear in your eyes.
"It's so pretty," you commented, wetting your dry lips with your tongue.
"Yeah? You think so, baby?"
Joel splayed his left hand across the small of your back, yanking you closer. You reached for his member, forming a fist around his shaft, which was answer enough.
"It's gonna feel so good," you panted and slid your hand up and down a couple of times, hot blood pulsating through his veins at the stimulation.
"You wanna put it inside, darlin'?" Joel groaned, feeling the remnants of his nervousness disintegrate as greed consumed him. There was no space for it anymore, his thoughts were replaced by his craving to feel your pussy hugging his pulsing member. It would feel so good, he just knew it.
He could only hope that he wasn't going to burst the second you sank down on him, that he would be able to hold back for a few minutes, which would hopefully give you the time to take from him what you needed to slake your own longing before he spilled his cum inside you like a pathetic teenage boy.
"Yes," you hummed and tilted his dick a little, lifting your hips to properly climb on top of him.
It took you two attempts to work the head of his cock inside, as the slippery mess between your legs caused the tip to slip aside at first, but then the two of you moaned in unison, feeling your walls give way.
You were tight, but not so tight that he anticipated any discomfort from your side while he reached deeper inside you. Besides, you were still the one in charge and could stop any time you needed a break to get used to him.
But holy shit, it didn't seem like you wanted anything like that. You just glided down on him as though the most hidden and secretive corners of your pussy were begging to be filled by him, and you didn't have the patience to wait a second longer than necessary.
"Oh my fuckin'..." Joel growled, throwing his head back, his lids falling shut, but then they opened again when he felt you kiss his neck.
"Baby. You feel goddamn good, you know that?"
You whimpered softly but didn't let go of his skin. No, you were clinging to his body like a monkey, your hands squeezing his bicep with every other inch you took of him.
"Ohh god. Oh shit."
You rolled your hips a tad, allowing him to claim yet a little more of your body until he hit your cervix, and you ground your teeth.
"Don't hurt yourself, baby," Joel grunted, one of his hands landing on the back of your head while the other rested on your hipbone, guiding you into him without urging you to pick up your pace.
"I just—Feels really good. You're so deep, Joel."
"I know I am," he hummed, glaring down at your head, which was still pressed against his collarbone. He couldn't see a lot, though, as sparks were flickering in his vision, drowning everything in a hazy, blazing bubble.
"You like that, sweetheart? You feel good?" Joel asked and moved a hand to your breasts again, which bounced wonderfully under the steady rhythm you had set for yourself.
"Yes, Joel..." you murmured, almost in awe of his girthy length inside you.
Your eyes were round and glossy, making you look like you were on some other planet or perhaps just encapsulated by his cock, stuffing you full with every thrust.
"You feel perfect," Joel grunted and weighed the flesh of your breast in his hand before he suddenly dropped it between your thighs, finding your hardened clit in no time.
You flinched slightly at the first touch, but after a few gentle swipes, it seemed to start feeling good again. Your motions became a little more uneven, sometimes you stopped about halfway above his cock when he pinched your clit just right, but Joel didn't mind it at all. No, he devoured every single image like a dry sponge, rewarding you with little kisses on top of your brow.
"I ain't gonna last long," he muttered in your ear after a while, his thick Southern accent even more distinct now than it always was when he felt strong emotions. "Sorry, sweetheart... You just—you feel very fuckin' good. I'm—God, baby, I... You're so warm..."
You raised your head from his chest at that, planting both hands on his shoulders to have better support while you rocked back and forth. He didn't know what exactly your technique was, didn't know how you did it, but the sensation was a totally new and spectacular one.
"Holy fuckin'..." he grunted, squeezing the flesh of your waist so tightly that the skin turned white.
A split second later, Joel's world collapsed. His body released the tension it had been holding, and he spurted his creamy seed within your wet pussy.
"Fuck..." was all he felt capable of muttering, shoulders slackened and eyes pinched shut.
Everything went still for the moment, the noises gushing from outside his house, the creaking bed, and even his own thoughts. He even forgot all about his guilty conscience for cumming before you instead of waiting like a gentleman.
Then, his high abated slowly, and he felt capable enough to raise his regretful gaze to face you.
"I'm so fucking sorry, sweetheart," Joel whispered in your ear, feeling his sticky cum pushed deep inside your pussy by his dick, which was still buried all the way inside you.
Although you just gave him a smile and assured him that you were perfectly satisfied with what you had received from him, Joel insisted on making you cum a second time, which you didn't mind in the slightest.
Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth and curling your toes in excitement, you spent another fifteen minutes on your back, legs spread wide and lids fluttering while Joel used both his tongue and fingers on you until you saw white.
He licked you through your high, kept his tongue attached to your clit, and when you neither flinched away nor told him to stop after your apex, he just kept going, feeling addicted to your juices.
Your orgasm was followed by another, but after that, you weakly cradled his head and pulled him up to you.
That night, both of you had a restful sleep.
You dozed off the moment Joel had crawled up and spread the blanket over you, and he joined you in your dreamscape shortly afterward. He was even too tired to clean up the mess the two of you had made, thinking that he would have all the time in the world to do it the following day.
With a heavy groan, Joel shoved the cupboard against the wall, dropping his hands to his hips.
"That's it, ain't it?"
His brother pursed his lips and eyed the corner of the room, then the rest of it.
"Yeah. Looks right, mhm? We did a good job 'ere. Thank you, Joel."
He gave a small nod and let his gaze wander over the freshly painted but dried walls of the room with a satisfied hum. The creamy white reflected the light much better than the dark grey had, which had been one of the main reasons why Tommy's wife, Maria, had asked the brothers to repaint the garage of their house.
Now everything looked much friendlier, Joel had to admit, even though he had been the one to raise his eyebrows in doubt when Tommy had brought the idea forward to him. After all, there were many more important things to tend to than the color of their garage.
But whatever, the job was quickly done, and if it made his sister-in-law happy, he would sacrifice a few hours of his free time to help them out.
For once, Tommy and her were doing well in their marriage, and their fighting had been reduced to things around the house, which Joel considered a good sign.
Besides, it looked like he was about to get rewarded with a cold beer in Tommy's garden, which was precisely what his sweaty body was craving right now.
A moment later, Joel was sitting with him on the terrace. The sun stood low in the sky, warm enough to tingle pleasantly on his neck but not as pungent and aggressive as it had been a few hours prior.
"Cheers, brother," Tommy grinned and clinked his glass against his. "Thanks again. Maria really appreciates it. She even thinks about invitin' you to 'er birthday next month."
"Very funny," Joel scoffed but nodded anyway. "No problem. If I get rewarded so generously..."
He tilted his head toward the glass filled with beer that had come straight out of the refrigerator and tasted cold against his tongue, filling his body with the refreshment he had been missing over the past hours.
"You're welcome. This is precious stuff, so you know we really appreciate it."
"How's your 'lil guy?" Joel asked after a while, looking around the garden as though he was expecting his nephew to jump out from behind a tree any minute.
"Oh, he's doin' well. He's visitin' a friend right now. But I swear to God, they grow so fast, you can't even keep track. He's learnin' how to read, Joel. I feel like it was yesterday that Maria and I took him home from the hospital."
Although everything about his words sounded very cliché to Joel, he had no doubt about their authenticity. He felt the same way, really. Watching Benjamin grow up had been one of the strangest and most beautiful experiences of his life, and it reminded him strongly of raising Sarah all those years ago.
"Speakin' of children, you know what Maria told me today?"
Joel took another swig of his beer, then set his glass back on the table.
"Shoot."
"So, you remember y/n? The girl from the bar?"
Joel's breath caught in his throat at the mention of your name, and he just hoped that the warmth creeping into his cheeks didn't show on his face.
