We’re More Ghosts Than People

While Tommy and Maria are deep in conversation right next to him, their words barely reach Joel’s consciousness. His thoughts are focused on something else —as obsessive and unsettling as those of a chain-smoker trying not to think about his next cigarette.

He's way too close.

That guy you've been dancing with since you let the alcohol and light mood drag you onto the dance floor. That stupid, idiotic moron. Dave, if he recalls his name right, has the physique of those boy band stars back in the days, young and charismatic and "pretty". But God, he's as smart as a bag of rocks, and as moral as a corrupt cop.

And it's unbearable. The way his hands linger, his eyes too, on places of your body one could only fantasize about. Joel can see it as bright as day, that little piece of shit had only one thing in mind.

He grabs his glass and sips on his beer, trying to think about something else. Anything else. Tommy's speech about next year's goals for the town. Ellie apparently talking with Jesse on the other side of the room, both of them leaning against the wooden counter. But nothing could do the trick, his thoughts would always come back to your inflamed dance session with that moron, his muscles tensing and heart racing as if he was about to beat the shit out of a herd of clickers.

Couldn't you see it? Were you that blind? He just wanted to have his way with you and would break your heart the next morning.

What a way to start the year.

Joel shifts from one foot to the other, his stare back on you as his fingers grip his pint way too strongly.

You're only his partner during patrols. That's all you two are supposed to be. He has no right into even thinking about those things about you. God he knows that. And he really, really shouldn't be feeling this tight twisting in his stomach right now.

The song suddenly comes to a flamboyant end as the rhythm stops, everyone clapping, some guys throwing their partner in the air. But not Dave. Oh no, Dave pulls you closer. He's holding your waist as you're bowing backward, and is downright devouring you with a hungry stare, eyes half-lidded, lips bitten.

Joel's finger joints are turning white. His feet are itching. That clenching sensation in his guts becomes unbearable. It's a turmoil, savage and dark and unstoppable.

You lil' piece o' shit.

Dave's lifting you back up all against him. Your chest is pressed against his.

Let go of her.

You're laughing, the sound so pleasant to his ears, but discordant, tainted, next to that asshole.

She's…

Dave's lips smoothly take advantage of the movement to get closer; and you don't fucking pull away.

Mine.

He puts his beer down so powerfully that a dead silence cuts through the others' discussion. Tommy calls out his brother's name, but he doesn't even look at him. His whole body is turned toward one precise direction. Like a lethal weapon launching.

His legs finally move on their own. He rips through the crowd as if crossing a field of grass bending in his wake. Each step he takes worsens his state, as nails being hammered into Dave’s coffin.

"Hey, get away from her."

You both snap your heads to him. You instantly pull away from Dave's embrace, more from surprise than anything else.

Joel's voice is insanely calm. But not that quiet, peaceful calm, more like a barely contained anger, that blankness that holds threats and hatred and violence underneath.

"Joel?" You ask dumbly, confused, as your eyes search his face for answers.

"What's wrong, man?"

The oldest doesn't even listen to him. His eyes are fixated on you. The soft tones of his hazel pupils are all gone, leaving only a green so dark they almost look entirely black. Like an ancient, dense forest at night, where the leaves and trunks merge into one in a heavy, menacing darkness. The young boy takes a step back, his eyes jumping from you to him in an awkward manner.

"Dude, there's no problem here…" He tries to stand his ground, but his stare falls to the ground, hands fidgeting with something on his jacket.

Joel is as silent as a tombstone.

Dave gives in, stiffly walking away, praying this mountain of a man won't come and find him in his nightmares.

You, on the other hand, don't move.

"What the actual Hell was that, Joel?"

"He's bad business."

"Wh- so what?" "Since when are you interested in what I'm doing, uh?"

No answer.

"I don't know what you're trying to do. But I do what I want, and sorry if ya don't like it."

You get out of the Church. The air inside was too thick to breathe, and you didn't like how everyone had suddenly seemed so interested in this little play you two were displaying.

You're not able to walk two meters away from the building before feeling a large hand grab your wrist.

