lou

He’d arrived at Pip’s not long after you. And since then, he had hardly moved from the same spot across the room. He leant against the wall, one hand gripping a glass and the other propped on his hip. He looked bored, uninterested in everything happening around him, and yet every time you glanced his way those eyes were already burning a hole into your skin. The truth was that he’d never had much patience for the whole thing, but you trusted he enjoyed it just as much as you did. Knew he’d do whatever you asked him to, even if it included going to a bar and pretending you were strangers. Even when it meant him watching you dance all night, rubbing yourself against strangers, and pretending you didn’t know him until one of you finally broke.  

Your arms stretched high above your head, hips swaying from side to side as you muttered the lyrics of the song underneath your breath. Once again, you glanced back in his direction while you danced. You allowed your torso to sway with the movements of your hips, hands dropping to rest lacklustre by your sides. You offered him a quick smile, but his face hardly moved, body rigid. He lifted the glass to his mouth, playing coy, and you chuckled under your breath, closing your eyes and revelling in the heavy bass that vibrated through your body. When you opened them again he was gone, the wall where he’d once stood now devoid of his presence. You didn’t give it much thought, until suddenly a pair of hands were on your waist, pulling you back against a solid body. A gasp of soft surprise exhaled from your mouth, and you felt the hands squeeze gently. When you turned around, there was already a sly smile was painted across your lips.

The dim lighting in the bar did him no justice; casting too many shadows across his strong jawline, his straight aquiline nose, hiding the perfect shade of his dark pink lips.

He stared down at you with a simmering intensity as you pressed your chest against his. The room was hot, and sweat beaded along your hairline, but it didn’t stop you from dancing slowly against him, gliding your curves against his body, maintaining eye contact all the while.

A faded denim button up covered his chest, the thin material doing nothing to disguise the toned, strong body beneath it. The fabric was slightly coarse, and it was rough against the thin mesh of your shirt. You always loved waiting to see what he would wear, how he would dress up for you. Tonight’s shirt was new, something he’d bought specifically for the occasion, and you loved it. Your nipples hardened a little, and you smirked as he snaked an arm around your waist to press his palm to the spot in between your shoulder blades, holding you against him.

“What’s your name?” you asked over the music, noting the way his eyes drifted to your mouth when you spoke. God, he was so easy.

“Joel.” Those deep, brown eyes bore into your own, drinking in the details of your face as his hips moved slowly against yours. He was always antsy to get this part over and done with, but he played along for you.

“Are you single?” you asked, revelling in the way his mouth went to respond before his brain could catch up. The beginning of the word no formed on his lips, and you almost grinned at how loyal he was, even when you wanted him to lie.

“Yes,” he said.

“You’ve been watching me all night, Joel.”

You reached up to fix his collar where part of it had been turned up. He didn’t respond immediately, mulling his thoughts over in his head, contemplating what he thought you might want to hear.

“It’s okay,” you spoke again when you sensed he was overthinking it, allowing your hand to glide down his shoulder and over the firm muscles of his upper arm. “I liked it.”

“And your name?” he asked, almost shouting to be heard over the music. You smirked at the deep bellow of his voice; at the way it gave the pumping music a run for its money. The thick, Texan drawl of it always managed to spark a fire in your belly.

When you told him, he repeated your name slowly, as if it were foreign to him; rolling it around in his mouth, tasting out the syllables on his tongue. The hand on your back held strong, and you could almost feel the individual tips of his fingertips leaving indents in your skin.

A gyrating body jostled into you from the side suddenly, and you stumbled forward. Joel tightened his grip on you, keeping the both of you standing up right. You flashed him a grateful smile, and your eyes dipped to stare at his mouth. The urge to kiss him was strong, but you held yourself back, knowing the payoff would be worth it if you could just hold off a little longer.

You didn’t waste much time though. “What brings you to Pip’s? Y’here to meet someone?”  

A spark of desire flashed through his eyes, and his grip tightened inconceivably. Your body thrummed with excitement as you gained the upper hand so successfully, and so quickly. Joel cleared his throat, face relaxing back into a neutral expression.

“Didn’t want to come here at all,” he spoke plainly, glancing down to where your chests rubbed together. His eyes trailed over your torso, the mesh fabric of your shirt allowing him a full view of your breasts, clad in a thin lace bra. “Brother dragged me along.”

You hummed, almost grinning at the mention of Tommy, who would blush beet red if he knew what the two of you were doing at Pip’s. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he beat you to it.

“Did you?” he asked quickly. “Come here lookin’ for someone?”

