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ohraicodoll · 2 years ago

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You Bury Me

Joel Miller x Feral Reader/OC The Last of Us 7k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: A failed trade, a dress, music, and their own form of confession. Warning: Hurt/Comfort. Explicit Sexual Content. 18+ Minors DNI

“I'll never know If there's danger in confession Or it's memory that presses Like a blade against my throat Another word and I could choke But what's worse? Tellin' you my feelings Or to die without revealing That you got inside my head And set a fire there instead?”” -”Ya'aburnee” by Halsey “Ya'aburnee means "you bury me." In Arabic however, it represents the idea that you hope the person you love will live longer than you, so you don't have to live without them.”

“Well aren’t you a stunner,” Tommy grinned, looking her over despite her stance giving off the vibe of a wet cat being forced into a room full of children. She shot him a withering stare, glare sharp, but the hostility wasn’t there like usual. Just extreme discomfort. He only kept smiling and she disliked how they were starting to be unaffected by her now that they were getting used to her.

She glowered, hands fidgeting with the material of her dress, feeling bare and uncomfortable outside of pants and entirely weaponless. The dress was snug, fitted to her body, short bell sleeves of all things draped from her shoulders. She hadn’t worn anything fitted in over a decade, hadn’t worn anything other than pants since the Outbreak. Even now she wore whatever she could grab off the floor, whether it be hers or Joel’s or Ellie’s. At this point Joel was complaining about both of them taking his shirts. But Maria had forced the black dress onto her and pushed her into it even after she’d sneered at the ruffled skirt and v-neck that showed more cleavage than she was comfortable with. Tommy’s wife was starting to grow immune to her snapping as well, knowing that for as much as she barked, there was zero bite against her especially while she was pregnant.

She’d brought it on herself and was going to suffer through it. When sandals were brought out, she flat refused. She could fight in a skirt if she needed to but she drew the line at anything other than her boots, no matter how much Maria corrected her that she wouldn’t be fighting at all. This all had been done with much protesting. A lot of protesting. But she’d been at a disadvantage. She had initiated the trade. Maria didn’t need anything from her and therefore didn’t have anything she wanted for the trade she’d been trying to do between them. Instead, the woman had given her another option in the spirit of integration. She had to come to one of Jackson’s monthly gatherings and dress up for it. Literally. She almost walked out. Almost. This felt like a sort of punishment of the worst kind. A punishment for all the stress and fights and problems she’d been at the center of. Maria was trying so hard to force her to be like everyone else and didn’t understand it was like stepping on a pile of sharp, hot blades. It was physically uncomfortable to be around so many people, especially dressed as she was. No armor. No one understood how intense that feeling was except for Joel, even Ellie having a hard time processing sometimes.

Maria grinned smugly in that overly assured way she always did when she thought she knew better and her teeth grit behind thinned lips. She needed Ellie or Joel as a buffer between her and everyone else, not liking the feeling of the attention being on her. But the teenager had already run off to find her new friends and she wasn’t going to hold her back. The older man was nowhere to be seen since working a construction shift.

She was trying. God, was she trying if only for Ellie and Joel’s sake but it was hard getting used to being surrounded and not on edge 24/7. Ellie had made sure to wolf-whistle at her when she’d seen her, now that she knew how, and asked if she was wearing the outfit because she had a concussion. The little shit. She wanted to lay out back with the pigs and die. “Fuck off, It was part of a trade,” she bit out, the words easier in her anger, slightly glaring at them both in an attempt to hide her discomfort, “All this for a damn record player.” Tommy’s brow furrowed and he looked over at his wife with a frown, “Record player? Our record player?” Maria shrugged, “Yeah, we don’t really use it or have any good records for it so I’m trading it to her.” The younger Miller winced, looking between both women almost fearfully though the look he was giving her was far more nervous, “Sweetheart, I’m sorry but I traded that today. I didn’t know-” “You traded it?” her voice cut him off incredulously, irritation and the bitter taste of disappointment on her tongue. Her tone was sharp, cutting, as her heart sank to the pit of her stomach, “Seriously? Maria-” Tommy cringed harder, eyes roaming as if to search out Joel or Ellie out of safety, while his wife raised her hands placatingly, “I didn’t know, Red. Listen, I’ll figure something out. I’ll see if someone else has one and I’ll make it right.” She felt stupid. She never asked for anything herself. Never tried to get non-essential items or things just for her. Every trade she had made or request had been for the two people she cared for or the kennels. Join the community, they had said. She tried. If only to keep from getting kicked out and Joel and Ellie from being ostracized because of her. Everyone was still terrified of her and she knew that if she got kicked out, there would be no stopping the two of them from following her no matter how much she protested.

