summary : a police officer threatens your patient and the situation escalates leading to you getting wrongfully arrested
pairing : swat!jack abbot x resident!reader
word count : 2,1k
tags/tw : comfort, one swear word, the patient is implied to be a poc, abuse of power (from the cop) (and lowkey from jack now that i think about it, but in a good way), panic attack at the end but it's the adrenaline leaving the body, reader has hair long enough to be brushed away from the face, inspired by the scene where mckay almost gets arrested and jack steps in
the picture on top is for aesthetic and does NOT represent the reader
a/n : tysm for all your feedbacks on my work lately ! and for the requests it might take a little bit but i'll get to it !!
Everything happened quickly.
One second you were softly explaining the next steps for treatment to your patient, the next you were getting cuffed by a fuming officer.
The patient had been wheeled in by ambulance and rushed into a trauma bay. Male, 22, multiple bruises littering his body and blunt trauma to the chest.
You treated him and made him as comfortable as you could but there was only so much you could do for this type of injury.
When he woke up after the pain meds had knocked him out you were at his bedside to explain everything to him.
"Hi, I am the doctor that treated you today. How are you feeling ?"
"I've seen better days.", he croaked out with a wry chuckle that he seemed to regret as he brought a hand to his chest.
"You came in with multiple bleeding wounds and bruises along with a blunt trauma to the chest. The wounds weren't too severe and didn't need sutures so we were able to bandage them. Concerning the trauma to your chest unfortunately it is an injury that can only heal with time and rest so we gave you some pain relief medication and hooked you up with some fluids." you explained softly as you took a seat on a rolling stool beside him.
"How long will the recovery take ?" he looked up to the ceiling with something in his eyes you couldn't decipher.
"It's hard to tell but with some bruised ribs and your injuries you might want to get as much rest as you can for the next 4 weeks at least."
Since he wasn't answering you tried to turn the conversation to other subjects. "I got told you were a student, what's your major?"
"Engineering."
"That's great! My dad studied engineering in Pittsburgh.", you forced cheer into your voice as you noticed he was getting more and more zoned out.
You sighed, "Hey, you wanna tell me what happened?" you managed to catch his eyes and pressed his hand in what you wished was a comforting gesture.
"I don't even know- I was just grabbing some food for my dorm and the cop started yelling at me. I told him hadn't done anything and he said I was being uncooperative and hit me a first time when I asked him why he stopped me. After that it's blurry all I know is that I heard people yelling and a woman told me she had called 911." the young man looked like he was reliving the scene and you pressed his hand one more time.
"Hey, you're sate here. I can call down our social worker Kiara and she'll direct you towards the right ressources if you want help with any procedure or just want support."
"I don't know.. I just- I don't know."
"What happened wasn't normal and the hospital can protect you. I can let you some time to think about it and come back if you want to discuss anything okay?"
"Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks."
You nodded, addressing him a warm smile and left the room, gently closing the door behind you.
You hadn't left him for an entire 20 minutes that as you were charting at the nurse station, you heard a commotion behind you.
When you turned around and saw a cop standing in the middle of the hall, talking way too harshly to Emma, the new student nurse, you immediately walked up to him.
You stepped in between them and asked "Hey!
What's going on here?" you eyes jumped between them and locked with Emma's long enough to read the panic in them.
"He came in from the ambulance bay asking about a young man who was transported here and is apparently in his custody." she whispered quickly, her eyes darting towards the menacing officer.
You pushed her behind you as the cop answered, his loud voice echoing around the place, catching the attention of more staff. "I arrested this punk just an hour ago and I got told he was transported here.
Show me where he is."
You quickly connected the dots and tried to angle him away from the room your patient was in but it was too late.
"That's him." and you turned around to see the terrified kid peeking at the scene through the window of his room, before you were suddenly shoved aside.
You quickly caught your footing and ran towards the room to place yourself between the man and the door. "I can't let you in there."
He looked you up and down with a scorn before leaning in towards your face "Move. Aside. He's in my custody."
"And right now he's my patient and under the hospital protection, so back. off." you spit out those last words as you stood toe to toe with the man.
The officer leaned back, fuming as he went to push you aside again but you stood your ground and pushed him back.
He clenched his fist before adjusting his hat and sneered "Put your hand behind your back."
You raised eyebrows, "Excuse me ?"
"You're arrested for assault of a police officer, now put your hands behind your back before I force you to."
"Well you can go right ahead. Because you won't touch my patient." you spat at his face, planting your feet in the ground.
He didn't waste a second and roughly turned you around before grabbing your wrists in a bruising grip and trapping them in handcuffs.
You couldn't hear Dana and Robby as they tried to reason with the guy, too busy staring him down, refusing to back down, despite your trembling hands behind you.
What you did hear though was the thundering footsteps of a pair of combat boots striding towards you.
"What the hell is going on here." Jack's rough voice echoing like steel in the hall, like all sound had stopped at his arrival.
You felt the relief physically wash over you at the sound of his voice. Your body swayed slightly but you stood tall, not daring to even glance at him.
The officer slightly turned towards him and expected him to take his side at the sight of his uniform, he grabbed your arm to make you face the attending.
"This bitch was preventing me from accessing my detainee and seems to think that being a doctor excuse her from the law."
Jacks jaw clenched at the curse and he spared one look at you, reading your eyes, before moving towards the cop.
"This woman, is a most qualified doctor. So if she says that you do not enter this room, you don't. Now I'm going to give you five seconds to give me the keys to uncuff her before I call your chief for abuse of power and everything that follows." and without glancing away he grabbed the officers wrist whose hand was still gripping your arm, and forced him to let go by what you could guess was a bruising grip.
He was now standing toe to toe with the officer, mirroring your stance from just a few moments ago.
The two man stared down at each other until the officer finally reached into his pocket and handed Jack the keys, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth might give out.
Robby followed him out as he left mumbling half-threats and cursing God knows who.
The second he was out of sight Jack turned to you, his eyes roaming over you, from your scrunched up brows to your reddened wrists.
You looked up at him through your eyelashes, your hands trembling in his hold, lips pressed shut.
He gently turned you around and his hands brushed yours ever so softly as he unlocked the cuffs and made sure the metal didn't hurt your skin.
"You alright?" he whispered searching for your eyes, his face too close to be professionally acceptable.
You nodded quickly, evading his gaze "Fine. I need to check on my patient. He's probably panicked."
And you're gone before Jack gets a chance to stops you.
You didn't check on your patient. You couldn't even look anyone in the eye right now. You felt shaky and overwhelmed, thoughts swirling and ricocheting around your brain making it impossible for you to think.
It took all your self control to not run to the root, instead you walked to a corridor near the abandoned wing and shut the door to the staircase behind you.
You felt your heart rate picking up the more you walked but it was too late to do anything about it now.
You walked in circles in the empty corridor, a hand on your heaving chest, willing yourself to breathe.
As you turned to walk yet another circle, boots came into your view but not before your bumped into a chest.
Immediately, you know who it is and Jack's calloused hands are steadying you.
His eyebrows scrunch up and he open his mouth to speak but you stop him with one movement of your hand.
"I don't need to be comforted. I'm angry at this- poor excuse of a man. I'm angry for my patient and- And for the system that protects these men and-"
Without realizing tears had started rolling down your face and you took a step back, angrily wiping them away.
Jack stood there looking at you as you tried to process your emotions.
"If it's any help, I called in his station and made sure he was properly dealt with. You can tell this to your patient yourself." he explained softly, taking a few tentative steps towards you.
You gave up on wiping your tears away and faced him, finally meeting his eyes.
He was still in SWAT uniform, the quarter zip hugging his arms and chest but all you could focus on was his eyes, and the pit of concern wedged in them.
Finally you took a steps towards him and explained in a raspy voice your head shaking as you spoke, "He was about to take this kid. I couldn't let it happen. You saw what he already did to this kid."
Your voice broke and you looked away again trying to prevent more tears from spilling, missing the pained look he sent you.
"He was about to take you too. You shouldn't have gone through that." he murmured like he was replaying the scene in his head -which he probably was.
Finally, he was close enough to place a tentative hand on your arm and just like that, you collapsed into his chest.
Your hand gripped his shirt and he pressed you tightly against him, combing his finger through your hair in a soothing motion.
"It's just- I just need to take my breath." you mumbled against him, and he hummed tilting his head just enough to have his chin rest on your head.
A few tears fell again, wetting the front of his shirt and you felt the need to explain yourself again.
Because maybe, deep down, you didn't want him to think of you as weak. Not him.
"It's the adrenaline coming down. I was frustrated." you knew you sounded pathetic but the words were just spilling out.
"I know you were." he replied simply.
After a few minutes, when you seemed to have composed yourself, he leaned back and slipped a hand against your jaw, not so subtly placing a finger at your pulse point.
You pretended not to notice "I'm sorry, for all this.
And thank you. For.. everything."
His lips stretched into the tiniest smile and he brushed strands of hair away from your face with both his hands cupping your face.
"I would come for you every and any time you need me, even when you don't." he whispered like a sacred truth, hazel eyes staring into your soul.
Your cheeks warmed up and you let your forehead fall against his chest again to hide your embarrassment.
"Thank you."
He didn't bother answering and just forced you into his arms again.
A beat passed, "..you stink by the way."
"Oh really?" and suddenly heâs trying to press you into his armpit as you burst in giggles, filling the space with the sound, quickly joined by his own laugh as you tried to lean away from him.
I have never felt so fed. my favorites. in father daughter duos. like. "do you want my firstborn, too?" "maybe. will they know how to suture?" "was that in the 1900s?" "yeah, when charts were written by candlelight." that's their gay dads.
if i had a dick i would love to have a disappointing orgasm in the shower while thinking of something or someone that i felt i should not be thinking about & then stand under the water with my forehead against a wall watching the proof of my guilt & shame go down the drain
summary: You'd survived twenty years without much thought for romance. But Jackson was safe, and safety had a way of making people act in strange waysâpriorities change, rumors spread. Which happens to be how you uncover your patrol partner's best kept secret.
|| smut MDNI 18+ virginity loss, virginity kink, age gap (reader is 25, joel is in his 50s), jackson!joel, unnamed best friend, dual pov, drinking, nervous!reader, prudish!reader, virgin!reader, overthinking, swearing, pinv, kissing, like nasty kissing hell yeah, grinding, joel teaching you how to take đ, he talks you through it, f!receiving oral, handjob, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, joel refers to himself as daddy, some pussy pronouns used, Joel We'll-Make-It-Fit Miller ||
a/n: my fellow freaks will understand. is joel kind of a perv for this? suuuure. but it's hot and consensual so who cares :)
wc: 11k sry
You, now
Your hand was practically shaking off its hinges by the time you lifted your knuckles to the wooden door.
You blamed the freezing temperature as you gathered your courage. Just the cold. The porch light buzzed faintly overhead, casting a weak yellow ring around the doorframe. It made the wood look darker than usual, older. Maybe it had always looked like that. Maybe you were just seeing it differently tonight. You glanced down at your shoes. Snow was really caked around the rubber soles, slush seeping in through the canvas seams, dampening your socks. You werenât entirely sure if you still had toes anymore; they were so numb. Just the cold, you told yourself again, that was why you were trembling so badly. Just the fact that Jacksonâs first winter storm decided to roll in the exact same morning you decided to⊠wellâŠ
Adjusting your stance instead, you smoothed a wrinkle in your coat, then reached up, but dropped your hand again.
Ridiculous. You were acting absolutely ridiculous. Itâs not like you were some lost kid on a strangerâs porch. You knew this man. Youâd walked patrols with him, ate silent breakfasts across from him before said patrols at the mess hall, both of you always quiet with each other. A comfortable quiet youâd enjoyed, actually. And youâd been to his house beforeâonce, last spring, when youâd offered to trade him the coffee beans some folks had passed through town with. In exchange, heâd carved you a little likeness of your favorite mare from the stables, sanded smooth and small enough to fit in your palm. Youâd thanked him twice, though heâd just nodded once, gruff as ever.Â
But that had been broad daylight. And this wasâŠÂ
Before you could talk yourself out of it again, before you could check the stitch in your glove a third time or flatten the nonexistent wrinkle in your coat, you lifted your knuckles and quickly rapped on the door.Â
Nothing happened.Â
You supposed that was normal. Itâs not like heâd be waiting on the other side of the door for you. He wasnât expecting anyone, at least youâd hoped. So you stared at the grain in the wood, the little green wreath hanging there, memorizing the leaves and pine needles that decorated the braided branches, and thenâ
You heard the footsteps, quiet and shuffling, but heavy on the other side. Your stomach dipped as they grew closer. You knew the sound of them by heart, etched in your mind as the sound of safety. Camaraderie. Â They followed behind you on trails, echoed in supply rooms, paused beside you at the watch post just before he would offer you the last thermos of coffee.
Your mouth was dry. You licked your bottom lip without thinking and immediately cursed at yourselfâchapped. Youâd forgotten balm. You never forgot your lip balm.
The footsteps stopped just on the other side.
You held your breath.
You, before
It had startedâas many bad ideas doâin the Tipsy Bison one Friday night.Â
The place was humming with music and chatter, the lowlights of sconces bringing an amber warmth to every surface. Someone was playing a Fleetwood Mac song on their acoustic guitar, a gentle strumming meeting your ears across the way. A couple men just off patrol were clinking pints a little half-heartedly after a long day out in the early winter frost at the bar. Someone had lit a fire in the hearth, a loud crackle punctuating the room now and again, and you could feel the heat rising in soft waves against your back from where you sat.
And beside you, smug as ever with a grin on her lips, cheeks flushed from her whiskey sour, was your best friend. Her glass was sweating onto the wooden table beside her, and her fingers tapped lightly against the rim as she watched you.Â
You knew that look. You had a complicated relationship with that look. Secrets, trouble, you name it. Whenever she had a drink or two in her and she looked at you like that, you knew something was afoot. And usually it involved her over-interest in your love life. Or⊠lack thereof.
âIâm just saying,â she drawled, dragging her words out with that infuriating mix of innocence and glee, âif youâre so worried about it being awkward the first time, there are options. Experienced options.â
You made a face, tugging at the sleeve of your cardigan, already regretting letting her steer the conversation this way. âLike who? There isnât exactly a whole sea of fish to choose from here. Half these people are partnered up and have kids now. And I swear, these guys born during the outbreak have zero game. â
She let out a cackle. âUh-huh. Like little five-year-old you really learned anything before the world went to shit.â
âOkay, fine. Enlighten me, oh wise one.â You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, lilting up, amused.Â
She leaned in, elbow creaking against the table, voice suddenly lower. âDo you know who took mine?â
You tensed. âOh my god. Please donât do this to me. I donât want to know, I reallyââ
âJoel Miller.â
You nearly choked. You did choke, actually, spluttering on the air youâd inhaled, spit gone down the wrong lung. A few people around you turned to glance in concern as your hand went to cover your open mouth. âWhat!?â
She grinned wide, completely unbothered. âDonât get all worked up! Heâs hot.â
âJoel?â you hissed, voice already pitching with disbelief. âMy Joelâbut heâsâheâs myâŠheâs my patrol partner!â
âYour grumpy, brooding, carved-from-stone, sexy patrol partner,â she corrected smoothly, nodding. âYep. That one. It was a little over a year ago, I was still kinda new to town. I donât even remember how it started. But itâs like⊠a thing,â she insisted, her voice dropping again as she scanned the room conspiratorily. âHis thing. Heâs like Jacksonâs Cherry Picker.â
You blinked. âExcuse me?â
She nodded, lips twitching around the rim of her glass. âIâm serious. Iâd heard rumors, okay? I was so desperate to get rid of this⊠this thing that made me feel like I had a target on my back. Like hello! Town virgin over here!â she laughed as you covered her ever-growing loud mouth, and she quieted down, waving you off, âand then one girl told me heâd done the favor for her and her friend. I donât know. He was really sweet though. He did this thing with his tongue andââ
You slapped your hands over your ears. âOh my god, stop, I donât want to hear any moreââ
She laughed loudly and downed her drink, âOkay, miss prude. Iâm just sayinâ, if you could choose anyone, Iâd go with him. Havenât you ever wondered? Havenât you guys gotten stuck out there together and had to cuddle up real close, and oh no, there was only one bed!â
You rolled your eyes, âActually, we tend to be just fine thank you. Joel takes good care of us if weâreââ
She was grinning, teeth gleaming, her brows doing a ridiculous little dance.
âOh, shut up,â you muttered, tossing a napkin at her across the table, trying to ignore the way your heart was thudding just a little faster than before.
Because the truth wasâyes.Â
You had wondered.
You, now
And then, the door was opening.Â
A thick hand appeared first, resting on the wood as it pulled inward. The rest of him followed a beat later, somehow even broader, taller than you remembered. Barefoot, in sweatpants and a flannel sleep shirt that hung open at the collar. His hair was mussed like heâd just come from rest, or something close to it. It felt too intimate.Â
âMr. Millerââ you started, and immediately winced. âJoel. Hi. Iâsorry, maybe this was⊠I mightâve picked a bad time.â
âSâalright, darlinâ,â he said, voice low, rough from disuse. âTook me by surprise is all. What can I do for ya?â
You opened your mouth and promptly forgot how to speak.
Because how the hell were you supposed to explain this? That your best friend had told you between giggles and sips of her second whiskey about the favor he offered. That there were girls, maybe a few, maybe more than a few, whoâd come before you for the same thing. That you were here asking for something he offered unbeknownst to most, passed along in rumors and blushing confessions. Never outwardly known or spoken of, but something only understood by the women whoâd needed it once. Was it only once? And what did that make them to him, exactly? They werenât partners, that much was clear. Not flings, either, at least you didnât think so. He never talked about having partners or girlfriends. He probably wouldnât even if given the chance.Â
You wondered if he remembered them individually, or if they blurred together to him. God, what if he thought of them like a collectionâtrophies heâd caught and taken first place, people heâdâŠheâd conquered? What would it mean for your relationship going forward? The patrols that were usually comfortable and easy, would they be suddenly full of awkward silences, or worse, would he refuse to patrol with you at all?
There was a little smile spreading across his face at how god damn red you mustâve been turning.Â
âSâa bit cold out there, ainât it? All this snow.â he said, looking around outside, hazel eyes gleaming in the soft light, âWhy donât you come on in.â he offered, opening the door wider, spreading his hand out welcomingly into his abode.Â
âOkay,â you barely managed.
Stepping inside, you felt more like an intruder than ever. The warmth hit you first, thick with the smell of firewood and something faintly herbal in the air. The hearth was already going, the flames crackling in a steady rhythm, casting deep shadows across the living room. A pair of reading glasses sat neatly on top of a copy of An Idiotâs Guide to Space on the side table, the title catching the light just enough to be legible.
âMake yourself comfortable,â Joel said, voice low and even, his hand brushing lightly against your back as he guided you forward. âIâll get ya somethinâ to drink.â
You nodded but couldnât speak, your mouth still dry, throat tight. Your body moved before your thoughts could catch up, sinking onto the couch opposite his recliner. The cushions gave easily beneath you, soft and lived in. The heat of the fire reached your skin slowly, unthawing your face, your toes, the stiffness along your spine that hadnât unclenched since youâd stepped onto his porch. You took your time peeling off your gloves and setting them aside, pins and needles prickling the tips of them as they warmed beside the heat.