"Yeah," he answered and subtly avoided Tommy's gaze.
There was nothing to be embarrassed about, it was just that Joel had never told his brother that he had hooked up with you four months ago. Sure, he hadn't been able to avoid talking to him about you the following day, but he had left out the part where he had taken you home and slept with you.
He didn't really know why he had lied, though. Tommy was surely the last person who would judge him for having a one-night stand.
"People are talkin' 'round the town."
"About what? I haven't heard anythin'."
"Of course you haven't," Tommy snickered and patted him on the back. "'Cause you live behind a rock."
"What are they sayin'?" Joel rolled his eyes and felt his heart pound in his chest a little faster than usual. Just because he hadn't seen you again after that one night—except for the occasional, inevitable run-in at the grocery store that had been limited to a friendly greeting—didn't mean he didn't care about you.
"They're sayin' she's pregnant."
Oh.
Joel's stomach twisted, his skin turning pale. Obviously, he wasn't looking in a mirror that could have confirmed his suspicions, but he just knew that it was the truth.
"Pregnant?" he repeated, eyebrows shooting up to portray indifference.
"Yeah..."
"Who's sayin' that?"
"Well, Maria told me. She talked to some of 'er friends, and apparently Nicole saw 'er with a baby bump. And then she talked to some of her friends who told 'er that, yeah, she's pregnant."
"How far along?" it burst out of him before he could stop himself and reconsider showing such intense emotion in front of Tommy.
"Jesus... I'm not sure. What, are you mad at it? Do you like 'er? I thought you weren't so interested after your conversation at the bar."
"No, I... I mean, no. I'm not interested. I just... I don't know—"
"So, her friend didn't say how far along she is, but Nicole said she assumed around fourth or fifth month."
Jesus fucking Christ.
There was a good chance Joel had messed up badly. Of course, that chance wasn't a hundred percent, but if Nicole was right about her assumption and if you hadn't been with anyone else shortly after him and before him, there was... No, he didn't even want to finish the thought for now. First, he needed a few more pieces of information.
"And she said anything about whose child it is? Does she have a boyfriend?"
Obviously, Joel knew that you didn't have one. Against his own will and what he deemed the right thing to do, he had silently watched you a little, just a tad more closely than the other residents of Jackson. He had kept his ears open when walking down the streets and had automatically scanned you when he saw you at town meetings. If there was a boyfriend, you would have surely sat next to him at one of those events, but you were always just accompanied by your friends.
"I don't know. But I haven't heard anything... Have you? Why am I even asking..."
Joel joined his laughter just to conceal his nervousness.
Holy shit.
What if he had really gotten himself into some trouble because of his careless actions?
When he was home an hour later, Joel still felt anxious even though his body was supposed to feel more normal at this point. He sank into the couch cushions, all the air leaving his body as he exhaled.
Well, if that wasn't something.
He didn't want to feel certain that he was responsible for this and that it was his kid before talking to you, but Joel didn't really doubt his involvement in it. He had come inside you, after all, acting stupid and risky like a reckless teenage boy.
Talking to you, yes... If that wasn't long overdue.
He needed to know if it was his child, and if it was, why you hadn't come to him earlier for help. He needed to know if there was any way to help you and if you had any plan or wish whatsoever regarding the future.
Joel nervously tapped his fingers on his thigh.
It had gotten late.
The sun was setting, and the sky was painted in rich orange colors. The wisest thing to do was to wait until the next day to approach this issue with a clear head and a relaxed body, and still, Joel rose to his feet at once.
He didn't even hesitate when he grabbed his keys and dashed out the door.
Contains: violence, canon typical themes, angst, crying, panic, fighting, hurt, little bit of comfort, age gap (24 & early 50s)
Wordcount: 6,692
Masterlist of this story
Masterlist
Joel
"Fuckin' hell…" he mumbled through sealed lips, striking the match with a forceful swipe, though nothing happened. His ankle prickled, and he wanted to kick something to get rid of his frustration.
"Do you need my help?"
Great, just what he had been missing.
"No. Sit down somewhere. M'gonna get ya when I'm done."
She was probably so eager to finally get her little hands on a gun, which drove him mad. She was so goddamn naïve, had no clue about the responsibility she was about to carry. But if he were to withdraw his proposal now, Amy wouldn't stop niggling for the rest of the day. And then some more.
"I can help you, Joel. Just tell me what to do."
"I told you to sit down. This is what's gonna help me the most, jesus christ…"
His temper had calmed a little when there was a small fire crackling at last. He thrust out his flat palms, allowing the heat to crawl beneath his skin and warm him from within while he heard rustling behind him. Amy, probably, who was restlessly wandering around, waiting for him to be finished.
Reluctantly, Joel approached his bag, grabbed the gun he had taken from Bill and Frank's and rotated it in his hand. As if he had magically called Amy with that gesture, she stood next to him all of a sudden, head high like she was about to be knighted by him. Joel just threw her a dismissive glance, gesturing her to follow him.
"I'm gonna explain this once. If you're gonna interrupt me or won't listen, that's it. No gun for you."
"Okay," Amy uttered shortly, which was at least a good start.
He wasn't blind to her mood shift ever since she had been so stupid to sneak around the gas station and stumble upon the infected, but he had no intentions to address the encounter again. He had reprimanded her for being so careless, had given her the sugar for her frail body. His job was done.
"Stretch out your arm."
Amy followed his instruction, offering him her left hand.
"Right," Joel sighed and waited for her to comply.
She had beautiful hands, he noted. Soft, untouched skin that looked like it had never seen the underside of some raw, coarse, jagged wood that burst open one's hand. They weren't at all the hands of fierce fighters, at least not the ones Joel had met in the course of his life so far.
But whatever, he wasn't here to turn Amy into a skilled soldier but just to teach her how to use a gun.
He placed the weapon in her hand, then reached underneath it to make her form a fist around the gun handle. Fuck, she felt just as soft and warm as she looked. The skin of her wrist was a little brittle, though.
Joel moved around her slightly, positioning himself behind her so that he could supervise how she was doing while guiding both her hands.
"Grip it tightly. If you fight with an infected, you don't want 'im to punch it out of your hand."
Her knuckles tautened, applying more force.
"Tighter. Look, I can just take it away from you."
He wriggled at the gun just to prove to her how easily he could disarm her if he wanted to, which caused Amy to clench her teeth and try again, putting in more effort this time.
"Good. Now take your left hand and put it on the other side."
Joel didn't know why he was even guiding her hand with his words as he moved it right into position himself, giving her no choice but to obey.
"You protect your knuckles with it. Always make sure your thumbs are parallel. That's your sign that you're doing well."
Joel scrunched his nose, straightening up a little to see her grip overall. Shit, he shouldn't have done that. Only now he realized how close he was to her, how his mouth was just inches away from her earlobe, how he would have been able to close the distance between them with a single step and his crotch would have been pressed against her backside.
Jesus Christ… Joel felt short of air, little drops of sweat collecting on his temples.
He needed oxygen. Clean, cold, fresh oxygen, if possible.
"Yeah – Yes, like that."
He took a stride backward until he had brought a few feet between them, which was Amy's sign to turn toward him, glaring at him in surprise.
"Is it good like that? So I can use the gun?"
"Yeah, you can – Yes, take it. Put it in your bag, but – only use it if you really have to. Only when I tell you to."
Joel was so fucking mad at himself, he felt ready to smash his own head against one of the trees surrounding their little camp. He couldn't stop paying attention to her pretty, smooth skin and the closeness of her body, and not only that, he was also too befuddled to play it cool and act normally.
What was wrong with him, seriously? He couldn't seriously feel attracted to that – stubborn brat who had been making his life hell for the past few days.