So she tried even when it felt like being skinned alive for their sake.

She’d tried to make bridges between her and Tommy, get along somewhat with Maria and even approached her for a trade. It had felt like she was being choked while doing it, but she had and had then suffered Maria’s ministrations and been forced out of her comfort zone for even a hint of a prize. Had sat there, seething as Maria did her hair and dabbed makeup on her, nails digging into her thigh. Now there was nothing but embarrassment.

Stupid. Fucking stupid. Her cheeks were flush and her chest tight, feelings she never allowed to sink in now flooding her. Embarrassment. She was so embarrassed. She hadn’t felt embarrassed since she was younger, hadn’t cared what people thought of her in the years since the Outbreak but now- the feeling was hot and sticky in her chest.

Spinning away from them with a snarl, she pushed through the crowd of happy people dancing around them having a good time and tried to ignore the flutter of her skirt against her legs and the pressing atmosphere of too many people. Skin bumping against her bare arms, laughter in her ear, the lights too bright. Too many eyes, staring, judging, standing at her back. Their laughter was choking her, the music for once not helping but muffling her ears to the point she couldn’t hear herself think. Panic. It hit her hard and she tried to breathe as she ran for the exit.

It’d been a mistake. She wasn’t the same girl from over twenty years ago who had loved music so much she had forced herself into the spotlight despite her fear and anxiety. Letting Maria dress her up, making her feel like a semblance of that girl again, had been a mistake. That girl had died and needed to stay buried if she was going to survive. She wasn’t bashful, gentle, pretty, or delicate. No, that’d all been beaten out of her over and over and over again by life and everything cruel. The world chewed up those types of people and she hadn’t let it, had gnashed her teeth at it and become something else to survive. Maybe she wasn’t made for settlement life. She wanted to claw the dress off her body and burn it, stick her head in a bucket of water until the makeup ran off. She had let herself want something and got burned for it. At least Joel hadn’t been there to see it all, mock her for playing dress up and see how she lacked in comparison to all the other women he could have. She wasn’t sure if she could handle his laughter. He kept her around because she was ruthless, not because of how she looked, and now she appeared weak. Ellie noticing had been bad enough. She didn’t remember the walk home. Only the press of the fabric constricting her skin, the slight buzz of the electricity overhead, the way her heartbeat was overwhelming in its rapid pace. Her breathing was choked around the panic and rage and embarrassment crawling through her veins and she needed to hide away for a while. The slight squeak of the front steps grated in her ear but pulled her back into herself enough to realize she had made it. She huffed out another annoyed sigh, unlocking the front door. She was going to shower, rinse all the stares and laughter and evidence of her humiliation, and hide in bed. Maybe get up early and take a morning patrol shift if only to clear her head and avoid the looks of all the townspeople that had witnessed her embarrassment, breathe in the woods and the wilderness. Hell, maybe she’d take a dive into the river and let it wash her downstream and away from it all. But as she opened the door, she came to a frozen halt. There was music playing in the living room. The soft crooning of Ella Fitzgerald filled the space, the tune soft and low with only the slightest crackling of a worn speaker. It wasn’t the busted radio Joel had tried to fix that cut out every other second. The lights were low, only a lamp on in the corner, and the music made the space feel so much softer, almost warmer. And there it was. The record player she had made the deal for sitting on the top of a small end table that most of the time was covered in books or tools or gun parts. “Hey,” she could feel Joel’s presence even before he spoke, that part of her mind that always kept track of him no matter where he was in the house or around her. But her eyes were stuck on the record player and the spin of the vinyl, watching the motion hypnotically and flooded by the music. Everything drained from her, leaving her hollow, frozen, empty. Her voice was loud in her ears, a roar in a chasm, but she knew it was barely a whisper in the space between them, “I was going to trade for that.” Joel didn’t reply but she could see him rub the back of his neck out the corner of her eye, the slight wince crossing his face as he tucked a hand into his belt, “Sorry, I got it from Tommy today…I knew you had your eye on one