He returned a minute later, though you didnât notice him right awayâyour eyes fixed on the fire, the way it danced behind the grate, and your mind had gone thin and fast with thoughts you couldnât quite hold down. You startled only slightly when he appeared beside you and set the mug into your hands. It was tan, with a little owl stamped on the front. You stared at it for a long moment before lifting it to your mouth. Lemon and honey with a sprig of cinnamon. Your favorite.Â
You swallowed the first sip slowly, letting it move through you, letting the heat settle low in your stomach like you could track its path through every nerve. You tried to focus on that instead of everything else.
Across from you, Joel groaned softly as he eased into his chair. It wasnât reclined now as he leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, mug balanced in both hands as he took a sip.
âEverythinâ okay?â he asked, eyes on you now.
âWhat?â you squeaked, then cleared your throat before continuing, âOh, yeah, yeah, everything is fine.â
He kept looking at you, quiet, and you worried youâd turn red again before he lowered his gaze to the tea in his hands and gave a small nod, like he didnât fully believe you but wasnât going to press. âYou just seem a little nervous, is all. Somethinâ happen?â
You shook your head and turned away, not wanting to meet his eyes. The lemon peel floated in a lazy spiral near the rim of your cup, and the rising steam pressed gently against your face, a kind of soft shield between you and whatever came next. You still held yourself stiffly, spine straight, shoulders squared like you were bracing for something, though you kept reminding yourself there was no reason to. This was Joel. Youâd spent more time with him out of anyone, even your own best friend. You knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was a good man.
You took another sip. Then another.
âI justâŠâ you began, the words thick in your throat. You exhaled, tried again. âI heard a rumor.â
Joel let out a short huff of amusement, his shoulders shifting as he leaned back more comfortably into the chair. âOh yeah? Whatâs goinâ around the rumor mill these days?â
You watched him settle in, the way his hands stayed on the mug even as he relaxed. For a second, you wondered if heâd actually been worried. If he thought something had happened to you. If heâd been ready to help.
âItâs probably nothing,â you said quickly. âJust⊠something someone mentioned.â
He didnât say anything.
You glanced up, half-hoping heâd read your mind. Maybe heâd say it first. Maybe heâd change the subject entirely and save you from the humiliation of asking him to take your virginity. But no, he was still watching you, still waiting, his face calm, unreadable in the firelight.
You looked away again.
âI guess I justâI heard that you⊠help people. Sometimes.â
There was a pause, only joined by a quiet sound as he set his mug down. You heard the shift of fabric, the creak of the recliner beneath him. When you looked up again, heâd settled back, legs spread slightly, one hand resting on the arm of the chair. Still composed, still listening.
âHelp how?â he asked, but the tone had changed, lower now. Softer, careful and measured. Like he was giving you the space to choose your words. Like he already knew which ones were coming. He mustâve known, after all. He had to. Maybe he wanted to see you squirm.
You swallowed.
âGirls,â you said, and your voice nearly cracked, not from emotion but from how tightly you were holding yourself together. âWomen, I mean. I heard that sometimes, if someoneâs⊠nervous, or if itâs their⊠that youâre⊠that youâve helped.â
There. It was out, more or less. Maybe a few words left unsaid, but it was there now, between you. A live wire, humming, waiting.
Joel didnât lean back, didnât shift, didnât even glance away. He was just staring at you, barely blinking or moving. And then, after a long enough pause that you nearly opened your mouth again just to fill it, he spoke.
âAre you askinâ me somethinâ, darlinâ?â
You swallowed again, willing your courage, forcing the up and down of your head, nodding at him, eyes glued to his face, watching his expression.Â
âIâm gonna need to hear you say it,â he told you, softly and without judgement, âAnd then we can talk about it.â
You set the mug down with careful hands, fingers lingering along the rim like they werenât quite ready to let go. Your palms found each other in your lap, squeezing once, then flattening against your thighs. Courage, you told yourself. Be brave. You were twenty-five, for Godâs sake. Frontal lobe fully developed, capable of decision-making, of risk, of owning the weight of your own choices. Youâd killed infected, harvested crops, patched up fences, pulled your weight in every way that counted in Jackson. Youâd grown up out of necessity, carried yourself through the years without needing anyone to hold your hand.
This shouldnât have to be so hard. But it was. And stillâŠthis was the moment. You could feel it waiting there in the silence between you.
So you sat up a little straighter. Pressed your palms into your legs, just for the feeling of grounding, and tried to be brave.
âIâm asking you to take my virginity, Joel.âÂ
You did your best to sound determined, sure of yourself, some small reserve of confidence rising as you looked at him, eyes locked on his face. You furrowed your brow to keep yourself from faltering, zipped your mouth shut to keep yourself from over-explaining, even though every part of you wanted to fill the silence. But the plain and simple truth of it laid bare between you now.Â
After a long moment of sitting there like that, the two of you watching each other carefully, he finally spoke.
âWhy?â
The question caught you off guard. Your face faltered, your fingers tightened against your thighs, unsure youâd heard him right.
âWâWhy?â
He nodded, very serious now.Â
You hesitated. âBecause⊠donât you? I heard you⊠you do this thing. For women.â
âBut why do you want it?â
Your face burned. You werenât sure if it was the fire in the hearth or the question or how quiet the room had gotten now, but suddenly you could feel the heat rising into your scalp, behind your ears, into the hollows of your throat. Your fingers were tangled in your lap again, squeezing one hand with the other like you could press the answer into your skin.
You sat up a little straighter, and let your hands fall still once again. Brave. Be brave.Â
âBecause I donât want it to be careless,â you said, âI donât want it to feel like something I just let happen. And I donât want to be with someone who only cares about what theyâre getting out of it.â
You looked at him then, made yourself hold his gaze.
âIâve waited a long time. And it hasnât really been on purpose, but now that Iâm here, I donât want it to be meaningless. I want it to feel⊠like I chose it. Like I chose the right person.â
You felt your chest tighten. Your heart wouldnât stop moving around inside you like it was trying to warn you of something, but it was too late for that.
âI trust you,â you said, quieter now, the truest thing youâve ever said. âI think I trust you more than anyone else in the world.â
Joel let out a long breath, the kind that sounded like it had been sitting on his chest this whole time. He looked away from you then, toward the fireplace, the orange glow flickering against the lines in his face. One hand rubbed slowly against his knee, the heel of his palm dragging in a steady circle, over and over, like it helped him sort through whatever was moving behind his eyes.
You didnât dare say anything.
You watched him, studied him. He was so handsome, after all. And something had changed, not that he had, not really. He was the same man who walked beside you on patrols, who shared granola bars and poured your coffee before his own. He checked your boots before a long route. Adjusted your gaiter once without asking, gloved fingers gentle against your jaw. Youâd always chalked these things up to kindness, to the sort of responsibility a man like Joel Miller shouldered without complaint. But now, sitting here in his home, the fire warming your skin and the tension curling thick between you, you didnât know how youâd ever seen them as simple gestures.
Your eyes traced the slope of his nose, the graying in his beard, how his hair had grown longer this winter and streaked with more silver. His thick fingers moved slowly against the fabric of his sweatpants, flexing, working some silent thought through his palm. You remembered those handsâgripping the handle of his revolver, steady and unshakable. Reaching back to stop you short with a firm grip at your elbow. Pushing you behind him when an infected got too close, machete already raised in his other hand, swinging hard through mold-thick bone. Heâd protected you more times than you could count. And it had always felt⊠safe. Never like a performance. He didnât ask for gratitude. He just... did it.
And then a thought struck you again, unwelcome, as you watched himâwhat if he said no? Could things ever go back to the way they were before? This was a line, a big one that you were crossing now. You didnât know how to take it back, not now that youâd looked him in the eye and asked for something youâd barely ever admit to yourself was a want, not a need. You werenât sure what youâd done, only that there was no coming back now.Â
You werenât afraid of him. But you were afraid of what this all meant, how different it felt now that he knew.
But still, you wouldnât look away.
He sat there for a long time, staring into the fire. And then finally, he turned back to you. His eyes found yours, steady, clear.
âOkay,â he said.
Joel, now
Joel didnât have very many rules left that he hadnât broken.
Heâd repented for his sins, said his sorriesâmore or lessâand moved on. He knew there were still notches on his soul, marks heâd carry to the grave, but he held fast to a few rules heâd made for himself, lines heâd drawn in the sand and did his damndest not to step over. He liked what he did, took a special liking to the women who came to him, nervous, wide-eyed, asking for something they didnât want to get from someone careless. It was never more than they bargained for, never more than they asked for. But he still enjoyed it.
He was open to just about anyone that came around, regardless if they were twenty or fifty, as long as they asked kindly and seemed like they were doing it for a reason that made sense. Not that it really matteredâif they were offering, he was taking. And he loved to take. Selfish, he knew that about himself by now. And still, he loved it.
But here he was, crossing the last line heâd drawn a few springs back, back when he first met you in Jackson.
You were the exception. Always.
From the beginning, heâd known he wouldnât touch you, not in that way. No matter how much he wanted to. And he did, God, he did. Dreamed of you, thought of you, let his mind go places it shouldnât, wondered how youâd taste, how youâd sound, what you'd look like beneath him. And on the nights when patrol took too long, when you had to share a tent or squeeze into the corner of some half-collapsed building, curled up together in the cold, your breath ghosting against his neckâheâd nearly lose his mind with your closeness and sweet scent.Â
He wouldnât take from you. He told himself you were off limits. You were so sweet, so good. He didnât even realize you were a virgin, truth be told. And it sure didnât help the way you were mustering up your courage in front of him, all doe eyed and nervous and trusting. But no, Joel never wanted to take this from you. Or anything, for that matter. All he ever wanted was to give. He always gave you the last sip of water or coffee, the last strip of jerky and the better seat when the fire got too smokey. He even made you that little horse out of pine because you kept choosing her for patrols, and youâd wept when it was her last ride before her retirement. He liked doing things like that for you. Liked to give. He would not take.
Joel would see you around with your best friendâhell, heâd picked her, when she came asking. She took as she wanted and went on her way, same as the rest. He saw you hanging around Jesse too, and thatâs when he really had to keep himself in check. But when he brought it up one day, asked about it quietly on the trail, youâd brushed him off. Youâd told him Jesse wasnât your type. Joel remembered the way something small and mean and smug had sparked in his chest when you said it, right before the bigger wave of guilt rolled in.Â
But here you were now.Â
Looking like that. Fidgeting like hell, eyes darting around, nervous in a way heâd never seen before. It rattled him when youâd appeared on his porch. His first thought had been that someone hurt you. That something bad had happened. He was already halfway to grabbing the shovel by the door, ready to ask where the body was. Anything you asked, heâd do it. He knew he would. No question.Â
And then youâd come out with the real reason you were here.Â
It took you some coaxing, sure, you were nervous and trembling like a trapped fawn in a wolfâs maw. And once the words were out his blood surged before he could control himself. He had to breathe, distract himself, try to collect his thoughts and put them into neat little boxes before the wrong one burst open and he scared you off. He needed to be careful. He needed to think about what it would mean to break that last rule. If it would ruin what the two of you had, if you would look at him differently. If youâd regret it.Â
But the truth was already there, pounding its way through his chest. Heâd known the second you said the words that he didnât give two shits about those rules.Â
That was the last clear thought he had before he turned to you and said, âOkay.â
He watched your eyes widen, watched your tongue sweep across your bottom lip, and the last thread of his control nearly split just then.
âOkay?â you asked, barely above a whisper.
He nodded, lifted his hand, palm up, a quiet invitation.
You hesitated, only for a second, then stood with that same purposeful grace you always carried when you moved ahead on a patrol. Not rushed or uncertain. Chosen. Like your feet knew where to go before your head did. You crossed the room slowly, your breath held, and when your soft hand found his, it was like some invisible thread finally went taut.
Joel tugged you gently between his knees, both of your hands in his. He looked up at you like he wasnât sure this part was real. The warmth of you so close, the gentle weight of your fingers resting in his, how your fingers still trembled.
âAre you sure?â he asked, breathless, quiet. He needed to be soft and gentle, your sweet face so pretty with how it was looking at him now, sure of yourself, but still nervous.Â
You nodded, your thumbs tracing the thick of his knuckles. It made his skin pebble in goosebumps.Â
âUsually when someone asks,â he murmured, âI make âem wait.â
He had to get through this part. Had to muzzle himself back into control, to know for certain. As much as he wanted to take, he would be good for you. For you, for you. Always for you. Like prayer, like penance, like something sacred in his keeping.
âWhy?â you asked, quiet as a mouse, your brows furrowing. You really were adorable. Sweet enough to eat.
âTo make sure they ainât ovulatinâ,â he said, and the line was meant to tease, but his voice came out tighter than he wanted. âDonât need any mini-Joels walkinâ around, do we?â
He tried to smile, but thought it probably looked more like a leer, animal in the way his teeth shown in the firelight.Â
Oh, was all you seemed to manage.Â
Joel exhaled slow, like he could let some of the heat in him go that way, like he hadnât just undone every restraint heâd spent years building. His hands slid up your arms, slow and steady, your sweater sleeves in the way. He wanted to feel you, your skin, your heat. Heâd make himself wait.
âDonât think I can do that with you, though,â he said, voice gone quiet again, âBeen waitinâ a long time for this, baby.â
Your gaze flicked to his, searching. âYou have?â
He nodded, âChrist, itâs all Iâve ever thought about.â
There was a long moment of quiet, of only the crack of the fire. As if waiting. Both of you, waiting for the other, held in the suspended moment before everything changed.
âI think about you too.â you confessed then, âAll the time, Joel.â
The leash on the beast in him flew from his hands, and he was squeezing your arms harder, pulling you down into his lap. You yelped at the sudden movement, and it made him force himself to soften again, coaxing, to be gentle with his hands. He smoothed them up and down your arms, though the closeness of your thighs bracketing his turned his brain to mush.Â
âIâm sorry, don't be scared, Iâm sorry,â Gentle, be gentle, he scolded himself, âItâs justâŠyou think about me, huh?â He cooed. âWhat do you think about, baby?â
You were nibbling at your lip again, eyes flicking down like you didnât know what to do with yourself now that youâd said it aloud. He caught your hands and pulled them to his chest, pressing them flat so you could feel the thud of his heart beneath your palms.
âYou can touch me, darlinâ,â he said, almost a whisper. âItâs okay if I touch you?â
You nodded, wordlessly, eyes eager in their nervousness.
His hand reached up, careful, and brushed a piece of hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear, taking his time.
âSo tell me,â he said again, âwhat you think about.â
Your voice came soft and certain. âKissing you.â
His breath faltered, fingers twitching against your cheek, forcing them down and to settle on your hips. Something deep in his chest raged against his ribs to be let outâthis was the night, he was sure of it now, the night he finally snapped, lost every inch of control heâd ever clung to. He might go insane with you, here, in his lap, telling him about your dreams, your wants, your desires for him.Â
âDo you wanna kiss me now?â he asked.Â
You nodded.Â
âBefore you do,â he said, hands squeezing, âwe need to talk.â
Your face shifted, the subtle kind of worry that made you look child-like, almost scolded. He saw your shoulders inch up like you were bracing for a lecture, and he hated that. He slid his thumbs under the hem of your sweater instead, just enough to brush the warm skin of your waist, soothing whatever tension lie beneath the surface.
âHave ya ever done anythin' before?â he asked, dipping his head slightly, trying to catch your eye. When you met his gaze, you shrugged, sheepish.
âIâve kissed a boy before. Not likeâŠâ You sighed, glanced off to the side. âNot like with tongue or anything. And it was a dare.â
Joel chuckled at that, âA dare, huh?âÂ
You gave him a mock glare, your nose wrinkling in protest. âDonât make fun of me.â
âNever,â he murmured, the smile still tugging at the edge of his mouth. He let the air settle for a second, then took another breath, slower this time.Â
âYouâre gonna need to tell me when somethinâ donât feel good. When you want me to stop, alright?â He watched you closely now, his thumbs still rubbing careful, slow lines against your skin. âPick a word that means stop. Donât matter what it is, but you say it, and everything stops. We talk, figure it out. You wonât be in trouble, I just need to know youâre okay.â
You opened your mouth like you were about to argue, and he could see the protest already brewing, the way your brows pulled together, the way your lip started to tuck between your teeth.
âI donât want you to stop just becauseâI know, erâ-Iâve heard it hurts, a little, the first time,â you said, your voice quiet, almost defensive.
He shook his head gently. âItâs not about that,â he said. âThis ainât for little discomfort. I know youâre tough, I know you can handle that. But thisââ he softened his voice again, âthis is for if somethinâ donât feel right in your gut. If you change your mind, or I do somethinâ you donât like. You donât owe me anythinâ, you understand? I ainât gonna be mad.â
Your teeth were worrying your lip again, eyes darting like you were thinking hard, weighing something heavy. He watched it all and felt the pull in his chest that came from how goddamn much he wanted to reach up and kiss the thought right out of your head. But this came first. You deserved this part too.
After a moment, you nodded. âOkay. Okay⊠what about⊠pickleback?â
He blinked, caught off guard. âLike the shot?â
You nodded again, smiling this time, your eyes downturned. âI love them.â
Joel huffed a low laugh. That smileâŠit had his belly doing flips like some kid. You were so sweet and shy, like you didnât know what it did to him.
âAlright then,â he said, brushing his hands up your waist again, savoring the heat of your skin, the way you felt under his hands, âPickleback it is.â
And god, you were so warm. He took a long breath through his nose, collecting himself, trying to keep his thoughts grounded instead of letting them scatter into the fire like ash.
âAlright,â he said softly, almost to himself. âCâmere, baby.â
One of his hands abandoned the skin beneath your sweater to slide up your spine, tracing each vertebrae to the base of your neck, just under the edge of your hair, and he felt the tremble in your body like a secret only he got to keep. Your eyes were so wide, mouth parted like you were bracing for something. But you didnât look scared. Just... expectant. Waiting. Brave.
Joel tilted his head slightly, his nose brushing yours, and his breath was warm when it hit your cheek.
âIâm gonna kiss you now,â he said softly, his thumb brushing under your jaw. âAnd I want you to relax. Donât worry about what youâre sâposed to do. You donât have to do a thing, baby. Let me take care of you.â
You nodded, breath hitching just a little, and he waited until he felt the tiny flex of your fingers on his chest like you were anchoring yourself there.
Then he kissed you.
He pressed his mouth to yours with a slow, aching tenderness, just warmth and patience and the softness of your lips beneath his. He felt you gasp, just a little, and he moved slow as molasses, letting you settle into it. His hand at your neck stayed firm, thumb stroking over your jaw. He hadnât realized just how much heâd imagined this moment until now, until your mouth pressed harder against his, until your hands were sliding up to grip at his collar as if you didnât want him going anywhere.Â
He pulled back then, a fraction, close enough that you were still breathing his air.
âYou okay?â he asked.
You nodded again, lips a little wet, your eyes flicking down to his mouth, and Joel felt something in his chest cave.
âGood girl,â he said under his breath. âLetâs try that again.â
ââAnd he kissed you a second time, this one deeper, more certainâhis lips parting slightly, coaxing you to follow. When your mouth opened under his, he groaned softly, chest tightening. You tasted sweet, like honey and lemon from the tea, and something else too. Something that was just you. Your hands gripped his hair now, fingers curling tight at the nape. He felt your tongue poke out between your lips, discovering and curious, and he met it with his own. You squeaked a little at that, and he couldnât help but smile, pulling away once again.Â
âGimme your tongue, baby, let me see your tongue,â he coaxed, fingers tightening in your hair.Â
You did as you were told, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out at him. He couldnât help but smile at you with fondness. âRelax, like this,â he murmured, showing you how, his own tongue flat in his mouth, patient. You mirrored him, and he reached up, licking at your waiting tongue, honey and lemon and cinnamon and a burn of desire filling his mouth, making it water, his stomach clench.