You quirked an eyebrow and shook your head once. “No, I didn’t.” Bold faced lie.

His left hand rested on your hip, and he squeezed your waist once, holding your midriff solidly against his own. You could feel his heart beating, a rapid badoom badoom badoom that knocked rhythmically against your sternum. You draped an arm around the back of his neck, gripping the collar of his shirt.

“But maybe I could be persuaded,” you spoke slowly, testing the waters. “If you’re good.”

His eyes darkened a shade at your wording, and a soft exhale rushed out of his mouth, breezing against your face. His lips were a hairsbreadth away from touching yours, but he hesitated, eyes flickering back up to yours, as if asking for permission. Perfect.

You kissed him gently at first, slotting your lips against his and moving tentatively, exploring him as if it were the first time. His hold on you stiffened as he pressed back, running his tongue eagerly along the seam of your mouth. Your hand drifted from his collar to his hair and you gripped it softly, tugging on the wavy curls. Joel was taller than you, and yet he was crouching somewhat, so that your mouths would be level. Simplifying things for you; always so eager for the game to end. He struggled with it – the standing across the room, watching you, waiting for you to invite him over with a smile. But after an hour of dancing, you were willing to let him have it.

You parted your lips and allowed him to swipe his tongue greedily into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and mint and soda water. It burnt your mouth, and inspired a dull ache in your abdomen. He gained confidence, kissing you harder, deeper, and so you sunk your teeth into his bottom lip. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make him pause. A warning.

You pulled away. “Have you been drinking, Joel?”

His chest rose and fell quickly. Lips swollen and red. You could feel him pressing against your stomach, already half-hard from just a little kiss. Poor baby, so desperate.

“Only had two.” His voice was stilted. “I drove here.”

“Good,” you nodded, gripping his hand and leading him out of the throng of dancing bodies.

“Good?” Joel shouted back, eyebrows raised.

“Good that your car is here,” you clarified. “Means you can drive us back to my place.”

Joel walked through your apartment like he’d never been there a day in his life, and you adored him for it.

He rested on the edge of your bed, nursing a cold beer that you’d swiped from the fridge for him. He stuck out in your bedroom, but you suppose he always had. The queen-sized bed looked like a double with him on it, his broad frame taking up most of the mattress. And the contrast between your floral wallpaper and his dark, masculine figure was so stark that you almost giggled as you watched him from across the room. His eyes felt heavy on you, following you wherever you moved, lest he miss a single thing. They raked over your figure, basking in the bare flesh you had on show, monitoring your hands as you removed your jewellery and discarded it. It caused a prickling heat to rise across your skin, and you liked it – the way he seemed so eager, so uncontained.

“What’re you doin’ all the way over there?” Joel asked. His fingers were long, wrapping around the entirety of the beer bottle, making it look miniscule in his grip.

You bent to take off your shoes. “I’m admiring you.”

His lips pursed, beer bottle pausing in the air halfway to his lips. When he spoke, his voice was deeper somehow. “Well, you should come over here.”

“Would you like that?” you straightened up, smiling sweetly.

“Yes,” he responded. His voice was measured, quiet. But you could tell he was frustrated by your relaxed demeanour. It was always the way it went. Joel was so impatient. He knew what was going to happen, knew what awaited him, and he couldn’t fucking stand the tension build up.

“Maybe if you’re good,” you winked, padding over to where he sat. You stood over him, knees brushing against knees.

“I can be good,” he spoke gruffly, depositing his beer bottle on the ground with a gentle clink.

“Is that so?” you asked softly, pulse quickening. He nodded, wiping his palms on his jeans before splaying them on the bed beside him. A slick heat had formed in your underwear, the near-ruined material sticking uncomfortably to your skin. “You’re gonna do what I want? Whatever I ask of you?”

You could see the way his jeans tightened over his crotch, cock clearly straining against the rough material at your words. He swallowed, nodding again. Slowly, so slow it was painful, you leant forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. His scent filled your nostrils and you inhaled it deeply, sighing against his mouth as everything that was Joel Miller invaded your senses. Your tongue flicked against his mouth and then you were dragging it past his lips, over his teeth, rolling it against his own tongue. A warm, heavy hand gripped the waistband of your pants and long fingers fumbled with the button, but you pulled back, tutting as you shoved his hands away from you. He looked dejected, wet lips parted as he frowned up at you.

“Take your clothes off,” you ordered softly, and he grunted, but did as you asked. “And then lay on the bed.”

Making quick work of it, he stripped out of his shirt and jeans, tossing them haphazardly into the corner of the room. Finally, he tugged his briefs down, before laying back on the mattress.