and you’ve been stashing records in the downstairs room with no way to play them. This one even has one of those cassette slots for that tape you keep and I know Bobby who runs the library has a good stash of those-” “Joel, shut up,” she whispered though none of the usual harshness was there. Instead, she was struggling to breathe, to suck in air past the knot in her throat and the stinging feeling in her eyes. He’d gotten it for her. Not for him, but for her. He had noticed the things she did, what she liked, and had done something nice for her. Often the things he did for them were utilitarian in nature though he did more for Ellie. It was how he showed he cared. Fixing Ellie’s window, loading the woman’s packs with everything she might need the night before her morning shifts, getting her new boots when her old ones started to rip. But there was no practical reason for the record player. He knew bits and pieces about her that she had given him, scraps of her life. Knew she had tried to be a singer before the world went to hell and her love of music. Knew that the cassette tape in her bag, the one she’d murdered people to keep from getting a hold of, contained her favorite music her sister had made for her as well as her own voice from a rough band practice Annie had recorded. It’d been a birthday present. Remembered the way she would trace her fingers over the records in the wreckage of stores as they passed through them on the road. He’d watched and cataloged it all and had noticed. He’d always noticed her. “Maria made me dress up in exchange for that,” her voice was raspy, choked, “Stuck me in this stupid dress and forced me to put on makeup and did my hair and made me go to that party. All part of a deal so I could get that player.” Joel was quiet, not interrupting but taking her in. Gauging how best to approach lest she run or snap. She could feel his eyes burning into every inch of exposed skin, to the tightening of her hands and the clenching of her jaw. But slowly he stepped a bit closer, more into the light, with a sigh, “It looks good on you-” “I look fucking stupid, Tex,” the words were spit out aggressively, “I feel ridiculous. They all saw me and there were so many people- But I did it. Then Tommy said he’d already traded it and…I don’t know.” She finally turned to look at him, the words a jumble. She couldn’t even understand what she was trying to convey. The overwhelming feeling of shame and disappointment and panic that had flooded her and made her want to run. She caught the way the light reflected off his eyes, the furrow in his brow and the tightness in his shoulders. He was being careful. Even after all the time they’ve known each other, he knew sometimes to be careful. Not to spook her. “You don’t look stupid,” he muttered gently in an effort to convince her and met her eyes, not breaking eye contact and trying to persuade her to listen, “You…you look beautiful and I’m not just fucking saying that. I wouldn’t lie to you, darlin’. Don’t listen to that voice inside your head, listen to mine and what I’m saying.” She swallowed, heart racing, “Why?” “Why listen to me?” “No, why did you do it? Why did you get it?” The thought weighed heavy, but also was a distraction to keep from focusing on his voice calling her beautiful. It was dumb and meaningless. Placating. He hadn’t mentioned needing a record and had listed things that only pertained to her. She had records, she had been eyeing it. It felt like she owed him a debt, but that thought also sounded like an excuse, the alternative something she couldn’t quite process. The record was ending, the soft music stopping and leaving them only in silence. He stared at her, took in the hard press of her lips, the way her fingers were fidgeting with her dress, the stiffness of her body as if at any second she’d bolt like a wild animal. Maybe she would. She was more animal than woman most days. Joel sighed and chewed on his lip, tasting a hint of blood from the dry cracked skin, “Because I knew it would make you happy.” The scoff that left her mouth was broken, half-hearted. It tasted of excuses and denial. “When have you ever cared about what makes me happy?” “Don’t,” the word was hard and unyielding, almost a snarl, his brow furrowing deeper, “Don’t do that. We’re far, far past that kind of bullshit now, Starshine, and you know it. We’ve been far past that for a good while now. Maybe out there you could have gotten away with that bullshit, but not here and now. Not after everything.” She did know it. But it was the last barrier she could keep between them, a shredded tattered thing to shield herself. The vestiges of that hatred that had burned at the beginning of their relationship so long ago, had stayed long after he started fucking her and then had dissipated when they weren’t looking like a magic trick.