You let out the softest sound, a little hum deep in your chest, and Joel answered before he even thought about it. He wrapped his lips around your tongue, pulling just slightly: gentle, savoring you. Your eyes shuttered closed, sighing into him, your hips rocking involuntarily. He felt, beneath layers of clothing, a little pulse between your legs.Â
âOh, she likes that, donât she, darlinâ?â Joel asked when he pulled away again.
âYouââ your voice was hoarse, almost drunk with desire, licking your lips, âyou could feel that?â
He nodded, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. âCan you feel me?â he asked, quieter now. âFeel how much I want you?â
You nodded, cheeks heating, âI like it.â
Joel didnât wait. He kissed you again, deeper, hungrier, and you melted into him with confidence. Your arms looped around his neck, your breasts pressing to his chest beneath your sweater, body giving into him. His hands slipped beneath your top again, finding your skin, your back warm and smooth beneath his palms. He pulled you in closer, like you werenât close enough already. He thought he could kiss you for hours. He thought he might go insane if he couldnât.Â
And between the moans and whimpers, you murmured to him between a kiss.
âCan I have your tongue, Joel? Please?â
Joelâs brain was so scrambled, monopolized by desire, that he did as he was told before he could think. And then his brain really did snap in half as your lips sealed around his tongue, and you suckled on the muscle, moaning, tasting, wanting.Â
Joel groaned loudly, eyes rolling to the back of his skull, his hands beginning to dig into your skin. He needed you closer, closer.Â
And when you released your gentle hold of him, lips connected again for another kiss, he was dragging your hips against him harder, sawing your little center across his thickening length beneath his sweatpants. It just wasnât enough, not nearly as close as he needed you.Â
âOh fuck,â he whispered, kissing you harder, unable to take anymore, âfuck, baby, youâre killinâ me, grind on my cock some more, it feels so damn good, little thing wants me bad, huh?â
You gasped at his dirty mouth, but he couldnât help himself, he was gone. Lost to it, hungry, hungrier than he thought heâd ever been for anything. All Joel could think about now was your pulsing, wet, puffy cunt beneath your clothes. How it would feel to not take, but give. And heâd give it to you so damn good.Â
You pushed your hips down, and he guided you, hands back on your hips, pushing and sawing you on top of him. It was damn near heaven, friction and heat, everything heâd wanted.Â
âTake this off, baby, please, is that okay?â he asked, pulling at your sweater.Â
You were already moving, hasty, as undone as he was, both of you chasing the same edge. The fabric came over your head with shaking fingers, and suddenly you were bare in front of him, breathing hard, flushed all over. No bra. So that was it. The final nail in his coffin. The quiet, damning proof that you hadnât just come over hoping heâd give you what you wantedâyouâd known he would.
Youâd decided. Youâd trusted him. Youâd made up your mind long before he opened the door.
âJoel,â you murmured, shirt off.Â
He was staring. He knew he was staring. His brain was blank, white space as his mouth parted. His eyes drank you in like heâd never seen anything more perfect. He wasnât sure he ever had, truth be told.Â
As he shook his head to unscramble the thoughts, he heard his voice from far away: âYeah, baby?âÂ
âI think I might go insane,â you said, your voice so soft it was almost a confession. âI feelââ
You wrapped your arms around yourself suddenly, like you needed to hold it all in, covering yourself, pushing your breasts together, fingers brushing your throat, your eyes darting away as if you didnât know where to land.
He forced himself back to the present, maybe heâd been too quick, too forceful, too willing to give over all control to the beast in him that wanted so badly it made him blind. âWhat is it? Are you okay?â
You noddedâthen shook your head, âI want you so bad I think I mightâŠIt hurts, Joel. I might cry if you donât do something.â
Joelâs hands came up to your face, palms warm against your jaw, his thumb stroking the corner of your mouth. Your bare chest pressed to his shirt, burning him through the cotton. His breath stuttered in his throat.
âDonât cry, hunny,â he murmured, kissing the tip of your nose, nuzzling into your cheek, âdonât cry, daddy is here, daddy is gonna take care of you. I want you so bad, just wanna take it slow for ya, is all.â
You were gripping his arms, rocking your hips harder, chasing that friction in his lap. Joel forced himself to keep his eyes open on you, as much as they wanted to roll back into his head again. Everything just felt so damn good when it came to you. He clenched his jaw, his hands anchored on you, guiding you.Â
âI need more,â you whined, breath hot against his neck.Â
âOkay, okay, what about this?â he said, voice rough with restraint, though he was smiling a bit. He lowered his head to your chest, kissing your clavicle, licking a broad stripe between the valley of your breasts. So heavy and pretty, his for the taking. His mouth closed over one nipple, tongue flattening against it, and you gasped, arching into him like your body knew what to do before your mind caught up. Your fingers dove into his hair, tangling, tugging, your body trembling against his.
He sucked and pulled and bit on your pert nipple, inhaling your perfume, the smell of the hearth, the heat of your skin. Everything was a blur of a dream and reality, his memories of his fist around his cock just thinking of you like this mixing with the reality of it happening here and now.Â
He was going insane. That was the plain truth.
He kissed up your neck again, tongue flat against your skin as he licked and nibbled his way to your jaw. Your sweet little moans filled his lungs, breathless sighs spilling out against his cheek, feeding something wild in him. He wrapped his arms beneath you and lifted you with ease, and you giggled as your legs locked around his waist, clinging tight while he started toward the hallway.
âNo, no,â you whined, petulant, âwant to do it here, in front of the fire,âÂ
âSânot right, baby,â he muttered, the sound breaking as he groaned and held you aloft, looking up at you, âshould take you in the bed, where youâll be comfortable.â
But you shook your head, tugged his hair, eyes wide and pleading, still shining with that sex drunk look in them. âWant you here,â you said again. âItâs warm⊠and itâs nice in here.â
âAlright,â he breathed, giving in without a fight. You were kissing him before he even settled you back down, greedy wet mouth pressing up into his, your arms wrapping tight around his neck. He lowered you onto the couch, eased you onto your back, and your legs opened for him, letting him into the cradle of you. You moaned as he pressed down into you, grinding slow and teasing.
âSuch a pretty little thing,â he murmured, lips wandering lower again, down your throat, your collarbone. He kissed everywhere, licked and tasted, needing to map every inch of your skin. âGonna take these off now,â he said, gaze flicking up to meet yours as his fingers slipped under your waistband. âThat okay?â
You nodded, chest heaving, lips parted and kiss bitten.
âWords, baby, let me hear your pretty voice too.â
âYes, pleaseâplease,â
âAtta girl,â he praised, and it rumbled deep in his chest. He began pulling your layers off, slowly, gently. Socks went first, plucked only with his forefinger and thumb, and he kissed the insole of your foot, his hand covering your frozen toes to warm them. He pulled off the rest, unwrapping his gift. His jaw nearly unhinged at the sight of you laid bare in front of him. He dragged his palms along your thighs, taking in the sight before him. Glistening, puffy, nearly dripping onto his sofa in front of him. You pretty pussy just waiting for him to devour. He could feel his cock answer in earnest, twitching, pre cum dribbling down the inseam of his thigh.Â
âOh, hunny,â he sighed, leaning the side of his head on your propped up knee, bringing you closer, dragging you up before him so he could get a better look. It felt like he mightâve started drooling, completely entranced by the way your perfect pussy clenched on nothing, begging for something that wasnât there yet. Torture, thatâs what it was, to leave her untouched this entire night.
âAre you going toâŠto touch me?â he heard you ask, so fragile and yet so brave. He looked up at you then, and watched, enamored, at your sweet face, your nervous eyes that were heavy lidded.Â
âYou want me to?â
You nodded vigorously, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder, pulling him closer. Suddenly so confident in your want for him.Â
He took your leg, kissed the inside of your calf, then bit into the meat of it in a playful little warning. You yelped, giggled, and kicked him lightly in the chest. âBad,â he scolded, though there wasnât a trace of real reprimand in his voice.
âYouâre taking so lonngggg,â you whined, dramatic.
âLet me savor this,â he said playfully, kissing your skin again, warm mouth against warmer flesh, the heat of the two of you seeping into ever pore. He moved slowly, lips pressing, tongue tasting, his beard dragging in little teasing strokes along your thigh that made your skin pebble. He took his time climbing the soft inside of your legs, and he could feel you trembling, tightening in anticipation.
When he reached the apex of your thighs, he stopped to stare, because the firelight had turned you into something unreal. Glistening, soft, swollen with want. The smell rising from you was honey and sweat and something sweetly feral, and it pulled at him like gravity. He laid one hand gently over your pubic bone, the other hooking under your thigh to pull you closer, closer, until you couldnât move away even if you wanted. He leaned in and blew across your glistening folds.Â
You whined, hips jerking in his hold. âHurts, Joel,â you whimpered.
âWhat does, baby?â he asked softly, voice teasing at the edges. âThis?â He blew again, gentle and warm, and your puffy pussy twitched in response.
You shook your head, âWaitingâit hurts, she wants you. I want you.âÂ
She. As if his brain wasnât already scrambled enough, you were using pronouns for your sweet, velvet keep. He felt his pulse pounding in his fingertips. Humming in a sort of understanding, he lowered his head.Â
âMight feel a little weird, okay? You ever touch yourself before, hunny?â He asked.
You nodded, nibbling on the nails of your right hand. He kissed the top of your mound, eyes on your sweet face. âHave you ever had an orgasm before?â
âYes,â you sighed, eyes beginning to close as he kissed along your soft thatch of curls.Â
Joel let out a deep breath, reverent in his hunger, the sound shaking through his chest. He lowered his face until the bridge of his nose rested just above your entrance. He knew he was torturing you, stringing you along like this. But what if this was the only time he ever got to touch you like this? Every other woman had come to him once and left satisfied, done with him. If they returned, he always turned them away, told them he wasnât built for more than the favor he gave. But you⊠you were different. He wanted to keep this. To savor this.
He wanted to remember how you looked right now for the rest of his life.
âSâgonna feel a little different,â he promised, voice rough as gravel. âBut daddyâll make it feel good. I promise.â
âOkay,â you breathed, reaching down to pet your fingers through his hair. The moment your nails scraped lightly against his scalp, another sound rumbled out of him, low and almost pleased enough to be a purr.
He could no longer deny you. He could no longer deny her. If he held himself back another second, he didnât think heâd survive it. And heâd never be able to call himself a good man again if he dragged out this torture.
He started slow, a kiss to your little pearl, and it pulsed between his lips when he kissed again, suckling gently, your soft whines and breathy sighs rising above him like a symphony. He licked a fat stripe from your perineum, his tongue like a basin for catching your nectar, drinking you, inhaling you, eating you. He tried to be kind, gentle, but once heâd had a taste, he couldnât stop himself.Â
Joel was a menace. He knew it. Growling under his breath, his breathing heavy and ragged, the beast in him was closer to the surface than heâd let it get in years. Muzzle off but leash tight, he licked and drank and sounded like heâd never eat again. He moaned into you, harmonizing with your sweet, desperate sounds, both of you moving without thinking, your hips pushing into his mouth while he rocked up against the bottom of the couch, the precum from his cock already staining the fabric of his pants.
âOh,â you mewled, trembling, âoh, JoelâJoel, I think⊠oh godââ
The sound of his name like that on your lips, pleading and filled with want was a blow to his gut. He paused his grinding, knowing full well he could finish in his pants if he let himself go even one inch further.
He couldnât take his mouth away from you. He wanted to tell you everything, wanted to praise you, to worship you, to admit how beautiful you were, how unreal you tasted, sweet and warm and soft like velvet against his tongue. He was losing his mind, forcing his heavyâlidded eyes to stay open, to watch you fall apart for him.Â
The hand that was placed upon your mound had started thrumming at your little clit so he could fuck your keep with his tongue, pushing and drinking you in, forcing your back to arch, your lungs to heave, throat crying out. And thatâs when he felt the pulsing swell of your orgasm crest and rush through you, thighs shaking, heels pulling him in, digging into his shoulder blades as you brought him closer.
âYes,â he swore, âThatâs it, baby, fucking soak me, come all over my face, atta girl,â his voice was raw with desire, aching for it, and you let out one final scream of pleasure as he kept you there to ride it out, tongue pushing in, thumb circling your clit.
And as you settled, thighs trembling, he saw your throat bobbing, hoarse, eyes heavy and moist as you looked at him again, âHoly shit,â you whispered, giggling a bit.Â
Joel wasnât in the mood for playfulness anymore. Not with the way that feral, starving thing in him was thrashing now, begging, snapping at its leash. His cock strained violently through his sweatpants, painful and insistent, and he crawled over you like gravity had taken hold of him. His hands cupped the bowl of your skull, holding you steady as he kissed you, deep and claiming, pushing his tongue into your mouth.
âTaste yourself,â he commanded between breaths, âtaste how fuckinâ good you are,â
You moaned into his mouth, and he thought he might scare you with how badly he wanted you, it scared him a little too. But you could feel his cock, and you were grinding on the outline of it, creamy folds pulsing around the cotton covered mold of him. He was groaning and pushing into you, sawing his hips hard into your cradle.Â
âThat feels so good, Joel, oh god, please, I want it, Iâm ready, Iâm ready,â you babbled, mouth soft and open for him as he kissed down your chin, along your jaw, to the shell of your ear. He sat back on his haunches, fingers shaking as he tugged his waistband down. He didnât care to discard them fully, he was too lost in his need, his hunger. Monopolized by it, itâs all he could think of, giving you this. Giving you him.Â
But as he brought his cock to lay across your belly, too heavy to bob up against his own, your eyes widened, a prickle of fear through them as you looked up at him.Â
His hand slid to the crease of your hip and thigh, thumb settling right into that soft pocket of skin. He stroked you there, slow, reassuring. âSâalright, baby. You ever seen a cock before?â
You shook your head. âIn pictures,â you whispered. âBut not⊠notââ You lifted your hands to your face, peeking through your fingers like you were bracing for a jump scare. âItâs not gonna fit, Joel. Absolutely not.â
He chuckled before he could stop himself, but it wasnât soft. It sounded rough, a little feral, like something wrenched out of him without permission. "We'll make it fit, honey," he said with finality.
He tried to school that feral part of him back, but then your hand moved.
You were reaching down, touching, your finger tracing the ridge of the head, making him hiss. You jerked your hand away, startled, but he caught your wrist with surprising gentleness. âSâokay,â he breathed, eyes falling shut as he tried not to lose what little control he had left. âFeels good. Maybe too good.â He guided your hand back, lacing his fingers over yours, helping you cup the weight of him. He rocked into your hand, slow and tight.
âSo warm,â you whispered to yourself, âSoft, too, like velvet,âÂ
Joel hummed, lost to the way your delicate fingers felt around him as he rucked against you. The friction wasnât enough, and he brought your hand to his mouth, spit into it, your eyes wider, and brought your hand back down. His head thrown back and mouth open, he let you play, no longer guiding, letting you explore. Your wet fingers traced him, teased him, wrapped around him, and he felt his vision spark white at the edges. He wanted to watch so badly but couldnât, the feeling of your wet exploration, your learning of him, far too delicious to focus on anything but touch alone.Â
âI want to try,â you said at last, âmaybe justâŠjust be slow,âÂ
Joel looked back down at you, but you werenât looking at him, instead, you were staring at your own hand, enraptured by the way it moved over him, touching him like you were trying to memorize every vein and ridge. When you reached further, cupping his balls gently, he let out a groan that tore through him, a sound he couldnât have held back if he tried.Â
He gripped himself, shifting so he could slide through the slick honey you made for him, his cock jumping at the feeling of your warm keep.Â
You moaned at the contact, hands flying to his forearms, gripping as you whimpered at the notch of when he finally prodded the entrance.Â
âMânervous,â you whispered.Â
Joel leaned down immediately, cupping your cheeks in both hands again, kissing your mouth once, soft and grounding, trying to soothe the tremble running through your body. âI got you, baby. Daddyâs got you. Gonna take it slow, I promise. You ready?â
You nodded, arms slipping around his neck, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him close like you couldnât bear even an inch of distance.
Joelâs mouth fell open, jaw coming unhinged as he pushed, slowly, like molasses, through your walls. They clenched down, as nervous as you were to his intrusion. He kissed you again, distracting you with his tongue, coaxing you through it, letting you mewl sweetly into his mouth as your body adjusted around him.
âOh!â you squealed, âyouâreâyouâre in my belly,â you hissed as he pulled back a little, settling there.Â
He pushed your hair back, your forehead dappling in sweat, âItâs alright,â he murmured, over and over, his voice a low litany. âItâs alright. Gonna hurt for just a minute. Thatâs halfway, baby. Only halfway. Youâre doinâ so good. She feels like heaven.â
You were moaning, whether in pleasure or pain, Joel knew he needed to wait. He felt your walls pulling and pushing, constricting like a fist, all the blood in the thick vein that rushed along his shaft pulsing. He kissed your neck, your jaw, all to keep himself in line, to keep that shred of restraint, waiting.Â
âBeinâ so good for me, baby,â he whispered, âHow you feelinâ, hm? Talk to me.â
You drew in a deep breath. âFeels funny,â you admitted, âbut better.â
âYeah?â
You nodded, eyes fluttering. âKeep going. Please. I want to feel all of you.â
Joel looked into your eyes then, searching, both of you a mirror of desire, of nerves, of want, âOkay, okay,â he cooed, pushing in a few more inches. Your neck arched back, eyes squeezing shut, and he tapped his thumb against your jaw, âLook at me, honey, daddyâs got ya,â
Your eyes opened, and your breath came heavier, and soon your grimace was turning into an âoâ of pleasure as he seated himself fully, his balls pushing into the cheeks of your ass.Â
âOhhhâŠâ Joel groaned, âAinât that so good, sugar?âÂ
âFuck, fuck fuck fuck,â you were whispering.Â
Joel eased back just enough to look down between your bodies. You followed his gaze, chest heaving, watching with him as his cock slid out, slick with your release, veins streaked with white cream, the thick length glistening under the low light. His hair was damp, peppered with sweat and ecstasy.
âHoly fucking shit,â you breathed, eyes wide, watching him push back in, your neck arching with the stretch, head tipping helplessly into the pillows. âPlease, please donât stopâit feelsâoh my godâit feels so fucking goodââ
And finally, fucking finally, after what felt like ages of restraint, of being good, of holding himself and muzzling that mean dog in him, Joel let go of the leash.
He started fucking into you with full force, sawing deep, hard, relentless, watching the way his cock disappeared and reappeared inside you, dripping with slick. His jaw clenched, his body shuddering as he gave in to the hunger.
