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joelsgoodgirl · 11 days ago

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CHLOE OH MY GOD. i’m absolutely OBSESSED with this!!! I’m actually in love with your marcus. we stan an adoring (and sexy) husband. this was sooo incredibly hot and stunningly written.

haunted. [part one].

[marcus acacius x f!reader]. summary: foreplay, foreplay, foreplay. warnings: 18+ mdni. [f] anal fingering. begging. degradation. language. nose riding. [f] oral sex. [m] oral sex. sub!marcus. vaginal fingering. cliffhanger ending. word count: 2,408. a/n: bridgerton-inspired dialogue. if you'd already disliked the style of hayride and october's end, you'll hate this. <3 also, no-pressure tagging @gutsby, who tagged me in the wip wednesday that breathed life back into this wip. :)

your husband’s largely leaning─ his armored spine’s being stamped, against your shared bedroom’s bronze-plated door. marcus’s unmoving, rather statuesque, as you’re intently reading his latest letter aloud. the act’s deeply ritualistic, near martially sacred; an artful and favored foreplay. soon, your voice’s tapering off, having delivered every word. you’re expectantly squirming, sending your silked, sleeping tunic trekking northward.

because, marcus’s crossing the mosaic-tiled ground, employing heavy-footed, yet savorly steps, “gods, how i’ve missed you.�� his groan’s guttural; oozing deprivation, “your tone’s angelic. prettiest looking and prettiest sounding, isn’t that so?”

step, pulse. your cunt’s anticipatingly pulsating, having readily synchronized to marcus’s approach, “you should’ve heard me. every eve, beckoning you.”

his imposing shoulder’s raised, resembling an assuring shrug, “why, i must’ve. my soul’s nothing, if not recipient of your desire.”

an arousal’s brewing; inwardly whirring you, as you’re challenging him, “you’re astutely aware, then. of how ravenously i’m desiring you, this instant?”

his eye-contact’s arousingly confident, “of that, i’ve an utmost certainty.” then, marcus’s continuing, “i’d wager that your slit was this riled, amid your initial read, also?”

step, pulse. you’re whispering, “y─yes.”

you’ve endured significant suffering, thorough torturing, at time’s hand; because, almost sixty days have dissipated, without your absorbing of marcus’s pearlescent spend. you’re currently aching, finding friction where you’re impatiently perched, along the mattress’s ledge; your waist’s involuntarily rutting, like the mere remembrance of his cum’s taking control─ like, it’s possessing your groin.

he’s aimlessly repeating, “yes.” adding, “my anguished prose, it’s wetting you?”

you’re slowly hitching, before you’re hugging, your knee’s round, “look, for yourself.” the bulk of your tunic’s bunching, so that you’re completely unclad, beyond the waist, “begin undressing, won’t you?”

your hiking position’s displaying your cunt, by one-sidedly and vulgarly stretching it. his mouth’s watering, mirroring your mound. his dominant hand’s leisurely lowered, as he’s blindly removing his leathered belt; marcus’s enlarged pupils, practically reflecting your pussy’s image, as he’s inching closer. and, closer. he’s depravedly sighing, while devoutly gazing, like an unwavering worshipper─ like, your body’s an altar.

marcus’s whimpering, “you’re leaking.” next, he’s fingering his military skirt’s waist-line and yanking; his thick thumb, guiding the garment, “responsive, welcoming pussy. isn’t she, my lady? there’s one wet, wet girl.”

you’re gulping, “g─gods.” his article of clothing’s shrugged southward, until it’s brushing his bulge and treading his thighs, “your cock’s drooling, similarly.”

he’s only responding, by raspily whining. then, his ivory underwear’s being shedded; his length’s immediately swatted, innately thwacked, along his abdominal armor─ marcus’s responsively shuddering, from the maneuver. he’s become completely heavy-lidded, like your appearance’s inebriating him. you’re basking his body’s every movement; following each foot’s flick, as they’re gently kicking his ankled apparel away.

next, he’s kneeling, “i’m at your command, you’re my incessant summoner.” his length’s an immensely rigid contrast, from his crotch’s foggy-toned, softened threads, “oh, you’re disarming. you’ve disarmed me.”

you’re amused, “have i, marcus?”

he’s confessing, “i’ve no control, not around you.” his darkened glare’s boring, seemingly stretching, like it’s something that’s capable of touching, “you, you, you.”

your pussy’s palpitating, “thee general acacius, relinquishing his power?” you’re palming your breast; pinching your tapered nipple, “is he, actually?”

marcus’s humbly confirming, “why, he is.” and, he’s deeply blushing─ the rosy tingeing’s being exposed, through the patchiness that’s plaguing his beard’s aspiring fullness, “he’s seeking your permission, a─additionally.”

your head’s tilting, “my permission?” you’re openly intrigued, while marcus’s wordlessly nodding; your tone’s teasingly skeptical, “permission for?”

he’s atypically timid, likely from an extended amount of time spent apart, from you, “my d─drinking? of your cunt’s nectar?” his impressive palm’s covering his engorged sack, as he’s begging, “please, please. it’s dreamily ripened, perfectly tart. i know.”

your lower-back’s arching, as you’re raising your remaining, stagnant leg, “very well. you will crawl, until you’re nosing my cunt, won’t you?” his cock’s responsively spasming, as you’re obscenely spreading, “hm? won’t you, baby?”

marcus’s abruptly deserting his haunches, “gratefully so, my lady.” and, he’s pathetically crawling─ his unabashed movement an aphrodisiac, the way that it’s carnally sensitizing your clit, “that’s good, open wider. where’s my wife’s breedable womb?”

you’re surprised that your disheveled, evening tunic isn’t dissolving, below his browned gaze, as he’s hungrily honing in. you’re overwhelmingly stimulated, simply knowing that you’re the singular reasoning, behind marcus’s rare display of arrant submission; you’ve effortlessly compelled the feared general of rome, with the simple promise of pleasuring your pussy. but, with you, his forfeiting of dominance isn’t any anomaly.

soon, before long, marcus’s shouldering the mattress’s ledge. his throat’s generously and starkly veined, as it’s reaching outward, bypassing the bedding’s barrier. hm, there’s that inherited nose, hooking your humid slit. you’re incoherently whimpering, as he’s eagerly inhaling, brimming his lungs with your cunt’s natural perfume. you’re brutishly tugging marcus’s thicket of hair, while forwardly thrusting; enveloping his nose.

you’re repeatedly sighing, “yes, yes, yes.” your spine’s internally sprinkling pleasure, like an hour-glass that’s gauging your impending orgasm’s arrival, “deeper.”

his beard-lined mouth’s bristling, against your dripping core. next, marcus’s calculatedly humming, creating an arousing vibration; spurring your cunt’s clenching. his protruding nose’s being plugged, as your damp entrance’s choking it. he’s pushing onward, until his sculptured face’s merely an extension of you; his furrowing brow, taunting your clit. he’s an instrument, duetting facially with your waist’s every roll and scrape.

your stomach’s coiling, lavic in temperature, “you’ve no idea, how i’ve longed to ride this face, a─again.” your grinding’s emphasizing, “gods, this chiseled face.”

he’s hoarsely moaning, gruff enough that it’s reverberating; sweeping, teasing your ass’s twitching rim. and, you’ve almost forgotten, about the abundant smear of pre-cum that’s glossing marcus’s armored midriff; coating the metallic plate’s crest. almost, considering his calloused, middle finger’s just collected said sampling of cum, before breaching your back-door’s opening with it; you’re writhing, at the tandem penetration.

you’re gasping, “claiming another hole, a─already?” his wrist’s twisting, as he’s plunging upward; ladling his creamy release, “o─oh, you’re rather whorish, aren’t you? you’re my greedy, hole-hungry whore. isn’t that right?”

at your brief degradation of him, marcus’s preening. his finger’s digging, knuckling your rear-end’s puckered slot, like he’s moving with renewed vigor. you’re starry-eyed, as he’s shaking his head, working you with his cheek-bone’s raised scar; the friction’s repetitive and stabilized. you’re attempting to complement his pacing, but the mounting pleasure’s too debilitating─ your waist’s rapidly stuttering, as your cunt’s thudding.

your voice’s high-pitched; howling, ��there, there. it’s c─coming.” you’re dizzyingly horny and physically trembling, “ah, make me spray. mouth my spout.”

marcus’s deliciously obedient. you’re watching him, as his glistening nose’s momentarily surfacing, having withdrawn from you. he’s rapidly sniffling, snorting your arousal. your every nerve-ending’s activated, as he’s aggressively licking your aching clit’s entirety. his tongue’s moist sheet, blanketing it; relishing you. your lower-body’s contorting, quirking across marcus’s clothed, upper-body. thighs, finding armored shoulders.

your heel’s grounding, against marcus’s back, positioning him perfectly. you’re brokenly shrieking, as his unoccupied thumb’s reaching upward, corking your cunt. because, your head’s angling backward, you can’t see; but, you know that it’s marcus’s same hand─ the one that’s currently knuckle-deep, exploring your ass’s narrow gape. the instant that his textured thumb’s found your pussy’s flooring, you’re hysterically coming.

his three-way insertion’s unrelenting, despite your body’s resistant thrashing─ marcus’s thumb and tongue, packing your convulsing cunt, as his middle finger’s cramming your ass’s nook. your vision’s completely blackened; your every fold’s thumping. he’s harshly swigging; you’re teary-eyed, while hearing the liquid that you’ve squirted loudly descend marcus’s gulping throat. his other hand’s fanned out, forcibly stilling you.

marcus’s rabidly slurping, consuming your cunt. his gray-hued, facial hair’s deepened to charcoal-colored, as it’s become sopped with your release; the bedding’s received similar treatment, having soaked through─ you’re suddenly welcomed, by the salacious thought that his age-softened belly’s filling with your spend. marcus’s delicately lapping, keeping heed of your overstimulated clit. soon, he’s managed sipping every drop.

he’s whining, “your cunt’s beyond decadent, isn’t she?” then, marcus’s easing his fingers out, carefully unplugging your neighboring holes, “oh, you’ve n─no idea.”

you’re distractedly clenching; your every wall, suffocating an emptiness, “why, i’ve some idea, baby.” your grin’s dazed, “given that you’ve thoroughly feasted me.”

his mouth’s traveling your pubic area’s tufted front, “yet, i’ve an inkling that your pussy’s far from satiated, my lady. p─perhaps, it’s even pining?”

you’re muttering, “oh, pining’s putting it lightly.” next, you’re maneuvering, until you’ve become properly seated, “rise, before me. let’s see you.”

marcus’s quickly standing, abandoning his prior, kneeling position─ you’re immediately reaching forward, caressing his naked, sun-spotted thighs; they’re so tanned, so taut. his enlarged cock’s an eager respondent, to your body’s increasing proximity. you’re leaning lower. and, lower. he’s pathetically whimpering your name, like he’s praying for mercy─ like, you’re his personal savior; your breath’s ghosting, hovering his groin.