"Hey, let fukcing go of me!"

Your patrol partner drags you away from the crows, behind the back of the church. Words of explanation do not seem to be part of this man's DNA.

He lets go of you, your boots slipping a bit across the layer of ice, and you find yourself facing him, with your back to the wall, while he stands stiff as a board in front of you.

You're trapped.

"Just- Shit." Joel's concerned voice sounds almost too loud in the quiet atmosphere. The light of the party looks so far away in the distance, barely illuminating the thick layer of snow covering the entire town. "Listen t'me. Dave's a real jerk to girls, I know him. He just want to..."

"He just wants to what, Joel?"

His mouth stays shut as he looks at you with harsh eyes. He has a hand on his hip, the other is waving the air in defeat, his camel jacket waving along. You won't make him the pleasure to help with any of it. He has the audacity to come and bark on your date? Pull you aside like a child being grounded? Well, he sure as better spill the beans.

Your eyebrows move up in a half-annoyed and half-interrogative expression, watching him sigh and struggle. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he explodes:

"He -He just wanna lay with ya!"

"And you don't?"

There's another tense silence. Frozen, he's genuinely surprised you're being so upfront about it, scowl still deep on his eyebrows.

"Come on, I'm a woman, dumbass. I know how you guys look at us. You really think you were discreet? Watching over me all the time when we're out patrolling. Jesus if I wanted a pair of eyes sticking to me 24/7 I would have glued a pair of googles on my ass."

"You're always so smart uh? You think you know everything, you don't need anyone or anything-

"I sure as hell been doing fine without you, Joel. So yeah, I don't need you to be my fuckin' watchdog and bite every man I'm seeing." You spit, taking a few steps towards him.

"What the hell did you just call me-" His threatening tone do nothing to stop you.

"Why don't you fucking admit the truth for once in your life, mh?" He brought you down with him into the fire pit of anger now, throat tight and muscles tensed. "You don't want anyone else to dance with me? To sleep with me?" You walk closer to him, pointing an accusing finger upward. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you're just jealous."

His scowl worsens at that last word. You're bot a few meters away from each other.

You're suprised to snow isn't starting to melt from the rage you're radiating.

Joel's voice drops again, so low now it's almost a menacing growl,

"Take one more step and I'm done playing nice."

Oh, yeah? You don't even think about it twice.

Of course, you take that step. Feet stomping on the ground as your fiery eyes stay stuck on his. Because that's what you always do.

Pushing his buttons, testing his limits, driving him insane.

Enough of this.

It's quick, almost instantaneous. The moment you're chest to chest, his hands are on you, one grabbing your neck, the other holding the side of your waist. You hitch at this sudden grip, and almost as a late realisation, it hits you;

If he really wanted to, this man could break you.

"You know what? Maybe you're right." The same tone as before inside the church. Except this time, you can feel this isn't anger that's hiding beneath the flat blankness of his raspy voice. It's another raw, physical kind of urge.

With every word, he pushes you back against the wall, annihilating in the blink of an eye the steps you had taken toward him.

"I"

He traps you between the wall. His chest hard and warm, pleasantly warm in the cold air.

"Want ya,"

The words seem to sting his lips and intoxicate him with freedom all at once.

"For myself."

You sigh, rewarding his confession by reaching for his jacket, keeping him close, encouraging, daring him to continue. The leather feels nice. His face is only a few inches away from yours.

"So when a lil' piece of shit like David Mathews puts his disgusting hands on you," His fingers grip your neck tighter, "Ya can't expect me to stay god damn seated!"

He's a bow bent to the maximum, ready to snap any second. His words come out loud and deep, rumbling like thunder that had been held back for too long. And in his soul, too, his tired eyes almost crushing you under his stare.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." You lift a hand up to his face, caressing his skin from cheek to jaw. His beard is softer than you had expected. "Joel…"

It's as if whispering his name had just cut him loose; a sign that you really wanted him. His lips collide with yours instantly, unable to wait for just a second more. It's wild and hot and messy, just like you needed him to be. His hair scratches pleasantly against your mouth, and you slip your tongue between his teeth, earning a low growl. His other hand on your hip is losing patience, pressing you more against him, as if he needs your two bodies to merge.