âYouâve got no fuckinâ clue,â he growled, âhow long Iâve wanted this.â His hands moved to grip your hips so hard his knuckles blanched. âHow long Iâve thought about you like this. Moaninâ my name with my cock deep in you.â
Your eyes were wide as you watched him, moaning his praises. Oh, god, oh god, tell me, daddy please tell meâ
He couldnât stop looking, watching himself move in and out of you like it was the only thing left in the world, and his mouth spilled every unclean thought he'd ever had. âYou got no idea, baby. Wanted to fuck your throat every time you gave me lip. Wanted to bend you over the cabin floor that time we got snowed in, make her cry for me. God, I wanted you so bad.â
Sweat was dripping from his forehead, falling onto your belly, hot against hot. The room blurred at the edges, fire and muscle and want, just you taking everything he gave.
âAinât my fault,â he murmured, a crooked little smile tugging at his mouth. âYouâre so fuckinâ perfect. This ass. That face. Youâre perfect, baby. All mine now. My perfect girl.â
âYes, Joel, Iâm yoursâI wanna beâitâs all Iâve everââ you were gasping, hiccuping on a moan, nails dragging down his arms. âPlease, come here, closerââ
He dropped over you again in an instant, kissing you hard, bellies sliding together, soaked in sweat, his rhythm never slowing. The couch rocked beneath you as he kept fucking into you, kissing you as if it might kill him if he stopped.
âIâm yours,â you whispered against his mouth, nails scraping into his scalp. âFuck me like Iâm yours, Joel.â
He bit into your neck, rough and deep, and you wailed, body tightening as he sawed into you. He forced himself to keep a steady rhythm, he would not ruin this by being an animal. He told himself heâd teach you one day how to take a good fucking, maybe bent over the armchair or over his kitchen counter, or maybe in the shower, but tonight he needed to still be gentle and good, keeping it steady for only you.Â
His thumb found your clit and you jolted like youâd been shocked.
âNânâno, too much,â you cried out, writhing, your hands pushing at him weakly.
âSay your word nâ Iâll stop, baby girl, come on, know youâre tough, know you can take it,â he growled, âwanna feel how fuckinâ tight sheâll get when she comes around me, come on now, be daddyâs girl and come for me.â
You were wailing, tears beading in your eyes, but you didnât say your word, you nodded, kissing him, salt and wet and delicious as your breath came shorter and shorter. And then you froze, legs widening until your thighs were planted on the bed, taking your orgasm, letting him fuck you through it, your velvet keep a vice around his cock, a fist, threatening to choke the life out of him as you came.Â
"I'm gonna come inside," he wanted, "I have to, I can'tâ"
"Yes, yes, yes," you whispered.
He was babbling praise in your ear as he held on through sheer force before his own body went taut and he was coming inside of you, unable to talk himself into pulling away. Thatâs a good girl, atta girl, what a sweet little thing takinâ daddyâs cock so good, thatâs it, thatâs it, yes.
And in the after, the two of you lay like that, bodies tangled and unwound, catching your breath while the sweat cooled and soaked into the old couch cushions beneath you. He kept his mouth on your shoulder, slow open kisses that tasted of salt and the faintest sweetness of your skin. Your fingers stroked gently at his hair, a soft and steady petting that calmed him. He felt the heavy rise and fall of your chest begin to ease, your heartbeat settling back into its natural rhythm, the thrum of it against his sternum.
âThank you,â you whispered, the words faint and almost shy.
Joel hummed against your skin, his lips still wandering, kissing whatever they could reach. He did not know how to answer you without saying too much.
âWhat happens now?â you asked even quieter.Â
He lifted his head, brushing a kiss to your chin, then the swell of your bottom lip, then the tip of your nose, giving himself time to think. âWeâll get you cleaned up, and you can...â He paused when he saw your brow crease, the worry clouding the softness that had been there a moment ago. âWhat is it?â
âI donât wanna go home,â you whispered. âI donât want this to be the last time. I wantâŠI meant what I said, Joel. Iâm yours, if youâd have me.â
He went still, just for a moment, watching the worry flicker behind your eyes. He hated that worry. Hated that he might be the cause of it. You were brave enough to say it, and he knew what that cost.
Heâd lived a long time doing favors for folks, keeping to himself, giving women what they asked for without stepping past the boundaries they laid down. Jacksonâs Cherry Picker. That stupid little nickname had stuck, and maybe heâd earned it. But he never took what wasnât offered, they never stayed long after, and he never asked for more. They came to him wanting a lesson, a night, a rite of passage, and heâd give them exactly that. No promises. No expectations.Â
And most days he convinced himself he liked it that way. It kept him unbound, kept things simple. And it kept him from wanting what heâd already lost too many times.
But simple had turned into lonely long before tonight, and he hadnât even noticed until now, with you in his arms. You had been the exception from the beginning. But nowâŠnowâŠ
He lifted his hand to your cheek, thumb brushing the heat there, and saw how much you meant every word youâd said. It would be the easiest thing in the world to tell you to go, to stick to the script he always used, to keep his life small and untouched.
But he couldnât picture you leaving. Not after this. This was mind altering, a seismic change, like fault lines rearranged in his heart for you. A spell cast between you, irreversible and unseen. Whatever line youâd crossed together, it wouldnât be uncrossed. And thatâs what he wanted. He wanted to keep giving, to let himself soften and offer and pour whatever he had into your hands, if you chose that path with him.
âStay here,â he said, more certain than he had felt in years, âStay with me.â
The thing about The Pitt is⊠do I want this show to continue focusing on how these characters interact with patients as well as the world around them instead of falling into a bunch of messy love triangles. YES. Do I also want to see that old man fuck nasty style ABSOLUTELY!!
Summary: You accidentally moan Robbys name in bed. It reveals that your boyfriends feelings for his best friend are far from platonic.
Warnings: female reader, no use of y/n, nicknames (bunny, baby...), smut, unprotected sex, creampie, mating press, breeding kink, Jack is a freak, reader is a freak, the author is a freak, Jack has a filthy mouth, reader and Jack are so very into each other and so very into Robby
Word count: 3.4k
A/n: This might be the best (filthiest) smut I've ever written. I regret NOTHING
MDNI !!!
Two weeks. Two entire fucking weeks.
Thatâs how long you and Jack had been on opposite shifts. Heâd been running the night shift as per usual, but due to a day-shift staffing shortage, your regularly scheduled day shifts had been bumped up from a five-day streak to a two-week one.
For fourteen awful days, the only time youâd seen your boyfriend was during shift exchange.
And despite Jack usually coming in an entire hour early most days - even though you told him not to - just so you could get a bit of time together every day, the last two weeks had felt like torture.
Even though you loved working with the day-shift staff, especially Robby, you noticed a change in your demeanor - beyond being mopey. Your patience was running thin; you snapped back easier; patients got on your nerves far more frequently...
On day ten, after you complained about something silly, Samira made an offhand comment about you being âseriously underfucked,â which caused you to do a spit take with your coffee, leaving her to pat your back for a solid four minutes while you recovered.
Besides being mortified that your bad attitude was apparently so extremely noticeable - and that your colleague had publicly commented on your sex life with her superior - your cheeks flamed for an entirely different reason: she was right.
This was the longest you and Jack had ever gone without sex since you first got together. And it was getting to you.
As if the situation couldnât get worse, Shen decided to chime in as well. âOh, thatâs whatâs going on. Was wondering why Abbottâs been in such a shitty mood. Swear he almost ripped a paramedicâs head off three days ago when he-â
He mercifully cut himself off when he noticed your flaming face.
Luckily, even though it felt like forever, the two weeks have passed, and you couldnât be happier. Both you and Jack are scheduled to have the next two days off, and you donât plan to let Jack leave the bed - the Pitt could go up in flames for all you care.
When you kiss Jack goodnight by the locker rooms as he comes in for his shift, you can tell from the dark look in his eyes that he shares your sentiment.
Once you get to your shared apartment, the only thing you do is make and eat some dinner before putting on one of Jackâs shirts as pajamas and crashing in your bed.
Apparently, youâre more exhausted than you thought, because instead of waking up after about eight hours so you can make breakfast before Jack gets home, youâre awoken by open-mouthed kisses on your neck and calloused fingers circling your clit.
The moan that leaves you feels like it's punched out of you and Jack groans in response, abandoning your neck in favor of looking into your hazy eyes that slowly focus on his face.
"M'sorry bunny", he mumbles, "you just looked so fucking good in my shirt."
His fingers moving over your cunt create audibly slick sounds, and Jack groans again, his voice more wrecked than it should be as he speaks, âSo wet already. God, I fucking missed you, baby.â
Before you can tell him you missed him as well, heâs pulling you into a kiss thatâs all tongue and teeth.
You respond all too eagerly, twisting one hand in Jacks hair to deepen the kiss further and snaking the other down in between your bodies - oh he's taken his shirt and pants off already- to stroke him through his boxers.
Now it's your turn to moan at how turned on your partner is.
Jacks cock strains in his boxers and when you move your hand inside to stroke over the head you can feel he's fucking leaking.
Jack breaks the kiss in response, and his fingers stop teasing your clit as he throws his head back with a throaty moan and thrusts into your hand involuntarily. When his eyes return to yours, theyâre darker than youâve ever seen them.
He snatches both your hands away from his body and pins them to the pillow, intertwining your fingers.
âI need you so bad,â Jack whispers, barely a breath of space between your mouths. âTell me you need me too. Please, baby. Need to hear it. Let me have you.â
âYes.â Youâre nodding so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. âGod, yes, Jack, please. Need you. Missed you so bad. So fucking bad.â
When Jack lets go of your hands to shuffle down your body, you shake your head and grab onto him to pull him back up.
âNo, please, Jack, need you now. âM ready, I swear.â
Your begging almost gets Jack to give in, but he shakes his head softly. âGotta prep you first, bunny,â he reminds you. âDonât want to hurt you.â
âWant it to hurt.â His face grows dark at your reply. âPlease, Jack, Iâve been so fucking empty. I need to feel you. Baby, please.â
Your world suddenly spins as youâre flipped over, strong hands pulling your hips up until youâre face-down, ass-up on the bed.
âYeah?â Jack growls out behind you. âMy little girl wants to feel me? Wants it to hurt? Fine.â
You barely have time to register how Jack grabs his cock, lining himself up with your dripping hole before he thrusts in one swift stroke.
The sudden stretch burns so bad that you instinctually move forward to crawl away, but Jack uses both hands to grab your hips and leans over you to pin you down, which shoves his cock even deeper inside you- You keen.
âUh-uh,â he tuts. âDonât you run from me. Ah, fuck, bunny, you wanted this - begged for it. Now be good and fucking take it.â
He accentuates his words with a sharp thrust and you moan, "Oh, fuck, Robby-"
You feel like your blood has turned to ice in your veins.
Turning your head to look over your shoulder, you immediately open your mouth to apologize-
And are faced with the image of Jack throwing his head back, releasing a guttural moan that sounds like itâs being ripped from deep within his chest.
When he looks at you again, his grin is fucking wicked. âRobby, huh?â
Before you can protest, Jack leans back down over you and shoves two thick fingers in your mouth. He starts thrusting, deep strokes that leave the tip of his cock bumping your cervix with every thrust.
âSo thatâs how it is, huh? You work with my best friend for two weeks, and now youâre thinking about him when Iâve got my cock inside you? âM I not enough for you? Greedy fucking girl.â
You try to speak around his fingers, but the words come out muffled. âSâ not true,â you manage, causing Jack to remove his hand and ask, âWhat was that, sweetheart?â
Taking a deep breath, you try again. âThatâs not true. Want you. Only want you. Iâm sorry, I donât know whyââ
A slap lands across your ass and you whine, your face burying into the pillows, as Jack picks up his pace even further.
"Don't play dumb with me bunny," he warns.
"I see the way you watch him. The way you look to Robby for approval all the time, the fuck - the way your gaze drifts to him when reprimands someone, eyes all hazy."
You want to protest, but your body responds for you, your pussy clenching tightly around Jack's cock, as you feel your high quickly approaching.
"Oh, just like that, yes. I- fuck, I can see your fucking doe eyes staring at his hands during procedures, probably wishing they were wrapped around your throat instead, huh?"
"Don't worry bunny", Jack leans down and you feel his breath hot against your ear, "I look at him too."
Your orgasm rips through you, body shaking as Jack groans, "Thaaaaat's it, good girl - fuck baby."
You've barely come down from your high, when Jack removes his cock from you cunt, making you whine.
You don't feel empty for long though. Jack flips you on your back and pushes you into a mating press, before he enters you again.
Both of you moan at the new angle. You've never felt so full before.
âJack, baby,â you whine, using your hands around his neck to pull him closer. He pins them to the bed again and once more intertwines your fingers.
âI know, bunny, I know. So good for me,â he mumbles into the tiny space between you, mouths barely touching - sharing the same air.
His hips move in lazy, deep strokes - more so grinding than thrusting, massaging your G-spot with every thrust. The hair at his pubic bone scratches over your clit sending sparks up your spine.
"Been looking at him for a long time", Jack admits, voice low. "Just know he'd be so good to you - to us, hm? Fuck, you'd be so pretty together."
You can feel another orgasm building inside you, both from the way Jack is fucking you and the images his words are conjuring up.
âWeâd be good to him too, right?â Jack asks, and you nod, moaning a breathy âYesâ - fully submitting yourself to the fantasy.
Jack moans at your tiny acknowledgment of your shared desire.
âYeah, we would,â he whispers, moving his head down to trail slow, sloppy kisses over your neck and collarbones.
It seems like he can't stop talking, mumbling into your skin as his pace picks up, his own orgasm approaching.
"He'd be so gentle with you. Jus' know it. He's so soft on you. Always told me how good you were during your shift. Every fucking day, bunny."
Your legs are nearly shaking from how close you are. Jack's kisses move up your neck, now mouthing lazily at your jaw.
"Can tell you're close, you're doing so good. I'm so close too, fuck..."
"You're perfect bunny. Feel like fucking velvet, gripping me so tight."
"You'd take Robby like this too, huh? So deep, nudging at your fucking cervix?"
"Poor guy wants to be a dad so bad, but thinks he's too old for that now... You'd be good and make him one though, right? Let him knock you up - make him a daddy?"
You don't hear anything else Jack says, your ears ringing from the orgasm that burns through your body like wildfire, only distantly aware of the way Jack groans and floods your pussy with his cum.
summary: When you come to Jackson after a painful breakup, you expect quiet â time to heal, to reconnect with your father Marco and to start over. What you donât expect is Joel Miller. Your fatherâs closest friend. Steady, rugged, older. The man who shows up at every cookout, fixes everything thatâs broken, and looks at you like heâs trying not to.
age gap (reader is in her mid 20s, Joel is in his mid 40s), mutual pining, dad's best friend, sneaking around, lying, secret relationship, misunderstandings(?), jealousy, comfort, quiet domesticity, tension, "we shouldn't be doing this", flirty banter, quiet longing, forbidden romance
wc:1.7k
Over the next few weeks, nothing happened.
Or well. Nothing anyone else could point at. No slammed doors, no sharp words tossed like knives across a table. Not even one of those sideways glances that always give people away. The surface stayed calm.
But underneath? Everything shifted.
It lived in the gaps.
The half sentences.
The quick, shallow breaths you took when boots scuffed somewhere outside.
The stiff way Joel stepped into a room, like he was bracing for a punch he couldnât quite see coming.
It started in pinpricks tiny, almost polite disturbances you couldâve ignored if youâd wanted to. But you didnât. Or couldnât. Every small change tugged at something inside you, a thread youâd pretended for far too long wasnât attached to anything real.
Joel came by less.
You tried to make excuses that sounded practical, reasonable â patrol schedules, inventory checks, all the mundane responsibilities that ruled life here. You told yourself your porch wasnât the center of the universe, even though for one ridiculous moment it had felt like the two of you had rearranged its orbit. None of the lies stuck. You felt the difference. Felt his absence settle in your bones like a cold front.
Some evenings youâd catch his voice drifting down the road, low, steady, familiar and your whole body would go still before your brain even registered it. Other times you thought you heard his knock and hurried to the door, heart thudding, only to open it to nothing but wind skimming over the boards.
And when he did show up, he avoided your eyes.
Not at first.
Not for long.
Not unless something in him tightened âjaw, shoulders, breath like meeting your gaze cost him more than he was willing to spend.
Still, every now and then, heâd look at you. Really look. And in that tiny beat of time, the whole world froze. Something passed between you, sharp as a spark, a memory you both carried like a burn.
The storm.
The almost kiss.
The way the air around you had hummed with something far more reckless than thunder.
The two of you, each on your own cliff edge, leaning just close enough to fall if you werenât careful.
Your father never noticed.
Of course he didnât.
He trusted Joel, depended on him, even. Theyâd built their own rhythm over the years: fence repairs done shoulder to shoulder, muttering about rust or the damn raccoons that kept raiding the shed, back and forth bickering about old music from before everything fell apart, tossing band names like they were sparring.
Sometimes your dad would elbow you and say, âYou oughta let Joel show you how to mend a fence right.â
Or, âGet Joel to check that generator â knows wiring better than God, that one.â
Youâd smile, laugh, pretend your chest didnât clench each time your father spoke Joelâs name too casually.
Because he didnât know what lived in the quiet between you and Joel. (Okay, maybe that was a bit over dramatic)
Didnât know what almost happened.
Didnât know that one unlucky moment at the workshop could show him something heâd never come back from.
And the tension, it didnât fade the way ignored things are supposed to. It sharpened. Thickened. Drew tighter each day until just standing still felt like leaning your weight against a rope pulled from both ends.
And weeks passed like thatâ fast, slow, unbearable. Weeks that stretched and snapped at you in the same breath.
Then, one night, you found Joel.
You hadnât meant to. Truly. You were just walking past the stables, mind somewhere else entirely, when you noticed that thin slip of lantern light leaking through the crooked boards of the workshop. Your feet moved before you made a decision, like your body already knew where you were heading and why.
The workshop smelled exactly like oil, sun warmed wood, sawdust. Tools lay scattered across the bench, chaos that Joel somehow navigated by instinct alone. The lantern hung low, its glow soft and amber, throwing shadows that swayed as if the room itself were breathing.
And there he was.
Sleeves pushed past his elbows, forearms carved with work and sun. Sweat shimmered at his hairline, catching the light every time he leaned in. He was bent over a rifle, hands steady, movements patient in a way that made your chest tighten. He looked tired in the shoulders, but his focus never wavered.
You stayed in the doorway for a moment. Watching.
Watching too long.
The quiet strength in his stance.
The worn determination.
The way his fingers, those broad, scarred hands, moved with a gentleness that didnât belong to the life heâd had to live.
Finally, you found your voice, though it didnât sound like you expected.
âYou avoiding me?â
He didnât lift his eyes. Just gave a clipped, almost automatic, âNo.â
But the word⊠it wasnât right. It held something behind it. Something bent.
âYou sure?â you asked, stepping inside, letting the door thump shut behind you. âBecause it feels like it.â
Joel set the wrench down with a slowness that felt deliberate, almost heavy. He let out a long, rough breath that seemed to drag half the room with it. When he turned to you, that look hit you again â sharp, conflicted, like he was losing a fight he never wanted to name aloud.
âIâm tryinâ to do the right thing,â he murmured.
âAnd what if I donât want you to?â
The words slipped out and once they did, there was no getting them back. They landed between you with the weight of something far too real to pretend away.
He moved toward you, slow, steady, measured. Not hesitant. Controlled. Like every inch he closed was something he had to grip with both hands to keep from rushing. He stopped close enough that you could feel his heat in the air.
âYou think this is easy for me?â he asked, voice gone rougher. âYou walk into town lookinâ like that, soundinâ like thatâ storminâ in all kind and angry and hurtâand Iâm supposed to ignore it?â
Your breath caught.
