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chelseasdagger · 2 years

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Alone And Forsaken

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: After a close call with infected, you and Joel return to your safehouse and try to stay warm during a cold night

Warnings: smut (18+!), sex (unprotected), cockwarming, cursing, gun mention (briefly), smut with very little plot, Joel hasn’t cockwarmed in over twenty years

Author’s Note: This is my first Joel fic so I'm a little nervous but I love the idea of him cockwarming/having sex again after so long and he's desperate oops. Much thanks to @chellestrash for supporting me through this fic! Feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

Word Count: 5.2k

Joel mutters in his sleep. Most nights, it was whispers of his late daughter’s name; the sorrowful memory of that night replays in his mind even after twenty years. Other times it was restless grunts and warnings of clickers as he tossed and turned on the small mattress. It doesn’t matter whether you were in a somewhat protected military zone or in the uncertain darkness that lies outside of those sanctioned areas. When the sun sets and the anxiety dies down just enough to finally slip into unconsciousness, you’d hear the distressed mumbling beside you that made your chest grow tight all over again.

The two of you have just returned home—or, whatever you could call the four walls that were miraculously still standing. It was more of an improvised safehouse while you traveled beyond the patrolled Fedra walls to make your drop offs. The house was small but dependable, especially once Joel had gone and fortified the decaying wood that was barricading the doors and windows shut. Perhaps you could consider it safe in comparison to the rubble and debris surrounding it, not to mention the absolute luck that there were no cordyceps in the immediate area.

Smuggling isn’t exactly your favorite job when it comes to ways of earning supplies, but you suppose it’s better than the depressing things that Joel does for a few ration cards. He’s the one who got you into helping him after showing you just how good the payoff was and, if you’re honest with yourself, you enjoy the time alone with him. He isn't easy to read and his rough voice comes across harsh to others but the longer you’re around him, you begin to pick up on his true intentions behind his sometimes cold front.

Your name rings through your ears, pulling you to the present and away from your abandoned train of thought. It sounds nice to hear Joel speak it, despite his deep, rough shout. You quickly stand and make your way over to the wooden bookcase that’s lying diagonally over the back door to the house. Planting your feet on the ground, you push it so that it’s standing upright again and twist the small lock on the doorknob.

You open the door and the sounds of the thunderstorm grow louder, a flash of lightning illuminating Joel’s silhouette. His back is facing you as he checks the surrounding area once more, gun in his hands as he slowly turns before entering the house.

“It’s clear,” he holsters his gun, “no signs of clickers or infected,” he sighs heavily, closing the door gently behind him. He steps past you and into the house, immediately moving furniture in search of cracks in the floorboards. He often forgot exactly where he left his supplies due to the different safe houses you two frequent on the smuggling route. You watch as he knocks the toe of his boot into an area of the wood underneath the dusty rug. The sound is hollow and he immediately kneels to the ground to start removing the slotted wood.

“You’re sure?” you ask uncertainly, your voice a whisper in the otherwise quiet room. It was rare that you questioned him, but your fear got the better of you. The way he freezes with the floorboard piece still in his hand has you worried you overstepped, and you hurry to explain.

“I-I don’t mean to—it’s just that, well, I wanted to be absolutely certain,” your words come out faster once he looks over his shoulder. He stares up at you, glancing over your features while resting his hand on his knee. You pull your lip between your teeth, nervously thinking of his potential reaction to your words.

Your expression gives your anxiety away and he sighs gently, his eyes scanning over your face. His own features soften and you watch his shoulders begin to slouch before he’s standing up and silently walking towards you.

“Tonight was too close and I’m…” he trails off, his eyes focusing on something behind you, his mind going elsewhere. After a moment he looks to your scared face again and continues, “I’m sorry I made the wrong call.”

Joel hangs his head in defeat and you wish you could take away the guilt he feels. The rain patters gently on the roof but you still hear his frustrated exhale over the noise. He brings a hand to the back of his neck, scratching at the grey hair brushing his skin there. After clearing his throat, he continues, his southern accent wound around his words.