he’s rasping, “the faintest, o─of touches. yet, i could, o─oh.” his adam’s apple’s viscerally bobbing, as marcus’s confessing, “i’ve blown cum, simply thinking of you.”

your face’s burrowing, inhaling his musk, “from thinking alone, without doing this?” the last word’s emphasized, as you’re kneading his tightened sack, “is that so?”

his grunt’s fractured; arousingly sharp, “it’s… so, so, so.” he’s regrettably sighing, “i’m an illiterate, around you. rambling and stuttering, like the tavern’s drunkard.”

you’re pitifully laughing, “and, what’s intoxicating you?”

but, marcus’s incapable of responding─ any answer’s abruptly disintegrating, against his tongue’s pad; becoming swallowed, being replaced with an utterly vulgar growl, because you’re suddenly sucking him. your mouth’s warmly wrapping around, before it’s harshly swishing, an entire, heavily-hanging ball. he’s bracing himself, palming your hair. you’re rolling and squeezing his pair’s remaining half; his tip’s achingly salivating.

marcus’s already delirious; rapidly spewing, “you’ve allowed my earnest word, to tenant your glorious throat, by h─having read my letter. yes?”

you’re slurping, before speaking, “yes, baby.” your face’s tilting upward, as it’s traversing his length’s rigid vein, “i know, i know. the sooner that you begin begging…”

he’s desperately beginning, “please, please, my lady.” marcus’s massaging your head, his every finger’s tip, delicately scraping your scalp, “please, i’ve dreamed of it.”

your nose’s deliberately prodding him, “i’ll certainly need more specificity than that, i’m afraid.” then, your neck’s reclining, creating an eye-contact that’s all-consuming, “you’ve dreamed what, precisely?”

his waist’s responsively rutting, “you. you’re my subconscious’s preferred subject. you’re my wildest reverie, personified.” he’s whispering, “my evening slumber’s an ode, to your mouth’s anatomy. and, of your temptress tongue, i’ve religiously dreamed.”

you’re moaning an acknowledgement, “marcus.” and, you’re licking his cock’s dampened head; your abdomen pleasurably stiffening, from his distinct flavoring, “you’d wake, like this? sticky and tented?”

marcus’s admittedly nodding, “p─panting your name.” he’s grasping your skull, seeking any semblance of purchase, as you’re soothingly kissing his length’s bulbous point, “you and your ample lips. there’s not an army standing that could pull me away.”

your mouth’s narrowly parting, before it’s covering him. marcus’s instantly buckling, his previous, looming posture becoming something that’s reflexive and vulnerable, as you’re angling deeper. and, deeper. he’s almost crying, once your face’s found residency, across his pubic bone’s expanse. you’re aggressively deep-throating him; swallowing tight, until you’re impulsively gagging. your choking’s creating an intermittent suction.

he’s praising you, “that’s it, that’s right. you’re doing so well.” marcus’s rapidly removing his armor and shedding his tunic; revealing an appetizing, robust stomach that’s equally haired and scarred, “there’s another inch, here. nose to navel, there you go.”

your answer’s nothing, apart from an unintelligible gargle, as you’re repeatedly bobbing and slinking, working marcus’s generous length. and, your jaw’s aching, having painfully widened, as it’s obliging his girth. you’re roughly slurping, tapering your cheeks, so that you’re closely experiencing his cock’s every fleshy ridge and inflating vein. your mouth’s obscenely drooling, lubricating marcus’s weighty sack; saturating your chin.

his composure’s rupturing, “w─wait, please. please, i won’t last.” then, marcus’s cupping your neck’s rear, before he’s forcibly pulling you off; he’s helplessly trembling, while he’s watching your mouth’s erotic, sloppy unspooling of his cock, “g─good gods.”

you’re smugly reasoning, “why, i’d only just begun.” your head’s deservedly lolling, upon marcus’s extended arm; there, you’re nibbling his wrist’s most prominent vein, “where’s the resilience and withstanding that you’re so admired for, general acacius?”

he’s breathily answering, “any trait of that sort’s dormant, when i’m alone, with you. any strength that’s ever assisted my military career’s subdued, at your presence.”

you’re abandoning the mattress’s roman-silked surface, as you’re standing upright. your previously hiked tunic’s cascading, at your abrupt, positional change; the fabric, grandly rippling, until it’s edging your arousal-doused thighs. he’s whimpering, as your tongue’s darting out, before it’s circling his throat’s fleshy divot. then, his hand’s being deliciously dropped; leaving your neck’s rear, before taking your spine’s base.

your lower-back’s arching, becoming leverage, below marcus’s largely splayed palm. he’s delicately drawing your body nearer; adhering you, against him─ his cock’s impressively heavy and impossibly hard, as it’s notching your stomach’s natural slope. you’re suckling his collar-bone’s curve; utilizing teeth, ensuring bruising. then, you’re shallowly chewing his broad, freckled shoulder. his head’s reclining, having pleasurably tossed.

marcus’s whispering, “h─harder. please.” his heart’s loudly pounding, seemingly rattling his rib-cage’s bony dome, “brand my body. do your v─very worst.”

next, he’s effortlessly hoisting you, as you’re readying your reply─ any air’s unexpectedly snatched, from your chest’s heaving cavity. his one hand’s kneading your ass’s round, as his other hand’s squeezing your thigh’s under-side. his body’s so warm, an impenetrable hearth, as it’s upholding yours. then, you’re wordlessly indulging him, by widening your bite, before you’re sinking in; piercing him progressively harder. and, harder.

you’re comfortingly licking his requested wound, “the twin emperors’s war hasn’t pained you enough, baby?” your every appendage’s tightening, securing along marcus’s frame─ arms, netting his neck; legs, wrapping his waist, “my husband’s masochistic.”

he’s desirably pathetic, as he’s pleading, “say that, once more. c─could you?” his mouth’s invitingly hot, as it’s coasting your head’s crown; murmuring, against thatches of tousled hair, “that i’m your husband? it’s my most beloved ranking, my dearest title.”

your face’s retracting, from the safety of his shoulder’s freshly-marked shelf, “you’re my husband, marcus justus acacius.” he’s yearningly gazing, his expression hungered, as it’s following your mouth’s forging of words, “and, of you, i’ve something to ask...”

he’s an actual hair’s breadth apart, from kissing you, “ask anything, sweet girl.”

your breath’s clingingly sweet, from an earlier chalice of imported wine, “i want you, my husband, to brutally fuck me.” you’re gesturing, having employed an overt nod, “against our heirloom rug, until the thread-count’s lessened.”

#fic rec

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joelsgoodgirl · 15 days ago

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Give You What You Like

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: E/ 18+ MDNI

WC: 15.4K

Summary: You're caught in a toxic cycle with Joel, seeking pills and a trade in intimacy. When he returns ten years later, you're caught in a battle of your heart and head.

Tags: Outbreak!AU, Joel Miller x F!Reader, unprotected PIV, Oral (M&F Receiving), Drug Use, Sex For Drugs, Rough Sex, Gentle Sex, Angst, Canon Events (MCD mentioned), Mean!Joel, Soft!Joel, Pet Names, Degradation, Age Gap, No use of Y/N

A/N: My very first Joel fic! You can also find this on AO3

You are in love with Joel Miller. You knew he knew, and you knew he didn’t care.

You’d been in Jackson for almost three years now. You’d come stumbling through the snow, half frozen to death, delusional and starving. There’d been so many guns pointed at you, yet you still wouldn’t say it was the scariest moment you’d lived through in your thirty years of life. No, that was reserved for the moment Joel Miller came through the gates with a teenager in tow.

It had been almost ten years since you’d seen him. You were never supposed to see him again.

“Fuck, baby, just like that.”

“So pretty down on your knees for me.”

“Such a good girl.”

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when someone clears their throat behind you, causing you to spin around on your barstool. You put on a fake grin as Tommy sits down next to you.

“Doin’ okay, hon?” He asks, the look on his face far too sympathetic for you. You’d overheard him talking to Maria about Joel one day, the name ringing in your ears after not hearing it for years. You’d told them the basic details. You’d known Joel for a few months in the Boston QZ. You’d gone on a few smuggles with him, but nothing more than that. You didn’t, couldn’t , tell them about how many times you’d ended up tangled in his sheets. You were young then, certainly too young for a rough man like him…But you were young. Impressionable.

Your grin turns to a grimace. Of course you’re not okay. But it’s been too long, yet not long enough. You knew he was using you, you’d known it since the beginning. It was an offer at first, you’d gotten beaten by a FEDRA officer pretty badly, and Oxy was the best thing you could get. But at only twenty years old, you didn’t have much. So you’d offered him your mouth. Down and dirty, no gentle touches or whispered words. Just the saltiness of him on your tongue and a baggie of pills in your pocket.

“I’m hanging in there. Weird to see old friends.” You make your voice as nonchalant as possible, giving him a reassuring smile. “Who’s the kid?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Some stray he picked up along the way.” Tommy says, giving a noncommittal shrug. “He’s leavin’ in the mornin’ to take her to Salt Lake. Say they’re trying to find a cure.”

You nearly spit out the beer you’d taken a sip of, your eyes going wide as you gasp for air.

It takes Tommy a moment, but his eyes widen too as he realizes what he said.

He curses under his breath.

You shake your head.

You should have known.

He was going to leave, but not with you. No, not you. Never you. He’d barely even looked at you and he was already leaving.

You scowl against your own will, taking another heavy sip of your beer. “Well good.” You finally say, the energy behind your words not quite reaching. “Glad he’s finally doin’ something good.” That comes out more sincere as you stare at the bubbles in your beer, your jaw clenching together.

Tommy looks at you sympathetically. You know he knows. He has to. He doesn’t say so.

You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you have to bite down hard on the inside of your cheek. Not here, not now. You don't deserve to cry over him, not after all these years. You finish the rest of your beer and stand from the stool, patting Tommy on the shoulder once.

“I’ll see you around.” Is all you can manage before you’re walking out the doors.

It’s started to snow now, the fat flakes landing on your jacket. You feel the tears falling on your face, streaking like boiling water against your freezing skin.

You manage to get to your home without fully breaking down, shuffling through the slowly accumulating snow as you sniff away your tears.

You reach for your bottle of moonshine, traded for one of your quilts, settling by the fire.

All you can think about is Joel. How he’s just a few streets away, likely packing to ditch in the morning. Without saying as much as a word to you.

You weren’t even sure if he recognized you. You’d had your hat on, your scarf pulled over your mouth as your gun pointed to him out in the snow covered field. You watched with mild irritation as the dog left both him and the girl alone. But his eyes had merely glanced over you, like you were a stranger.

“Take the pills and get the fuck out. I ain’t got anymore time for a whore who ain’t nothin’ but a good fuck.”

His words come flying to the forefront of your mind when a quarter the bottle is gone. Those gut-wrenching, soul-piercing words.

He was never yours, not really. A means to an end. It was never supposed to end up like this.

An ache that never went away. He really had ruined you. His words constantly echoing in your head as you lay alone night after night.

You’d not been with anyone since.