âThen donât.â
A tiny flicker movement at his side betrayed him, his hand twitching, wanting without permission.
âIâm not a good man,â he said, voice low and frayed at the edges. âYou think you want me, but youâre still hurtinâ. That boy⊠that one who messed you up? Youâre still carryinâ that around. And Iâm not the cure for any of it.â
You stepped closer, slow enough that he couldâve stepped back. He didnât.
âI didnât come here to get fixed,â you whispered. âI came here to breathe.â
Joel swallowed, jaw shifting. His eyes searched yours like he was afraid of what heâd see, but unable to look away.
âAnd what am I?â he asked.
You didnât blink. âThe first person whoâs made me feel like I can want something again.â
The words struck him hard. You saw itâfelt it. His expression twisted in that quiet, pained way of his, part softening, part breaking. Slowly, as if fighting his own hand, he lifted it and brushed his fingers along your cheek. Then he cupped your faceâ careful, painfully gentle.
His thumb traced under your eye. A trembling line of warmth.
âYou donât know what youâre doinâ to me,â he whispered.
âThen show me.â
He leaned in.
Barely.
Your foreheads touched, a delicate press like the first breath shared between two people whoâve been circling each other for far too long. His eyes fluttered shut. His breath hitched. You felt the war inside himâ the wanting, the restraint, the fear, the hope â all knotted up in the tiny space between your mouths.
âI could lose your father over this,â he breathed, voice shaking.
You closed your eyes. âSo could I.â
The truth hung between you âthick, combustibleâ as dangerous as the gleam of metal on the bench beside him.
He didnât kiss you.
Not that night.
He stayed there, breathing you in, letting his thumb drift one last time across your cheek before he let you go. His hand fell away with unbearable slowness, like he resented the distance he was creating. When he finally stepped back, the absence thudded louder than any touch had.
And somehow, the restraint meant more than any kiss wouldâve dared to.
By morning, the world pretended to be normal again.
Your father tugged on his boots, muttering under his breath as he yanked the laces tight. Sunlight spilled through the window in pale stripes, brushing your bare feet, warming nothing inside you. You couldnât stop seeing Joel in every quiet corner of your mind.
âYou mind staying here?â your dad asked. âJoel and I are checking the northern fence. Wonât be long.â
Your heart tripped.
âBe careful,â you said, hoping your voice didnât betray you.
He laughedâ a rough, easy sound. âItâs Joel. Heâs the cautious one. Iâm just the dumbass who slows him down.â
You forced a laugh back, but something cracked inside you, sharp and small. You turned away before he noticed.
When they left, silence draped itself over the house. Not peaceful. Not gentle. A restless kind of quietâ heavy, too aware of your heartbeat thumping against your ribs.
You tried cleaning. Cooking. Sitting still. Everything slid off you like water off wax paper.
Every thought circled back to Joel.
His hand on your cheek.
His breath on yours.
The way he didnât kiss youâ didnât allow himself to.
Then your phone buzzed.
You froze. Stared.
Joel:
You okay?
Your pulse kicked hard.
You typed before you could think:
You:
Not really. Are you?
Minutes dragged. Ones that felt like hours.
Then:
Joel:
No.
Your knees nearly buckled. You didnât know if you wanted to grin or cry or crawl under a blanket and not come out.
A second message came quicker:
Joel:
Come by after dark. Iâll leave the back light on.
Everything inside you tilted.
Your breath.
Your hands.
Your whole damn world.
It wasnât a promise.
It wasnât a guarantee.
It wasnât even a plan.
Just a door.
Left open.
And you didnât know what choice youâd make. Didnât know if stepping through would break something you could never fix. Didnât know if you were brave enough âor foolish enough.
But you knew one truth, so sharp it almost hurt:
You wanted to.
More than you should.
More than was sensible.
More than youâd ever admit to anyone who wasnât him.
And wantingâ after everything youâd clawed your way out ofâ felt like holding something dangerous, something lit, right in your hands.
Tag list: @kakiki3
A/N: just to be clear: right now itâs only attraction, love still has to develop
Chapter summary: despite his attempts to keep away from you, Joel comes to your house to help you with your boiler issue.
Chapter tw: 18+ mdni | smut | angst | hurt/comfort/hurt | Joel's pov | age gap (Joel's in his late 40s, reader is in her early 20s) | longing | lots of dirty thoughts | mention of m!masturbation | protective Joel | swearing | parental abuse | slight violence towards reader (not from Joel) | smutty slow burn
Word count: 4,2k
A/n: thank you to everyone whoâs reading the series, Iâm very grateful for every comment and reblogđ„č I hope youâll like this chapter! Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ingđ Dividers by @/saradika-graphics <3
Series Masterlist | MASTERLIST
Joel calls you the next morning to discuss when he can drop by to check out your boiler. When he hears your sleepy voice, warmth spreads all over his body. He wonders if youâre feeling it, too â the pull, the connection between them that was so strong the night before. But you wipe off a smile off his face when you scold him for waking you up.
âCouldâve just texted me, Joel. Who even calls these days?â you grumble, huffing and puffing like a cute hedgehog in his ear.
After a curt apology Joel tells you when heâs free and you hum, probably trying to gather your thoughts. Half awake you start rambling on about the best day and time for his visit, your week busy with work and classes, not aware of Joel sitting in his office with a dreamy expression on his face, lost in your voice, imagining you lying in bed, warm and sleepy, barely clothedâŠ.
âJoel? Are you there?â
Your frustrated voice shakes him and he fidgets in his rolling chair, adjusting his growing bulge.
âYeah, yeah, the connectionâs bad. Can you say that again?â
âUghh⊠How about Thursday? At 4?â
âGood for me. Iâll be there.â
You cheer, making Joel chuckle.
âThank you for agreeing to help, Joel,â you purr, seeming much warmer than at the beginning of the call.
âNo problem, sweetheart.â
Joel hears a half sigh-half moan at your end and his imagination draws you whimpering in your bed, your hand moving rhythmically under the sheets as youâre pleasuring yourself, listening to his voice. Shattering the hot image into pieces, you parody his âsweetheartâ in a mockingly deep voice and hang up after saying through giggles, âSee you, playboy.â
Joel rolls his eyes but after talking to you it's hard to shake off the spell, so he just sits at his desk, staring at your name on the cracked screen of his phone. You teased him about it yesterday. Joelâs always been a practical guy, if it still rings and sends texts itâs good enough, but maybe after getting a new one he could ask you to help him with those new features he knows nothing about.
He imagines you sitting close to him, your shoulders touching, explaining how the damn thing works, in that sexy breathy voice of yours that makes his cock fill up. You pout your pretty lips or roll your eyes every time Joel asks you to explain again and itâll surely take ages so youâll end up on his lap - âsâmore comfortable like this, baby.â In no time youâll be sitting on his cock, your back to his chest, his new phone forgotten, dancing on his huge dick. Or even better!
Heâll put all those fancy cameras to good use and make a video of your stuffed pussy, swallowing his shaft again and again, his balls glistening with your juices.
âFuckinâ hell!â Joel growls in the quiet of his office and starts hastily unbuckling his belt. Heâs daydreamed himself into a huge boner thatâs now tenting his jeans half an hour before a meeting with a potential client.
Wrapping his hand around the leaking cock, Joel curses, hoping no one will come into his office. The lust for you hasnât given him time to lock the door.
After that morning Joel doesnât contact you for three days and you donât text him either, but his thoughts return to you again and again. What are you up to? Whatâs on your mind? Is he?
When Joelâs in his kitchen, his imagination immediately draws you there, like the night you visited him, but now youâre bent over the dining table and heâs fucking you deep and slow.
Joelâs surprised his cock hasnât fallen off yet- it seems to be always hard, so he jerks off several times a day just to function as a member of society. It hasnât been this bad since ⊠forever. Maybe since he was a teen.
You got your tiny claws deep into his soul and body, so Joel contemplates driving to Paradise to find a cure but for some weird reason it feels like cheating. Joel reminds himself that you are not his, he owes you nothing as well as you owe nothing to him. Youâre not his! Not! His!
On Thursday at 3:50 pm Joel parks his truck in your driveway, gets out and takes a toolbox and a toolbelt out of the back.
One thing he knows for sure - women love a man wearing a toolbelt. As soon as he puts this thing on, he turns completely irresistible to them.
He might have even used this effect to bed a few chicks. Not that he plans to bed you, but it'd be nice to impress you, see lust in your beautiful eyes, feel that you want him. He secretly hopes that the sight of him will make you all wet and needy...
Ugh! He's been at your house for a minute and his cock's already twitching like crazy.
Joel adjusts himself, puts the toolbelt on and clangs, striding to your door.
When you open it, he smiles with triumph - your eyes immediately dart to his hips decorated by the leather accessory.
"Howdy," Joel greets you and pops his knee out, subconsciously posing to increase the effect. You're ogling him shamelessly, seemingly speechless, but as soon as your thirsty gaze lands on Joel's smug face, you narrow your eyes and smirk,
"Wow, Joel. I asked you to check the boiler. Not to build me a house."
Joel doesn't mind your remark. You've collected yourself fast enough, but he hasn't missed the way you bit your lip, staring at his long heavy tools.
"I like bein' prepared for anythinâ, sweetheart."
Joel shrugs your comment off and steps inside the house.
In the hall he puts the tool box on the floor and covertly checks you out - youâre wearing shorts and an oversized shirt and Jesus all mighty!! his heart rate skyrockets when he notices your hardened nipples under the soft material. He uses all his will power not to stare at your tits, but theyâre calling for him.
âNice to meet you, girls,â Joel smirks, excited that youâre not wearing a bra.
Obviously you need some time to take him in as well â your gaze is sliding over his black t-shirt, worn specifically to show off his muscular arms and chest. His impressive bulge framed with the belt is a sight to see, so Joel lets your eyes wander while heâs taking a fast look around.
From what he can see, your house is modest but tidy, the furnitureâs old fashioned and with his contractorâs eye Joel notices a few things which need fixing, but he doesnât say anything out of tact. You shift on your feet and when he turns to you, he finds you fumbling with your fingers and chewing on your lip.
âDadâs at work,â you say, your voice quiet and unusually insecure. âWant a tour?â
Feeling that youâd prefer him to refuse, Joel shakes his head.
âNo, sâok, sweetheart. Iâm seeinâ my brotherâs after this. Wanna start right away.â
âOf course,â you give him a relieved smile and motion with your hand to follow you.
Walking through the hall Joel notices a photo hanging on the wall and pauses in front of it. A man and a woman with a little girl at the zoo gates. He immediately recognizes you by your eyes - theyâre full of mischief and he smiles at the thought that you still have this fiery glimmer in them. The family is grinning in the picture and Joelâs heart fills with warmth.
âWe used to be happy.â Your tone is cold, when you softly speak standing a couple of steps away from Joel, not looking at the picture, your gaze downcast.
Suddenly Joel feels bad for stopping at the photo. As if he hurt you on purpose. Of course itâs not the case but he shouldâve known. You told him about your loss, about your rocky relationship with your dad, so why couldnât he just walk past it? He wanted to look at you being happy.
You turn around and keep walking. Joel follows, silently.
âBoiler â Joel, Joel â boiler,â you introduce him to the heater with a smile, as you two step into the bathroom and Joel chuckles putting the toolbox on the floor.
âNo need for the introduction. We used to have this model before our current one,â he says, placing his hands on his belted hips.
You hum, your worried eyes fixed on the heater as if itâs gonna jump and bite you.
âItâs quite old. You think we'll have to replace it?â
He hears a trace of panic in your voice and rushes to reassure you.
âNo, not necessarily. Sâa reliable model. Iâm gonna take a look and tell ya.â
âOk. Thank you again, Joel.â You give him a warm smile, making his heart skip a beat and his cock jump in his jeans.
He gets to work immediately â removes the cover to look inside and you gasp,
âWoah, looks complicated.â
Youâre staring at it with your eyes slightly widened and Joel chuckles.
âAinât that complicated. I can teach you a thing or two.â
âNooo, Iâll leave it to the professional.â
You giggle, shaking your head, and Joel's chest expands when you call him that. He relishes the respect you finally give him. Itâs a nice respite from all the teasing youâve been doing.
âCan you turn the water on for me?â He asks, looking back at you. You nod and go to the sink to do what Joel has asked.
âGood girl,â thatâs what he wants to say but shuts his mouth just in time.
You come up to Joel and ask, lowering your voice to a whisper,
âDâyou hear it?â
You tilt your head to the side, raising your ear up like a cute dog listening to the sound, as Joelâs staring at you.
Heâs not listening to shit right now. Your body inches from his makes him forget what the hell heâs doing here. You smell like flowers and sin and he takes a deep breath, already drunk on it. His gaze travels from your beautiful eyes to your glittery lips.
What if he took your face in his hands and leaned down to kiss you? Would you pull away or kiss him back? Would you let him take this shirt and shorts off you? Oh, to have you naked right now⊠Heâd do anything to make you moan for him.
âJoel?â Your voice grabs his attention and he blinks rapidly, looking away from you. âI said âdo you hear it?ââ
Your cheeky smile tells him that youâve caught him drooling over you. Joel furrows his brows, takes a step away from you and clears his throat.
âYeah, I hear it. Let me checkâŠâ
âUh-huh,â you smirk.
Feeling his cheeks burn under your scrutinizing gaze, Joel hastily turns away and stares at the boiler. He tries to gather his thoughts for a few seconds but itâs hard when he feels your piercing eyes on his back.
A few seconds later, you mumble âFuck!â but when he turns around youâre already gone.
Joel furrows his brows at your sudden disappearance but gets to work, thinking that maybe you forgot about something cooking in the kitchen.
It takes him just a few minutes to identify the problem â a loose bracket thatâs vibrating every time the boiler works. He tightens the screws and the noise disappears. Happy that heâs helped you and excited to let you know that thereâs no need to replace the boiler, he gets his things and rushes to find you.
When Joel steps back into the hall he hears two voices - yours and a male one. Itâs probably your father, Joel thinks, walking through the hall but stops in his tracks when he hears shouting.
âI asked him to help with the boiler, thatâs all! We canât afford calling a guy, you know it!â
Joel hates to eavesdrop but hearing his name draws his curiosity.
âYeah? And the fucker agreed to help you simply out of kindness, huh? Or did you promise him something else as a payment, you slut?!â
Joel grits his teeth, his grip tightens around the handle of his tool box, before he drops it to the floor and strides through the hall on his way to the kitchen. The asshole needs to be taught some manners!
âFuck you!â Joel hears you spit back.
âWhat dâyou say?â
Joelâs too late. A slap rings loudly in the quiet house and when Joel storms into the kitchen he finds you standing at the counter with fire burning in your eyes, your hand pressed to your cheek, the asshole towering over you.
The manâs head darts to Joel but he has no time to react before Joel grabs him by the collar and throws him away from you.
You gasp when your father hits the table behind him and almost falls over but stays on his feet. Joel steps up to the man and growls.
âThe fuck is wrong with ya?!â
Your father looks shaken but doesnât back off, their heated faces inches apart. Glaring at Joel he hisses through his teeth,
âGet the hell out of my house.â
Joel pokes his chest with his index finger, his nostrils flaring, his voice full of ire.
âIf you lay your finger on her ever again, Iâll break both of your legs, you son of a bitch.â
Every word Joel throws at the man is filled with rage, his expression threatening, and probably sensing that Joelâs one step away from making good on his threat, your dadâs defiance crumbles.
âFine, then Iâll leave.â
He gets out of Joelâs face, and after throwing a glare your way, stomps out of the room.
âThe fuckâs wrong with him?â Joel turns around, his hands balling into fists. Heâs breathing heavily, infuriated with your fatherâs horrible actions. He hears a car drive off outside and asks you, his voice still gruff,
âYou ok?â
His eyes are darting over your body and face, a fear that the bustard has hurt you grips Joelâs heart, but youâre avoiding his eyes, still pressing your palm to the slapped cheek.
âIâm fine. Sâall my fault,â you mumble and Joel takes a step toward you, brows furrowed.
âWhat are you sayinâ? How is it your fault? Sweetheart, I had no idea⊠how can heâŠ?â
Joel canât even articulate how much he hates what heâs just witnessed, but you shrug his concern off.
âI knew he wouldnât wanna see you in our house. And he shouldnât have, but he left work early and⊠ughh,â you growl, your shoulders slumped.
âWhy wouldnât he wanna see me? I donât even know him.â
You sigh and finally look up at Joel. The light in your eyes, the one that burns bright whenever Joel sees you, seems dimmer now, not as bright as stars but as their mere reflection in muddy water.
âYeah, you donât know each other, but heâs heard a lot about you. Youâre both single fathers, so people used to compare him to you. âJoel has his shit together and youâŠâ,â you sigh with your whole body and add quietly. âI guess he tried at one point but âŠâ Then you drop your head and pause, looking miserable.
Itâs the first time Joel sees you like this, lost and hurt, angry and tired.
Wishing to comfort you more than anything right now, Joel comes up to you, so close your feet touch, and gently takes your chin between his thumb and an index finger. You softly mewl when he pulls your hand off your face and sees your swollen cheek.
âFuckinâ jerk,â Joel mumbles and fire burns his stomach, his jaw clenches. He wants to find the fucker and beat the shit out of him. For calling you a slut, for hitting you, for being a shit dad to such a wonderful, funny, sweet, beautifulâŠyou.
Joel closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath, calming down. You need someone by your side right now. You need him.
âDâyou have frozen peas or somethinâ? To stop the swellinâ?â he asks, gliding his calloused thumb over your chin.
You donât reply, instead you flutter your eyelashes, staring at Joel, letting him get lost in your beautiful eyes. Your gaze is soft and a little timid at first, but soon your pupils dilate and Joel witnesses fire lighting up in the depth of your soul.
Your lips twitch and Joel hopes to see your smile, cocky and challenging as always, but you donât give him that. Instead your gaze slides to his lips, his chest, until youâre looking down. Joel follows your line of vision and sees you eyeing his crotch.
His chest rumbles with a low growl as you slowly bring your hand to his belt.
âSweetheartâŠ,â he has time to whisper before you pull his hammer out of the tool belt and lift it to your face. You press the cold head to your heated cheek and air leaves Joelâs lungs. He didnât even notice he was holding his breath.
âJesus, darlinâ,â Joel mumbles, his cheeks and neck on fire. âBetter?â
âSo much,â you reply, holding the hammer close to your face with a mischievous smile dancing on your pretty lips.
âLittle minxâs back to playinâ with him. Itâs a good sign.â
Joel chuckles and puts his hands on his hips. Heâs watching you for a few seconds, and then asks, concern loud in his voice,
âWhatâs gonna happen when he comes back? Wanna stay at my place for a few days?â
You raise your brows and Joel quickly explains, raising his hands up, palms to you,
âNo, not like that. No funny business. Iâm jusâ worried about leavinâ you here⊠with him.â
You bite your lower lip and Joelâs mind draws him a picture of you and him having breakfast in his kitchen, youâre sleepy and barely clothed, and his cock twitches happily, but his mind immediately tells him that itâs a bad idea.
âOr I can take you to your friend? Is there anyone else you can stay with?â
You narrow your eyes at him and Joel drops his gaze down to his feet, nervously clenching his hands. Heâs scared that your piercing eyes will see through him and youâll realize why heâs changed his mind - thereâs no chance heâd be able to control himself if you lived with him. And he needs to control himself.