“I thought it was clear I… If I hadn’t gotten there—”

“But you did,” you cut him off before his mind has time to spiral. Joel always takes responsibility for every mission no matter the importance. There’s been times in the past where he thinks back on what went wrong and makes a mental note of how to improve next time, but not without holding some resentment for his flawed actions. You know tonight was more serious, what with the clicker’s gnashing teeth nearly grazing your neck, and you wanted to try and spare Joel some of the self loathing.

A shiver suddenly works its way down the back of your neck. The icy touch runs along your spine and spreads throughout your body, causing you to shake slightly. He watches your involuntary movement and looks down at your hands that are balled around the cuff of the wet jacket you’re wearing.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of those clothes,” he speaks up again before turning away. His wet footsteps echo out on the wooden floor as he steps towards his backpack. You wind your arms around yourself as he slings his bag over his shoulder, walking back to you and leading you to one of the unused rooms down the hall.

The both of you typically would stay in the main space of the house, with access to windows and a kitchen within close distance. But in moments where some privacy was needed, you’d have the extra rooms of the house to change or get some time alone. He entered the small bedroom first, quickly scanning it with his flashlight. Once deciding it was clear, he gives you a small nod before dropping his bag, leaving the room, and pulling the door shut behind him.

Crouching down to his bag, you open it and find two thick flannels folded at the bottom beneath the few cans of food and extra boxes of ammo. Discarding your wet jacket and soaked shirt underneath, you pick up a dry one from his bag and hold it in front of you. You think of the last time Joel wore this one and how the blue plaid pattern brought out the tan in his skin.

Slipping your arms through the sleeves, you pull the material closer to your body. It’s a lot softer than most of the shirts around nowadays, most likely the material being worn down by all the years Joel has been wearing it. There’s a small tear under the arm on your right side but other than that it’s in great condition.

You untwist the collar of the shirt as you make the fabric sit smoothly against your neck. Your fingers move down the lapels of the flannel and you pause for a second before raising it to your face. The collar smells so deeply of him and you shut your eyes as you inhale his scent.

His heavy footsteps sound out through the house and you hear them from the other side of the paper thin walls, pulling you from your thoughts. You quickly straighten the edges of the shirt before slipping the black buttons through their holes and making your way back to the living room.

Joel is back in his position on the worn couch. His back is straight as a board, a physical display of his alertness. He’s squinting his eyes as he peers between the slotted wood boarding up the windows, watching the outside area nearby. You’d often find him like this, making mental notes of the surrounding environments or how many exits a building had. It makes you feel safe, but you wish there was a world where he didn’t feel the need to do that instinctively.

You notice he’s wearing only his denim button up now, having ditched the soaked jacket. The heavy bookshelf is back in place as well, blocking the only entrance to the house that isn’t boarded up. Your eyes fall to the ground and notice there’s no makeshift alarm. Checking the other door in the living room, you notice it’s clear of any liter as well.

“No glass?” you ask quietly, stepping deeper into the room. Joel turns at the sound of your voice, watching from his spot on the torn couch cushion.

“Just clickers and infected for the next few miles. If we don't make a fire, we can’t draw people in. So yeah,” he’s cut off by his groan as he places his hands on his knees to stand up, “no glass.”

“Right…” you trail off, trying to ignore the excitement in your chest as he steps towards you. “So no fire tonight? That’s going to be a little rough,” you let out a bitter chuckle.

The weather had been unkind as of late and it was taking a toll on you. Joel saw the shakes your body gave under the unforgiving wind, despite him lending you extra jackets to wear under a thick winter coat you happened across. The past few nights in particular he had been burning low fires as you two were in the woods; he assured you the tree line helped disguise the smoke. But you know the risk of shedding light near open streets, even if you desperately wanted the heat anyway.