His breathing gets more labored, his movements urgent. The hand you had on his face smoothly travels to his hair, long and curling on his neck. Brushing, touching, discovering. And then, tugging. He groans louder at it, internally swearing, losing his usual composure with every new touch from you.

Of course, you notice.

"Y'know, you're not as controlled as you think." You tease with a cheeky grin, between two heated kisses.

"Eh, maybe I ain't." He concedes with a small smile of his own, probably the first of his entire day. "You… Y' wanna do it here?" He asks in a hopeful and almost disbelieving tone, scanning your face, his body stilling for a few seconds.

"God, fuck yes." You pull his waist against yours, a finger looped around his belt. "Here, anywhere —I don't fucking care."

A deep chuckle shakes his chest, "Well ma'am, might as well please ya as I can."

He unbuckles his belt, movements controlled but eager. His hands then reach for your own pants, pulling them down as well as your panties all at once, and he spins you face against the wall, ass bared for him. The stinging cold surprises your skin, but your head can't focus on that information, too troubled by what's coming next.

"Lord, I've been waiting for this." You can't help but whisper as he places himself behind you.

"Definitely should have done that sooner," He agrees, starting to press against your slit, a big hand flat holding your lower belly up.

Every inch of him pushes inside, spreading you slowly, almost too slowly. But Joel knows what he's doing. He knows he will hurt you if he doesn't give you some time to adjust to his size. And even in such a heated state, it's a risk he won't take.

He's the one who'd never hurt you.

"You good?"

"Yes, Jesus-" Does he even know how having him entirely inside without any movement makes you feel?! "Please, Joel, go on already!"

He snorts through his nose, pleasantly surprised to discover you so avid. Not another word crosses his lips as he answers by retrieving himself and smashing back his hips against you, making your whole body jerk forward.

"Oh, fuck!"

Both of his hands hold your hip now as he sets a slow, deliberate tempo. Every time he thrusts into you, it's hard, hitting a spot deep down inside of you that you could never have satisfied yourself. That obscene, hot sound of his balls smacking your skin mingles with your barely muffled moans and his growls, your breaths in the cold creating huffs of mist twirling together before getting lost in the air of the night.

"Are you still going to see that guy?" Joel asks between thrusts, his grip on you tighter than ever, "Be… -mmf- very careful, about your answer, sweetheart."

"N-No, I won't."

"Good girl". The praise rolls from his tongue to your ears like the sweetest liquor. "From now on, when you'll feel like having some fun at night, who you gonna turn to?"

"Y-you, only you!" You can believe how pathetic you are right now, but you want him to continue so bad, you can't do much else but bend at his will. "Joel, faster, p-please."

"Ya want faster, uh?" He slows down, on damn purpose. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours Joel please! I'm … I'm yours."

"Damn right you are."

And he grounds his legs, picking up a relentless pace, fucking you good and proper, right there against the church's wall just a few feet away from everyone, the muted sounds of the party vibrating through the cold stone against which you're pressed.

His cock is so hard inside of you, rutting your cunt with such intensity and speed it's hard for you to even form a single thought. All you can do is keep your ass up for him as your insides burn, that familiar feeling building up more and more under the strain of his ruthless treatment.

"Joel," You can hear him letting out a pleasured groan, one of his arms leaving your side to snake around your chest, "Joel-I'm-close!" you urgently stammer through your shaken body.

"I know baby, I got ya." His upper body is pressed against your back now, both of you intertwined in an impossible embrace. "I got ya, now give it t'me."

Cheek to cheek, his face nestled above your shoulder, you can feel his beard, coarse but also weirdly pleasant against the side of your face. His body is engulfing you whole, your smaller back arching as he keeps pleasuring you, wanting more than anything to make you come. You're almost suffocating from the warmth he beams around you, like flames licking and twirling all around in the glacial snow.