You hum and put the hammer back into Joelâs belt, your cheek looking less swollen already.
âItâs very kind of you but⊠Donât worry about it. Heâs gonna come back and ask for an apology as always.â
âHe better,â Joel growls. âAnd my threat still stands. Iâll pay for his hospital bills if I have to, but he better not treat you like that ever again.â
Joel shifts his jaw and crosses his arms on his chest, meaning every word. You give him a little smile and then your gaze drops down, as you ask.
âYour father⊠he was ⊠like that too, right?â
Joel sighs deeply and nods.
âYeah. Was his method of teachinâ us I reckon. Me and my brother. Fucked up, I know but âŠ. Maybe we deserved some tough love. But not you. You definitely donât deserve it.â
You raise your eyes at Joel and his heart pangs when he sees tears in them.
âHow do you knowâ,â you croak, your brows pinched, âthat I donât deserve it?â
Youâre staring at each other, your waiting eyes trained on him, but Joelâs so stunned, he feels lost for words. Itâs like you asked him why two plus two is four.
âYou donât,â Joel says to you confidently, but your bitter chuckle tells him you donât believe him. So he places his hands on your shoulders and searches for your eyes.
âYou donât,â he repeats softly, putting all his heart into these two words, wishing youâd never ask yourself that.
Suddenly you lean forward and wrap your arms around Joelâs torso.
âThank you,â you whisper, nuzzling his chest and Joel freezes, overwhelmed by your body pressed to his. His heartbeat increases, his breathing fastens.
âCalm down, itâs just a hug,â he lies to himself and hugs you back. He presses his cheek to your head and you lean into him fully.
His bodyâs reaction to you isnât a surprise. Heâs been dreaming of fucking you for days and it takes everything from him not to buck his hips into you.
âDonât ruin it,â he begs his cock.
Youâre standing like this for some time. A minute? Two? Five? Joel has no idea but he relishes every second of feeling your body, comforting you, holding you like the most precious thing.
It scares the hell out of him, but he canât lie to himself anymore. Not when he feels a tsunami of emotions as heâs holding you close, emotions he hasnât felt in ages.
His breath hitches when you tilt your head up and your wet lashes flutter against his neck. Then your lips brush over his skin there, itâs just a fleeting sensation but Joel groans, a shiver runs through his body, and of course, you feel it, of course, you know what youâre doing to him right now.
He wants, needs you to pull away, needs you to be the reasonable one, but you donât make it easy for him. Instead you press your soft lips to a spot under his jaw, then drag them higher against his scruff, your caress gentle and slow as if happening by accident. Joelâs heart is pounding in his ears, his bodyâs on fire, as heâs waiting for the inevitable with both terror and excitement.
And it happens.
You kiss him.
The dam heâs half heartedly been trying to build collapses and Joel pulls you into him with poorly contained desire, crashing his mouth against yours.
With his hand cradling the back of your head, he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, to taste and feel you better. His cock is straining his jeans now, achy and hard, but his discomfort is the last thing on his mind now. The only thing is you, here in his arms, your tongue sliding over his, your lips caressing him.
âJoel,â you mewl into his mouth and your needy sound wakes Joel up. He parts from your lips and stares into your blown out eyes. The tears on your lashes act like a slap across his own face.
The fuck am I doinâ? Your fatherâs hurt you, and now Iâm usinâ your vulnerability to shove my tongue down your throat?
He feels disgusted with himself and sorry for you, being surrounded by assholes. Your father and him.
âI shouldnât,â he croaks, breathing heavily. âYouâre upset. I canât.â
His voice is strained with desire, his arms are still holding you but in a second theyâre by his sides.
Youâre blinking your tears away, staring up at Joel with your brows pinched, looking like a kicked puppy, and Joelâs heart breaks seeing you like that, so he takes a step back and turns away from you.
FuckâŠ
For the next few seconds you donât say anything. The silence in the room is deafening, it's suffocating Joel, but he has no right to break it. Only you do.
âFunny how you can fuck a random club girl but not me. Guess you just wanted me to keep my mouth shut about your little secret. Thatâs why youâve been so nice.â
Youâre hurt, angerâs cutting through your every word. Joel doesnât know what to do. Itâs not true but to deny what you've said will mean to pull you back, to give you hope that you two have a chance and you clearly donât.
You deserve to meet someone better. Someone who deserves you. And itâs definitely not him.
âI got carried away. Sorry.â
Not looking at you, Joel walks to the hall and grabs his tool box where heâs left it.
âThe boiler works fine now,â he mumbles, pausing at the kitchen on his way to the door. Youâre standing with your back to him, looking out of the kitchen window. Youâre silent and Joel does what you clearly want him to do - he leaves.
âHey!â
Joelâs loading his tools back in his truck when you call for him. He turns around and sees you standing in the doorway, your arms crossed in front of your chest, your lips in a tight line, your eyes cold. It hurts Joel to see you like this.
âYeah?â he croaks, shifting on his feet.
âHave fun dealing with your boner,â you bite and shut the door with a loud bang. Joel sighs and runs his hand over his face. He hates himself.
Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know if you want to be tagged in the future partsđ
summary: you'd prayed for him, grieved him, begged over his grave for him to come back. what if he was actually listening all along?
|| smut MDNI 18+, canon joel death, joel is alive! kinda sorta?, husband!joel, wife!reader, mourning, grieving, religious symbolism & themes with heaven/hell/demons, mentions of witchcraft and alchemy, Joel is like scary turned sweet, pinv, f!receiving oral, prone bone, choking, bicep choking, dirty talk with praise kink, sweet turned rougher sex, ambiguous ending ||
a/n: inspired by supernatural s4 dean and s9 demon!dean
wc: 7k
You woke to blackness.
It was like this every night. Again and again and againâyour sleep split open, wakefulness rushing in as if ice water had been poured through your veins. Your lungs seized before dragging in air, heaving and desperate.
You turned toward the little ticking clock on your bedside table, the sound loud in the stillness. Your gaze swept across the wide emptiness of the mattress, the covers pulled half open, untouched, cold.
3:00 AM.
Always right on the fucking dot, too. Every. Single. Night.
The witching hour, some called it. Others called it the hour when the veil thinned, when angels turned their faces away and creatures of the night prowled freely. You didnât want to believe in any of that, but it was hard not to when you could feel it in your bones, in the silence so heavy it seemed to press into your chest, in the way shadows seemed to lean too far over the walls.
You sat up, the sheets whispering down your bare arms, and stared into the dark. Somewhere beyond the walls, a dog barked once in the dead of night. It was so silent otherwise, just the ticking of the clock, a light scrape of a branch that moved against your frosted window and the sound of your breath. And it hit you again, that strange prickle at the base of your neckâŠthe feeling of being watched.
Letting your feet out of the covers and down to touch the wood floor, you padded across the room and out onto the landing, where the long narrow table was lined with frames turned face-down. You hadnât been able to look at them since. With a pause, you struck a match and lit the chamberstick waiting there, the flame catching with a small hiss before settling into its soft, wavering glow.
The stairs creaked as you went down, each step cautious, careful. The house felt big and empty in a way it hadnât before. Winter pressed at the walls, carrying its cold into the seams and corners until it settled inside the rooms themselves.
In the kitchen, you reached for the pitcher, poured a glass, and leaned against the counter. The water tasted faintly of metal, clean and cold, and you swallowed it slowly. The candlelight reached only so far, glinting off the rim of the glass, leaving the rest of the kitchen in shadow.
Your eyes found Joelâs coat where it still hung by the door. His boots still sat by the mat. Little things, untouched. It made your throat tight.
You sipped again, holding the cool weight in your mouth before letting it go. Tommy and Ellie were out there, carrying his vengeance into the snow. You were here, tethered, the choice already taken from you, the weeks stretching long and narrow. You understood why you couldnât go, but it didnât make it any easier.Â
There was a strange whistling, you realized suddenly, drifting in from the living room. Thin and hollow, it carried the cold with it. You moved, shivering a little, toward the sound and found a window by the armchair pushed open, snow dusting the bench beneath it, flakes catching on the worn arm of Joelâs recliner. You frowned, stepped around the chair, and shut the window with a thud, latching it tight.
When you turned, the chamberstick slipped from your hand with a clattering rush. The spill snuffed out the flame, plunging the room into darkness. Only the pale wash of moonlight remained on what had startled youâa pair of eyes staring back from across the room.
They werenât his eyes. Not really. They glimmered black, bottomless, hollow as the grave.
âHey, sweetheart.â
Joelâs voice. Joelâs face. Joelâs body. But not Joel.
Joel was dead. You knew this. Youâd put him in the ground yourself, shoved at the frozen earth until your hands bled, until Tommy dragged you back and left the rest to the other men. You buried him there, in the cemetery beneath the frost, your grief sealed into the soil with him.
And yetâhere he was. Standing before you.
âWho are you?â you demanded, your voice raw from disuse, scraping its way out of your throat.
His mouth curled, just slightly, the kind of grin Joel used to give when he knew something you didnât, all sweet and teasing. âCâmon now,â he drawled, low and warm. âThat any way to greet your old man? Thought youâd be happy to see me.â
Your heart hammered, throat tight. âYouâre not my husband.â
âSweetheart,â he murmured, taking a step closer, hands open in supplication. âItâs me. Been a hell of a time without you. Missed you so bad I had to come back.â His voice caught the edges of tenderness, like he was savoring the words on his tongue. âAinât that what you wanted? For me to come home?â
The floor seemed to tilt under you. Every detail was rightâhis shoulders, his stance, the shape of his mouth. And yet those eyes, black as ink, pinned you where you stood.
âI buried you.â The words came out thin, almost a whisper.
âThen maybe you dug me up,â he said softly, almost playful, like it was a joke meant only for you. He took another step, slow and sure, as if approaching a skittish animal. âDonât matter how it happened. Iâm here. Iâm yours. Always was, always will be.â
When he reached out a hand, you staggered back, chest seizing. The heat of him filled the space between you, wrong in a way your body recognized before your mind could.
âDonâtââ you gasped, the word breaking as your feet carried you fast toward the kitchen. The candle lay guttered on the floor behind you, and all you had to light your path was the cold spill of the moon as you ran.
You turned and bolted up the stairs, shoved your bedroom door shut, and stumbled into the bathroom just beyond it. The lock clicked home under your shaking fingers and you dropped hard to the tile, palms catching you, your body wracked with sobs. You felt the way your chest heaved, the tears spilling hot down your cheeks, but the adrenaline left no room for thoughtâonly that god damn will to survive it never could let go of.
This had to be a dream. A terrible dream where your grief was manifesting into a nightmare to torment you with the only thing you had ever wantedâyour husband back.
âBaby, would you please come out of there?â His voice, Joelâs voice, called through the door. You froze. God, he was already in the bedroom, the hinges groaning as the door eased open.
You clamped a hand over your mouth, forcing your eyes shut, trying to quiet the ragged noise of your breathing.
âSweetheart, I ainât here to hurt you,â he coaxed, tone warm and casual. âJust wanted to see you. Missed you so bad. Come on nowâletâs talk.â
The bathroom knob rattled, metal scraping against metal, your pulse climbing so fast it hurt. Then, silence. The sound of boots retreating across the bedroom floor. Relief flooded in, shaky and shallow.
But if this thing truly wore Joelâs face, if it knew you at allâthen it would know.
You scrambled to your feet, eyes darting across the small room for anything, anything you could use to fight. And then the footsteps returned, steady and certain. Metal slid into the lockâthe little spare key you kept hidden at the top of the closet, tucked beneath his sweaters.
The knob turned. The door swung open.
And as his figure silhouetted against the pale moonlight through the bedroom, you lunged for the shelf above the sink. Your fingers closed around the cold steel of a straight razor, one of many of Joelâs things you hadnât managed to pack away.
You snapped it open, the blade catching pale light, and held it out in front of you with shaking hands.
âStay back,â you demanded.
Joelâno, not Joelâlifted his palms, slow, like he was calming a wild animal. âEasy now, darlinâ,â he said, his voice almost fond. âDonât wanna hurt yourself.â
âDonât come closer.â
He didnât listen. One step, then another, his eyes fixed on you with that awful calm, those terrifyingly onyx eyes.
With a cry you slashed toward him, desperate, the razorâs edge glinting. He caught your wrist mid swing, his grip iron, the sudden closeness of him suffocating.
âSweetheart,â he murmured, coaxing even as you struggled, âplease, stop fightinâ me. I just wantââ
You jerked, trying to wrench free, the razor dangerously near his throat. He twisted, forcing your arm back. In the scramble, his other hand shoved against your shoulder. It wasnât hard, not meant to hurt, only to keep you away.
But it made your heel slip on the tile, your weight pitching backward. The edge of the counter caught you hard at the base of your skull.
With a burst of light behind your eyes, the razor clattered from your hand.
The last thing you felt was his grip steadying you as the darkness rushed in.
You woke to the sound of wood creaking beneath you. The air in the bedroom was still, heavy, carrying the faint smoke of a fire downstairs, the house slowly warming to it. Your head ached, a dull throb at the base of your skull.
When you tried to lift your hands, they wouldnât move.
As you looked down, you saw your wrists were bound to the arms of a chairâJoelâs chair, dragged up from the dining room. The wood was old, one leg always unsteady, the same wobble to it that used to creak when youâd climbed onto his lap, when his hands would steady your hips. The sudden memory made your eyes burn.Â
He hadnât used rope, not even cord. On one side, a thick sock knotted tight around your wrist. On the other, one of his sweaters twisted into a binding, sleeves stretched and digging into your skin. It didnât cut off the blood, but it held you fast.
Panic surged, hot and wild. You yanked, kicked, twisted, the chair rattling against the floorboards. âLet me go!â you shouted, the sound cracking in your throat. âLet me the fuck go!â
From the bed, his voice came, steady as anything, âEasy now, sweetheart. Youâll tip yourself right over carryinâ on like that.â
You thrashed harder, chest heaving, the wood groaning beneath you. He stood and stepped forward then, the moonlight from the window catching on his faceâJoelâs faceâthose black eyes shining like oil.
âCome on now,â he said softly, as if it were a kindness. âOnly tied ya so youâd stay still, let me talk to ya.â
âFuck you!â you spat, fighting the bonds until the chair lurched under you. His hand landed on the backrest, steadying it, steadying you, the warmth of his touch searing through the wood.
âDarlinâ,â he murmured, âI ainât here to hurt you. Never was. Just missed you, sâall.â
Something inside you cracked at the words, sharp and sudden. Your fight drained as sobs tore loose, raw and broken. Tears blurred your vision, spilling fast as you bent forward against the restraints, the sound of your crying filling the room.
He crouched before you, tilting his head to catch your gaze. âThatâs it,â he whispered, almost tender. âLet it out. I got you now.â
His hands rose up to soothe your face, knuckles dragging to collect your tears. You flinched away in anger, looking at him.
âI prayed for you, you son of a bitch,â you spat, voice cracking, âI prayed for you, I mourned you. You canât justâyou canâtââ
âAw, but baby,â he cooed, leaning in to kiss a fat tear as it rolled down your cheek. You jerked away, but he only smiled, unbothered. âYou and I both know thatâs not quite true.â
You sniffled, shaking your head, confusion twisting through you. Adrenaline still buzzed sharp in your blood, your mind dazed and swimming with the sight of himâthis man you had buried with your own hands.
âHavenât you wondered?â His voice dropped low, coaxing. âWhy you wake every night, same time, same hour, same minute. Hell, the same second?â
âI-Iââ The words stumbled out, useless.
âYou wanted me back,â he whispered, brushing his lips against your nose, the press almost tender. You flinched again, though your body betrayed you by leaning forward. âAnd I heard you. Heard your little summons that night. They wouldnât let me see you, but I heard. Laughed at me for it, mocked meâsaid my sweet little wife had turned to witchcraft.â His sigh was long. âAlmost didnât believe it myself, but I didnât care. I made it my job to get back to you.â
âWhatâ?â you gasped, the sound thin. âYouâŠyou heard me?â
âYeah, honey,â he murmured, pushing the damp strands of hair from your eyes with surprising gentleness. âWorked harder than you can imagine, just to get here. Wanted to tell you I heard. That I love you. That Iâm so sorry, for leavinâ that morninâ.â
âJoelââ The sob tore from your throat, ragged, broken.
âShhh,â he hushed, pulling you into him. His arms were strong, crushing, the warmth of him too familiar. It was too hard to fight it, to make your brain catch up with your heart. The heart that wanted so desperately to believe this was real.
âSâokay, darlinâ,â he crooned, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as he let your confines loose, and your arms immediately found his waist, burying your face into his chest,. âSâokay. Iâm here now.â
You clung to him, sobs wracking you until they dissolved into hiccups. âI missed you so much,â you whispered, finding your breath in fragments. He smelled like Joel, like your husband, like the only man youâd ever known or wanted. You pushed your face against him harder, inhaling the smell of earth and musk and barrel aged oak.
âMissed you more, baby. You got no idea.â
Your eyes lifted to his, shimmering wet. âShow me,â you breathed, sudden and pleading.
He smiled gently, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. âShow you?â
You nodded, âShow me how much you missed me.â
His hand tilted your chin, thumb and forefinger holding you steady. A shiver rippled down your arms, skin stippled with goosebumps as you stared into those black eyes, though they werenât like eyes at all but pits of ink, void of white or color. They should have been terrifying. But now, as he bent closer, they seemed less like an abyss and more like a deep, endless pool of dark water you could sink into, let close over your head, let carry you down to where he waited.
The crinkles by his eyes deepened, and you studied his face all over again, desperate to catalog each line, each shadow, burning it into memory before anything else could be taken from you. But thought bled away the moment his lips touched yours again.
How could you have forgotten?
The press of his mouth was still soft and sure, still Joel, warm despite the cold, lips cracked but plush as they moved against yours. His kiss molded to you, coaxing, fitting like lock to key, the tickle of his mustache prickling your skin. Your body remembered him even if your mind wanted to resist, leaning into the heat, into him.
His hands framed your jaw, then slid down your shoulders, over the trembling cage of your ribs. He shifted, still crouched before the chair, until his palms gripped your thighs. He hauled you forward until you perched at the edge of the seat, your thighs wrapping around him. His breath was hot against your mouth when he whispered a gentle and throaty âCâmere.â
The kiss deepened, hungrier, his teeth catching your lower lip as he stood in one fluid movement. You clung to him, arms tight around his neck as he lifted you easily, his hands stretching over the swell of your ass.
The chair scraped back across the floorboards, abandoned, as he carried you across the room. His mouth never left yours until he lowered you onto the bed, pressing you down into the mattress, his body covering yours with a weight you remembered in your bones.
He laid you back on the mattress, the sheets cool against your skin, his body a furnace above you. His hands didnât rush; they roamed, slow and remembering, as if memory werenât enough, he needed to memorize every inch all over againâthe slope of your shoulders, the dip of your waist, the trembling rise of your ribs. Each pass of his palms left heat in its wake, as though he couldnât stand to forget you again.
âGod, baby,â he whispered, kissing your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. âMissed you so damn much.â
Emotion burned hot in your chest, choking you. Your eyes stung, and before you could stop yourself, tears spilled over. This time, when his mouth found them, you didnât flinch. He kissed them away tenderly, catching the salt on his lips, then pressing them back against your mouth. You pulled him down harder, lips parting, tongues sliding in a desperate clash of breath and wantânot soft or careful, but giving, claiming, a gift you forced into each otherâs mouths because words werenât enough.