Distrust had turned to respect and then protectiveness behind their backs. She didn’t want to think about what it had turned into next. She’d done so much to keep them both safe because they were hers. She’d burn the whole fucking world down for them, would rip and tear whoever she needed to just to keep them safe, and would smile the whole way. But she and Joel had never spoken out loud what they were. She knew what Ellie was to her, to them both, but between the two adults? That was something else. They were hers and he had said she was his before. But it wasn’t something solid or straight forward. The last tinges of her old self who had been awkward and didn’t know how to navigate dating and relationships still hung on in that aspect, but it was mostly fear. It was a dance she didn’t know the steps to, a language she never learned. She understood sex and family but it’d been so long since she had a relationship and her last had been twisted into something ugly. It was tangled together with her sister, with her death and her screams and the sound of a gunshot. She didn't know how to detangle love from violence. Joel stepped closer and her instinct screamed to run. Her heart was beating like a rabbit caught in a trap, the intimacy almost as frightening as a gun to her head or a Clicker’s teeth. She wasn’t breathing anymore, dressed fisted tightly in her claws. “I know shit’s different here, but unless you have some plans to go back across the country then this is it,” Joel’s accent was thick as he continued to step closer, words direct and to the point, “This is home. This is the place we protect. Ellie, me, and you. And if this is where we’re gonna be I want you to be happy. I want you to have your music, have whatever you want. I’ll fix that guitar and we’ll teach Ellie or I’ll hunt down all those dumb comics she likes so much. Fuck, I’ll be the one to learn to cook if I have to so she stops complaining and so you don’t have to. I’ll let you bring those dogs home whenever you want and maybe let Ellie keep one. I want you happy.” She was choking on her heart, air trapped in her throat and she didn’t know what to do but stand there and shake and listen as Joel painted an image of a life she wasn’t sure she could allow herself to want. “You’re it for me, darlin’,” Joel huffed out a chuckle and shook his head as if disbelieving he was having to tell her outloud, “You and me. I’m not looking at anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. You and Ellie are my purpose and that means I’m going to take care of you both until the day I die. In whatever capacity that means. Whether it continues like we’ve been, continues to a church one day, or out there in the woods without Jackson. It’s us three. I’m not asking you to let your guard down or stop snapping at any dipshit who thinks they can handle you or be some domesticated stepford wife. But I want this place to be home. All of ours.” Her eyes were flickering everywhere else except his own and she wondered if she had ever felt so terrified. Not since the beginning. Not since watching her own version of Ellie get torn to shreds. Not since she’d hollowed everything inside her but the rage and the ugly parts and let it fester into something wild. She’d survived beatings, survived with the worst type of people, survived being a weapon and not once was terrified during those years. Fighting and survival was easy. Killing was easy. Mindless sex was easy. Feelings were not. Feelings got you hurt, got you killed, killed you slowly and made you crazy with worry and the endless possibilities of what could happen. She’d seen Joel wrestle with them. The panic attacks and that numbing fear. There weren’t supposed to be feelings with her and Joel. But that was a lie. They’d been there, deep and hidden under other things. Protecting Ellie. Getting her to the Fireflies. Adjusting to living in Jackson. Jobs and patrol and helping. They were all a distraction. He lifted a hand to her cheek and she couldn’t help the flinch, the shivering as if she was standing in a freezer. But Joel didn’t back off, let her get adjusted and close the distance between them on her own like coaxing a wounded animal to safety. Her hands dropped the now wrinkled fabric of her dress and instead reached out to grip his flannel shirt, relaxing bit by bit while his hand moved to dive into her brushed and slightly curled hair. “You’re mine,” he whispered, feeling the soft strands between his fingers, “Say the word and I’ll get you every damn record player in this town. Whatever makes you happy.” She choked out a laugh that was half a sob, the sound releasing from her throat, and her eyes stung. But she only squeezed them shut, struggling to breath and enjoying the feeling of his touch. His other hand rested over hers on his shirt and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, leaning against her, “You do look beautiful, baby. I promise. You take my goddamn breath away. It’s a good thing I didn’t see you out there, I’d probably have made an idiot of myself or bashed someone’s face in if I caught them staring.” The laugh that ripped through her seemed to break loose everything choked up inside of her. He called her beautiful. The words sent something close to butterflies in her stomach. It didn’t feel real and this new territory still terrified her, but little sparks of joy lit her way. She had vague memories of feeling this way years ago. But this was real and now and felt so much brighter than her memories. She couldn’t help the slight smile, voice still slightly unsure, “I had to promise Maria I wouldn’t fight anyone there.” Joel chuckled, holding her tighter against his chest, rocking her slightly, “You wouldn’t be breaking your promise if I was doing the fighting.” Looking up at him, she let herself sink into his warmth and lifted a hand to trace the beard along his chin. It used to be that this was the Joel she would get at night only. Slightly teasing, slightly playful, more open especially after sex. A stoic wall in the daytime. Something had shifted after leaving Jackson that first time, after he’d tried to dump them off on Tommy. Shifted more after his injury and Denver. Now as they settled into life in Jackson, she could see fully how at ease he was with her. There had been progressively more smiles in the daytime, more soft touches even if discreetly. Eventually not so discreetly. His hand in her back pocket, his arm around her shoulders, on her back. Starshine morphed from being an insult to an endearment. It had been a slow, gradual change, but it had happened. She had only refused to acknowledge it, maybe out of fear. Now staring at him, she let herself see that more often he was smiling at her than frowning. Only called her Red when he was angry or frustrated otherwise it was Darlin’ or Starshine. His room had quickly turned into their room and every morning he was usually wrapped around her. Was there waiting at the gate everytime she had to leave without him, though he preferred to stay at her side. Tommy had once called all three of them codependent and maybe they were, but they were safest with each other. They were home. So she lifted herself up and drew his face down to her, breathing against his lips and almost tentatively kissing him. Like it was new, like she would have if it was twenty years ago and they were meeting back then. She couldn’t say all of what she was feeling out loud, was too tired to admit how much he had shaken her foundation with this one seemingly small act and then demolished it entirely with his words. So she breathed into him, whispering along his lips, “You’re mine too,” and kissed him softly and hoped he knew everything that entailed. He pressed back against her harder, mouth slotting against hers and groaning. The hand in her hair gripped her neck and pulled her as close as she could get, the other moving to grip her waist and the soft fabric there. She felt unsure, awkward, not used to feelings being between them so openly and the pace being soft versus brutal or fervent. Her fingers trailed over the salt and pepper beard of his chin, the slight wisps of curls at the base of his neck, the muscles of his biceps as they wrapped around her. It was almost an effort not to sink her nails into him, to bite his lips with her teeth. Their steps were fumbling as he walked her backwards until her back hit the living room wall. His hand was roaming all over her, touching the bare skin of her legs and drifting his fingers upward under her skirt. They kneaded the soft skin of her thighs and he moaned into her mouth though that quickly turned into a chuckle as his hands found the pair of shorts she put on under the dress. He looked down, lifting the fabric to peer at the additional clothing underneath, “Did you put shorts on underneath this?” She blushed, swatting his hand to drop the skirt, “Shut up, I felt naked.” Joel chuckled and bent, pressing kisses to the underside of her neck before trailing lower, biting and dragging his lips as he went, “You’re cute when you’re bashful, ya know that? It’s fine. Just one more thing to take off ya.”