“Well, ‘m sorry,” Joel begins, his hands working their way to their usual spot on his hips. “We can’t—“

“We can’t run the risk, I know,” you sigh heavily, finishing his sentence for him. “I just wish there wasn’t a risk—“

The sudden crash of thunder catches you by surprise, making you jump away from him. Distant sounds of clicker screeching fills the air next and you don’t have enough time to fix your confident facade that slips. Joel notices it, and he sees the fear in your eyes despite the smile you flash at him and the dismissive laugh that follows.

“Jesus, you’d think I’d get used to that by now,” you chuckle, folding your arms across your chest. He sees through the act you’re putting on and sighs quietly. Wordlessly, he takes another step towards you, closing the distance and pulling you into him.

His body is warm and his strong arms feel gentle as he embraces you. This was a first between the two of you, even the smallest moments of intimacy being somewhat of a struggle for him. He’s never said it aloud but you’ve picked up on the signs after months and months of knowing him. The one thing you never do, however, is force him to open up to you. Not even after hearing his broken whispers as he recalled the events he’s had to witness.

You don’t realize how much you need his touch until he’s giving it to you, and now you don’t want to go without it. His arms around you feel like they’re holding you together enough that you can allow yourself to relax completely. It’s the first time in, well forever, that you feel like something else is barring the weight for you. And you can’t help yourself from unwinding in his hold.

You let yourself sink into his chest, your head resting below his collarbone as you inhale shakily. His heartbeat sounds out rhythmically into your ear and its predictable, repetitive pattern soothes you instantly. Slowly but surely, you’re able to bring in deeper breaths of air as your hands grab at his large back tightly. Everything else in the room fades as you squeeze your eyes shut—everything except for him.

A few moments pass and Joel begins to loosen his hold on you. His hands leave your back and begin to pull away, but you don’t let go. It must’ve dawn on him that you needed him more than he realized, because he goes back to holding you after clearing his throat gently.

You don’t want to push his boundaries or make him uncomfortable, so you bring in two big breaths of air before untangling yourself from him. He stares down at you, his eyes scanning both of yours quickly, and you feel as though you could melt under his gaze. Your feelings for him had always been there, but after that display of affection? You know you’re wrapped around his finger now.

Joel looks as though he’s about to say something; his lips part as his eyebrows pull together, but you speak before he can.

“So…” you trail off as you swing your arms awkwardly. You don’t have anything else to add; your fear of what he might say overpowered any ideas you had before you opened your mouth. His eyes fall to your hands, which are still moving, and you become painfully aware of how odd you’re acting.

“So!” you wind your arms around your chest, “What’re we thinking? Living room or one of the beds?” you ask with a joking laugh. The confusion on Joel’s face is plainly there in his rough features, but thankfully he drops it. He clears his throat once again before nodding his head towards the hallway you left just a moment ago.

“Figured we’d use the beds, since they’re there. Those sleeping bags have been killing my back,” he rasps out as he places his palm over his lower spine. He shakes his head gently, almost as if he’s reliving the pain of the sore muscles the next morning. When he glances back up at you he lets out a small chuckle, muttering, “‘M gettin’ too old for that.”

The fact that he chooses to laugh off the awkward moment has your heart tightening in your chest and a genuine smile finds its way back to your face again.

It takes only a few minutes for you and Joel to move your bags and other supplies into the new room. He doesn’t bring up the extra seconds of comfort you relished in, or the slightly embarrassing aftermath of the moment—which you’re immensely thankful for.

The mattress is, unsurprisingly, stiff and you swear you can feel the springs each time you move to get comfortable. It’s silent other than the shuffling of your clothing and Joel’s quiet breathing. Your back is facing him but you can faintly feel the warmth radiating from his body. You want more than anything to pull him closer, to spare you both from the drafty walls of this old house, but you aren’t sure you can muster up the courage.

The minutes slip by as the rain patters gently on the glass of the windows. The storm is finally settling down now and you catch the shadows of the rain through the glass; the image is projected on the wall as the droplets roll down. It’s times like these where the world seems so peaceful, you almost forget about the threats of this new world.