You didn’t want to be.

Your frown deepens as you tip the bottle more and more, anger bubbling from a deep place you’d decided to lock away. You still weren’t sure if you were angry at him or yourself.

Angry at him for abandoning you when you needed him.

Angry at yourself for falling for him.

You’d gotten addicted to his pills and his cock.

————————————

“I was told you could get me pills.” Your face was swollen, you were sure the officer chipped a couple of your teeth too. All because you’d had a bad day and his attitude had set yours off.

You watched the man beside you stiffen out of the corner of your eye. You’d held your breath, hoping that you’d gotten the right person.

“Depends on what you’ve got.” His gruff voice sent shivers down your spine, both out of anxiety and general attraction.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye again, your brow furrowing. “Not much.” You finally say, sighing softly. “Thanks, though.” You were almost shocked when he turned his head toward you.

“What’s a kid like you need with pills?” His eyes glanced over your face, over the black eye and split lip.

“Why do any of us need them?” You ask, bristling a little bit. “And I’m not a kid. I’m almost 20.”

He laughs, a bitter and biting laugh, at you. “You’re a kid to me.”

You bristle further, grinding your teeth and wincing at the pain that radiates through your jaw. “Yeah well who’s got the chance to be a kid anymore.”

He simply shrugs, his eyes forward again. “Area four. Building 10. Apartment 17. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Your eyes snap back to his face, a little taken aback. “Okay.” Is all you can manage, your heart stuttering in your chest.

He walks away without another word, leaving you lost in your own thoughts and anxieties of what was to come.

You’d arrived the next day with a few cigarettes stuffed in your jacket pocket and nerves upsetting your stomach. You lifted your hand to knock, but before you could the door was wrenched open.

A mean looking woman was on the other side, staring you down for just a moment before her face softened just the slightest. “Ice‘ll help that.” She said after giving you a once over before slipping past you.

You made eye contact with Joel on the couch. He stared at you, unmoving. “Well?”

His voice shocked you from your trance as you tentatively walked inside, closing the door behind you. You shove your hand into your pocket, holding out the foil wrapped cigarettes. “I’ve only got three.” You say, suddenly aware how small your voice sounded.

Joel eyed the packet for just a moment before sighing heavily, standing and leaving the room. He came back with two pills in one palm, holding his empty hand out to you once he was close enough.

You glance down at the pills, then up at his face. “Only two?” You ask, frowning softly.

“Lucky it ain’t one.” He says gruffly as you place the cigarettes in his palm.

“I need more.” You say, quickly in one breath, your voice wavering slightly. “What can I do to get more?”

“You an addict or somethin?” He asks, his eyes narrowing.

You shake your head, blinking a few times. “No…Just in pain.”

He huffs in response, pressing the pills into your palm. “Don’t come back.”

You almost see a hint of compassion in his eyes, but it’s gone before you can figure it out. You leave without another word, the pills safely in your pocket.

——————————-

He was gone in the morning like promised. It was almost a relief but you possibly wanted to talk to him. You admitted to yourself that it did sting that you didn’t get the chance to talk to him.

Maria found you at the bar this time around.

It had been two weeks since he’d left, and you felt as if you were dealing with the first loss all over again. You knew you were spiraling, feeling like you were going through the five stages of grief. Just a few days ago you were arguing with yourself, promising that the next time you’d say something. Now all you wanted to do was cry because he left you… again.

“You need to talk to someone.” Maria said as she sat down at the table you were at.

Your eyes meet hers for a moment before you take another sip of your homemade mead. “I don’t need to. I need everyone in this town to stop worrying about me so much and just let me work through it.” You hadn’t meant to sound so tense, your hand tightening slightly around your glass.

Maria just shook her head at you, her lips thinning. “We’re worried about you, sweetheart. I don’t know exactly what happened between you and Joel, but I can tell you that this…” She gestures to you, her hand trailing up and down. “…isn’t worth it. And I’m sure a smart woman like you knows he isn’t.”

You groan softly, setting your glass down to run your hand through your hair, the other arm resting across your stomach in a protective gesture. “If I tell you anything, it stays between us.”

Maria nods, her face serious for a moment. “I protect my friend’s privacy.”

You can’t help the warm feeling that floods your chest, a small smile finally gracing your lips before dropping it. “Not here though. Could you come by my place later to talk?” You sound hesitant, still not sure if fully confessing to Maria what happened was a good idea. But she is right, you do need to talk to someone.

——————————-

Three weeks in a row you’ve come to him almost every other day, eyes pleading for the pills.

There was something about the way they made you float, unfeeling, for just a little bit.

This time, though, you had nothing.

“Please, Joel. I’ll do anything. I just need a couple more.” You hated begging, it felt degrading and made your skin crawl, but you were starting to feel less and less floaty every time.

“I gave you an extra one last time. Fuck off, kid.” Joel gruffs at you,

You cross your arms over your chest in a protective gesture, a habit of yours, as you sigh heavily. “Please.” You say again, your voice breaking a little. “I’ll do anything.” You take a chance, stepping closer to him. You’ve never offered anything like what you were offering, what you hoped he knew you were offering so you didn’t need to say it out loud.

“Not a fuckin’ chance.” Joel says, taking a step away from you. “Don’t go offerin’ stuff like that around here, little girl. Gonna get yourself hurt.”

You bristle slightly at the supposedly endearing term, only coming out vicious on Joel’s tongue. “I’m not a kid.” You bite back. You’d been ten when the outbreak had happened. Your childhood was stolen from you quickly, never really giving you the chance to mature naturally. You slump a little as the devastating realization of what you were offering finally hits you. “Please.” You say again, swallowing thickly. “I want to.” You add softly, looking down at your own feet as you try to avoid choking on your own voice.

Joel stiffens slightly at your admission, the sudden thoughts racing through his head far from innocent. “I’ll give you five for two ration cards.” He knew it was a loss on his part, but he wanted you out. He didn’t want to give into the dark thoughts in his head when he saw you. Your wide, innocent eyes that glimmered with appreciation whenever he handed you over the pills. He should feel guilty, watching you slip slowly into the addictions he himself fought. You’re too young, too naive.

You step closer to him, your heart rate picking up. “Ten if I suck your cock. Won’t come back for a week.” You rush out the words, your tongue feeling thick and heavy in your mouth.

Joel tenses further as you come closer, the smell of something sweet wafting off you. Vanilla? Flowers? Perfume? He’s momentarily distracted by the feminine smell of you to see your hand come up to his chest, his muscles jumping as you place your hand on his chest.

You look up at his face, searching his features for any type of severe discomfort. You swallow again at his silence, stepping even closer as you slide your hand across his chest to his shoulder. He shudders under your touch, his gaze hardening on you. “It’s not as if I haven’t thought about it before.” You say, your voice quiet now as your eyes follow your hand. You startle when his hand grasps your wrist, stilling your movement.

“You’d better have payment next week. Proper payment.” His voice is low and gruff, his grip tightening. “Ain’t gonna do this more than once.” You almost gasp in surprise when he yanks your hand in between the two of you, pressing your hand against the bulge in his jeans.

You suck in a breath through your nose as you palm his slowly hardening cock through his jeans, swallowing the saliva building in your mouth. You’d gone down on boyfriends in the past, sure, but never someone as experienced as Joel.

He huffs out another breath as he pulls away from you, and you almost ask until he’s flopping onto the couch, adjusting his legs open and cocking his head at you.

You’re far more nervous than you want to be as you slowly walk over to him, kneeling down in between his spread legs. You tentatively reach up, palming him again as you lean forward to nuzzle against the outline of his cock.

“Jesus Christ.” Joel breathes as he lays his hand heavily against the top of your head. “Really wanted this, huh?” It sounds half amusement, half wonder. You blink up at him as you pull his belt from the buckle, opening it and working open the button. He lifts his hips as you pull his pants and boxers down just enough, another small gasp escaping you as his cock slaps up against his flannel. Your eyes flick between his eyes and his cock as you lean to grasp it by the base, kitten licking the tip.

The taste of him immediately drives you insane, and you finally admit how much you really did want this. You hum softly as you shuffle closer, placing your other hand on his still covered thigh to ground yourself as you finally take the head of his cock into your mouth. He groans above you as you swirl your tongue around the head, licking through the slit. His low noises spur you on as you lower your mouth on him, starting a steady rhythm as you start to raise and lower your head.

“Fuck, baby, just like that.” He groans as his head falls back, his hips twitching as he bumps against the back of your throat.

You swallow around him as you fight your gag reflex, your eyes welling with tears as your throat constricts. He actually moans as you swallow, the noise causing an involuntary moan to bubble up your throat as you hollow your cheeks, focusing around the head as you feel him pulse against your tongue. His hand is still heavy on your head, not guiding, but simply resting.

“Gonna come in that pretty little mouth.” Joel grunts, his eyes boring into yours as you begin to bob your head again, your fingers digging into his thighs as he begins to softly thrust into your mouth, going deeper than you’d had him yet. You gag around the intrusion but he continues, forcing your throat to relax as he continues thrusting into your mouth. “Made for suckin’ cock, huh?” He asks, his voice pure gravel as your mouth brings him closer to climax. “Just a little slut who loves having a cock down her throat. Was your plan from the beginning, wasn’t it?��

You whimper and try to shake your head “no”, but his tightening grip in your hair keeps you still. The words sting a little bit, but there’s a part of you that sings praise at his word, your clit thrumming in your soaked underwear.

“Right, mouth too full to speak. Gonna swallow it all, baby? Fuck-” His words get cut off as you moan around him, sucking more harshly now. “Jesus Christ.” His hips are bucking into your mouth a little harder now, his cock punching the back of your throat, tears leaking steadily from your eyes as you moan around him again. “God, such a good little slut, takin’ me so well. Gonna- Fuck, gonna come baby. Look so pretty cryin’ on my- Fuck!” And then he was, a choked gasp forcing its way up his throat as his cock pulses in your mouth.

You’re gone less than 10 minutes later, the precious pills tucked in a plastic baggie in your front pocket.

——————————-

So you tell Maria every little detail. How it all started, why it all started. About your drug addiction you’d fallen into being around him for almost 6 months.

“I almost overdosed the day he left.” You tell her, silent tears now falling down your cheeks. You let out a wet laugh, wiping at your face. “It’s fucking pathetic , Maria. Even ten years later, I think I might still love him. And I hate that I do. I’ve never said that out loud.” You’re feeling a little past tipsy now, trying to ignore the way she frowns when you reach for the bottle again.

“I don’t think it’s pathetic.” She says reassuringly, her eyes following your hands as you fill your glass again. “You never got closure. It only makes sense. But really, honey…Joel?” She grimaces playfully, lightening the mood immediately.

“Oh believe me, I’m mad about it too.” You say, smiling and shaking your head. “Of all of the men in this godforsaken world we’re living in, it just had to be him. ” You take another drink, watching as Maria’s eyes follow the movement. “I’m working on it.” You say softly, your eyes downcast. “One thing to the next. I’m really trying.”