Her hands dug into the fabric of his shirt and she was determined not to pout, objecting at being called cute of all things, but quickly found herself melting at his ministrations. The delicious friction of his beard on her skin always did something to her and she was feeling especially sensitive to him, her nerves on fire. Joel bit down on the junction between her neck and shoulder, sucking and teasing the skin, drawing a moan from her mouth. There’d be a mark there, she knew that, and didn’t care. “I wouldn’t mind you wearing dresses more often. Jesus, woman, you’re gorgeous,” he moaned against her skin as he kissed the top of her cleavage. Unconsciously, a yelp left her mouth when he bent down and scooped her up with his hands under her ass, arms flying around his neck and legs crossing around his waist. He grinned at the sound and the flush that heated her cheeks, “I got ya, darlin’. Just wanted to get you to the room before the kid bulldozes in here.” “You are not climbing those stairs with me,” she hissed, looking at the staircase behind them. No matter how strong he was, she also was very aware of both their ages and that if they injured themselves stumbling down the stairs on their way to have sex she’d ask Ellie to put her out of her misery. Joel huffed a laugh, “You’re right, I’m not. We’re using the downstairs room. I’m old, I ain’t stupid.” The spare bedroom on the first floor had quickly become the spare after Joel had complained the handful of times she’d slept down there. Now almost every night she shared the upstairs bed with him lest she wanted to be woken up by him kicking the side of the mattress and grumbling to “get to the room.” It held various things they had scavenged and collected like the guitar Joel had made a project to get to working order, the pieces for it she’d traded along with his craft bench she got for him, her hoarded music, and the various knickknacks she hadn’t wanted to clutter up what she had deemed Joel’s room. Though every now and then the things she put there would somehow appear upstairs, out on full display on top of the shelves and dressers mixed in with his belongings. His own way of making her stuff mingle with his.