��Are you asleep?” your whisper cuts through the silence like a knife. There’s a pause, and for half a second you think he might’ve drifted off.

“‘M too cold to sleep,” his raspy voice sounds out, and you can’t help the chuckle that falls from your mouth.

“Yeah… yeah me too,” you admit to him. The silence that falls after you speak feels thick, and you’re once again regretting your choice of words.

You do though find comfort in his presence. Having him close makes you feel safe, but it does nothing to help the chittering of your teeth. You let out a long sigh as you rub your hands over your arms, attempting to use the friction to warm up.

“Do, uh… Do you want me to help?” he speaks up out of the darkness.

“How?” you ask with sincerity. There’s only one thing you could think of that could fix this situation at all, and you doubt he’d do it.

“I don’t…,” he trails off, trying to rack his brain for an answer. “‘M not sure. We can’t have the fire—,” he begins to explain, but you cut him off.

“No, I know, Joel, it’s okay,” you sigh. There’s a long pause after you speak and you just wish he would get the hint already. As the seconds pass the shiver in your bones grows tiring, and you finally cave in.

“C-could you… hold me?” And again you’re met with silence. Joel doesn’t say anything and you clammer to explain. “Just, y’know, it’d be warmer if you… We’d share heat that way.”

He lets out a deep grunt and you can’t help but worry that he’s hating the idea. You feel paralyzed, too scared to check over your shoulder to see his reaction. The pulsing grows in your chest and you fear you’ve overstepped again.

Joel’s arm lightly curls around your waist, and you nearly flinch from the contact. Your entire side lights up and you inhale shakily, his touch feels burning hot as it spreads through your body. The next thing you feel is his chest pressing into your back, his scent filling in the air around you.

You bite down on your lip, determined to not spoil the moment with your clumsy words. You’ve never been this close with him before, despite your crush that’s developed over the months. He’s so much warmer than you could’ve ever pictured all of those nights under the fire, longing to be in this exact situation.

Joel moves his hand down to hold your lower stomach instead but you feel his arm tense up. He begins to speak but cuts himself off, opting to move his hand back to its original place. It’s slightly reassuring to see him acting stiffly as well. It reminds you that you’re not alone in the newness of it all.

“Is that… Does this feel alright?” he mumbles, uncertainty clear in his voice.

“It’s good. It’s uh, it’s warm,” you chuckle lightly, moving your palm to cover the back of his hand, “thank you.” Your fingers wrap around the bruises on his busted knuckles. He doesn’t say anything else, but he nestles his fingers between your ribs and the mattress.

You try your best to focus on his body and not on the cold, but your brain has other ideas. Each rise and fall of his chest has him pushing against you and he’s so close you can feel his breath on your shoulder. Every second that passes makes your awareness of him worse and worse.

A shiver runs its course through your body again, a sign of the chill still deep in your bones. He doesn’t mention it but wraps his arms tighter anyway. The close grip does nothing but make you crave more of him. An idea pops into your head suddenly, and you don’t give yourself a chance to second guess it and back out. You push your ass back into his crotch and his hand immediately leaves your ribs, trying to stop you from doing it again.

“Don’t,” he grunts behind clenched teeth. His fingers dig into your hip tightly and your breath catches in your throat. He’s never sounded this rough with you but the rasp in chest makes you grow hotter between your thighs.

“C’mon, Joel,” you nearly whine, “it’s so cold.” You roll your hips back again, pushing yourself against his bulge once more. His grip on you tightens and you immediately stop.

“That’s a bad idea,” he whispers gravely. The air around the words ghost over your neck and goosebumps start decorating your skin. The gruff tone of his voice does nothing but add fuel to the fire in your lower stomach and you press your thighs together to try and get some relief.

“We don’t have to—not, not all the way, I mean.” You sigh defeatedly, knowing you’ve probably ruined your chance at sparking more than a friendship between the two of you. Each bout of silence feels worse than the last, but this time you feel like if you speak at all you’ll destroy everything.