Clothes came away in clumsy handfuls, the scrape of fabric tugged down arms, pushed past hips. The cold air licked your bare skin, but he covered it at once with his hands, his chest, his mouth. His lips trailed down your throat, reverent, worshipping, before the press of teeth nipped hard enough to make you gasp. He soothed it with a kiss, then bit again, hungrier.
He kissed down your body like a man making pilgrimage, lips finding the hollow of your throat, the swell of your breasts, the dip of your navel. Gentle kisses followed by sharp bites, soft reverence broken by hunger. You threaded your hands through his hair, pulling him closer, needing him, needing to give him back everything youâd kept locked inside since the moment you lost him.
Joelâs mouth lingered lower, hot and wet, each kiss a brand, each scrape of teeth a reminder. He worshipped you and consumed you in the same breath, and you let him, arching into his touch, trembling under his weight, the ache in your chest spilling into the ache between your thighs.
When his tongue slipped between your parted thighs, your body yielded before your mind could catch up. Muscle memory, instinctâyou opened for him without thought, as if some part of you had never forgotten how to let Joel in. He looked up at you then, and your breath caught.
His eyesâŠthose black, depthless pits, they fixed on yours as he lowered his mouth to your center. They gleamed in the pale light, empty of all the color you remembered. But the moment his tongue pressed against you, spreading heat through your body, the fear tangled with need. Your skin prickled with gooseflesh, a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.
He licked you slowly at first, reverent, savoring, as if each taste was years overdue and not weeks. His tongue traced measured patterns, every stroke sending sparks up your spine. You whimpered, clutching at the sheets, thighs quivering, but his hands held you steady, finding yours, interlacing them together, his thumb stroking the side of your palm with gentleness.
Then he hummed against you, the vibration sinking deep, and your cunt clenched hard around nothing. âThatâs it,â he murmured against your flesh, voice muffled but thick with hunger. âBeen dreaminâ of this, baby girl. Oneâa the things that kept me goinâ was rememberinâ how sweet this pussy was for me.â
He buried his mouth deeper, tongue pushing into you, lips dragging over your folds. He lapped at you like heâd never get enough, a man possessed, every flick and swirl both worship and devouring. His teeth grazed your swollen clit and you gasped, hips jerking, but he soothed it instantly with his tongue, tender and coaxing, before sucking hard enough to make your vision blur.
Your hands clenched his, nails digging in, grounding yourself as his black eyes never left yours. Watching you come undone, his gaze was a void pulling you under. Your back arched off the bed in a sudden burst of ecstasy, your eyes flashing white with stars as you crested through your release.
âFuckâoh fuckâJoel, JoelJoelJoel,â
He groaned at the sound of his name on your lips, a low, guttural noise that vibrated against you. He let your hands go only to wrap around the tops of your thighs, pulling you closer, and you immediately fisted them into his hair, dragging him in, grinding yourself desperately against his face. He flattened his tongue and gave you the breadth of it, letting you ride the heat of his mouth, the slick of his tongue, until the last shudders worked through you.
When you slumped back against the mattress, trembling and gasping, Joel didnât stop, but he gentled, pressing soft kisses against your slick, swollen folds, the insides of your thighs, the curve of your hip. Worship and hunger, hunger and worship. He trailed back up your body slowly, savoring you, laying kisses like prayer along your stomach, your ribs, the valley of your chest.
You hummed softly, a dazed little sound, a smile tugging at your lips when you saw his beardâsoaked with you, gleaming with it. You cupped his face in your hands, licking the pearls of arousal from his beard, kissing the evidence from his mouth as well.
His lips met yours when you pressed against them, and the kiss was filthy and claiming. You tasted yourself on his tongue, and he seemed to revel in it, groaning as he pushed inside your mouth with more urgency, his hand sliding up to the back of your neck to hold you there, to drink you in.
âFuck me,â you whispered against his lips, your words broken and raw. âPlease. Donât make me wait any longer. I need you.â
Joel pressed his forehead to yours, the breath between you hot, ragged. His thumb stroked your jaw as he looked down at you with those black, bottomless eyes, dark as sin and twice as hungry.
âKnow you do, baby,â he rasped, his voice rough with desire, âcould never deny my best girl.â
You felt the heavy press of him against your thigh as he shifted, lining himself up, his body so warm, so solid over you that you shook with anticipation. He dragged the head of his cock slowly through your slick, coating himself in you, savoring the way you whimpered, hips rising to chase him.
He pushed in slow, steady, until your body stretched wide around him. You gasped, clutching at his shoulders, nails sinking into hot skin. He filled you so completely it made your head spin, the stretch bordering on unbearable, the relief instant once he bottomed out.
Joelâs jaw locked, breath hissing through his teeth. âOh, fuck,â he whispered. His forehead pressed to yours, sweat beading where your skin touched, âAlways take me so well, baby,â
He pulled back, then drove in again, gentle, hissing through his teeth, eyes shutting closed. You writhed against the mattress, a whimper caught in your throat. His hand slid to your thigh, pushing it higher, opening you wider for him. The angle dragged him deeper, grinding against that tender spot inside that made your toes curl.
âYeah,â he grunted when your walls fluttered around him. âThatâs it, take it, my good girl, yeah, thatâs it. Always know what you need.â
You clung to him, sobbing with the sheer feel of sensation. He moved slowly at first, each thrust controlled, like he wanted to remember the way you squeezed him. His mouth found yours, sealing together as you both moaned, his cock sawing in and out in tender gentleness at first. He was being so sweet, like he was savoring every moment your bodies intertwined.
âJoel,â you murmured, reaching your hands up to pull at the graying strands.
âYeah, baby? What is it?â He cooed, his mouth moving to your jaw, your neck, nipping and suckling your salty skin.
âLook at me,â you said, returning the kiss to his neck before he pulled back.
His black eyes looked down at you now, a shiver running over you at your moonlit reflection in them.
âYouâre being so sweet,â you whispered, your mouth brushing his between words, âso good⊠so gentle. I love it, butâŠbut I wantââ
He tilted his head, thumb tracing your jaw. âWhat is it, honey? Tell me. Give you anything you want.â
âWant more,â you whispered, dragging your fingers through his hair. A low, bullish groan rumbled out of him, his eyes fluttering closed as your nails scraped along his scalp, "Show me how much you missed me."
Something dark flickered across his face, sweetness drawing back into shadow. When his eyes opened again, his breath had gone heavier. He shifted, dragging his palm around your throat until his hand rested beneath your jaw.
âYeah?â he murmured.
You nodded, eyes heavy, voice small as you tipped your jaw back when he squeezed only the slightest bit with his thumb and forefinger beneath your ears. âPlease.â
He kissed you once more, hard, his mouth sealed over yours until your lungs ached. When he exhaled, the growl that followed seemed to vibrate through both of you. And then he was turning you beneath him in one fluid motion, your bodies still joined with his cock still buried deep, and his weight folding over your back.
He was slick with sweat, his chest hair tickling your shoulder blades, his belly flush against your lower back. His cock reached new depths like this, pulsing, twitching inside of you. You could feel the involuntary squeeze of your walls around him, feeling so close, so taken and claimed by the man.
You gasped as he settled fully, sweaty and warm, with chest to your spine, one arm slipping around your front to keep his hand at your throat, the other anchoring you to the bed. His voice brushed your ear, low and breathless.
âLike this? Hm?â
You think you mightâve made some sort of noise that sounded like a yes.
âWhat a sweet girl I have,â he murmured, though there was nothing sweet left in his toneâonly something darker, edged with possession. You shivered beneath him, his heat overwhelming, "Always askin' so nice for it,"
He pulled his hips back, long and slow, deliberately taking his time so you could feel every ridge until you were clenching around the emptiness he left behind. You whimpered, greedy for more, but your breath caught as he slammed back into youâdeep, hard, the impact sending a cry tearing from your throat.
âOh!â you yelped, the sound dissolving into a moan.
âYeah,â Joel growled, breath hot against your ear. âYeah, just like that, huh?â
You were a sudden mess beneath him, a babble of broken sounds as his hips pistoned into you. His hand stayed at your throat, guiding your every breath, every gasp. You couldnât stop the way you arched, pressing back against him, offering yourself up.
He was all heat and hunger, biting and licking at your neck, animal in his rhythm. Then his hand moved, sliding across your front until his arm hooked beneath your chin, forearm pressing against your throat.
Oh, fuck.
He held you there, bicep flexed against your cheek, elbow choking you perfectly. The other hand clamped at your hip, holding you still as he fucked into you, unrelenting, every thrust driving to the very end of you, every one hitting home.
But as he moved, it was with a hunger that felt almost mournful, every breath dragging against your skin like a prayer heâd been holding for too long. His rhythm grew rougher, not cruel but hungry, desperate, needyâa man trying to remind himself that you were real, that you were home. Each deep push of his hips carried something wordless, a plea pressed into every inch of you, as if he could chase away all the empty nights you'd spent without him by sheer will alone.
âGod, I missed you,â he breathed, voice breaking low against your neck. His hand trembled where it held your shoulder, breath catching with every push into you. âWas losinâ my goddamn mind without you, baby.â His lips brushed your ear, breath hot and uneven against your cheek.
âJoelââ you mewled, words slurred and wet, brain gone hazy.
âYeah, baby?â you could feel the bastard smiling against your skin.
âGot no plans on stoppinâ, baby,â he chuckled, low and rough. âThatâs it. Atta girl. Can feel how bad she wants it, how much she missed me. Did she miss me, baby? Tell me. Tell me how much.â
You couldnât help it, the way your body was trembling, your mind dissolving under it all, tears began to fall down your face once again. âMissed youâmissed you so badâmissed your cock, the way youâfuck, fuck, fuckâIâm coming, pleasepleasepleaseââ
âGive it to me,â he growled. The sound barely was human, thick with hunger and something darker. You could picture those black, endless eyes now, grateful you couldnât see them yourselfâhow they mustâve been watching you, âNow.â
The sound that tore from you was something primal, foreignâan animal cry you hardly recognized as your own. Your eyes rolled, your mouth parted in a soft, trembling âoâ as your back arched and his arm tightened around your throat. It was galaxies and implosions, stars bursting in your belly, your thighs quivering as you felt him push into you one last time. Your velvet keep clutched him so tight he had no other choice but to feel the waves of your pleasure pulsing around him. It was too much, too much and also perfect, everything you wanted and needed, everything only Joel could give you. It lasted longer than you could bear, your body rolling through wave after wave until you were left boneless, face damp against the pillow, tears and saliva cooling on your skin. His arm was slick where it held you, trembling faintly as the quiet settled around you.
When you came to, he was kissing your neck sweetly, breathing deeply, open mouthed against you, his slick forehead pressing to your pillow beside you.Â
âHoly shit,â you managed, your voice rasped and unsteady, laughter curling faintly at the edges.
You opened one eye to find him watching you. For a fleeting heartbeat, his eyes looked hazel as he chuckled, the warm pool of colors you knew too well, before he blinked and they darkened again, back to that endless, ink-black depth.
He kissed you once more before pulling away, slipping from inside you with a quiet groan. His hands were careful, gentle, as he moved off you and collapsed beside you.
The sheets clung damp to your skin, twisted low around your hips where Joel had pulled you under them, close to him. He tucked you against his chest, still slick with cooling sweat, his breath heavy and warm as the both of you settled into the quiet. The room smelled of salt and musk, of the faint smoke from the fireplace downstairs that had crept up the hall. Your body hummed, the ache between your thighs softening into something sweet and bone deep, while his hand rested idly at your waist, thumb stroking lazy circles against your stomach.
You pressed your cheek to his chest. His skin was warm, damp, a stillness to his chest. For a moment, you let yourself forget everything elseâthe fear, the doubt, the way those black eyes had unsettled you. Here, in the circle of his arms, it was Joel. It felt like Joel.
âCan you stay?â you asked softly, breaking the quiet. âWith me?â
âNot for much longer, baby,â he murmured, thumb sweeping up to graze the side of your breast. âBut I can come back tomorrow night.â
âYou can?â
He nodded, though the look on his face made your stomach twist. There was something stricken in it, a sadness that even his smile couldnât disguise.
âWhat is it?â you asked, your hand flattening against his chest.
Joelâs gaze lowered, his fingers stalling where theyâd been grazing your ribs. âItâs justâŠâ
âTell me,â you whispered, worry prickling your mind.Â
He sighed, a little sad smile pulling at his lips, but it didnât reach his eyes, though they were tender as they watched you, âWell, for you, itâll only be a day. One day here, earthside. But down thereââ His voice caught, breaking on the word. He shut his eyes as if the truth itself was a wound. âDown there, time is⊠different.â
A chill spread through you, stealing the warmth of his body pressed against yours. âYouâre in Hell?â you choked.
He nodded, the lines in his face deepening. âJust for a while. Doinâ my time before I can go up to the big guy. Gotta pay my dues.â His thumb rubbed absently at your skin, like he couldnât stop touching you even as he spoke of damnation. âYou know about my past.â
Tears welled hot in your eyes. âJoelâŠâ
âIâm sorry, baby,â he whispered, his hand moving to cup your cheek, catching the spill of one tear with his thumb. âDidnât mean to upset you.â
âItâs okay,â you said, though your voice broke. âBut tell meâwhat did you mean? About time.â
He sighed, the sound ragged, and pulled you closer until your face pressed into his collarbone. âTime donât run the same down there. These weeks youâve had without meâŠthey were five years for me. Five years in the pit.â
âFive years?â The words hitched in your throat. You tipped your face up to him, stricken.
He nodded, mouth tight, brow furrowed with an ache he didnât bother to hide.
âOh, Joel.â You clutched him tighter, burying your sobs into his neck, your arms wrapping desperately around his solid frame.
âSâokay, honey. Sâokay,â he murmured, stroking your hair, the sound of his voice steady even while you cried for him.
âIâm so sorry,â you wept. âYouâre a good man. Youâre kind, loyalâyou donât deserveââ
âBut I do.â He pulled your face back to kiss the tears from your lips, silencing you with the taste of salt. âI do. Iâm payinâ for what I did to survive. Gotta do my time, same as any sinner.â
âSoâŠuntil then? How long?â
âDonât matter, baby.â He smiled again, sad and soft, his hand brushing down the curve of your arm as though anchoring himself in your warmth. âAs long as I can, Iâll keep cominâ back. Iâll be with you every chance I getâif youâll let me.â
âIâll always let you. I always want you.â The words spilled out, desperate and true. And suddenly, a clarity broke over you like light. âOh, Joel,â you whispered, your palm pressing over your belly. âI have to tell you, before you goââ
The clock on the nightstand screamed its alarm.
5:00AM.
And Joel was gone.
Before
Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is alchemy's first law of Equivalent Exchange.
âCome back,â you said into the dark, the words torn from your chest like a curse.
The cemetery was a black under the cloak of a moonless sky. Only the wet hiss of disturbed snow rented your eardrums as you drew your coat tighter. The pages of the book Claire had given you shifted faintly beside your kneeled position, damp at the edges. Your palm left a smear of blood across the center of the transmutation circle youâd drawn in the white frost, your hand stinging, skin already numb.
âCome back, you son of a bitch,â you bit out, voice fraying into the wind. You planted your palm harder into the snow at the center of the circle and pressed, teeth grinding to dust down your throat.
âYou donât get to leave me here. You hear me? You donât get to justââ Your voice cracked, splintering through your teeth. âYou promised me, Joel.â You stared at your hands, at the blood bright against the white, and waited.
Nothing.
âPlease,â you whispered, throat thicker, straining against the words. Your hand stung when you pushed harder, the snow was slowly turning crimson.
Theyâd all left that morning. Ellie and Dina gone, Tommy the day before, Maria swallowed by community duties. Folks dropped casseroles on your porch, laid bouquets on the ground like flags you didnât ask for. You didnât want their pity. You wanted Joel.Â
Youâd been scavenging all day: thirty-five liters of water in rusted jugs, twenty kilos of carbon in the form of charcoal and burned bones, eight hundred grams of phosphorus tucked into a cracked thermos. The constructional formula was scribbled in Claireâs bookâClaire, whoâd come by with a thermos of soup and a soft smile, old book in hand. You wondered if sheâd ever tried this herself, if sheâd ever stood on frozen dirt with a hand that bled and thought she could bargain with the world when Eugene died. You pushed your palm harder into the snow until the cold bit up through your veins.
Tears slipped down your face; you felt ridiculous and feral crying over a marker in a town that had already moved on. You shoveled the grief down into yourself, concentrated it into the circle, until your lungs hurt and the book rustled beside you.
âAw, arenât you just precious.â
You jolted so hard it felt like your spine had leapt out of your skin. You turned towards the voice that was close enough to make the hairs on your arms stand up.
It was a woman with short, shoulder length brown hair under a green bandana, a maroon shirt chewed at the sleeves. Freckles dusted her nose, incongruous against those eyes: black as coal, utterly without whites, reflecting none of the cemeteryâs poor light. You felt the color drain from your face.
âThought you could bring him back, huh?â she said, Detroit or Ohio or somewhere flat on the tongueâMidwest, if you had to guess.
âWhoâre you?â you managed, voice thin.
She took a slow step forward, boots whispering on the crusted snow. âWhy donât you get you and your little book off the ground and weâll talk.â
You slowly hauled yourself up, knees complaining, lifting the book close to your chest. Your heart thudded in your ears like a warning drum.
âDonât you know the first rule of summoning?â she prompted. âHuh?â
âSummoning?â The word sounded foreign in your mouth, though youâd memorized every cursed line in Claireâs book.
âYeah, summoning. Bringing someone back to life.â She cocked her head. âYou canât take if you got nothinâ to give.â
âTake my life,â you said before you could stop yourself. Your spine straightened.
If you had to pay, they could take you. Take the rest of it. Take whatever was left.
âThat easy, huh?â The womanâs smile was all teeth.
You nodded. The cold ate through your boots, but your hands were steady.
âTake my life and give him his,â you said, voice flat with something like resolve.
She laughed, short and bright. âNo can do.â
âWhy the hell not!?â you barked, breath fogging hard.
She stepped closer, inspecting you like a collector would a coin. âYeah, youâre definitely his type.â Her grin softened, but not at the eyes. Those eyes. Dark and beady as they watched you, nothing but onyx, sparkling where the snow reflected.
âWhat the hell are you talking about? How do you know my husband?â
âHusband, huh? Didnât expect Texas to have it in âem.â She shook her head, amused, and paused before going on.
âNameâs Tess. Iâm here to make you a deal.â
âA deal?â you parroted.
âThatâs right. Deal with the devil, so they say.â She shrugged as if the phrase were a joke you werenât in on. The black of her eyes gleamed. âIf you give me somethinâ, I can let this slide. Big guy wonât know a thing. Joelâll stay with us andâŠâ She let the rest hang, a bargain half-offered, shrugging.
âI want him back.â The words scraped. âI did this to bring himââ
âHeâs busy.â The answer was a flat stone.
âBusy?â Your throat closed. âWhat in sam hell does that evenââ
âDonât get your knickers in a twist, girl. Iâm here to do business. Or I can justââ Her hand made a small dismissive motion like flicking ash from a cigarette.
âOkay. Fine. Fine.â You were all bark and brittle bones. It was as if youâd never known true desperation until this night.