Splayed on the bed, not a single inch of Joel Miller was left to the imagination. His body sunk into the soft blankets on the bed, and his cock stood at painful attention. It gave you pause, as he stared at you, and you stared at his cock. He was big—bigger than most guys you’d slept with in the past—and he knew it too. Had always been proud of the fact. His tip was ruddy and swollen, with a small pearl of pre-come resting on his slit, taunting you. A thick, pulsing vein travelled down the side of him. You thought about how he would taste, in that moment. How heavy he would be on your tongue, how your jaw would ache, and you’d struggle to breathe as his tip glided against the back of your throat. You were salivating just thinking about it.

“You like what you see?”

You simply took your clothes off in response. Taking your time, you dragged your shirt over your head before peeling your trousers off, underwear following it and landing in a pile on the floor until you stood naked as the day you were born. Joel watched closely, dark eyes monitoring your hands as you removed layer after layer. His gaze dipped to the spot between your thighs, and you saw his cock twitch.

You straddled his thighs, resting just above his knees and taking care not to make contact with his length. As soon as you settled above him his hands rested naturally on your waist, gripping and kneading the flesh beneath his palms. You decided to allow it, just for a moment, as your gaze travelled down his chest and the dark smattering of hair there, past his happy trail, all the way to where he wanted you the most.

His hips shifted on the mattress, cock bobbing against the soft flesh of his tummy and leaving a shiny smear where the tip brushed his skin.

“So handsome,” you traced your fingers over his stomach. “You’ve got such a pretty cock, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he grunted, eyes trained on your hands as they wandered toward his hips. The power you felt in moments like this were unmatched. With this broad, strong man laying beneath you, completely at your mercy, hanging on the precipice of your every word. Even if he struggled to admit it, even when it seemed like he was using all of his will power to let you have your fun, you both knew that you were in charge. And it was invigorating.

“Yes,” you implored, your heart warming at the way his chest seemed to puff with pride at your words.

Your fingertip traced alone his hipbone and he shivered at the featherlight touch, goosebumps breaking out across his skin. “So pretty and thick. I love it like that, you know? When it’s so big that it hurts at first. No matter how wet I am, there’s still that sting.” You dug your nails into the soft of his upper thigh to emphasise your point. He didn’t respond, eyes darkening as he watched you.

“So big that it fills me up until it’s like I can’t breathe, and I’m so cock drunk that I can’t focus on anything except you and how deep you are.” You placed your spare hand on your lower stomach, splaying your fingers. “When I can feel it here.”

Joel’s breathing had started to labour, chest rattling as heavy exhales drifted through parted lips. His hands dragged from your waist to the crease where your thigh met your hips, and his grip was bruising. You knew he loved it when you talked like that, knew it drove him crazy. And you couldn’t deny it made a fresh wave of heat roll through your stomach to think about him stretching you out just right.

“And I love this,” you continued softly, dragging your fingers from his thigh to graze the moustache that rested above his top lip. He smirked at that, tongue darting out to swipe at your fingers. Your stomach tensed at the feeling of the wet muscle touching you, pussy fluttering around nothing, devastatingly empty. 

Joel whispered your name against the palm of your hand. Smiling, you traced the tip of your index over his lips before pressing down, watching it slide easily into his mouth. He closed his lips around the digit immediately, grazing his teeth over it before sucking gently.

“Oh, you’ve got such a pretty mouth,” you said. “You gonna show me what you can do with it?”

He moaned around the digit, strong hands pulling your hips forward so you were edging your way up his torso.

“Mmh,” you hummed lowly, dragging your soaked finger from his mouth. You tapped it once against his left hand and gave him a sly smile. “But none of this, okay? I don’t want to feel your hands on me, not for a second. Do you understand?”

Joel’s brow furrowed, eyes dimming as he slowly pried his fingers away from your flesh, lowering his hands to rest in the sheets.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” he asked softly, tongue swiping out to wet his lower lip.

You nodded, using your knees to shift further up his chest until you were hovering just above his collarbones. Joel’s eyes darted between your thighs, and a soft sigh left his lips as he gazed at the way your lips had parted ever so slightly, giving him a glimpse of your glistening core. When you paused there for a moment too long, he looked back up to your face, expression almost begging you to movepleasejustmovejustalittlebitcloser.

So you put him out of his misery; rested your knees on either side of his head before lowering your aching cunt to meet his mouth.