What had been one of the first things that had gone through his head when he met her? She was barely a woman. Twenty-four years old, good lord. Half his age.
And yet his throat always dried when Amy smiled at him, yet he caught himself peering at her skin like some pervert when her shirt yanked up because she stretched to get something nearby. Joel usually always had a solution for anything, mostly smashing his problems with his fists until they were fixed. But in that case, he felt puzzled.
He had never been in such a scenario before, so he didn't know how to stop feeling drawn to someone. Obviously, it was entirely physical, as Joel still couldn't stand her awful personality and her annoying voice. He just… Gosh, he just wanted to touch her.
Actually thinking it for the first time felt weirdly relieving, even though it was a disgusting thought all the same. Yes, he wanted to put his calloused, dirty hands on her. Hands that would be even filthier and fouler after they took such terrible action. No, of course he couldn't do it, but that didn't mean he couldn't stop dreaming about it.
Last night, his thoughts had drifted off a lot while he leaned against a tree in the dark. It had been only him and his mind, so Joel hadn't felt like he really had had a choice. At least he had stopped himself from observing Amy in her sleep, as that would have been a level of loathing he wouldn't have been able to endure. No, he had just rested his head against the trunk behind him, peered into the night sky and pictured her beautiful face, her pretty hands swallowed by his much larger ones.
Maybe he would have been able to stop himself, if he had used all his willpower, maybe not. Probably he would have been, but he had been too tired to put up a fight against his own hammering heart, so he had ended up in that dark hole every few minutes, imagining dreadful things that went way beyond her eyes and plump lips.
At the apex of the night, when he had been sucked into that shadowy void, Joel's thoughts had wandered off to Tess. What would she have thought about this? What about Tommy? Would they crucify him, abominate him for having such fantasies about a girl so young, so naïve and innocent? Would they be disappointed in him and say that they hadn't expected him to be so rotten and depraved?
Not that Joel had many standards for himself. After all the shit he had done, he didn't even try to pretend to be a good human being, but this… No, this was unacceptable. Frightening. His job was to keep Amy safe, get her to Marlene and the Fireflies, not crave her warm skin.
He was her caretaker, goddamnit. Without noticing it, Joel had walked a few steps away from Amy, whose grasp had loosened around the gun.
"Joel?" she called in his direction, making a muscle draw in the back of his neck. Please god, just make her shut up… Make her never look at me again, make her never smile at me again.
"Joel."
Her footsteps became louder behind him, and the next thing he knew, Amy was standing next to him, grabbing his arm to shake him.
"What are you doing? What's wrong? Did you see something?"
"No. No, it's – it's fine, just go back and I don't know, practice shootin'. But not too much, can't have ya usin' up all the ammo."
He didn't even know what he was trying to achieve by distancing himself from her, but every time Amy stepped into his periphery, he felt too warm and breathless. The farther away she was, the better he could order the storming thoughts inside his head, even though he had yet to find a definite solution.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Amy whispered, gazing up at him through her lashes.
Someone put a bullet between his brows. He was in terrible fucking danger, the thread holding him together thinning with every second.
"I am," he pressed through gritted teeth. "I just need a second. Stay by the campfire. I'll be right back."
Obviously, Joel wasn't gone for long, nor did he walk away more than a few feet. He could still keep an eye on Amy throughout his brief stroll, which had two reasons: firstly, he didn't come to a conclusion anyway, so there was no reason to meander through the woods, stuck with his own thoughts, and secondly, he didn't want to leave Amy alone and risk being inattentive. What if she was so stupid again and wandered off without letting him know? Or worse, what if raiders spotted the fire from a distance and gave her an unexpected visit while Joel wasn't around?
He hadn't lied when he had told her that as a young woman, she was exposed to many threats, which was part of the reason why he had already decided to keep watch for the second time in a row tonight. There were sick people out there, raiders who might not do him the favor of shooting them both quickly when they stumbled upon them but instead let him sleep or killed him while they kidnapped Amy, doing horrendous things to her until they murdered her as well in the end.
There was nothing Joel hadn't seen before, and he most certainly didn't want it to happen to Amy. Yeah, there was a lot of bad blood between them, but he would do anything to prevent her from getting into such a situation. It was why he was here, wasn't it? To protect her and keep her safe from human monsters and infected monsters alike.
When he returned to the camp, Amy was sitting close to the fire, cross-legged, her hand spinning the gun around.
"Put it in your bag," Joel said instead of a greeting, which made her glance up at him.
"Have you calmed yourself?"
"I am calm."
He plopped to the floor as well, which he only did because the ground was dry and covered in dead leaves.
"When are we gonna arrive at Kansas?"
"Kansas City," Joel corrected and reached for his rucksack, which held their lunch.
"I know. Kansas is a state. Kansas City is in Missouri."
"Then why are you sayin' it wrong?" Joel scoffed humorlessly.
"Because it's shorter."
"Right," he muttered, then started to prepare dinner over the little camping stove.
Amy offered her help again, and because he didn't know what else she was supposed to do while he took care of their meal, he asked her to get two bowls and two spoons from one of the bags in the trunk of the car. When she came back holding the items he had requested, her gaze dropped to his wrist.
"Joel?"
"What?" he snapped, stirring the canned ravioli in the little pot. At least those meals were always prepared quickly and he had every reason to look down rather than at her face.
"Why do you wear a watch that doesn't work?"
He froze, nearly letting go of the spoon. He inhaled deeply, hoping that his reaction wasn't that noticeable to her.
"None of your business."
"Really?" Amy sneered and took her seat on his opposite side. "Come on… Why is it so hard to tell a little something about yourself? I can tell you things about me too if you want."
I don't care, Joel was about to belt out, lips already pursed, but he stopped himself, just waiting.
"Did you know that I've always wanted to be an astronaut?"
Joel's upper lip twitched, but his gaze remained fixed on the pot. The steaming pot… that was all he should focus on.
"I even had a bunch of books about it. About the first moon landing and stuff like that."
"We're gonna pass Kansas City tomorrow," he said, as though he hadn't heard any of what she had just shared with him.
He imagined the look on her face. perhaps her eyebrows were dropping, maybe her shoulders as well. Maybe her eyes even grew sadder at his lack of interest in her past. Or, there was another option: she didn't care that much and Joel just thought himself more important than he was.
"And then?"
"What do you mean, then? We're gonna take the highway around the city, then we're gonna keep drivin' west."
"Am I gonna see the city?"
Joel shrugged and decided that the meal was done. At least the air smelled delicious, which aligned perfectly with the rumbling coming from his stomach.
"From afar. But as I said, we're not gonna go in. We ain't got no business there. We're just gonna take the highway that leads around it."
With a loud splash, Joel heaved a big spoonful of the brown, perhaps a little too runny mass into one of the bowls. After adding a second, then a third portion, he handed it to Amy, who grabbed the meal with a quiet "Thanks" that almost sounded a tad apologetic.
The moment he shoved the first ravioli into his mouth, she started babbling again, which made the blood rise in his cheeks, only this time it was from rage. This girl seriously couldn't shut her mouth for once, could she?
"Are you gonna keep watch again tonight?"
"Yes," he groaned while chewing open-mouthed.
"And what about your rest?"
"Well, someone's gotta do it, right?"
"Do you want me to…" she began softly, drawing a loud chuckle from him that vibrated through his chest.
"You? You wanna keep watch?"
"Yes. Why not? You think I can't do it?" Amy hissed, her dark eyes narrowed, reminding him of a hostile cat.
"I think you're not that practiced when it comes to shootin' people. You only started learnin' how to use a gun today."
It was a diplomatic, neutral response, even though Joel knew exactly that he wouldn't put his life in her hands even if she had been training how to use a rifle since the age of five. But he knew that Amy probably wouldn't be so fond of such a response.