âYou give me a life, I give you Joel.â
âI said you could have mine. Take it. Bring him home. You can take me.â
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing in a way that made your skin prickle. âDonât want you.â
Your jaw tightened. âYou gonna tell me why?â
âYouâre tooâŠwellâŠâ She smiled that slow, reptilian grin that reached everything but her eyes. âYou already got a seat upstairs.â
âA seat?â You blinked, and a rumor of cold ran through you.
âYou donât belong to Lucifer, girl. I canât take you unless I got permission.â She tapped the side of her nose, conspiratorial. âBut I can takeâŠâ She nodded down your body.
You looked aroundâat the iron gate, at the empty benches, at the footprints fading into whiteâand your mind turned to fog.
âOh, donât tell me Iâm the one breakinâ the news to you?â Tess said, flat amusement on her lips.
You waited, blinking.
She paused, holding onto the moment, and her black eyes, bottomless as they were, lit up as her mouth opened in laughter, âOh, come on, havenât you figured it out yet? Smart girl like you.â
Your stomach turned. âFigured what out?â
She nodded at you, at the trembling set of your hands where you clutched the book, at the way your bloodied palm pressed instinctively against your middle. âYouâre carryinâ somethinâ. Little secret you didnât even know yet. Joelâs left us a piece of âem here.â
The words sank like stones into your chest. For a moment the night went silent, even the wind seemed to still.
âNo,â you whispered, shaking your head. âNo, thatâs notââ
âDonât play dumb,â Tess said lightly, tilting her head, eyes gleaming black. âYou feel it, donât you? The sickness in the mornings, the way your bodyâs been restless. Ainât grief, honey. Itâs life.â
You staggered back a step, knees weak. A hot rush of tears blurred the gravestone, the circle, the blood smeared snow. Your palm slid instinctively down to your belly, pressing hard as if you could smother the truth.
âNo,â you repeated, but the denial rang hollow.
âFunny thing,â Tess mused, crouching to drag a finger through the snow at Joelâs grave, âyou came out here begginâ to trade your life for his. But looks like you already got somethinâ of his inside you. Flesh of his flesh. Ainât that poetic?â
âStop it.âÂ
âNow hereâs the fun part,â she went on, standing again with a smirk. âYou get to choose. Joel, or the baby. Canât have both, girl. Equivalent exchange.â She spread her hands wide, as if to frame the deal in the frozen air. âBring him back, and poofââ she snapped her fingers, sharp as a bone breaking, âno more little Miller growinâ in there. Keep the baby, and Joel stays where he is.â
The night pressed in, black and endless. Your throat burned raw.
âIâŠâ Your voice broke in your chest. âDonât make me choose. Please. Please donât.â
Tess only watched you, eyes bottomless, smile fixed.
Your hand went to your belly of its own accord, thumb resting on skin you hadnât known you were protecting until now. The wind shifted, carrying your breath in a pale cloud as your lips parted with an answer.Â
âOkay.â
author's note for those who were confused: claire is the name of eugene's wife in the game
The vibes were perfectly dark yet hopeful (kind of how I always viewed the show to be!) and made the smut extra delicious, toeing the line between desperate and punishing (made all the more gripping because they never named what he is).
When the Hell time reveal, my heart broke just the way it did when Dean revealed it in S4 đđ and the ending reveal!! đ±đ± I won't spoil it - but I screamed. Even though it was a commonly used plot device in the show, STILL you shocked me! I LOVED IT! Thank you for sharing, bb - what an incredible ride!
KINKTOBER DAY 5: FINGER SUCKING , DACRYPHILIA . . .
tags: joel miller x reader, soft joel, virgin reader, size difference, hand kink (?) his fingers are mentioned a loot, the reader is described to be 'tinier' than joel take that as you will, implied age gap, praise, thigh riding, fingering, drooling, multiple orgasms, condom usage, big dick joel (iktr...), usage of the name "kid" but youre of age just much younger
the warm, soothing weight of joelâs palm on the slope of your waist was all you could focus on. the rough skin of his callouses nicking your soft skin as he rubbed circles against you, lips kissing down your throat.
âyâfit right in my hands, baby. canât seem to get enough aâya.â murmured into the crook of your neck, joelâs scruff tickling you as he continued his journey down your body. every kiss stamping his quiet affections into your skin, embedding them like secrets tucked into dog-eared book pages. they linger on your skin, the imprinted warmth stinging with each press.
you hips roll downwards, the flexed muscle of his thigh underneath his cargos darkening with slick. clit catching against the rough material, it feels like electricity running through your veins as you mewl into his shoulder, nails clawing into the thick muscle there. your nose digs into his flannel, he smells like the woodsâ the snow blanketing the grass, bark shavings, and soil. itâs heady, thick in your nose and mouth watering.
your fingers grip his shoulder, steadying yourself as you tremble and twitch. every bout of stimulation, another jerk of your hips, another pinpoint of sweat on your forehead. you chase for reprieve like a dog chasing a tennis ballâ quick, panting, not giving yourself a chance to savor in the rush. itâs cute, joel thinks. a laugh bubbling from his throat as his fingers grapple for the pudge of your thigh to still your movements.
âcâmâoon, joel. let me,â you grunt, hips struggling against his fingers pressing into your side, âjust a little more, please.â
joelâs mean though, he doesn't let you, and huffs out a chiding laugh as he tucks a strand behind your ear, and plants a kiss along your hairline. ânot a chance, kid. you ainât even doing it right.â
his large palms cradle your hips, lifting you with ease just to bring you back down on him. inch by inch, his hands guide you down, driving your pelvis into his thigh. slow and languid to drag the feeling out, relishing in every shudder that runs through you.
your face contorts, eyebrows furrowing as you feel each wave of pleasureâ but slower, you can feel the static in your fingertips. in the head rush as you feel yourself come undone bit by bit, eyes squeezing tight as his hand rubs warm, soothing circles onto your stomach.
âyâfeel that here?â hand stilling at the bottom of your gut, as he presses into your skin with his thumb. all you can do is whine as you frantically nod, sweat slicked hairs sticking to your rosy cheeks.
âgoâod girl, just like thatâŠâ
joel extends the syllable in an accented drawl that has the warmth in your tummy curling tight beneath your ribs. your cheeks burn a fiery red, clammy.
his left hand soothes over the slope of your spine, rough and tender in his own way. joel is just so much larger than youâ itâs dizzying. his hand outstretched against your back is wide, territorial in a way. his thumb and middle finger reach from end-to-end of your waist, warm in his hold.
joelâs fingers are thickâ in size and laden with scars and thick skin built over the years of fighting for survival. solid in all the right ways, broad shoulders shadowing you in, biceps that strain against cuffed flannels, threatening to burst through the fabric.
one of his hands slides up your torso, up your shoulder to peel off the strap of your tank top. he thumbs over your pert nipple, tongue lapping a stripe against the swell of your tit, humming as he drinks in the warmth and salt of your skin.
the other travels from your back, down to press featherlight, weathered touches onto your clit. thumb working in tight circles against the sensitive bud, wounding the coil in your gut taut. you thrash in joelâs lap at the pressure, hips bucking against the broad expanse of his thigh.
âwait, wait, joelââ large fingers prod the rim of your hole, you gasp into the crook of his neck at the intrusion. joel shushes and coos into your ear, sweet murmurs of consolation as he pries you open, swallowing the thick of his fingers just right, it has joel groaning.
each slow pump of his fingers inside you, another obscene squelch of your slickâ joelâs right there to kiss away the tears. they reach new found depths each time, brushing the spongy spot tucked deep inside just barely, so you meet him where heâs at. inexperienced hips grinding down to find more friction, searching for more of that aching stretch.
when you finally feel that pull, the crash of your thighs quivering and the spasming of the muscles in your backâ the weight of joelâs hand is there to keep you together. to bring you back down from your high, from the sparks that fly behind your eyelids as your hips begin to slow from the rhythm they had built. you don't realize the tears tracking down your warm cheeks until heâs kissing the collection along your jaw, the salt and pepper scruff skimming the edge of your throat.
lips skip along your throat, muttering songs of praise into supple skin. feeling the thrum of your sputtering heart beat under his lips, the curl of a smile against your pulse point.
after your fumbling fingers work at the buttons of his slacks and sloughing them offâ pooling at the ankles as you bracket his thighs in between yours. the initial stretch of his cock was intense, the dull, aching throb in your stomach was unbearable.
you curse aloud, another painful dig of your nails into his back as joelâs forehead rests upon yours. his breathing is uneven, the coiling of your walls around him was enough to punch the air out of his lungs.
âmm, fuâuck, sweetheart. needâya taâ loosen up a bit for me, hm?â his breath is warm against your cheeks, the soft pull of a smile on joelâs face as you take a peek through half closed eyes.
âcan you do that fâme?â you mumble something of a âyesâ before another slow roll of his hips meets yours. his hand cups your jaw, a soothing weight against you as his thumb slips past your lips. wrapping plush around it, the taste of him thick on your tongue as it presses down.
you teethe lightly on the pad of his finger, the squish of it in between your molars as his cock hits a particular spot that has you moaning around it. it rolls around in your mouth, toying with the taste of it with your tongue swirling around it.
joel takes his time with you, making sure nothing hurts even the slightest bit. it's evident in the way his forearm snakes underneath your lower back, pressing you flush against his chest. the warmth of his gut against your stomach is soothing, a physical expression of assuranceâ to take what you need, rather than give what you can't, and joel will be there.
every new sound joel manages to wrangle out of you eggs him on further. the rubbered head of his cock kisses spots you didn't even know existed, each plunge inside your drooly cunt around him has you clamping down even more.
you can feel the tremble in joel's thighs pressed against your own, the tight sounds of groans echoing off the walls as he fills you. heâs about to fall apart as well, right on the brink of falling past the ledge.
relief comes quick in the form of a deep kiss with your chin jutted upwards, thumb streaking spit across the fat of your cheek before being followed up with his tongue. joel swallows the cries that tear from your chest as your arms hook over his back, pressing him so incredibly tight against youâ he believed you would fuse as one if you pulled any harder.
the warmth of his spend filling the condom blooms in your belly, sitting comfortably until joel pulls out. the dissipating heat of you wrapped around him pulling a airy noise of complaint from his nose.
your head feels like it's one with the clouds, spinning with delirium as you come down once more.
joel doesn't realize that youâve fallen asleep in his arms, drool slipping from the corner of your lips and soaking the sheets underneath. snores bubble up in your throat, a small noise as your cheek presses against the mattress.
his palm smooths your hair back, small hairs poking out again before placing a kiss against your temple as he watches your chest rise and fall in a gentle rhythm.
October 1 â angry hate sex, breathplay in an abandoned cabin with Joel
Joel and you fuck against a wall in a cabin.
Wordcount: 1,674
Contains: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, power play, hate sex, kissing, use of the word slut and whore, degradation, reader calls Joel old, choking, teasing, dirty talk
Kinktober Masterlist
"Joel, can you fucking relax? There's no one here. It's empty."
You could hear him following you into the living room of the cabin, pushing against the backrest of a chair as though it were responsible for your hopeless situation.
"Shut up. I don't wanna attract any infected."
"Jesus Christ, we're out here in the â "
"Can you fucking stop talking?" Joel's voice was harsh and dominant, leaving no room to argue. And still, it was nagging on you â the way he believed that it was okay for him to talk to you that way.
"Fuck you, Joel," you hissed, eyes narrowed although his head was turned away from you. He ignored it, and somehow it only fuelled your anger.
"Should we look into the drawers? Maybe there's some medicine." Still no answer, but at least he moved away from the kitchen table, approaching a shelf close by.
"Oh so now he's too proud to talk to me. Great."
His head shot around so suddenly, you nearly stumbled, knees bumping into a chair leg.
"Actually I'm tryna to get us outta here alive," he hissed under breath, face drawn with restrained fury. "Although I don't fuckin' think you deserve it."
Your lips pursed, brows drawing together as you took a step forward. You knew you shouldn't have this kind of reaction to the crease between his eyes â knew that your body wasn't supposed to shudder as Joel grinded his teeth, which made his jaw flex so deliciously. Especially not in this kind of setting, but hell, what were you to do? The secret, supressed, raw desire you felt for that man mixed with the hatred⊠It was the most captivating and enthralling kind of emotion, one that made nerves prickle that you hadn't even known to exist.
You took a deliberate step toward himâone that could not be mistaken for a stumble.
"What the fuck are you doin'," Joel barked as your hands hovered dangerously close to his shoulders, not quite touching yet. Instead of an answer, you pressed your lips on his pulse point right beneath his ear. He smelled and tasted like always, marked and pronounced by the countless days the two of you spent living in filthy, muddy cabins that could hardly withstand the sharp wind outside. But still good. The scent of coffee always clung to him. No wonder, as his mouth was almost always busy sipping from his thermos, unless he was busy pissing you off at that moment.
"Jesus Christ, girlâŠ," Joel growled, forcefully pulling you back by your bicep to study your face in the dark, stuffy air.
"What," you hissed back, your hands landing on top of his chest. His hairy, toned chest that was always so well-covered by countless layers of cotton but felt better than you were willing to admit under your touch.
"You're a little slut, you know that? A greedy thing that just can't keep 'er hands to 'erself, right?" Joel muttered while suddenly turning the two of you around, so you were the one pressed against the wall. Before you could protest, his breath was lingering at your ear.
"We do this after my rules, understand? No sound, no moan or whimper. You stay silent. You do as I say. You don't move."
Joel didn't even bother to wait for your reply, instead kissing along your neck while his fingers found the opening of your jeans.
"You better start worrying about your ability to stay quiet," you mumbled in the same moment as your hand grabbed his clothed dick, squeezing hard, just the way you knew he liked it. Joel sharply exhaled, clearly holding back. You saw it in the bulging vein at his temple, the sweat on his brow that was visible despite the terrifying darkness embracing the two of you.
"You're a fuckin' nightmare, do you know that?" he sighed, sounding so disappointed, you would have almost believed it.
In a matter of seconds, your jeans and panties were yanked down just enough for Joel to catch a glimpse of your mound. You didn't like being the only one exposed, it definitely gave him a little too much power. So, your hand fumbled on his center again, hooking into the leathery belt and tugging at it.
"Need help?" Joel scoffed and unbuckled his belt at once.
"No, I need you to fuck me."
His eyes rolled back, though not out of pleasure, but annoyance. He spared you the snarky reply though, proceeding getting the two of you naked just enough so his hard cock could get wet nicely.
"Spread your legs," he commanded roughly and blindly wrapped a hand around his shaft to guide himself up to your hole.
"Need help?" you uttered through gritted teeth, burying a hand in his hair at the back of his head to tug hard. Again, he didn't bother to answer, which drove you insane. It made you feel like a little child whose mere presence and words were so unimportant and useless, it was unnecessary to listen to them. You expressed your detest for the situation by scrunching your nose and tightening your grasp around his head.
"I'm surprised you even got hard, old man," you said, knowing it was one of the few things that would get through to him. Bingo! His eyes flashed as his tip nudged against your wet entrance.
"Oh yeah? You will be surprised, you little whore. You will be surprised when I fuck that attitude out of you."
A forceful thrust forward knocked all the air out of you, leaving you startled long enough for Joel to pick up on it.
"Look at you⊠mhm? All doe eyed and sweet. S'kinda scary you know⊠Seein' you lookin' cute for once. I don't know if I like it."
His left hand settled on your hip, keeping you flush against the wall while his right shamelessly pushed the collar of your shirt to the side to have a trifle more access to your chest.
"You're calling me a whore? Seriously? After you've crawled into my bed the past three nights like a pathetic puppy? I think out of the two of us, you're the greedy slut." You rolled your hips forward in an attempt to maintain control of the situation. You couldn't allow yourself to slip away, let Joel fuck you stupid on his large dick. It was tempting, easy to drift away while he did all the work but on the other hand, it would only mean more teasing and mocking from his side. So you forced yourself to stay in the moment.
"Oh⊠you better be careful what you're sayin', sweetheart. Ain't gonna forget about any of this, and I promise you, you're gonna be punished for every single one."
You moaned softly as his hand slipped between your legs to find that throbbing heat that you so desperately needed to quench. You were mad about the fact that you weren't able to come up with a smart response fast, but the fact that Joel had even answered to your mockery in the first place was enough success.
You moaned again when Joel's hand raked up your body to wrap around your neck, thumb draggingly circling your sensitive skin. You knew what was coming and took a deep breath before he applied light pressure.
"Gonna have to make you stay quiet, mhm? And I know this dirty pussy loves my cock so much⊠She's gonna cry and wail if I don't keep you quiet."
The pressure increased, making your own hand settled on top of his.
"Mhmm I know baby. I know. But you're so pretty like that, so much more⊠likeable."
Joel relaxed his hand when your face started to redden, still rocking his hips forward to pound your pussy. Your arousal was dripping down your inner thighs, soaking your panties that were dangling around your legs just a few inches below your core.
"I think I could actually start to like you if you always were this wayâŠ"
You wanted to answer something bratty, something that would either shut him up in embarrassment or work him up even further. But with his hand around your neck, squeezing and exerting steady force, it was impossible.
His other hand was still working on your clit relentlessly, coaxing out the last whimpers and cries that you had tried to supress so desperately. They were drowned by his hand around your neck either way.
"Fuckin' cum 'round me, baby. C'mon."
He pressed right into the bundle of nerves, and it became so much pressure and sensation, your hips wriggled, your right leg draping around his waist to get closer to him.
"Yeah, aren't you such a desperate little slut⊠Beggin' for me⊠Doin' as I sayâŠ"
Joel's hips abruptly snapped forward, delivering deep but very slow pounds that made you gasp every single time. You convulsed, your hole clenching hard while he swiped over your clit one last time before you fell apart around him. You cried out, eyes almost popping out the sockets while the coiling heat resolved in your lower belly. Despite Joel emptying himself in that very same moment, he didn't let go of your neck yet, knowing well how bad you were at controlling yourself while releasing.
"There we fuckin' go⊠Soaking my cock like you were meant for itâŠ."
He pressed you against the wall with his full weight, just to make you feel his presence, the broadness of his body a little longer before slipping out of you. His seed instantly dripped out of you and ran down your thighs.
"You asshole. You made a fucking mess, Joel," you complained while adjusting your shirt and pants, eyes flashing as he tucked himself in.
"Sounds like a you-problem to me," he grinned, harshly spanking your butt before turning around to finally head to the shelf.
Your knees were still a bit weak, so you leaned against the muddy, mildew-coated wall for another minute before following him.
PAIRING: dbf!Joel x fem!Reader | dbf!Tommy x fem!Reader
SUMMARY: The Millersâ beach house was supposed to be a fun getaway : a week of sun, drinks, and celebration for Joelâs 40th birthday. But after that night with Joel, everythingâs suddenly⊠awkward. Joel is cold and distant, because Joel knows better. He wonât cross that lineânot with his best friendâs daughter, not when youâre half his age. Heâs made his share of mistakes, but this wonât be one of them.
But Tommy? Tommyâs never been one for restraint, all too willing to take what Joel wonât.
WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, no outbreak au, no ellie, dbf!joel, dbf!tommy, age gap, no use of y/n, angst and tension, forced proximity
Here on AO3
Chapters
đŒ Part I
đŒ Part II
đŒ Part III
đŒ Part IV
đŒ Part V
đŒ If you want to be tagged, please let me know ! đŒ
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