Joel groaned in relief as his nose buried itself in your hair, tongue darting out to swipe between your soaked folds. You gasped in delight, rutting yourself against him in encouragement. The coarse hairs of his moustache scraped against your clit and you whined at the sensation, reaching up to rest your hands atop the headboard.

Joel licked a firm stripe up your core with the flat of his tongue, and your shoulders tensed as he set to work. He wasted no time setting a hard and fast pace, letting out messy groans as his tongue rubbed firm circles around your clit. You exhaled heavily, teeth biting down on your lower lip. He dragged his tongue to your entrance and dipped it inside you, so quickly that you flinched, before he was back to rubbing your clit, swiping the tip of his tongue back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He was so overzealous, so hungry for it; exhaling hot air against you while he lathed sloppy kisses against your pussy.

“Hey,” you rasped, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. Joel didn’t let up, simply flicking his tongue across your clit again. You jolted, tightening your grip in his hair and inching your hips away from his face. “Hey.”

His eyes flashed open, lips parting as his mouth tried to follow you when you pulled away.

“Wha—?” he couldn’t finish his sentence as you took his bottom lip between your thumb and index finger, squeezing it once.

“Slow down,” you said firmly. His cheeks flushed. “Moving that fast, a girl might start to think you’re trying to get it over with as quick as possible.”

Joel shook his head in a daze, mumbling a meagre apology against your fingers. Those big browns gazed up at you, wide and sad, reminiscent of a Labrador being told off for eating his dinner too fast. You pressed back down over his face, murmuring a gentle reminder for him to go slow.

He was soft then. Meticulous. Calculated. Every lick, every suck, every graze of teeth, was thought out and purposeful. You could feel more slick oozing out of you as his tongue massaged the flesh between your clit and your entrance.

“That’s it,” you praised breathlessly. “That’s perfect, doing—ohh—doing so well for me.”

Within minutes he had you on the edge, holding the headboard in a white-knuckle grip and grinding down against his mouth as breathy moans fell from your lips. It was reverent, the way he ate you out like it was his favourite thing to do in the world. And as liquid fire began to twist in your stomach, and your thighs burned with the intensity of holding yourself up above him, you could swear you felt him moving. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you bit down on your lip to stifle the whimper that threatened to escape you at the sight of him.

The muscles of his long tanned legs were tense, the soft flesh of his hips flexing as he thrusted upward subconsciously, his leaking cock desperately seeking for contact but being rewarded with nothing but the humid air of your bedroom.  

You thought about how easy it would be to turn around. To lean down and take him in your mouth. To slide your lips over his head; to taste his salt while his tongue glided through your folds. Just the thought had you careening over the edge, body jerking as you gasped and sighed and grinded the swollen mess of yourself down against his face. Joel moaned gratefully, dark eyes flicking open to watch you as you came. You could feel him everywhere; his facial hair scraping against your twitching inner thighs as his nose bumped against your clit and his tongue lapped at your entrance, sucking and swallowing down everything you had to offer until you were gasping and prying yourself away.

On shaking legs, you made your way back down his body. As you moved, you rubbed your pussy against his torso, smearing a shimmering trail of your slick across his skin. Joel let out a brief, wrecked moan, stomach tensing as you passed over it and then lifted yourself up. His pink tongue darted out to swipe at his lips, savouring the glistening remnants of your taste. Resting on your knees, you hovered above him, smiling breathlessly.

“Fuck.” You admired the sight, pouting your lips out teasingly. “Made such a mess on you, I’m sorry, baby.”

“Jesus.” His voice was pained. “S’perfect.”  

“And it’s all for you,” you hummed, trailing a finger absentmindedly over his collarbone. “You looked so pretty like that. All messy haired and fucked out while I rode your face. So good for me, I’m tempted to let you go down on me all night.”

“I want to,” Joel exhaled heavily. A soft blush had risen across his chest, and he glowed under the shower of praise. “Think about it all the time.”

“Is that right?” you asked demurely.

“S’right,” he mumbled. “Think about the way you taste. About spreading you out and spending hours with my head between your thighs.”

The words were so hot they almost made you forget about the game you were playing.

You looked down, brain shifting gears and mouth going dry at the sight of your puffy lips hovering so beautifully close to the tip of his cock. He was so hard it looked painful. Stiff and pulsing, the vein down the side of his length visibly throbbed. Pre-come dripped down his length, pooling at the base of him.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, and Joel looked down, groaning at the sight of you so close to where he was just aching. With a soft gasp, you noticed yourself begin to drip. “Look at that.”