Maria’s mouth sets in a tight line before she sighs. “I want you to be careful with him.” She says your name, low and serious. “I know you think you know him, but Tommy told me what they used to do. Joel is not a good man.”

Your face drops into a frown, suddenly uneasy around your friend. “I know what he’s done. I was there for some of it.” You snap, your hand tightening around the glass. “It’s not like I wanted to fall in love with a man like him.”

Maria leans back on the sofa, giving you physical distance. “No, I know you didn’t. But I don’t want you to think he’s changed.”

“Has Tommy?” You ask, knowing it’s a low blow but the anger rising in your throat forces it out.

Maria shakes her head at you, her mouth immediately opening to defend her husband, but you cut her off.

“No, you know what. I shouldn’t have told you anything. Jesus, everyone is so judgmental and acts as if he isn’t just a human being. We’ve all done fucked up shit, Maria. That’s just the world now.” You stand and snatch the bottle from your coffee table, sending her one last glaring look. “You can see yourself out. I need to be alone.” You know you’re being immature, storming out of the room like a teenager throwing a tantrum. But quite frankly, you don’t care. You finally want to feel, you finally want to let go.

You fall onto your bed, screaming into your pillow and anger, frustration and pain course through you. You turn over onto your back, sighing heavily as you close your eyes to try and ground yourself. Try to prevent yourself from thinking about all those afternoons you’d spent with him.

It, as usual, didn’t work.

——————————-

The first time he fucks you because you beg for it. Not for his pills, not for his fingers. For his cock. You could never admit it was for him. You’d never admit to him that after just three months of knowing him, you wanted him around forever. It was a hopeless thought in a world like this, dog eat dog and love never lasts.

He had you backed against an alley wall, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

“You did so good, baby girl. So damned good.” He breathes into your ear, pushing you closer to your release. You’d smuggled a ton of pills into the QZ for him, managing to pass the guards unnoticed.

You whimper and whine as you grab at his shoulders, digging your forehead into his chest. “I need more.” You whine, tilting your head to nose at his neck. “Joel, please fuck me. Been so good for you. Please.” You feel him press his fingers hard into you, curling them against your front wall as his palm grinds against your clit.

He groans into your ear, huffing out a couple short breaths. “Yeah? You want my cock?” He accentuates his words with a harder grind into your cunt. Sure, he’d been dreaming about fucking you, wishing he was coming in your cunt instead of your fist or your mouth. “Dirty little girl. Offerin’ me this pretty little cunt without a trade…” He pulls his hand from you, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to lick your slick from his fingers as he usually did. “Turn around.” He says gruffly, already reaching for his belt.

You turn around quickly, anticipation curling and burning at you as you work your pants down, bending slightly as he pushes at your shoulders. He isn’t kind when he shoves into you, pulling an agonized yelp from your lungs as he stretches you open. He almost immediately sets a sharp rhythm, the pain mixing and melting into pleasure the longer he’s inside you. You can’t do anything but whimper and whine as he practically destroys you, one of his hands clamping over your mouth while the other wraps around your waist. He pulls you back against his chest as he lifts you up, pinning you against the wall. “Shut the fuck up.” He hisses into your ear, his hips slapping sharply against your ass. “Gonna get us caught. You want the guards to know what a little whore you are? Fuckin’ dirty old men like me for a couple’a pills?”

His words cause you to clench around him, used to his degrading words now, used to the way they make you gush instead of cringe. You shake your head against his palm, breathing hard through your nose as he cock reaches deeper inside than you’d thought possible. You close your eyes against his onslaught, the rough brick of the building scraping against the front of your body as he fucks you impossibly harder. You come with a sob into his hand, your entire body shaking.

“Oh, fuck, good girl.” He praises you as he fucks you through your orgasm, grinding hard into you. “Makin’ me wanna fill that pretty little pussy up. Make you walk outta here dripping with me.” He practically growls in your ear, the first shiver of fear making its way down your spine.

Your eyes widen as you wrench your mouth from his palm, panting hard. “No, please, not inside.” You whimper, the fear of what that could mean making panic rise in your throat.

He groans in your ear, pulling from you before he steps away from the wall, spinning you around and pushing your head down. You immediately give into his request, dropping to your knees as you take his hard cock in your mouth, sucking on him the way you know drives him crazy.

“So pretty down on your knees for me.” He grunts, his hands tangled in your hair so he can thrust into your mouth.

He’s coming down your throat less than a minute later.

That was the first time you went back to your apartment and cried. The almost full pill bottle that still rattled in your jacket was the harsh reminder of exactly what this was getting you. You weren’t sure if the tears were from anger or devastation, but soon the three pills in your palm made you forget even him.

——————————-

You eventually make it back to live life as normal. Took a few more weeks, but you picked up the bottle less and less each day. Tommy was proud of you, but you still weren’t talking to Maria. Something had fractured between the two of you that day, something you weren’t sure you would be able to fix.

But life goes on. It always does.

You get back into your routine, up before dawn every morning. Usually to the stables to greet the horses before you got to your chores. You hadn’t been on patrol duty for weeks now, Tommy giving you a break, or rather, distance from handling a gun too much right now. It irked you, being treated like you were broken. But you rationalized it to yourself, you knew he just had your best interest in mind. You weren’t unstable, not at all, just on edge.

Everything was shifting back to normal as spring came around, the trees slowly starting to wake up, the snow starting to melt.

A loud, pounding knock on your door startles you awake just as the sun came up on the horizon. Your hand reaches for a knife that’s no longer there as you open your front door, Tommy on the front step.

“He’s back.”

——————————-

“You stupid girl.” Joel hisses in your face. He’s got you pinned to his front door, his forearm across your chest, crowding you.

“I’m sorry, please, Joel, I’m sorry.” You whimper, more tears falling from your face.

“Couldn’t keep that stupid little mouth shut and fucked everything up. I should kill you right here.” He growls, pushing you harder into the wall.

You cry out in pain as your body goes limp, the fight slowly dying in you. “I didn’t think she’d tell anyone.” You blubber out, your eyes closed in complete submission.

“No, you didn’t, did you?” He spits at you, his teeth grinding in anger. “You got FEDRA sniffin around my door because you couldn’t wait to tell someone what a whore you are. Bout the bottles every time I fuck ya.”

You shy away from his angry words, guilt and shame bubbling in your stomach. You hadn’t known your friend was a snitch, the daughter of a higher officer. “I didn’t know.” You whimper out, feeling the pressure on your chest release as he steps away, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. You keep your body pressed against the door, crossing your arms over your stomach. “A-am I still gonna get my pills today?” You ask, more shame causing bile to rise in your throat.

He lets out a bark of disbelief, his fists slapping against his thighs. “Ain’t that rich. Still beggin’ for a fix.” He swipes the bottle of pills off the table next to him, pouring them into his palm as he counts them. Less than 20 this time, he just wants you gone. “I’m done. This is it.” He says, his eyes finally looking up at you.

You shake your head in panic, your eyes trained on his hand and the small amount of pills. “No, no, Joel, please. I need them. Where am I gonna find more?” You ask, panic constricting your voice. “Joel, I need you.” You say, the words choking you on their way up from the depths of your soul. It wasn’t the same admission as you needing the pills. Six months of this and you were in love with him.

You knew he didn’t solely fuck you for the pills anymore. It became more frequent that you’d seek him out when you were craving him. The past month slowly dissolving into something that felt less like fucking.

“Joel, baby please. I lo-” You start toward him, but slink back against the door when his face hardens and he speaks up.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” He growls, his nostrils flaring. “ Take the pills and get the fuck out. I ain’t got anymore time for a whore who ain’t nothin’ but a good fuck. Makin' off with my pills as if a sloppy thing like you means anythin' to me.”

You can’t help the sob that raises in your gut, bubbling up and out in an inhuman sound. “Joel, no, please, don’t do this to me.”

He crowds you again, the anger in his eyes causing you to cower this time. “Fuckin’ pathetic.” He shoves the pills in your hand before yanking you harshly away from the door and throwing it open. “I aint gonna say it twice. Don’t. Come. Back.”

You’re tossed out the door before you can fully think, fully process what had just happened.

You show up at his place the week after, shaking from the slight withdrawal, and from nerves. You knock but no one answers. It’s late, much too late for Joel to be out. You lay down on the floor to look under the door for any signs of life.

It’s empty. Bare. Abandoned.

You find one of his “buddies”.

He’s gone. For good. Never coming back to Boston.

You buy the pills from his acquaintance, using the rest of your ration cards.

You almost don’t make it to the next day.

But you move on after your brush with death. You become stronger.

But you don’t think you’ll ever stop missing him.

He’s ruined you for anyone else. You knew from the very first moment he had.

You weren’t exactly prepared to face this today. Not this far into your “recovery”. Recovery from loving him, recovery from the alcohol, recovery from…life.

You stared at Tommy like he’d told you he’d shot your puppy.

“Are you sure?” You ask, even though you knew this wasn’t something he’d joke about.

He gives you a nod, his expression a mix of concern and elation.

“He’s okay?” You say, your voice wavering a little.

“A little worse for wear, but yeah, he’s fine.” Tommy sighs, his lips a fine line as he looks over you. “Maria told me, you know?”

You saw red. Of course you did. She promised not to tell. But Tommy is her husband. You’d never keep anything from your own spouse. “I’m sure you think I’m trash.” You say dejectedly, your entire body deflating.

“‘S not my place to judge you. My brother on the other hand…” He trails off, frowning at you. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”

You cringe outwardly, your lips turning to a grimace. “He didn’t do anythin’ I didn’t ask for.” You say through gritted teeth.

“You still love him.” He says it as a statement, not a question.

You deflate further, a sigh ripping its way from your chest. “Don’t want to.” You bite back, unnecessarily defensive.

He raises his hands, his face scrunching in sympathy. “He’s different now. You should talk to him.”

“That all you wanted?” You ask, dismissing his suggestion. He’d come to your door, shoved this in your face and expected you to be okay with it. You weren’t.

Tommy shuffles in place, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Come by for dinner this week.”

“Will he be there?” It’s accusatory, sarcastic and bitter.

Tommy shakes his head, sighing heavily. “You can’t avoid him forever.”

“As long as I can.” Your hand is on the door, ready to shut it. “He was never supposed to be back in my life, Tommy. I need to move the fuck on.”

“It was ten years ago.” His voice bites back, fueling your anger even further. He was tired of seeing the sadness in your eyes, especially now knowing his own blood had caused it.

You want to scream at him, terrible words you’d never be able to take back. You settle for something less. “I was a kid, Tommy. Impressionable and young. But this is on me, too. Let me deal with my own shit and keep the fuck out of my business.” You close the door without another word. You hear him sigh on the other side of the door before his footsteps sound down the porch.

Alone.

Again.

——————————-

He knew he’d fucked up the moment you walked out his door the first time. But those big beautiful eyes pleading with him for an escape had made him a weak man. Those beautiful eyes with a bruise forming on one of them, a split in your lip where the blood was still drying.