"But – I mean, you can't stay up a second night. I don't think this is healthy at all."
"I don't think so either," he hummed, scooping up another ravioli with his spoon.
"Then let me help you."
"You can help me by eating your food and keeping your mouth shut."
Amy rolled her eyes, eyebrows drawn together, but stopped pelting him with her annoying questions and opinions that he hadn't asked for.
"You don't have to," she whispered when it appeared that she couldn't keep her words inside her throat any longer. At least Joel was finished with his meal now, which was why he reacted a little less irritably.
"What do you mean?" Joel grunted, putting the bowl next to him on the forest floor.
"You don't have to keep watch. Not for me, I mean. I don't know… Maybe you did it for me last night. I don't know, maybe not. But… If you did it for me, I just wanna say that you don't have to do it a second time."
Joel took a deep breath, scrutinizing her face, her eyes scurrying across the ground with a strange urgency, as though hunting for something.
"I'm gonna keep watch," he then clarified and grabbed her bowl, which he intended to clean with some water.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. It's okay. I can handle it."
An hour later, Joel sat against a tree, his rifle nearby just like last night.
The trunk was a different one, obviously, but he still felt transported back to the night before, when he had spent hours staring into space while sleep had lurked around the corner like a hunting animal, ready to strike and kill its prey.
It had taken him much effort not to be caught and dragged off to the lands of dreams, but after the travels of his mind to places it was not supposed to be, things had become easier. Which Joel loathed more than anything else.
Now, he would have to come up with another occupation because there was no way he could allow for it to happen a second time. He had to be able to stay awake without thinking about Amy, her lovely hands and her skin that – as he had found out today – was just as soft as it looked.
There had to be more, other thoughts and fantasies he could resort to, thrilling and exciting enough to keep him awake and effectively fight the drowsiness.
He thought about Tommy, hundreds of miles away to the west. Hopefully. There was always a chance that he was dead, but he wouldn't go down that path now.
No, he already carried a burden grand enough.
The next day, Amy was tired, barely speaking a word to him while she slurped up her porridge and watched the forest ground through hooded eyes.
It was a nice exception, which Joel enjoyed quite a lot, the silence a welcome moment of peace. Only when the two of them were in the car again, driving down the road, did he decide to address her, asking if something had happened during the night. If there was a specific reason why Amy was so calm today.
"Cat got your tongue?" he grunted rather cheerlessly, sparing her a brief glance.
"Tired," she answered and dropped her head against the window.
"Huh. Funny. I remember you snortin' like a fuckin' dinosaur all night."
"So? I don't know why. I'm just tired. Whatever…" Her voice trailed off, which made Joel silently shake his head.
But when Amy woke again an hour later, she seemed more present, his suspicion confirmed when she began with her nagging questions again, which made Joel seriously doubt whether he preferred that version of her.
"Have you ever been to Kansas before? Pre outbreak, I mean."
"Kansas City," he automatically corrected, eliciting a groan from her.
"I didn't know you were such a big-mouth, Jesus… Okay, Kansas City. Have you ever been there?"
"Yes." Joel stared ahead at the road, features rigid until Amy cursed again, lowly and accompanied by a sharp exhale.
"That's it? Just yes? You don't wanna tell me when, with whom… If you liked it?"
"Look at the map, goddamnit. Focus on the map, make sure we're takin' the right route, 'cause I swear to god, if we get lost, I'm gonna blame you."
Obviously, he would rather cut his own tongue off than tell her anything about the trip Tommy, he and Sarah had taken together when his daughter had been eleven years old. His past belonged to him, the good parts as well as the ugly ones. There was no reason to stir up the past again and listen to Amy's condolences that he could just shove up his ass. It didn't mean anything anyway. He had had this conversation countless times before, people telling him how very sorry they were about Sarah's death.Amy didn't know Sarah and she didn't like him, so there was no doubt about how sincere her pity would be if he told her.
"How can we get lost? It's one fucking highway."
Neither of them could have guessed that just as they were about to take a left turn, a new problem would appear. The broken, crashed cars lined up on the road as if they were just stuck in traffic and about to move again grew more frequent until they were packed so densely that Joel found he had no choice but to slow down.
"What the fuck happened here?" Amy asked, her face pressed against the window.
"People tried to get out of the city. But there were too many, so they got stuck, panicked and fled. And left their cars."
"Shit," she hissed, and for once in his life, Joel actually agreed.
"Yeah, shit…" he groaned, turning the steering wheel.
"What are you doing?"
"We can't take this highway. So we gotta take another route."
"What – "
"Eyes on the map."
Shit… as if all of this wasn't stressful enough. With the highway blocked they had to make their way around Kansas City more creatively and find a different solution.
"I – Where are we heading right now?" Amy asked after a while, the fact that she was turning the map upside down a very bad sign.
"That's your fuckin' job," Joel grunted and took a right turn as soon as he could. Putting more distance between them and the city seemed like the right call.
"I don't know where we're heading with you turning around all the time… Shit. You could've warned me or given me some time."
"Oh Jesus!" Joel exclaimed, jerking the wheel a little, which seemed to make the whole car shudder. Or maybe it was just his boiling blood. "Do you want me to drive the car and look at the fuckin' map? You got one goddamn job, and I can't even rely on you!"
They ended up in the city, obviously. Amy had desperately tried to navigate him around it, but she hadn't found the specific tunnel that she claimed must have disappeared since the map had been printed, which had been in 1987.
So now they were driving through some neighborhood that looked quite similar to the ones Joel had seen before. Trash cans that had fallen over, bikes that hadn't been touched in years and broken windows.
"There is no QZ… right?" Amy asked carefully, clearly scared to upset him further.
"There was. But they overturned it."
"Who's they?"
A very reasonable question, as Joel didn't really know either.
"Not Fireflies. But also some kind of resistance group. They messed up this place so badly, terrorized everyone, no matter if they were FEDRA or just a normal citizen, and ended up destroying FEDRA."
"Destroying…?"
Another valid question.
Joel had only heard about it in tales that Tess or Tommy had told him, which they had been told by other people, so the authenticity was questionable in some cases. But if only a quarter of them were true, Joel had no further doubt about what kinds of people they were. Inhumane, brutal ones who didn't just kill for their own advantage but also because they found sadistic delight in it. None of these things were relevant to Amy, though. Sure, he hoped she would be careful, but there was no need to upset or frighten her with things that weren't even confirmed to be true.
"Just scared 'em off, I guess."
He shrugged and squinted to get a better view of the street in front of him. The sun was shining brightly, which made it hard to see, but after the next turn a tall building was fortunately offering some cover.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang. Loud enough for Joel to jerk the steering wheel and curse while Amy looked outside in shock.
"What the fuck!" she yelled. "What is that, what – "
They were under attack. Someone was shooting at them, Joel realized when the first bullet made the rear window shatter.
"Fuck!" Amy screamed again, looking at Joel in horror, but that wasn't his way of coping with something like that. He just drove faster, locking his jaw, but when the next bullet hit the windshield, his hands reflexively turned the wheel and they crashed into the building to their right.
Then, everything went very quiet all of a sudden.
Light-headed and with throbbing temples, Joel blinked a few times, feeling like the past minutes had happened in a dream. His hands were still holding onto the steering wheel like it was his anchor, but the car had come to a stop. Not only that, it was totaled. And Amy…
"Amy!" Joel grunted, shaking her arm, which made her straighten up abruptly. Good, at least she hadn't passed out.
"Are you hurt?"
He didn't receive a reply as a shot was fired at that moment. So it wasn't over. Whoever had aimed at them wasn't satisfied with their car crash. Perhaps they wanted to rob them or make sure they were dead.