He carried her through the door and kicked it shut with her foot, quickly remembering to hit the lock as a precaution after Ellie had almost barged in on them a couple times before. Joel made sure to take advantage of holding her, fingers kneading the soft skin of her ass and keeping her pressed tight against him. With a squeal she hadn’t heard herself make in over two decades, she was dropped down on the small mattress on the far side of the room and he quickly climbed on top, not leaving her alone for even a second. She could feel the delicious pressing of his arousal through his jeans, the way he ground it against her core making her groan. His mouth found hers, frantic and eager, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and diving into the soft graying curls of his hair. She loved to feel the weight of him on her, the hard press of him steady and assuring. Hands quickly tugging his shirt out from his jeans, she felt the heat of his skin and the ridge of every scar she had cataloged by that point. Bullet grazes, knife slices, the puckered edge of that brutal stabbing that had almost taken him away from them. She knew them all, had kissed and licked every single one and memorized them.

Joel Miller’s body was a thing of beauty, not softening even with age or settlement life. He’d quickly taken up a position in the community he knew how to do well. Construction. It kept him active, in shape, working with his hands and that meant he was still covered in muscle from a hard day's work. It was also why she wasn’t surprised when he had gained the attention of most of the women in Jackson, especially now that he had softened up personality wise. But he’d chosen her. Was kissing her, currently worshiping her mouth and trailing those rough fingers along her arms to intertwine with hers together. It was her that was making him moan and pant her name. Not her name. That name, the one given to her at birth by a woman who didn’t care who she was, had been given to the woods and the bodies she’d left behind. No, he whispered the name they had given her. The only name that mattered now as if she was baptized into this new life the moment she’d met them and been given it.