He tried to be mean, tried to get you to see this wasn’t the path you wanted to go down. Tried to give you cold eyes, make himself bigger to intimidate you. But of course, it hadn’t worked. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

And then you’d come back. Offering more than someone so young should be offering him. And he’d gotten weaker.

He’d given you enough pills that he was starting to come up short on ration cards and cigarettes and booze. You’d offered him everything you’d had.

Then you’d offered your mouth. How was he supposed to say no when you looked so desperate. He cursed himself internally as you begged.

“Please, I want to.” You said, your eyes so wanting it made him weak. Yet his cock still stiffened in his jeans, his throat still dried at the thought of those pretty eyes looking up at him while you took him into your mouth.

And he tries to talk you out of it, he wants to talk you out of it. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he doesn’t want to taint something so innocent. But then you step closer and palm his cock and it was all over for him.

He’d hoped his mean words would be enough to drive you off, but he watches as you shift, your pupils dilating when he calls you a slut. Like you liked it.

He paced his apartment after you left, anger and guilt bubbling in his chest as he replays the way he’d come down your throat, the vision of your watery eyes sending another wave of lust through him.

He didn’t want to get attached, he knew you were too young. Yet he’d still handed you those pills with the harsh reminder to have a proper payment next time.

Next time.

He didn’t want there to be a next time, but he did. He’d felt powerful and wanted. Not that Tess didn’t want him, but not the way you did. Tess knew too much about him and yet not enough. And he loved her in some sort of his own way, though he’d never admit it and neither would she. He craved something sharper, something with a blade instead of comfort. Something that made his gut churn and his cock harden.

Maybe he was sick. Maybe the fungus had somehow wormed its way in without actually taking over. Making him want to be mean, be horrible. Making him want to tear you limb from limb and watch you come undone under him. But of course it hadn’t, not the way he wished it had. He wanted his lust, his need, to be out of his control. Not proof of how lost he was in the harshness of this new world.

——————————-

You fell back into the bottle like an old lover, drowning in it until you couldn’t think.

But you still thought about him with bile rising in the back of your throat at the mere thought of him being so close.

You were never supposed to see him again. You keep repeating that fact in your head as you tip the bottle to your lips over and over.

You’re brooding now, your lips set in a fine line as you mull over the options in your head. You could leave, but giving up the safety of Jackson was not an option. You could stay and ignore him, but knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever. The only option that made sense would be to stay and confront him. Tell him you’ve moved on and want nothing to do with him.

You stop with the lip of the bottle pressed to your lower lip, ready to take another drink.

The sick thought of a life with Joel slammed into the forefront of your mind against your own will. Being tangled in the sheets with him again, much older and wiser now.

Early mornings, the sun barely shining through the kitchen window. You’d be at the stove making breakfast while he tended to the baby-

You were up and running to the bathroom before you could process it, violently rejecting half the alcohol you’d drank. You rested your head against the cold porcelain, panting heavily as your head spun.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you had to catch your breath, sucking in a lungful of air as you sobbed.

You’d never broken down like this, you’d never allowed yourself to fall into the dark hole that is your future. Especially scenarios that involved Joel.

You tried to collect yourself, taking a few deep breaths, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

You cursed out loud, a broken and angry cry.

You didn’t want to feel this way. That weak, pathetic girl who gave into heartbreak so easily. That wasn’t you anymore.

You push yourself up off the tiled floor, finding your balance, making quick work of brushing your teeth clean. You make your way back into your living room, a determination you’d never felt before swelling up in your chest.

You were going to talk to him.

Today.

Right now.

You grabbed your coat off the rack, almost angrily shoving it on as you build your courage.

One arm in.

You’re going to tell him what, exactly?

The thought causes you to pause halfway putting your arm through the other sleeve.

What were you going to tell him, exactly?

Going into this blind wasn’t a good idea. You shove your arm the rest of the way though, slowly zipping it up as the options rattle though your head.

——————————-

The sickness inside him grew the longer he used you. A darkness that consumed in him the inside out.

He craved you. Well, not you, exactly. The release, the power, the need. He was addicted to the way you started to relax further around him.

It made his head spin. Alarm bells in his head anytime you were around.

Then he’d seen that look in your eyes.

A dangerous, all consuming heat.

The first three months were easy. Two to three days a week with his cock down your throat. On your knees with such a pathetic look in your eyes it made him sick with need.

So sick he needed to taste you to ease the pain.

You fell back onto your heels, wiping the cum from the corner of your mouth as he stared down at you, his heart twisting in his chest.

“Up here, girl.” He pats his thigh after he tucks his cock away, watching the bewildered look in your eyes as you stand on shaky legs and straddle his thigh. His hands grip your waist like a lifeline as he pushes you down on his thigh harder, pushing the muscle up into you.

You double over, your head resting against his shoulder. The whimper you let out almost breaks him. “Needy little thing. Bet that little pussy is just drippin’ for me, ain’t she?” He mutters as you begin to grind yourself against him, your breath fanning over the thin material of his tee.

“Gonna come just from humpin’ my leg like the whore you are?” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he refused to be kind. Knows a delicate thing like you couldn’t take the kindness from him without running with it.

He rocks you back and forth, his grip tightening as you gasp and moan into his ear, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. It unfortunately brought him peace knowing you were just as effected as he was.

His name slips past your lips and you’re coming, your forehead digging into his shoulder blade as you cry out.

No words exchanged after, just the baggie of pills, one less than he’d usually give you.

If you noticed, you didn’t say anything.

——————————-

Your feet carry you down the streets as you get lost in your thoughts. You aren’t exactly heading for Joel’s, you’re just walking.

You’re lost in your own memories of the times you spent with him. You’re playing them over and over again, playing the look in his eyes over and over. He’d never looked at you with softness, never with care.

Not until the day he’d fucked you properly the first time. You’d seen the flash of something in his eyes as he’d come, staring down at you.

A flash of adoration, of care. A softness that jarred you so deep you had to choke back your tears.

You swallow as you shake yourself out of the memory, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. Anxiety is pulling at your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You realize where you are a moment later. Three houses away from his.

You steel yourself as you straighten your jacket, the cool summer night chilling you enough it sends a shiver up your spine.

You march ahead, the alcohol you’d consumed early slowly leaving your system. You had a clear head now.

You knew what you wanted to say.

You’re knocking on his door before you can think, stepping away as you hesitate. You can only hope he isn’t home.

The door swings open, and suddenly you can’t breathe. You feel your throat tighten, your eyes widen, your stomach drop.

He stares back at you with as much shock, his lips parting as he takes you in. Your name leaves his lips on a breath, a question that’s gone unasked.

“Hi.” You say, your eyes flicking up to his after studying his face for a moment, your voice soft and unsure.

“I thought you were dead.” He says, his voice sounding more angry than he means it. All the regret and guilt bubbling in his chest made him choke on his words.

You can’t help but bristle just a little, your eyes flashing with a multitude of emotions. Anger, hurt, fear. A looping cycle until you can speak. “Well, huge disappointment, ain’t it.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He sighs in exasperation, running a hand down his face. “Tommy told me you were here.”

“I don’t even know why I’m here.” You admit, scuffing your shoe across the coir mat in front of his door.

He stares at you for a moment more, his mind processing finally seeing you after so many years. Of course he’d had a few days to prepare, but never did he think you’d show up at his door.

Not after everything that happened.

“Do you want to come in?” He finally asks, breaking the silent tension.

You visibly relax, looking up at his face again. “If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to talk.”

“S’what you deserve.” He adds quietly as he steps aside.

Walking into his bare home felt too much like walking into that apartment all those years ago, bile rising in your throat. It wasn’t exciting anymore, not like it had been toward the end.

You pause in the foyer, anxiety crawling up your throat as you turn back to him. “I’m sorry.”

The words stop him in his tracks, beck turned to you, his hand still on the doorknob. When he finally turns around, his eyes don’t leave yours. “S’not you who should be apologizing.”

You shake your head at him, wrapping your arms around your waist. You wanted to scream at him, wanted to cry. “I know I shouldn’t, but I’m still gonna.”

He takes a step forward, and it takes everything in you to not do the same, your body still somehow drawn to his after all these years. “I was- I’m still an awful man, darlin. I don’t deserve your apologies. I should be the one grovelin.”

He sounds…broken. It tears you apart against your own will, there’s something in his voice that speaks of even greater loss than the last time you’d seen him. Expected in this world, but never an invited emotion.

“Guess we both got things we regret.” You say, a slight bite to your voice you didn’t mean.

It’s like you physically watch him build his walls, his body stiffening as the silence stretches.

“That’s not what I meant, Joel.” You say, the few seconds of silence becoming too much. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant.” You can feel the panic rising, knowing that if this was it, this was it.

“I do.”

——————————-

“You’re destroying that girl.”

He sets his coffee cup down harder than he means to, his eyes flashing up to Tess. “I ain’t doin’ anythin’ she ain’t askin’ for.” It’s been five months of this mess now. And he’d had his cock buried your cunt more times than he could count. He’d claimed it had been for him the first time. And it had, but the thought of seeing you come had pushed that sickness to the forefront of his mind. He needed it now.

Tess just shakes her head at him, her arms crossed under her breasts. “You know that’s not my point.”

“Then what is?” He bristles, clenching his jaw.

She knows this isn’t a fight she’ll win, but she still needs to make the point. “She needs to start paying.”

“She is.” He snaps, his eyes down on his cup, his chest tightening.

“No, Joel, you are.” She practically snarls, discontent rising in her throat. “You’re gonna hurt her, Joel. Shit, you already are.” She’s watching her best friend slip to a place she knows she can’t pull him from.

His anger rises further. She’s right. He knows she’s right. But he can’t bring himself to let you go. “She’ll start paying.” He says with finality, meeting Tess’s eyes.

But they both know you won’t.

“I’m going to end it.” The words come out before he can stop them. “Gotta job.” He adds gruffly. “We’ll be gone at least a month. We leave next week.”

Tess stares at him for a moment, her brows furrowing further. “You need me for this one?”

He’s taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice. His eyes flick back up to hers, seeing that sad look in her eyes. A look of unwanted admiration. “I’ll always need you, Tess.”

——————————-

Those two little words send you spiraling in an instant, your world suddenly shifting. Your eyes flick back up to his, the same pain reflecting in them. “You don’t mean that.” Your voice is wet with unshed tears, tears you refuse to let fall. “Please tell me you don’t mean that.”

“Don’t you?” He asks, his voice lowering just enough it’s almost a growl. He doesn’t know where the anger is coming from. Guilt piles on his chest like a thousand bricks after he sees your face drop.

“I don’t.” Your eyes don’t stop searching his. “I did, at one point. Only thing I regret was not doin it right.”

“There was no right way.” He says; cracks in his walls. He steps toward you again, continuing past you to the kitchen. He’s pulling a beer from the fridge when your brain catches up and you follow him.

“So you regret it all?” You ask, your voice steeled as you try to swallow your emotions, the conversation going a way you’d not thought it could.