"Out. Quickly!" Joel hissed and pushed the passenger door open, shoving Amy's arm. Maybe it had been a mistake, he found when he crouched behind the car next to her, the air around them filled with loud bangs and the sound of metal hitting metal.
"What do we do?" Amy wanted to know, her voice threaded with panic and fear.
Shit, she was looking at him like he knew the solution to everything, like she trusted him completely to get the two of them out of this…
But then, Joel's eyes landed on the wall beside him. Whatever this building was that they had crashed into, it must have been some kind of store or garage, because there was a small room next to it. He couldn't be sure that the door to it wasn't locked, but there was a small hole in the wall. It definitely wouldn't be big enough for him to crawl through, but it would suffice for Amy. Once she was inside that space, he would have one fewer problem and could focus on scaring off those motherfuckers without having to worry about her.
"Go," he uttered, pointing to the hole while bullets wrecked the interior of what had once been a store. Or maybe a repair shop.
"What?" she whispered, her eyes wide and damp with what looked like tears.
"Go through that hole in the wall and stay silent. Just don't look away, focus on that hole and crawl through it. They're not gonna hit ya, I promise. Just don't think about them. You hear me?"
Pale as a ghost, her bottom lip quivering, Amy nodded and raised her head as though she were about to dash toward it when Joel held her back by her arm.
"On my count. Go when I tell you to, okay?"
Fuck, his ears were ringing, and it only got worse every time another bullet grazed a desk or the wall next to him. His plan was risky, but it was better than keeping Amy next to him where she was so exposed to the open firing.
"Go!"
At the same time as she started to rush toward the opening, Joel raised his rifle and fired a few shots in the direction where he assumed their enemies to be, across the street. His body urged him to look to his left, follow Amy's movements to ensure she was getting behind the wall safely, but he needed to focus on drawing the attackers' attention to him.
Only after a minute Joel turned his head and found the space next to the hole empty, indicating that Amy had made it. Good. Even though the danger was far from over, he sighed in relief and reloaded his rifle.
Then, it took him a couple more well-aimed shots to take out the guy on the other side of the road, who went down with a loud groan. Joel's head dropped back, resting against the metallic side of the car, which had a cooling effect on his burning scalp. He allowed himself a moment of recovery, closing his eyes, but then he stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
He should go check on Amy, make sure that she hadn't been hit and –
Joel choked on his breath, growling when a person wrestled him to the ground from behind, their hands around his throat like claws. His feet kicked, desperate to reach any body part, hands flailing around in despair, but the person pushed him forward with such immense force that Joel fell onto his front and was buried beneath their weight an instant later.
He rattled, his hands coming up to his own neck, trying to peel off the other person's fingers, but their grasp was too unyielding, too tight to do anything other than wriggle beneath it.
A strangled whine left his throat, his lids fluttering. He began feeling dizzy, his legs starting to slacken.
Then, a shot. Joel didn't understand what it had been at first, and neither did his body seem to care. All that mattered was the pressure releasing, his airways free to force the needed rush of fresh oxygen in so that he wouldn't die.
His heart pounded in his chest, sweat dripping down the side of his face while he stirred and tried to command his feet and legs to turn.
Then, he saw her. Amy, standing a few feet away, her shoulders pulled up to her ears and her hands clamped around a gun. That very gun he had given to her two days ago at Bill and Frank's.
Her posture was panic-struck, her eyes wide like she couldn't believe what had just happened. She didn't look at Joel, it seemed like she hadn't even noticed him move, let alone registered his presence. Her eyes were on the man who was dragging himself across the floor, a big, gaping wound on his calf.
Joel rubbed the marks on his neck that would probably bruise in the coming days. Then, after swallowing hard and drawing a few coughs, he rose on unsteady feet, taking a stride toward Amy.
"Go behind the wall," he commanded her in a relatively stable voice, though his weakened state surely hadn't escaped her notice. Well, if she could even pay attention to something like that at that moment.
"What? No, I – " she stammered, still staring at the man. He was young, probably in his late twenties. It was no surprise that Amy was shaken by the sight, by the fact that she herself had put him in that state. When Joel was younger, he had found it harder to kill people his age than guys well into their fifties or sixties, finding solace in the idea that they were lucky to have made it so far. Everyone's luck ran out at some point, right?
"Go behind the wall, Amy," he repeated and grabbed her shoulder. He couldn't care about her trembling bottom lip right now, nor about her shaking hands clutching the sleeves of her jacket.
"What are you -"
"Go."
Finally, she obeyed.
By the time she was gone, the man was wheezing, hands reaching out to grab something, but they only touched air. And some dust. Perhaps he was trying to say something, but before any of his babbling could start to make sense, Joel had fired a bullet into his head, which made his lights go out at once.
Poor guy. He was really young, even younger than Joel had assumed at first. Probably just a forlorn, ambitious guy who had made a bunch of bad choices in his life. Well, Joel couldn't take that into account while he was trying to get two people safely to Wyoming.
After grabbing his rifle as well as his and Amy's bag from the car, he knelt down beside the hole, exhaling softly before clearing his throat.
"Amy?"
Although she didn't answer at first, he could hear some rustling, indicating that she was moving around in the room.
"Amy. I need you to open the door for me. I can't get through that hole."
Quiet settled over everything. Joel waited for a few seconds, finding the right moment to repeat his request when he sensed a pair of shoes shuffling across the floor.
"Yes," she pressed, sounding on the verge of crying.
She took some time maneuvering pieces of furniture around, a heavy cupboard scraping across the floor until the door handle dipped at last and the door flew open.
He spared himself a snarky comment and instead entered the room, closing the door behind him. Amy had sunk down onto the chair in the corner at once, almost as though opening the door had taken all the strength from her body, and now she was drained and lifeless.
He didn't even need to see her face to know how she was feeling. Joel definitely wasn't a natural when it came to reading emotions off people's faces, but he wasn't stupid either. Talking to Amy, though, could pose a difficulty. Was he even supposed to do that? Should he just leave her alone and inform her of their next steps, or should he address what had just happened?
For a while, Joel just stood in the middle of the room, feeling pretty helpless while Amy sat in the chair, legs stretched out in front of her, busy with her own emotions. Her head was lowered, hands flat on the armrests.
"Okay," he at last barked, running a hand through his hair. "That was – unexpected. M'sorry, I should've been more prepared."
"It's okay," she breathed, not attempting to meet his gaze.
Shit, was he supposed to be alarmed? She was a miserable little heap, hair concealing most of her face, though he would have liked to take a look at her and see if she was crying. The fact that she wasn't fighting with him and giving him shit about handling all of this so badly was concerning in any case.
"Hey."
A finger twitched, but aside from that, Amy didn't react.
"Amy."
"What?" The answer shot out of her too rapidly to be convincing in any way.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes."
He shoved his hands into his front pockets, sighing heavily while he ran his options through his mind. He should probably back off and leave her be, instead of fighting wars that weren't his to fight. Amy was clearly shaken by what she had just done and would need some time to process what it was like to kill a person. There wasn't anything he could do about it as it was entirely up to her to deal with it. But he couldn't stand this either. Her slouched posture, her frail voice that sounded like it was about to break any second.
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying."
"Amy." His tone was sharper now, impatience resonating in it.
"Just let it go. I'm okay."
"You're clearly not," he insisted, scoffing dryly.
"Why do you care? It doesn't matter, it's none of your business, is it? You like to tell me that a lot, right? Well, now I'm telling you it's none of your fucking business."
She had briefly peered at him only to remember that her cheeks were tear-stained and red, which only gave Joel more reason to worry. Ignoring what she had just thrown at him, Joel sank to one knee in front of her, chewing on his bottom lip.
"You wanna know about the first time I killed someone?"
"No."
He sighed heavily, but then tilted his head a little so that he could at least catch a faint glimpse of her pouty lips.