A weary sigh comes from behind your shoulder, the breath blowing your hair lightly. You swallow thickly as you feel his hand move and hear his belt buckle sound out a second later.

“Shit,” he mumbles, and the sound of denim shifting grows louder. His jeans are kicked off and tossed onto the floor as he presses his lower half against you again. You can’t believe it’s actually happening, that he’s truly considering this.

“Are you sure about this? We don’t have to do this, any of it, if you don’t want it,” the words leaving his mouth are barely audible. You finally turn your head over your shoulder to look him in the eyes, nodding gently before whispering, “Please.”

He swallows heavily and glances down between the two of you. You follow his gaze and see his cock, still mostly soft, and you reach down to hold him. The groan doesn’t quite leave his chest as you wrap your fingers around him, gently pumping him in your hand twice before lining him up with your entrance.

Joel slowly guides his hips to follow your movements, pushing inside of you. Even when he’s soft you can feel the decent size he is, and as the seconds pass, you feel him grow bigger inside of you. He doesn’t speak during it, but you hear the way he’s breathing through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, I can’t help—,” he cuts himself off as his fingernails dig deeper into your side. You’re not sure how much bigger he’ll get, but you’re beginning to feel the stretch of his thickness. Feeling him slowly fill you from the inside is a sensation you’re not used to, but you let out a pleased hum from how much warmer you are.

His cock continues to get harder and his fingers let go of you just to grab you tight again. It’s almost as if he feels guilty for his body’s natural reaction, but he can’t fight it either. You feel him give a faint twitch and you clench around him instinctively. His forehead presses against your shoulder as he sighs loudly, his now swollen tip pressing into your lower stomach.

“I don’t think either of us will fall asleep like this,” you speak up in the silence. He’s hard and heavy inside of you and you can feel each vein along his cock. He groans again before pushing himself up, changing positions so he’s on top of you. He doesn’t pull out, however, and now that he’s moved he’s somehow slipped even deeper inside of you.

He’s staring down at where you two are connected as he pants lightly, still trying to get used to the new feeling. You reach out for his cheek, cupping his face in your palm as your thumb drags along his bottom lip. His desperate eyes search for yours in the dark and you notice the shaky breath he lets out. His fingers curl around your wrist gently as he squeezes his eyes shut. He looks as if he’s in pain, but the twitching you feel inside of you tells you otherwise.

“It’s okay, Joel. You can move,” you instruct him, pulling his lip down. Those words snap something inside of him and he plunges forward, kissing you deeply. Your heart races in your chest as he begins to move forward, pressing himself deeper inside of you. His tongue glides along yours and you moan into his mouth before he breaks the kiss.

He glances back down to where he’s buried inside of you and you watch how he takes it all in. You can hear the sounds of your slick each time he pushes in, the noise so loud in the otherwise quiet room. His hips rock forward torturously slow but pull back before he can bottom out; you can’t help the frown on your face as he does it repeatedly.

“Joel, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you…” you’re not sure how to finish the sentence, but thankfully he understands. His groans fall from the back of his throat as he sits back on his calves, stilling inside of you.

“I haven’t—it’s been so long,” they’re the only words he can think of to explain. It clicks for you then that the reason he’s being so hesitant must be because of how it feels for him. You can’t help the fond smile you flash at him before reaching for his neck to pull him back to you. His lips are soft as he kisses you back and you let your hand fall from his neck to cup his jaw again. You brush your thumb along his cheek, feeling the scratchy beard tickling your palm.

He rocks his hips inside of you faster now but still, he doesn’t go as deep as he can. You try telling him it’s okay, coaxing him with little praises, but he still holds himself back. You can feel yourself craving more and an idea pops into your head.

You wrap your legs around his sides, crossing your ankles and dig the heel of your foot into his lower back. You pull him down onto you as close as you can and he lets out a shuddering moan. Rubbing your hands over his broad shoulders, you give him time to adjust to the feeling of his entire length inside of you.