His beer bottle hits the counter hard when he sets it down, his eyes landing on yours in return. “You need to hear the words out loud, darlin’? Cause I don’t regret fuckin’ you.” He’s frustrated, you see it in the tension in his shoulders. “Christ.” A rough hand musses his curls as he threads his fingers through them. “I regret lettin’ it get so far that you got hurt.”

His admission almost startles you, watching his forehead crease as he realizes what he’s said. “That was inevitable.” You both know it’s true, but it’s the first time you’ve heard it said aloud.

His sigh feels like a ton of bricks. “I was awful to ya. I don’t get it, why’d you keep coming back?”

It’s progress; the question. It’s talking. It’s admitting it wasn’t all about the pills.

“It was an escape.” You admit, shuffling a little, putting space between you again before he’s tilting his head toward the fridge.

His home is still bare, not a single ounce of him in it. Not that you’d expected there to be, his apartment was close to the same.

He’s pulling out what looks to be a bottle of mead. You happily accept the glass he pours.

“Have you been doing okay?” You break the silence as he leans back against the counter, still caught up in observing each other.

His shoulders rise and fall in a slight shrug. It’s all you get.

“What are we doing here, Joel?” Your words are defeated, fingers clutching your glass like a lifeline. “I just want to know where we stand.”

“You came to me, darlin’.” He points out rightfully. You had, but you were at least expecting something from him too.

So you tell him that.

“I don’t know what I want.” He says gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t expecting to ever see you again.”

The same words you’d said over and over after you saw him the first time those months ago. “Friendship?” You offer, but then grimace. “Sounds like a breakup.”

His answer is too quick for you, your throat constring.

“We weren’t ever anythin’ to break up.”

You bristle slightly, your courage swelling. “Why do you deny it? Even all these years later. We know it wasn’t just about the pills anymore.” You watch him stiffen, shuffling on his feet.

“I’m not the type of man. I don’t do love, I don’t do relationships.” He’s harsh, the words biting at you and tearing you apart.

“You did Tess.” You sneer at him. You want to get a rise out of him, get him mad. You want him to yell, you want to yell.

His eyes flash with something that nearly knocks you off your feet. A deep regret mixed with longing. You’ve seen that look in so many others. It instantly deflates you, your face falling in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Joel.” You mutter, sincerely. “Look, I don’t want to fight, I just want to figure this out so we can move on. I need closure. I never thought I’d get it, but I’m getting a second chance and I need you to just talk to me.” Your voice edges on desperation as he empties his glass, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“What do you want from me?”

You heave a sad sigh, sitting down at his kitchen table as he does the same after a few moments. “I don’t know, Joel. An apology? An explanation? I know I said something I shouldn’t have said, but why’d you leave?”

“I had a job. Took me out for nearly three months. Wasn’t supposed to be that long.” He grumbles, his eyes watching his glass as he swirls the alcohol around in it, not taking another drink. “I looked for you.” There’s a thread of vulnerability in his voice.

Your eyes snap up to his, shock registering on your face. You’d given up after two months, sneaking out with a group to try to find a better life. It had somehow worked, it had eventually led you here to Jackson.

“Why?”

The question leaves him quiet for a few long moments before he finally looks up at you. “I don’t know. I still don’t. I’m bad for you, darlin’. Nothin’ good can come of stayin’ ‘round me.” A heavy sigh before he continues. “I fail everyone. People get hurt around me all the time. I got too much baggage to let anyone in.”

Your stomach flips at the sadness in his voice, the way his eyes won’t meet yours. You want to reach for his hand, you want to comfort him. But you’ve never been that for him. Comfort.

——————————-

You’re a mess, grinding your hips down onto his as he slaps your ass again.

He’s got you bare from the waist down, grinding against his erection in his jeans.

He wanted you like this, dripping and needy, begging for him to fuck you.

And you love every second of it. The imbalance. Him still fully clothed while you’ve only got your ratty t-shirt on.

“There ya go, good girl.” Joel growls into your ear, lips barely brushing your skin. “Know how much you like ridin’ me. Make yourself come and you can have my cock.”

Another whimper, a pathetic little sound as your clit catches on the seam of his jeans just right, each roll of your hips skyrocketing you toward your orgasm.

“I’m so close.” It’s mumbled against the fabric at his shoulder, your nose digging into his collarbone.

Another slap to your ass sends you careening over the edge, practically soaking the front of his jeans.

“There ya go, baby.” He mutters, his hands on your hips dragging you through your mess.

You preen at his soft tone, your body shuddering as you rode your high.

He’d gotten kinder in the five months you’d been doing this. He still held harsh words over you, but there would be flashes of moments where you saw flashes of something softer.

There’d be days like today.

Harsh movements and words melting into softness. He’d even started taking you to his bed.

You curl yourself around him when he stands, nuzzling your nose into his neck as he carries you to his bedroom.

Thankful today was one of those days.

You bounce on the mattress when you let go, trying to hide how much it was affecting you. How it made something warm swell in your chest, slowly growing with each passing day.

You’ve got your shirt off in record time, watching him remove his clothes. He was meticulous with it, making you wait as he neatly undoes every button.

You know he likes watching you squirm. Likes having that much power over you.

He tuts at you when he goes to pull off his belt. “Made a goddamn mess on me.”

You can’t help but smirk, letting your legs fall to expose yourself more to him. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

A snort leaves him before he can stop it, a cocky smirk on his face. “Quite the mouth on you today, darlin’. Need me to stuff it full?”

A shake of your head as you scoot up the bed while he kicks off his boxers and jeans is enough of an answer for him. He kneels on the bed, tapping your ankle. “Uh uh, pretty girl. You’re riding it tonight.”

You waste no time clambering to your knees, too eager for your own good.

He clicks his tongue at you again, his eyes filled with mirth. “Little slut likes ridin’, don’t she?”

You gnash your teeth playfully, straddling his hips when he finally lays back. You sink down with no preamble, taking him to the hilt.

It always hurts, but you crave it now. A cruel reminder of how this man was carving his way to your heart.

He lets you move the way he knows you need, his hands finding their home against your hips. With only the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

You’re the first to break the silence when pushes his hips on one of your downthrusts, a gasping cry of his name.

He grits his teeth as your pussy flutters around him, thrusting up harder into you. “That’s my good girl.” He pants, his teeth against your neck.

You’re coming before you realize you’re about to, your head falling back as you cry out his name over and over. The single word repeating in your head through your bliss.

His.

His good girl.

He’s shoving you off of him before you can register, your back hitting the bed. He kneels between your legs, his cum painting your pussy and lower stomach with just a few pumps of his fist.

He cleans you up with his mouth, bringing you to orgasm three more times.

You both know it’s for selfish reasons you’re doing this now.

But you don’t talk about it. He’s given you the same amount of pills for almost two months. Since the first time he’d fucked you properly.

It’s the first time you fall asleep in his bed, curled up.

Alone.

Again.

“So how’d ya’ get to Jackson?”

You’re sitting with Joel in his living room, four glasses deep in mead after “catching up”.

Giving him the most minimal details of your travels in the last 10 years, getting almost nothing back.

You on one side of the couch, him on the opposite.

And you want to touch him. Badly.

Your eyes keep drifting to his hands. Remembering how they felt. On you, inside you.

You blink back into focus for what seems the millionth time in the last hour, catching yourself.

He’s staring at you, taking you in. You can feel the scrutiny of his gaze, his eyes boring into your skin, almost sure he’s thinking the same as you.

You clear your throat again, looking around the room to distract yourself. “So I’ve kinda just been…Around. Didn’t particularly mean to find Jackson, just less infected around here.” You finish your story of ending up here, leaving out the details of exactly what had happened. Even you didn’t want to think about it.

He grunts in response, a noncommittal but agreeing sound. “You plannin’ on stayin’?”

Your eyes catch his again, heat blooming unnecessarily in your body. “I’ve been here almost three years so…I think so. Why leave safety?”

It goes quiet again as you sip your drink, still trying to calm the racing thoughts in your head. “So…” A topic you wanted to breach, but too apprehensive without the alcohol. “What happened to Tess?”

A sharp inhale comes from across the couch, his body stiffening. “Infected.”

It’s not the best answer, but it’s something. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I know how much you cared for her.”

Another grunt. You’re starting to get annoyed. “Look, if you don’t want to talk, could you at least tell me? I thought we were repairing something here.”

His demeanor changes to something chastised. “‘M sorry, darlin’. It’s just weird seeing you here again.” He clears his throat.

You can’t help but giggle, your irritation dissipating. “I get it. I still think I just might be dreaming.” You give him a relaxed smile, your body practically melting into the couch with the buzz of the mead. “You’ve aged well, if I might say. I mean- You look- You’re-” He cuts you off with a genuine laugh, your cheeks heating.

“Thank you. You look better. Used to be so frail, ya’ know? Scared I was gonna break you.” He admits, his eyes staring at his glass. His words sound almost solemn, but when you look at his face, the tiniest bit of smiling is lifting the corner of his mouth. Almost fondly.

“Been off pills since…” You trail off, grimacing. “Was actually completely sober until a few months ago.” You hear him curse under his breath, realizing the weight of your words. “That’s not what I-”

He cuts you off again with a quick shake of his head. “It’s exactly what you mean. ‘M sorry I pushed you to that, honey.”

Honey.

Rolls off his tongue like it was meant to be there.

You stare at him for a moment, your cheeks heating. “Really not what I meant, Joel. Promise.” You squeak out, pulling your knees closer to your chest. “Don’t wanna make you feel guilty. I just…Was hurting from my own wounds.”

“Wounds I gave you.” He bites out, finding your eyes with his. “It’s about time I own up to it. I know I hurt ya by leavin’ the way I did.”

You want to curl in on yourself, his words settling deep in your alcohol-muddled brain. “I knew what we were, Joel. I don’t hold any of it against you. Or myself. We both did something we shouldn’t have, but it happened and it ended and we need to be done with the blame game.” You rushed out your words, desperate for the awkward conversation to end. “I’m over it, Joel.”

He lets your words settle over him, thick and weighted. “Okay.” It’s simple, final.

You’re finally beginning to relax again when he speaks up.

“Are you, uh…Seein’ anybody?” He’s timid with his question, his voice coming out broken before he clears his throat mid sentence.

Your eyes snap to his, a thin line appearing between your brows. You debate telling him the full truth. There hadn’t been anyone since him, you’d never wanted anyone to touch you the way he did. “No…Not currently.” You settle on simple, uncomplicated.

He hums softly as he takes another drink, circling the glass by the rim after it’s empty. “No one here catch your eye?”

You know he’s just trying to make conversation now, but it somehow is making you preen. Blame the alcohol. “Not really, no. No one really fits my taste.” It’s an honest answer, coming out to your own surprise. “There hasn’t been anyone.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, word vomit that has your eyes wide and heart in your throat.

He stares at you for a long moment, unblinking and deep in thought. “I really fucked up, huh?” A rhetorical question, a heavy weight in his chest.

——————————-

The way he’s touching you almost feels tender.