"It was a few days after the outbreak. I'd killed infected before, but not a real human being. T'was a young man. Healthy and strong. He tried to rob me 'n' my brother, so I shot 'im in the head. Just like that."
Amy's brow wrinkled, a tear silently rolling down her cheek, then catching on the curve of her lip.
"It did things to me too. I don't care if you believe me or not, but it did. It's hard for anyone, no matter who they are. But you know, I – I just want you to know that you did nothin' wrong."
"Oh shut up," she hissed, flashing her glossy eyes at him in a way that made him flinch.
"It's true," he insisted. "He was a 'lil shit who would've killed us without the blink of an eye."
"But he looked scared," Amy whispered, sniffling and planting her feet on the edge of the seat so that she could wrap her arms around her own knees. "Didn't he?"
For a moment, Joel didn't know how to answer that, so he just breathed steadily while Amy rested the side of her face on her knees.
"Yeah. He did."
"I've killed infected before. Obviously. So I – I mean I know what it's like…"
Joel nodded slowly, just glad that she was talking again instead of hitting him with that unfamiliar silence.
"I just – I've never seen a real – person look like that. The pain in his face… And – the fear. The infected just – drop dead, you know? They – they scream once, but then they just fall back. But he… he looked so fucking scared, Joel."
He swallowed hard. It was true, he had to admit. There wasn't just the obvious difference of it being a healthy human being in one case and a body controlled by the cordyceps in the other, but also their response to a deadly gunshot to the head or any limb.
"I think he was scared of what is waiting for him on the other side," Amy whispered next.
Joel said nothing, because he felt that none of the possible answers swirling around in his head were fitting.
"Maybe he did some bad stuff too. And he was scared that it was all gonna come back to him now. Maybe he regretted some of it."
"Stop doin' this to yourself."
"What?" Amy murmured, her voice low and neutral.
"Don't – Stop thinkin' about it so much. It's only gonna make it worse, I promise."
Joel dipped his head lower, running his gaze along the cracks in the concrete floor beneath him.
"Do you wanna give me your gun? You don't have to use it again. If you don't want to."
"No," Amy said clearly.
"Alright… We… We should think about how we're gonna get outta here now."
"What about the car?"
Joel sat back, soles planted on the dirty floor. "No fuckin' way. It's bust."
"So… We find a new one?"
Shaking his head slowly, Joel glanced at the wall next to him, trying to figure out how late it had gotten without being able to see the sun.
"No. We walk."
"Walk?" Amy repeated, eyes wide, putting her feet back down.
"Yeah. Gettin' a new car's gonna take too long. I doubt we're even gonna manage to find one in this shithole."
"So how are we gonna get out?"
Joel sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, looking down at his hands as though the answer lay there.
Summary: You help Alex practice a harder cello piece. But this practice is somehow entirely different from the previous ones.
Warnings: established relationship, MDNI (+18), swearing, subby Alex, sensory deprivation kinda (Alex is listening to music here), dry humping, fingering, brief oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, aftercare
Word count: 4k
Author's note: Look, I don't have anything to say. I think we all saw what we did yesterday, and immediately got obsessed. Did I write this during the night and fucked up my sleep schedule again? Maybe. But I think it was worth it. My darling Cha (@bergamote-catsandbooks) thank you for being so excited to beta read this story. Love you! 💜
The house is quiet. Quieter than on most days.
There isn’t any music echoing off the walls, no sound of cello creeping around every corner and the occasional curse of Alex when he misses a beat, or he makes a mistake.
It seems too odd. Your ears are already used to the constant loudness in the house, and now it is almost like it is haunted.
You shake yourself back to reality, giving the soup another stir in the pot before you reach to turn off the stove. You move to take a spoon from one of the drawers. The smells in the kitchen makes your mouth water, and your moves are maybe too quick as you taste the still too hot food.
The moment the spoon touches your lips, you hear a loud and frustrated sigh coming from the living room.
Well, maybe today isn’t as peaceful as you thought it would be.
You swallow that spoonful of soup, humming at the taste before you put the used spoon in the dirty dishes. It clatters against the plates, but you’re already out the door, worry filling you as you round the corner and your eyes fall on Alex.
You furrow your brows, not noticing anything unusual. Alex is laying on the couch, headphones on, tapping on the bunch of paper in front of him in his lap with a pencil. You almost swoon at the way he looks like. Black tank top with gray sweatpants. One of those outfits he wears when he’s not in his practice room, playing on his cello in just a shirt and his underwear.
“Alex,” you call out, but quickly realize that he can’t hear you because of the music playing in both his ears.
So you walk through the room, your bare feet tapping on the wooden floor quietly as you get closer. When you arrive beside him he still doesn’t look up, and as you sit down a soft breeze hits you through the open window behind the couch.
“Alex,” you try again, leaning closer to him.
When he still doesn’t pay any attention, not even turning his gaze towards you for a second, you do something that you immediately know you would regret after.
You take hold of the bunch of paper in his lap, placing it on the coffee table in front of you, followed by his pencil too.
“Hey, what are you doing?” he asks confused, brows furrowing, making the lines between them deeper.
You reach to push back his headphones, letting it hang around his neck as you look at him. “Lunch is ready,” you announce with a soft smile, pushing back a strand of hair that fell in front of his forehead.
His hands fall back onto his stomach, and with a frustrated sigh he throws his head back against the pillow. “I was in the middle of analyzing a very hard passage,” he murmurs under his breath, and you immediately feel guilty for interrupting him.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you couldn’t have known,” he shakes his head, lifting his head and looking at you. With one hand he reaches out, holding you by your waist and pulling you suddenly towards him. To prevent falling across him and landing on the floor, you throw your leg over his lap, straddling his hips. When your eyes fall on his face, you see a wide grin paying on his lips. “It’s okay.”
“You’re a menace.”
“Maybe,” he shrugs, his arms circling your middle and pulling you down to his chest. You rest your head in the crook of his neck as much as the headphones allow, and you listen to the music playing from it, the pace too fast, notes flying so quickly you can’t even understand how someone is able to play that.
“What is it?” you ask, curiosity winning as you glance up at him from behind your eyelashes.
“Saint-Saëns, Cello Concerto No. 2, Op. 119,” he answers immediately. Your eyes widen at his precision for knowing the exact passage, and you smile up at him.
“Sounds complicated.”
“That’s why I’m analyzing it first. I may understand harder works, but not this one. The notes I’m making don't make any sense,” he explains, his thumb drawing small circles on your back.
“And it’s making you frustrated because you want everything to go perfectly on your first try.” It’s not even a question. You know him so well now, to understand that he’s a perfectionist, when it comes to his playing and music.
“At this point you know me better than me," he chuckles. He angles his head so he can place a soft kiss on your temple, hugging you tighter.
You stay like that for a few minutes. Him holding you, the music playing beside your ear, the occasional chirping of birds creeping through the window, filling the room. But no matter how peaceful the moment seems like, the position makes your legs go numb, so you start squirming in his lap, trying to find a better one.
As you move, you feel his hands tightening on your waist, and he lets out a low groan. “Shit. Stop moving around, baby.”
You look at him confused for a second, not understanding why he says that, but then realization dawns on you when you push yourself back to sit in his lap again. You can feel something hard under you, pressing against your center. You look at him with a surprised expression, but then a satisfied smile stretches across your face. “You’re hard.”
He tries to ignore your statement, clearing his throat as he looks up and down your body. “This is my shirt. The one that I played in yesterday.”
“Don’t avoid the conversation,” you warn him, leaning close so you are hovering above him, steadying yourself with your hands on his chest. “You’re hard just by me moving around a little in your lap.”
“That wasn’t moving around a little. You were basically dry humping me. Of course I get hard.”