Joel sniffles after a moment and you feel his hips buck into you. The head of his cock nudges that part deep in your stomach where the pleasure nearly hurts because of how full of him you are. You clench around him and he lets out a strangled cry, letting his face fall into your neck.

His lips suck on the sensitive skin below your jaw, grazing his teeth along you before biting gently. He continues to rut inside of you, never pulling back, not wanting to leave your warmth. He licks over your skin as he soothes the mark he just left on you before unbuttoning your shirt, his hand cupping your breast. The wet stripe on your neck grows cold as the air hits it and you let out a moan of his name.

“Oh, Christ,” he curses quietly, squeezing your chest under his palm. The reflection of the rain on glass illuminates his face now as he stares at you. You watch as the droplets roll down his cheeks; they glide over the lines and scars decorating his face that tell a thousand tales. He bites down on his bottom lip and you catch the way his throat tightens, the veins tensing, like he’s trying to stay quiet.

“It’s okay, Joel. I wanna hear you,” you whisper as if it’s meant for just him to hear. He looks into your eyes as his own are filled with uncertainty. Nodding your head, you watch as his composure slowly breaks down and you finally hear the guttural groan that comes from his chest.

His moans fall freely now, as if your words were permission for him to express himself. Every sound that escapes his lips turns you on even more now that you hear just how good he’s feeling. His hand drops from your chest as his fingers glide down your stomach, lighting a fire on your skin as they move. He reaches for the underside of your thigh and he pushes your knee up to your chest. With the new angle his cock pushes impossibly deeper and you gasp, your fingers tugging on the silver strands at the back of his head.

“You feel…” he groans, dragging his hips back until just his head is inside of you. “You feel so fucking good,” he chokes out before thrusting again. His fingers move to your clit, rubbing your slick over where you’re most sensitive and his touch has you clenching around him.

“Oh, fuck, Joel!” you cry out as you buck your hips, squirming under his touch. Hearing his name falling out of a broken moan, his hips stutter forward and the tempo he sets begins to falter. You feel the heat quickly growing deep in your stomach and you know neither of you will last much longer.

“C-C’mon, honey, I need you,” he grunts out louder, his southern accent coming out thicker as he rubs his thumb over your clit faster. His opposite hand squeezes your hip tightly and you feel as though he might bruise the skin from how tight he’s holding you. Your voice shakes through your whimpers as he moves faster, your body bouncing underneath his hard thrusts.

Joel thrusts inside one last time before stilling, his cock twitching as he comes. The warmth filling you while he lets out a growl of your name is the last thing you need to push you over the edge. You clench around him repeatedly, drawing out his own orgasm as you two fall apart in each other’s embrace.

He doesn’t move after that, only hides his face into your neck again as he nuzzles his nose along your collarbone. His lips cover the markings he left just minutes ago, tending to them with gentle kisses. Neither of you say anything as you let your bodies relax into one another and it’s the most relief you’ve felt in months.

Your hands find their way to his broad back, rubbing over his shoulders absentmindedly while you listen to the rain lightly patter on the roof. His weight presses into you still as he lies on top of you, the feeling grounding you as you notice the kisses have stopped for a few minutes.

Looking down at your shoulder, you see his face is completely peaceful. The regular furrow of his eyebrows is smoothed out and the nearly permanent frown has left his face. All those worried lines have disappeared now and there’s not a single mutter disturbing his sleep.

You’ve never seen him this calm and you feel an overwhelming sense of pride that you were able to give him this—the first night where he doesn’t force himself to stay awake despite his heavy eyes, or wake up in a sweat from awful nightmares.

You decide right then and there that you want to give him this one perfect night. Slowly slipping out from underneath Joel, careful not to wake him, you pick your clothes up off of the floor and dress yourself. You grab your bag and weapons before kneeling beside the mattress on the floor. Running your fingers through his hair, you press a kiss to his temple before making your way out of the room.

With one last look over your shoulder at his sleeping face, you pull the door shut silently. You take watch that night, sitting in the living room until the sun rises between the gaps in the boarded up windows, giving him one night of peace.

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