He’d fucked you so hard yesterday you had bruises on your thighs from his fingers.

Those same fingers now tracing them softly as he spreads your legs. A look of satisfaction settles on his face, like he loves marking you. You almost think he does. Teeth biting the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking to make sure it bruises.

It was still early morning, the sun not even up yet. You’d fallen asleep in his bed last night, and he’d stayed.

You’d hoped it was progress. You’d gone through the emotions of figuring you were in love with him a few weeks ago, while he was out on a run. You’d missed him, and not just his body. Your heart ached to hear his sarcastic laughter, yearned to make him smile.

His mouth on your thigh jars you from your musings, your hips immediately arching into his teasing.

A quiet whimper has him looking up at you, his arms hooking around the back of your legs. “Quiet, sweet girl. You’ll get it, be patient.”

Your spine relaxes as his words settle over you through the thick fog of the pills you’d taken earlier, making your body feel floaty. You whimper again at the first swipe of his tongue through your folds, your mouth falling open in a quiet cry.

You’re trying to be good, trying to obey his command, but it feels too good. You whine again as his tongue circles your clit, you can almost feel it pulsing under him. Another whine of his name has him pulling away from you, lightly slapping your thigh.

“Shut up and take it like the good girl you are.” He grumbles, the corner of his lip twitching as your face relaxes. “There ya go.” And he’s diving back in.

You aren’t sure when you’ve become “good girl” instead of “whore” or “slut”. Sure, he’d tossed the phrase around before, but now that’s all he calls you.

His good girl.

His lips attach to your clit before you can process, two fingers prodding your entrance. He sinks his fingers and sucks your clit into his mouth in the same moment, electricty shooting up your spine as you writhe under him. You don’t think you’ll ever get over the feeling of his mouth on you, he only did it for the first time last week. Now it’s become almost routine.

Devouring you like a man starved as he hums praises into your pussy.

But he’s still being gentle with you. It’s almost distracting. The way he’s slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you, his fingers hooking against your front wall every time he pulls out.

Your body settles into the feeling as you try to block out your mind’s wanderings. Wondering why he’s being so kind, why he’s being so caring.

You gently card your fingers through his hair as he opens his eyes, your lips parting on a soft gasp as you make eye contact.

Matching half-lidded, lust filled, adoring. You can feel him smirking before he angles his fingers up and presses hard.

A horace cry of his name escapes your throat as your shoulders bow forward, your body attempting to process the intense pressure. A sharp tug on his hair has him letting up, slowly pumping his fingers in and out twice before he’s detaching his mouth, opting to look down at where his fingers are stretching you.

You whine his name again as your shoulders fall back into the pillows, that familiar coil in your core starting. “Faster.” You mumble, your hips pressing into each of his thrusts.

He surprises you by following your order, his wrist starting to burn from the exertion. “Come on, baby. Give it to me.” He mumbles before his mouth is on you again.

He’s putting that heavy pressure against your front wall again, and you know he knows what he’s doing. You’re scrambling to push his head away as the pressure builds, but he’s staying firm.

“It’s too much.” You gasp out, your hips still squirming. “Joel, fuck, Joel I’m gonna-” Your words are cut off as he presses harder, your words choking you.

His lips still brush your clit when he speaks. “Want you to soak me.” His sucks against your clit are harsher now, like he’s trying to physically taste the very being of your orgasm.

You shake your head deliriously, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto. His hair, the sheets, his hands gripping your thighs. You almost scream his name when you come, gushing fluid all over his lips and tongue, dripping into his beard and staining your sheets.

You feel like you’re floating, like you’re on the outside watching yourself shatter for him. Your legs shake and your back bows, your head digging into the pillow.

You don’t hear him praising you with his lips still pressed to your cunt, hungrily lapping at your fluids as he whispers.

“That’s it darlin’. That’s my good girl. Just like that, my perfect girl.”

You come down, your entire body shivering as you scramble to push his head away as it becomes overstimulating. “Okay, okay.” You’re panting so hard you can barely get the words out.

He pulls from you, his own chest heaving in time with yours. His gaze is still ravenous, like he’s finally allowed himself to want you without apprehensions, without guilt.

“Knew that pussy still had secrets.” His grin is menacing, satisfied.

You don’t have it in you to be a brat back to him, a half hearted laugh leaving your lips. “Funny, Miller.”

He sits back on his heels, his grin turning more genuine. “Hell of a birthday present, yeah?”

You blink at him for a moment, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. Face dropping into a frown, you tilt your head to the side. “How’d you know it’s my birthday?”

“May have snuck a look at your ID months ago. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t fuckin’ no one underage.”

You nod, your lips twitching in a small smile. “Well thanks for the mind numbing orgasm, I guess?” He snorts and climbs off the bed, leaving you to pull the covers over yourself. “Don’t you want me to take care of you?” You’ve never left without giving yourself to him, the confusion clear in your voice.

A shake of his head is all the response you get before he’s tossing a bottle of pills in front of you. “Not this time. Consider it another birthday present.”

The words sting just slightly, knowing how he still views the exchange. Like you’re only here for the pills. But that is what it's supposed to be. An exchange, not a relationship. Grabbing your clothes from the floor, you dress quietly before shoving the pills into your jacket pocket.

You’re gone without another word, letting the sting of the evening drown in a couple more pills.

——————————-

“S’that my jacket?”

You’re sitting on the back porch now, passing the bottle between the two of you in the cool summer air.

You startle, lost in your thoughts while staring up at the stars.

“Little thief, ain’t ya?” He grumbles, no malice behind his words as he takes in the guilty look on your face. “Was wonderin’ what the hell happened to it. S’one’a my best.”

“You want it back?” You tease, taking in the frays and holes. You’d tried to keep it as nice as possible, but it was one of things you’d refused to let go of when arriving in Jackson. You’d rarely worn it out on the road, keeping it stuffed in the bottom of your pack. Took up more room than you should have allowed, but it helped those nights when you were weak, missing him.

He’s staring more now, his eyes slowly taking you in. It makes you feel more exposed than you’d ever been. “Nah, looks better on ya.” He hands you the bottle again, but you refuse it. You were keeping your pleasant buzz after cooking dinner for him.

He’d watched you the entire time then, too. Flitting about his kitchen, throwing together grilled chicken sandwiches. It wasn’t much, but he’d scarfed it down like it was the best meal he’d eaten in months, likely that it was.

You feel uncomfortable. Not in a painful kind of way, more of an electricity trapped under your skin way. Words you wanted to spill but kept shoved down. Conversation had died down, the tension in the air almost palpable. You shift in your chair again, staring up at the sky.

“I missed you.” You lose your battle to keeping words down. You feel like crying once the words are out. “I know it’s dumb because we weren’t anything, I know but-”

“Darlin’.” His voice stops your words, your gaze darting over to him. “I missed ya too.”

You blame the alcohol for his loose lips, his lost inhibitions. “I’m sitting here going fuckin’ crazy because we’ve never just sat and talked and I feel…wrong.” You admit, pulling your knees to your chest.

It pulls a genuine laugh from him, something breathy and relieved. “Shit, me too.” He’s got a soft smile on his lips, his brows furrowed the tiniest bit. “S’weird, ain’t it? Like I expect you to come crawlin’ on your knees but I know that ain’t happenin’.”

You can tell he’s teasing, the corners of your lips lifting. “And you’re sitting there acting like you weren’t totally pussywhipped.” You can’t help the giddy giggle that leaves you, your cheeks flushing.

“Got me there, honey.” He admits, lifting his glass toward you. “I like you like this.” He says, his tone more serious. “Glad to see ya got yourself straightened out. You’ve grown into a beautiful woman.”

Your body heats at his words, your eyes trained on his. “Thank you, Joel.” Your words are practically dripping with gratitude, your lower lip wobbling a bit. “I was a mess when I knew you, wasn’t I?” You laugh lightly, trying to ignore how true the words were, trying to ignore that pull in your chest that was growing brighter and brighter.

“Heard you been doin’ good ‘round here, too.” He adds, giving you the softest smile you’d seen on him.

Heart in your throat, you nod, unable to choke out words around the lump. He’s being uncharacteristically kind and it’s tilting your world on its axis. His eyes are too soft. Like he’s actually proud of you.

But he doesn’t love you.

Right?

“I should get home.” The tension in the room has you almost panicking, setting you on edge.

A frown takes over his features as he tenses, deep confusion clouding his eyes. “‘M sorry, darlin’? Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

You know he can read your features, see your panic as you stand. “No, no. It isn’t you. I mean it is you, but it’s me. I can’t do this, Joel. I can’t sit here and pretend like I’m not fucking dying inside because the only person I’ve ever loved who was supposed to be dead is now sitting in front of me and-” You’re waving your arms around almost wildly, you think you’re possibly having a mental breakdown as you pace. “I just need to go and I need you to stay awa-”

Your words stop short as a large hand comes down on your shoulder. “Baby girl, stop.” He spins you around to face him before you reach the back door, the frown still etched on his face. “Slow down, what the hell are you talkin’ about?”

You want to blame the fact you’re exhausted from drinking half the day. But you know it’s because you’re done. You hiccup as a tear falls down your face, blinking up at him. “I’m still in love with you. I thought I wasn’t but you’re back and-” More words cut off when he cups your jaw, his frown softening as his thumb brushes back and forth. “I don’t know what to do.” You say wetly, feeling weak, facing your biggest fear.

You don’t want to lose him.

Again.

“What do you want to do?” He asks, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours, your heart nearly stopping when they flicker to your lips for the briefest of moments.

Staring up at him, you aren’t sure. You want to kiss him, you want to feel him against you again. But you don’t want to do this and get hurt again. “What do you want from me?” You ask instead.

He leans down, his nose brushing against yours as both of your eyes close at the sensation. Feather light touches that have your face tilting up further, the sudden need to kiss him consuming you. “Whatever you’ll allow.” He breathes before his lips brush yours, not worthy enough to be called a kiss. Simply his body touching yours.

You realize with a start that it's the first time he’s ever kissed you. You pull back in surprise, just so you can look in his eyes.

He must see something in the way you’re looking at him because his lips twitch, pulling at the corners. “‘S’all up to you, baby girl. Whatever you want, I’ll give.” His thumb brushes along your cheek again. “You wanna leave right now, you can. You wanna stay and kiss me until you fall asleep, you can do that.”

You meet him as he leans in, fully pressing your lips against him. You instantly melt into him, hands pressing to his chest, feeling the scratch of the flannel against your palms.

His hand moves from your face around the side of your head, thick fingers tangling in your hair to angle your mouth away from his for a moment. “Tell me what you want, honey.”

“You.” It comes out on a breath, a smile tilting your lips as you open your eyes to meet his. “I wanna kiss you again…” You brush your lips over his as his hand loosens in your hair. “And again…”

He doesn’t hesitate as he pulls you inside, through the kitchen and back to the living room. He’s kissing you again as he slowly sits, pulling you with him. Situating yourself on his thighs, you pull away as you reach up to drag your fingertips gently down his jaw, across his beard. “I want everything, Joel. This is crazy and scary and possibly stupid, but I want everything.” You emphasize the last word, your brow furrowing.