Red. Starshine. Darlin. Theirs. His. Her fingers pressed into the skin of his back and she hooked her legs around his, welcoming him to settle between her thighs while she poured everything into kissing him. She swallowed each sound, welcomed the burn of his beard against her skin, feeling arousal shoot straight through her and pool at her core. When she went to unbuckle his belt, he paused her movement and pulled back, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck and the deep V of her dress, “Not yet. I wanna savor this dress on you. Show you exactly how beautiful I think you are.” She bit her lip at the heated look, the slight smirk as he sat up, hands roaming over her thighs. Her own insecurities turned her nervous and she struggled to keep eye contact as his hands found the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down and off of her. He chuckled and threw them across the room, “Next time you wear something like this, you can go without those…if I’m feeling generous and let you leave the house.” “Let me, huh?” she whispered, bottom lip still between her teeth. Joel bent down and pushed the skirt of her dress up, bunching it around her waist, “Can’t have other men wanting what’s mine.” He took his time, tracing the edges of her underwear teasingly, the rough pads of his fingers sending small shocks through her in anticipation. Ever so slowly, he pulled her panties off her legs and knelt between her thighs, leaving heated kisses against the skin. She swallowed, mouth dry, and let out an airy chuckle, “Better watch it, Miller.” He paused, dark eyes meeting hers, “What’d I say about my name, Starshine?” Smirking and remembering that night so long ago when he had fucked her in the abandoned store, the night that cemented the path they would take, she raised herself up on her elbows and stared down at him, “Joel.” And then his tongue was on her, parting her folds and licking up every bit of her arousal. A moan tore from her mouth, head falling back as he devoured her whole, lips sucking on her clit and teasing her desperately. His hands palmed her bare ass and the thick meat of her thigh, fingers bruising as he teased her with his tongue. Joel had always been so good at that, something she had gotten intimately familiar with once they had settled down and were able to finally have time to explore one another. No longer having to have quick blind fucks in the dark, one ear open to danger or Ellie waking up. She didn’t think he even got to see her with her clothes fully off until they made it back to Jackson. But now that they had time he made sure each moment lasted. He played her like his guitar, pulling sounds from her mouth unbidden with each flick of his fingers and tongue. Joel Miller was good with his hands and knew exactly what to do to make her come hard and fast when he wanted her to. But he was taking his time, bringing her to the edge then slowing down before doing it over and over again. She was never one to beg, but she could feel the plea on her mouth as she ached all over for release and overwhelmed by the sensitivity. She panted his name in desperation and could feel him grin against her, mouth glistening with herself, “Tell me what you want, darlin’. Come on.” So fucking cocky, this asshole. She was tempted to swallow her words, swallow her own tongue just to be defiant. But then he dipped his tongue into her, the flat plane of it sending shockwaves through her body and she growled, “Fucking make me come already.” He laughed at the not so gentle plea as if knowing she wouldn’t mewl and beg like he wanted, shaking his head, “So bossy.” But she didn’t care after that because he was sucking her clit between his lips and his fingers were pumping into her, hard and fast, curling into the exact spot that made her see stars. The friction of his beard on her, his tongue, his hands were all so much and she was overwhelmed, body made of fire and lighting searing every nerve. She came against his mouth, orgasm hitting her hard enough it took her breath away. Her body felt like it was floating, Joel’s careful hands keeping her from washing away, gentle lips leaving soft kisses along her thigh. A thrill went through her at the gentle affirmations and breathy, “good girl,” he whispered into her skin. She was still catching her breath, but could feel him locate the zipper on her dress and he helped her to sit up to pull it up. So gentle with her like she was the most valuable thing in the world. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt and slowly she undid them, feeling his eyes on her as he kneeled between her thighs. His hands never left her skin, trailing softly over her calf but letting her take her time. Each layer came off of him. Shirt, undershirt, belt, jeans. He let her unveil him like it was a ritual. And when he was naked before her, both of them bare and heart open, his hands cradled her cheeks when he kissed her. It was more intimate than anything she had ever felt and was as if he was cradling her raw heart between his hands. It was fire and fear and joy and so much and yet not enough. It was an I love you without words. She pulled him down on top of her and deepened the kiss, tongue swirling to lick up every bit of herself and devour his own taste. Everything that made him Joel. Her gasp was swallowed as he started to push into her, groaning at how tight and warm she felt, thighs slick with the aftermath of her orgasm. Her forehead was pressed against his and she drank down every little sound his mouth made, every hitched breath, watching as his lashes flickered against his cheeks. The pace was slow, building, and she hooked her legs around his calves to usher him deeper, wanting him to fill her up as much as he could. “Fuck, baby,” Joel groaned, fingers tightening on her thigh while the other intertwined with the hand above her head. She held onto him like her life depended on it and let her drown in him, gave him the control and simply held on. Trusted him. Each stroke was a lightning strike and she could feel the way he was slowly losing himself in her, the pace becoming faster and thrusts more aggressive. Her orgasm was climbing, pleasure tightening low in her belly, skin hot with sweat. Her hand clenched his, almost a sign to him, and he broke at last. His mouth collided with hers, tongue against her own, teeth biting into her lips. Joel pounded into her relentlessly, her name on his lips and hold bruising. This was how she liked him best. Passionate and uncontrollable, a fucking tornado to be reckoned with. She’d seen it only when it came to them. Whether it be protecting them or destroying everything in his path to get to them. Joel was as much a beast as her at times but she’d always accepted that, never shied away.