“Oh, Alex. I see some concepts are not clear for you. This is what dry humping is,” you shoot back with a wicked smile, starting to move your hips around in his lap, dragging the most aching part of your body across the hard line of his cock in his pants, and you can’t help but let out a soft sigh at the feeling, the thin fabric of your underwear not blocking the sensation.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans, gripping your hips and guiding your movements as he occasionally lifts his hips to match your rhythm.
When he closes his eyes and throws his head back, you suddenly stop. He tries to thrust up again, but you lift off of him enough that he can’t reach you, and he looks at you with a wounded expression. “Why did you stop?”
“I thought you wanted me to stop, no? You said it moments before.”
“No, hell no. I don’t want you to stop. The music must have got to my brain for saying that. Too many notes, too many sounds, too many—”
You don’t let him finish the sentence, capturing his lips with yours. He groans into the kiss, and you take that quick moment to take control, slipping your tongue past his teeth. His hands wander down from your back to your ass, squeezing down hard when you teasingly nip at his bottom lip.
You can feel his hands moving again, up under your — technically his — shirt, caressing your back before he moves them to your front, moaning gently when he realized you don’t have any bra on. He immediately starts playing with your breasts, the callouses on his hands rough against your skin, but still igniting a fire on the path he takes with them.
You can feel the wetness between your thighs, and maybe because of the lack of oxygen getting to your brain because of the kiss, or because something else entirely, you get an idea you never had before.
You break away from him with a soft gasp, taking in a deep breath as you look into his eyes, seeing only hunger and desire burning in them, his soft brown eyes turning almost fully black.
When you feel like your brain can function again, you reach for his headphones, taking them off from around his neck, but not putting them down behind you on the coffee table. You just hold them while he looks at you with confusion. You nod towards his tank top. “Take it off.”
He complies without a sound, taking his hands from under your shirt and sitting up so he can quickly get out of his tank top, throwing it to the side. When he is done, he lays back again, his hands finding their place again on your waist.
You lift the headphones a little in the air, hovering above him again. “So I hear this piece is very fast. Must require some amazing finger work,” you wonder, and you watch how his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I wonder how yours is compared to it.”
Without warning you take hold of his left hand, guiding it down along the waistband of your underwear until you dip it into the fabric, his fingers immediately swiping across your wetness. He moves to dip his fingers lower, but you stop him with a soft squeeze on his wrist, and you hold up the headphones in your other hand. “You’ll follow this pace, alright?” you ask, and lift it to put it on his head, but he is the one stopping you now.
“I won’t be able to hear you that way.”
“Take it as a challenge or an experiment,” you answer. “Imagine a deaf musician. They simply rely on their feelings and eyes. They feel the vibration of the strings under their fingers, see where they’re supposed to hold them down. You feel too, no?” you ask, bucking your hips into his hand, his fingers gliding across your folds again.
“I do,” he nods, his voice strained.
“Great. Good thing you have this piece on repeat.”
You place the headphones on his head, pulling them over his ears so he can only hear the music and nothing else. You nod at him, and he dips his fingers between your folds, swiping them back and forth until his index settles on your clit, drawing slow and tight circles over it.
But his pace is not matching the music you heard coming from his headphone earlier, so you lean down next to his ear, lifting one side of the headphone so he can hear you. “I don’t think the music is this slow.”
That is all you say before placing the headphone back on his ear and leaning back again. At your words his finger immediately speeds up, following the pace of the piece in his ear. His eyes are studying your reactions closely, and you can see them glint when your mouth opens around a soft moan, your eyebrows running together.
You reach to unbutton the shirt you have on, giving him a free sight of your bare breasts, and he doesn’t miss a beat as he sits up to take one of your nipples in his mouth while his right hand plays with the other. His tongue circles around the hardened nub while his index finger wanders downwards towards your entrance. You hold on to him with your arms around his shoulders, and you tilt your hips a little when he eases one finger inside of you, a soft moan leaving your lips.
He starts to move it in and out of you to the music, and you can already feel your walls tightening around his finger, your orgasm building up faster in you than you expected.
It doesn’t take long until he adds a second finger too, and you look down at him.
He is now resting his chin on your sternum, your nipple still glistening from his saliva. But in his eyes you see such concentration like you never saw before. He is looking out for every small breath you let out against his face, every time you open your mouth when you moan, every time you furrow your brow at the sensation growing in you.
And you know he can also feel the way your walls are tightening around his fingers.
So when the music hits another fast point and he picks up the pace of his fingers again, you let go. You fall forward, letting your forehead rest against his while your orgasm washes over you. Your thighs are shaking slightly around his, but he holds you up, slowing his fingers so you can ride out your high without him overstimulating you.
When you feel like your body can work again, you lean in to kiss him. He reciprocates it, pulling his hand out from your underwear to place it on your thigh.
When you pull back, you also push off one side of his headphones. “And how is your timing?”
“What do you mean?” he asks confused.
“Your timing. When you have to hold down the note, or jump into a passage,” you explain, trying to sound like you understand everything about his world.
“It’s pretty good I guess,” he shrugs, still looking at you with furrowed brows, trying to guess where this conversation is going.
“How about we practice that too?” you ask, slowly climbing off of him to lay down on your back. He follows you, hovering above you. “Do you want the underwear to stay?” you ask, hooking your thumbs in the waistband.
“No, not this time,” he shakes his head, his answer coming out breathless. You start pushing the lacy material off, but he takes over halfway down your thighs, pulling them off himself and throwing it on the ground. His eyes fall on your exposed center for a second, and before you can say anything, he is already laying on his stomach between your thighs.
You place your leg on his shoulders, but realize that this position easily pushes off his headphones, so you reach down to pull it back in place, keeping your hands on either side of his head.
He doesn’t wait for you to approve his action, he dives in, swiping his tongue all the way from your entrance to your clit. You jerk your hips at the sudden contact, and he places one hand on your lower belly to keep you still.
You let out a loud moan when he starts drawing quick circles over your clit with his tongue, you are sure that he can hear it even through the headphones. And when he closes his lips around the little nub and starts sucking it gently between his teeth, you know you won’t be able to last too long this way.
And the second time you come, you want that to happen on his cock.
So you quickly pull him up by his hair, and the sight of him with your wetness glistening on his mustache and beard makes you go dizzy. You partially push back the headphones from his ears again.
You open your legs wider so he can settle in, and when he is leaning comfortably over you, you reach down to pull down his gray sweatpants along with his underwear too. The moment his cock is free, your focus falls on it. His tip is already glistening with his precum, the head almost an angry red for being denied any friction for so long.
You place your hand on his stomach first, following that path of coarse hair from his belly button leading down to his cock, taking a hold of him.
He lets out a long groan above you as you gather his precum with your fingers, spreading it over his length as you stroke him a few times.
When you pull your hand away, he tries to chase it at first, bucking his hips, but then he waits for what you are going to do next. You reach up taking a hold of his headphones. “Concentrate on the timing,” you remind him before you put the headphones back over his ears.
He purses his lips, but nods. He reaches down between your bodies, taking a hold of his cock and guiding it through your folds a few times before he lines himself up at your entrance, pushing in slowly. Your walls stretch around his length, and you throw your head back against the pillows at the feeling.
He lowers himself closer to your body, his forearms resting on both side of your head, his chest making contact with your breasts.
When he bottoms out, you both let out a strained moan. He waits for a few seconds for you to adjust to his size before he starts moving based on the music.
His rhythm is steady, and when he hits the spot in you, you don’t even care anymore if he really is following the music’s timing, or he is just making it up. Your arms are thrown around his shoulders, keeping him close while you wrap your legs around his waist, the new angle allowing him to go deeper in you, making you see stars.