"That's right, you're so great girl, so good-" His throat tightens as he barely contains his own relief, "Yeaaah just like that!"

Your pussy obeys his every word, and with another push, you let everything go, his shaft buried deep inside as you clench around it, the feeling so perfect the satisfaction makes you see stars, body making one with him completely, even just for a few seconds. He holds you tight during the whole length of it, whispering tender encouragement in your ear. They're almost out of place considering how his hips are still pounding inside to drag every inch of your orgasm out of you.

You mutter his name again and again like a prayer as you dissolve in his arms, your forehead against the wall. He lets a small kiss on your temple, praising you for how good you've been to come for him.

He then reluctantly withdrew his burning hot and still painfully hard shaft from you, smiling to himself at the frustrated little sound you let out.

"Trust me, I would have preferred the first option too, sweetheart-" He pants, curling a big fist around his base, "But we can't take that risk just now."

"S' okay." You pull your clothes back up before gently adding your hand to his grip, fingers joining his. "Let me help you."

He nods. The feeling of your smaller hand on his shaft already sends shivers all the way through his body now that he doesn't have to stop himself from cumming, his pleasure freed and wild making his toes curl and his brow crunch in delight.

You don't waist anytime teasing him again, stroking him hard and fast to match the pace he had inside of you. He moans like he's been hit in the guts, eyes squinting shut, one of his forearms taking support on the stoned wall above your head.

"Shit, keep doin' that," He ordres as he removes his hand to leave you total control.

You can feel how close he already is after fucking you to your relief, and you're well determined to give him back just as much. He's so vulnerable right now, so beautiful with his cock in your hand. His gigantic body to your mercy, his hair disheveled, its gray color sublimated with subtle silvery glints, like the snow-covered landscapes around you.

"Yeah, Jeee-sus," He whispers more loudly than he should, feeling his relief coming. Your hand keeps rubbing his length just like he needs it, all the way up and down as fast as you can, your wrists starting to burn slightly.

He brings his forehead to yours, and you use the opportunity to seal your lips with his. He huffs through the kiss, almost moaning, his pleasure an unstoppable wave crashing on a fragile, immaculate shore.

And with a few more perfect moves of your hand, he comes just like that, his cock spurting his spent all over your clothes, your scent filling his nose, your taste, his mouth. His breath stops for a few seconds, a cry caught tight in his throat, before sighing deeply through his nose. He breaks the kiss, gasping for air as he had just been underwater the whole time.

You gently let go of his softening member, a satisfied smirk plastered on your face. There's a little silence, a bit awkward, where you watch him put himself back in his jeans, and wipe a few beads of sweat on his forehead. How beautiful it is that you succeeded in making this man sweat during the coldest night of the year.

You both seem lost in thought, neither of you daring to speak first, as if doing so would seal something between the two of you. As if it would taint the moment, anchoring that timeless instant in reality. In problems.

After heavy minutes of quiet, Joel's mouth opens, a sound almost crossing it, but a loud, sudden noise surprises both of you.

"Happy New Year!"

Everywhere outside and inside the church, people of Jackson are celebrating, drunken shouts piercing the night, bearers of joy and a well-deserved moment of shared togetherness.

You both look at each other while euphoria surrounds you.

"Happy New Year, Y/N."

"… Happy New Year, Joel."

He awkwardly steps away, disappearing into the falling snow. You sigh, your feet slow, your brain too occupied to process what had just happened.

There was this taste on your throat, bitter. Like those fizzling sweet candies that taste so good but leave your tongue burning. A nagging sense of incompleteness. A painting destined to be a masterpiece, barely begun, from which the artist has been torn away.

A few promising brushstrokes left behind, right there in the middle of the canvas.

You finally move, searching for your loved ones back in the party to wish them all the good stuff for the new year to come.

And you promise yourself that you wouldn't let Joel get off that easily.

a/n: heeey I hope you like it, thanks for reading!! Consider rebloging/commenting if you did!! That means the world to us authors 🫶🏼