“People will talk.” He mumbles, not a bit of care behind his words as his hands find their home on your hips.

“People will always talk.” You lean in to kiss his lips again, deciding you’ve been separated for too long. It’s chaste again, still testing the waters before you pull back. “Already been warned away from you twice.”

A short laugh reverberating through his chest has you melting a little more, feeling it through your fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I got the same warnin’.” His hands travel to the small of your back, resting there. “I wanna do this right this time. Right person, wrong time.” It sounds stupidly sweet leaving his mouth, but he’s being sincere.

You hum in agreement, staring down at the buttons of his flannel for a moment. “Take it slow?” You suggest, almost cringing. You don’t want to take it slow, you want to rip his clothes off right here and fuck him until you can’t walk straight.

His fingers lightly dig into the small of your back, a physical manifestation of the war going on inside his head. “If you want.”

You huff an annoyed laugh. “I know you’re trying to let me take the lead on this, Joel, but I need to know what you want, too.”

The fingers digging into your back only press harder, pushing you further up his thighs. “I just told ya I wanna do it right this time. Everythin’ in me wants you naked and sittin’ on my cock, but,” A soft sigh breaks his sentence as his fingers loosen up. “I really just wanna kiss ya. Never kissed ya before this.” He sounds almost ashamed, mumbling the last words.

A sheepish grin quirks your lips as you draw his eyes back to yours, tapping your finger against his jaw. “I want that too. Turns out, I really really like kissing you.”

You press your lips to his again, relaxing both of you.

You’re the first to deepen the kiss as your lips move against his, your hand moving from his jaw to his hair, licking his lower lip at the same time.

His reaction is exactly what you’d been hoping for, a deep rumbling groan vibrating against the hand placed on his chest. It flames your desire, driving your need to be as physically close to him.

You press yourself further against him, a needy sound bubbling up your throat as he gently sucks your lower lip, smiling against your lips at the sound.

“Still just as needy as I remember.” He murmurs once he lets go, his hands traveling to your hips to grip them and keep them still.

You hadn’t even been aware you were grinding in his lap, so lost in the feeling of his tongue against yours. You giggle before you can think about it, wiggling your hips purposefully. “I have gone ten years without sex, you can’t exactly blame me.”

He clicks his tongue, swatting your ass lightly. “Little minx.” He grumbled before pulling your mouth back to his, effectively shutting you up as his fingers tangled in your hair.

You aren’t sure how it happens, but you end up under him, still making out, stretched out on the couch nearly two hours later.

And you hate to admit it, but you’re exhausted. Dizzy from his kisses, lips swollen and eyes half closed. And maybe a few added bruises along your neck, already turning purple from how hard he’d sucked your skin. You’ve managed to keep your clothes on this whole time too, only losing his jacket when he wanted to run his fingers along the band of your jeans.

“Gettin’ tired, baby?” His rough voice cuts through your haze, his lips grazing across your cheek.

Blinking a few times brings him back into focus as he pulls away, your eyes still heavy. “Can I stay tonight?”

His smile is so relaxed and free it steals your breath, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Course you can, honey.” He’s moving off of you slowly, careful to not jostle or accidentally knee you as he stands. You take his offered hand as he pulls you up, taking the opportunity to wrap your arms around his chest, burying your face there.

His arms wrap around you just as tightly, cradling and protective. He’s mumbling something, but you’re too tired to hear.

Pulling away after a few minutes he helps you upstairs, both getting ready for bed like it’s a task you’ve done before.

Brushing your teeth over his double sink, tying your hair up to keep it from tangling overnight. Too domestic to be completely comfortable, but just enough to give you a sense of peace. You pause as you look down at yourself, then back up at him.

“I don’t have pajamas.” It sounds small coming out of your mouth, your exhaustion fully caught up to you.

He’s digging through his drawers before you even finish the sentence, going through clothes that aren’t his own to find you a tshirt. “They only gave me clothes that’ll fit me.” He mumbles, still shifting through until he finds a t-shirt he finds suitable. Black with the letters “CBGB” on the front.

“What’s this?” You hold it up, taking in the vintage design.

“What’s that?” He asks, his voice a mix of surprise and disappointment. “Oh you sweet, young thing.” It’s almost too degrading the way he says it, the pity seeping into your bones. “It was a popular music venue in the 80s and 90s.”

Pouting at him, you crumple the shirt in your hands. “Not my fault I wasn’t educated.” You whine back, stripping off your jeans without second thought. You only pause when you hear Joel inhale sharply, your eyes darting up to his. “What?” Tilting your head, you straighten up, taking in his shocked expression.

He shakes his head at you, his gaze softening. “Nothin’. S’been a long time since I’ve had a woman undress in front of me.”

A blush colors your cheeks, unable to stop the way you’re smiling so fondly, taking a few steps toward him. “I could just sleep completely naked, yeah?”

The way you say it so innocently is pulling a laugh from him, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re a damn menace. Get the fuck in my bed.”

“Yes, sir.” You giggle sleepily, turning away to pull off your shirt and slip into his. When you turn back around, he’s changed silently, his eyes still trained on you.

He’s opted for his boxer briefs and a grey t-shirt. It isn’t your fault your eyes wander down the front of his body, his actions mirroring your own. He moves first, surprising you just a little when he turns toward the bed, pulling back the covers and giving you an expecting look.

You climb in after him, only realizing once you’ve laid down that it feels unnatural being in a bed with him and not fucking. Turning on your side to face him, your brows furrow as you think harder about it.

“C'mere.” Joel mumbles, lifting his forearm from the bed and patting his chest. You don’t hesitate as you immediately shuffle over to him, pressing yourself fully against him as you settle into his side. You feel the rumbling chuckle in his chest, lifting your face to look at him in question. “Just thinkin’ about how perfect you fit. Puzzle piece.”

Your breath gets stolen from your lungs, your heart seizing in your chest. Reaching up with your free hand, you place it over his heart as you stare up at him. You can feel his heart beating against your palm, strong and steady, beating faster the longer you stare at him.

You can’t help yourself, taking in every single one of the lines on his face, every scar, every grey hair. “I don’t wanna take it slow.”

He returns your gaze, his arm tightening around you. “What do you want, baby girl?”

Tears are filling your eyes against your will as you bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of him. “I don’t know.” You whimper pathetically, too tired to think. “You?”

“That sounds like a question.” His voice is just as thick with sleep as yours.

“I’m so tired.” You whine, dragging out your words. “But I can’t stop thinking about having you inside me again.”

He clears his throat, another chuckle rumbling through his chest. “Gonna need you to stop talking like that, sweet thing. I’ve already been sporting a semi for the last two hours.”

Giggling again you nuzzle at his neck, your hot breath fanning over his skin. “You could just…put it in. Could fall asleep like that.”

His arms tighten around you, heaving a heavy sigh. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re not making this easy.”

You reach down, palming his cock, feeling it harden under your touch. “Well, yeah, I’m trying to make it hard.”

“Goddamn menace. On your side.”

You comply after your foggy brain catches up, turning to face away from him. He turns too, pressing himself against your back and pushing his arm under your head. You settle back into him, unable to help the way you grind your ass into him. His hand grips your hip, stilling your movements.

“Say it again. Tell me what you want.” His lips brush the back of your head, trailing his hand down to cup your pussy.

You gasp loudly as he puts pressure against you, your head tilting back into him as you grind your hips into his palm, lifting your leg to hook around his thigh. “I want to fall asleep with your cock in me. I don’t want to fuck you right now, I just need to feel you inside me.” You almost feel dizzy as your eyes close, your body still exhausted as your mind catches up to the pleasure racing through you.

“Good girl.” He rumbles, pushing your underwear to the side. “You’re so wet.” His voice is gravely with awe as his fingers swipe through your slick. His next words are breathed into your hair like a prayer. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You choke out a half sob, your nerves lighting up as he slowly penetrates you with two of his thick fingers, taking his time as you accommodate to the stretch. You whine his name, dragging out the vowels. The stretch is delicious, sending hot spikes of pleasure up your spine.

He doesn’t speak to you the way he used to, filthy words that would hurt you now. He whispers soft praises into your hair as you writhe, pressing his fingers further into you as he adds a third. Whispered curses as he feels you clench around him, his fingers slowly pumping in and out of you.

Another hushed sob of his name has him pulling his fingers from you, kissing the top of your head. “Can I take these off?”

Him asking for consent almost has you crying, the softness in his voice sending your heart into your throat. “Please.” You beg, your voice thick. You needed to be more awake from this, your body fighting sleep as he pulls your underwear down your legs, his quickly following. You can feel him groan behind you as he fists his cock before pulling your leg over his thigh again.

Nosing the back of your neck, he sighs heavily, shifting his hips forward to drag the head of his cock through your soaked folds. He sighs your name as he presses in, pulling a sharp gasp from you.

You take him inch by inch, your body barely resisting with how relaxed and prepared you’d been. Emotions bubble in your chest as you bury your face against his bicep, a hiccup forcing its way out of your chest. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed him, how much you missed the connection of being one.

Having it mean more than an exchange has tears forming in your eyes, his name on your lips again.

He soothes you, his hand resting on your hip as his thumb brushes over your exposed skin. “What’s wrong?” He murmurs, his hips stilling, his cock still only half inside you.

Because he notices these things now, apparently.

The thought has you pushing back against him, gasping sweetly as he sinks another inch in. “Nothings wrong.” You slur, your eyes still closed. “I just…” The words you want to tell him again don’t come, tears taking their place.

His arm shifts under your head, wrapping around your chest to pull you into him. “I know.” His voice is just as emotional as yours, his throat tight. “Missed you too. Was a goddamn fool pretendin’ like I wasn’t fallin’ in love with you too.”

A choked sob rips from your chest, your hand grappling at his arm across your chest, his cock fully seated inside you now. You feel yourself flutter around him, your breathing already ragged. Desperate. Your shattered pieces slowly put themselves back together again.

“Can I move?” He asks, his breath fanning across your neck. “Baby girl, I need to move. Need to make you feel good.”

You laugh wetly, your muscles clamping down on him. “Gods, please.” You whimper as he rocks his hips, somehow pushing deeper.

He doesn’t fuck you.

He loves you.

Slow and deep, lulling you into a half-sleep state.

Neither of you speak; words aren’t needed anymore.

You simply love.

You wake the next morning with his mouth on your cunt, on the verge of a powerful orgasm that’s already shooting through your body.

You don’t leave the bed for anything except food and a shower for the next two days. Enjoying each other, talking things through, fixing everything.

You’re finally happy again. Truly, utterly, bone-achingly happy.

It would be a lie to say you grew old together. That you got to watch your family grow, pictures strewn across the walls of a beautiful little girl, the perfect mix of you two.

That you got to watch Joel get even greyer, silver haired and kind eyed.

But life has a way of letting karma catch up.

And one fateful day, nearly four years later, it does.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou

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