Like calls to like.

Both their orgasms were building together, crashing into one another as if their bodies knew. Every tense moment, every decision and fight and fuck and choice, had led them together and she felt it in her whole being that this was who she was supposed to find at the end of the road. Her eyes squeezed shut and she let go, letting her be pulled under by him and their bodies and everything that had come before and would come later. It was fireworks and electricity and everything as her orgasm hit and she moaned hard into his mouth, feeling him release inside of her, warm and full. He would always follow her over the edge and the thought made her eyes sting.

They were panting, breathing each other in, bodies sweaty and sticky and the cooling air doing nothing against heated skin. She opened her eyes and met his dark irises, watching her intently, and she couldn’t help but grin at him wide. His breath caught and he swallowed hard, hand leaving her thigh so he could trace the crinkles around her eyes. He caressed the skin with his thumb in reverie, drawing out a blush even after everything they had just done. It was new to feel so exposed. A second later they could hear the front door crash open followed quickly by the familiar stomps of Ellie entering the house, kicking the door shut even after they had told her a million times to stop doing that. They froze, eyes locked on each other, waiting to see if she would call for them or try to enter the downstairs room for some reason. But they could track her loud steps up the stairs and a bit later her door shut.

It was hard to believe she ever used to be good at walking silently out beyond the walls. They both breathed a sigh of relief and then chuckled only for Joel to quickly hiss, pressing his face against her neck as she unconsciously clenched around him, “Darlin’ don’t laugh while I’m still in you.” She had to try and keep another chuckle in, a first for her, knowing it would only make her do it again. Teasingly, she did it on purpose one more time only for him to bite her shoulder and she yelped, letting laughter take over her once he had pulled out. He chuckled as well, pressing small kisses all over her skin. It would take time to get used to all the new. The new change in their dynamic, the open feelings, the music, the softness, the laughter and smiles, the fear that came with it all. Lifting your armor can leave you vulnerable but without doing so there was no way the joy could get in as well. And she couldn’t live her life without them, would brave every horror imaginable for them.

She’d take it all if it meant she got to keep both of them. ______________________________________

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