You are moaning at every thrust, and next to your ear Alex is grunting too, breathing heavily and occasionally cursing under his breath. You can hear the music drifting out from his headphones, but it doesn’t matter anymore.
You tear it off from his head, throwing it to the ground carelessly.
Alex falters for a second, pulling back to look down at you, and when you nod in encouragement it is almost like a spell falls over him. He leans down to capture your mouth with his, and he starts driving into you with more force and determination, and you can’t help but hold on to him tighter, every thrust sending you further up on the couch.
The living room is filled with moans and the sound of skin slapping against each other, the smell of sweat and sex lingering in the air. Now the house is not filled with cello notes bouncing off the walls, but with the music of two people merging into one.
“Oh God, Alex,” you moan into his mouth.
He groans too, closing his eyes tightly. “Fuck, I missed hearing your moans,” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you again.
You can feel yourself get closer to your high again, and you pull back to warn him. “I’m close, Alex. I think I’m gonna—” Your sentence is broke off with a loud moan from you, your walls squeezing him tight as your orgasm washes over you in waves again, this one a lot more powerful than the previous.
Alex doesn’t stop moving above you, but you can feel how his thrusts become sloppier, and he doesn’t need more than a few before he comes hard, burying himself to the hilt, his warmth filling you. You can feel his cock twitching in you as your walls milk every last drop of cum from him, and then he collapses over you, careful not to crush you with his weight.
Neither of you says anything, but you don’t need to.
You brush your fingers through his hair, combing back the sweaty curls as he breathes into the crook of your neck. His hand is all over your body where he can reach — your arms, your shoulders, your sides, your outer thighs.
You have already learned that after such an intense time with you he always needs time to process. He is not used to such level of intimacy, not used to being vulnerable in front of anyone. So after these moments he needs some time to look back at them while you hold him close. Not because he is weak, but because he is afraid of the possibility that it was only just a dream that he made up to comfort himself.
And you always wait patiently until he is the one to break the silence.
Like now.
“I’m hungry,” he says with such simplicity that you can’t help but let out a soft chuckle.
“I bet you are. We’ll need to re-heat the soup.”
“Maybe, but I don’t regret having this moment,” he shrugs, looking up at you with a loving smile. He cranes his neck to place a kiss on your jaw before he pushes himself off of you. Both of you let out a low hiss when he pulls out of you, the emptiness in you suddenly too unexpected. He gets up from the couch, pulling his underwear and sweats back on before he looks back down at you. “I’ll get a wet towel.”
You nod, resting your head on a soft pillow as you watch him walk away, the muscles in his back moving under his tanned skin, hips swaying slightly with every step he takes, making your eyes fall on the curve of his ass.
When he disappears around the corner, you look up at the ceiling, closing your eyes for a few minutes, listening to the birds chirping outside under the window.
You only open them again when you hear his footsteps.
He kneels down beside the couch, cleaning you gently, and you watch in silence as he works. When he is done, you look around for your underwear, and when you see it on the ground you reach for it, but he stops you. You glance at him holding up a simple black material, and you look at him with a questioning expression. “A new pair of underwear. So you wouldn’t have to put on back one that is… well, you know,” he tries to find the words, and you consider it adorable how he stumbles over his own thoughts.
“I get it, don’t worry,” you reassure him, taking it from his hand to put it on. When the material sits around you comfortably, you take his face between your palms, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his forehead. “Thank you.”
“Right,” he laughs nervously, getting up from the ground and pointing in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll, uh, get us some food then. I’ll be right back,” he announces.
Before he can disappear behind the corner you call after him. “Alex.”
He turns around quickly, eyebrows pulled up, waiting for your next words. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
His lips pull into a small smile at those three words. He nods before he finally disappears.
He didn’t say it back. He never has, but you're patient with him. You know about some of the traumas that happened in his past. He sometimes is emotionally distant, but you don’t blame him. In those times you let him have his moment in his practice room, and when he comes out after spending hours in there, you keep him company.
Sometimes he talks about what happened at the rehearsal that day, or why he feels that way, sometimes he just prefers the silence and you close to him. There were times he asked you to read for him, or asked if he could play for you while you watched.
Even though he doesn’t say it out loud, you know he loves you. He shows it with his actions.
He just needs time to process his own emotions and feelings before he can say those three little words out loud too.
And you will be next to him when that day comes. Let it be days, weeks, months, or even years. But you know that you won’t ever be his first true love.
His true love will always be the music, and the beauty of playing. He fell in love with it as a child, and since then the bond between him and the music only grew. Nothing proves it better than him still playing on his first cello, that he got from his parents.
But you don’t mind. It was composed for him this way.
And his fingers run through the strings of life with a quiet, but strong confidence, creating a beautiful melody.
Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from it): @picketniffler, @speaktothehandpeasants, @harriedandharassed, @bergamote-catsandbooks, @misstokyo7love, @shadowqueen2024, @missadangel, @annwrites24, @eviispunk, @baronessvonglitter, @johnssherlock221, @goonersquad101, @my-tearsricochet, @nutbutterjellie, @kokoluwie, @cozymochaa
Some peope who were interested, but aren't on the taglist: @grogusmum, @vodkaandpizza, @peepawmiller, @kellyxo1, @mystickittytaco, @ningaispunk, @fckyeahsaltandpeppercurls, @loveoverpride, @pedrospurplerain, @chewie-bars, @604to647, @joelmillerpascal
Hello my friends,My name is Bilal Ahmad.I am reaching out to you as a citizen of Gaza who is suffering from severe injuries and critical health conditions that threaten my life every day. I sustained a serious injury to my eye and urgently need another surgery to save me from the risk of permanent blindness.
In addition, I have a disability in my left hand. Most critically, I suffer from a severe abdominal injury that has greatly damaged my intestines, leaving them unable to function properly. My condition continues to worsen, and the danger to my life increases with each passing day.
Given the current situation in Gaza, it is no longer possible for me to receive the complex medical treatment I urgently need in a safe and complete manner. After God, my only hope is your support and kindness.
I humbly ask for your help. Please be the light of hope that allows me to reach Egypt and receive the medical treatment I desperately need in its hospitals so that I may recover and regain my health.
Please hear my voice and give me a chance to receive treatment and a humanitarian opportunity to pass through. Even a small donation can make a difference and help cover my medical care.
Thank you in advance for your generosity, compassion, and support. I am deeply grateful for any help you can provide.
I need your help. Just came home from a ten day vacation, and I don't really know how to get back into writing. Before that I was writing every single day, so this ten day break really broke my flow, and now I just feel stuck.
So if you have any suggestions, or a fic request, then my inbox is open.
Maybe it could help me get back my flow and motivation.
Tagging some people because without it no one would see this post: @kokoluwie, @picketniffler, @missadangel, @speaktothehandpeasants, @harriedandharassed, @misstokyo7love, @shadowqueen2024, @annwrites24, @baronessvonglitter, @eviispunk, @johnssherlock221, @goonersquad101, @my-tearsricochet, @nutbutterjellie, @bergamote-catsandbooks
hello can anyone help me get cat food for my cats this week? i would appreciate anything you can spare, even $1/$2/$5 is not too small, and i would be happy to provide a tarot reading for anyone in return! just dm or send an ask
The unbearable conditions we are living through in Gaza are slowly breaking me, and I have no strength left.
At the same time, my father is in critical condition and needs daily medication that we can no longer afford. Every day without treatment puts his life at serious risk.
We are living through something beyond our ability to endure.
If you’re reading this, please don’t scroll away. Your help could save my father’s life.
Please support us and share our story 🙏💔
📌 Fundraiser vetted (#167 by el-shab-hussein & nabulsi), But we created a new GoFundMe page because GoFundMe suspended the beneficiary’s account on the platform, which put us in a very difficult situation.