Together, you watched a strand of your slick drip out of you, and land directly on the tip of his cock. Joel’s entire body jolted, and a pitiful moan escaped his mouth at the first stimulation he’d received all night. On instinct, his hands rushed forward and gripped your hips, stomach tensed as he thrusted upward into the air. You could see it in his eyes, the burning desire to grab you and pull you close, roll on top of you and just split you open. But this was your night, and you were the one calling the shots.

You tutted softly. “I said, hands off. Don’t make me tie them to the bed,” you clipped. He cursed, hands dropping immediately. “Mmh, you’ll do whatever I tell you to, won’t you?”

He whispered your name hoarsely, lips shifting below his wet moustache.

You ignored him, smiling at the way his cock twitched whenever you spoke. “So needy, so fucking desperate for me to touch you.”

“Yes,” he admit to it through gritted teeth. “God, fuckin’—please. Anything, I’ll do anything. Need to feel you, please baby, I need it.”

You hummed quietly, pondering as you gazed down at the sweaty mess of a man beneath you. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls, huh handsome?”

His lips parted, harsh exhales rushing past chapped lips. “Only you,” he said firmly.

The corner of your mouth twitched up and you gave an approving nod, admiring the sincere gleam in his eye.

“Good boy,” you murmured. He groaned softly, eyes almost closing at the words. “But I’ve decided I don’t think I’ll use my mouth on you tonight. Or my hands, for that matter.”

Joel frowned, lips curling into a deep grimace as he twisted the sheets in his fists.

“Because,” you continued. “All I want your cock to feel, all night, is my cunt. Nothing else. Do you understand?” 

His jaw slackened and then he was nodding, muttering yeahokayyesyes.

“Yes what, Joel?”

“Please,” his voice cracked.

A wide grin spread easily across your face as you shuffled down the bed, settling your knees on either side of his waist.

“You such a tease,” he groused under his breath.

“Uh-huh,” you chuckled darkly. “And we both know you love it.” He stayed silent, knowing you were right, and watched as you splayed a hand across his stomach, using his body for leverage as you—finally—pressed your folds against his cock. Joel’s stomach tightened as you glided along his length, spreading your slick from his head to his base.

“Can I…?” he trailed off, eyes darting from your face and to where the two of you were touching. You nodded once, unable to look away as he reached down to grip himself, strong fingers wrapping around his length and squeezing once while he notched his tip at your entrance. The lingering sensitivity from your previous orgasm had you shuddering at the contact, walls contracting at the thought of him finally being inside of you.

You pushed his hand away swiftly, placing it back onto the bed. A harsh gasp ripped from your throat as you sunk down on him, gravity taking away any chance for your body to adjust to him slowly. The stretch stung a little, and your mouth hung open, spilling breathy whines.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard Joel exhale, voice ragged.  The muscle in his jaw moved underneath his skin, the muscles in his arms straining as he focused all of his willpower on not fucking touching you. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered. “Y-you’re so deep, stretching me out so good, just how I like it.” You tightened around him and a deep groan tumbled from Joel’s mouth, lids fluttering as his eyes all but rolled back into his head. You wiped the sweat off his forehead and cupped his cheek in your palm.

“Talk to me, honey,” you ran the pad of your thumb across his cheekbone. “Tell me how it feels.”

He grunted, heady brown eyes opening to peer up at you. His hips flexed beneath you and you bit your lip to stop from crying out at the way his cock shifted inside you. Slowly, knees painful from the pressure, you lifted almost entirely off him, before sinking back down. And then you did it again, and again, setting a deliberately unhurried pace and never once taking your eyes off his face.

The room already smelt like sex, a heady mixture of sweat and come, and a warm fog settled over your mind as the moment enveloped you.

You rotated your hips in a circle and delighted in the way he slammed the palm of his hand down onto the bed, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. His eyes were half-shut, vision drifting to the ceiling as his head sunk into the pillow behind him. Within a second your hand tightened on his face, fingertips pressing gently into either side of his jaw, angling his face back towards you. His eyes flashed open, fully alert now.

“Look at me,” you whispered. “Wanna see those pretty eyes on me while I fuck you.”

He groaned at the words, pushing himself up into a seated position so your chests were almost touching. The new angle made you moan, and you loved the way the softest part of your stomachs brushed against each other every time you lowered your hips against his. Maintaining your hold on his face, you knocked your forehead lightly against his, nudging his nose with yours.

“Come on,” you urged, speeding up the rhythm just a little. “Tell me, baby, I—fuck—I wanna hear you. Do you feel good?”

“Yes,” he choked out. His voice was rough and wanton with need, and he wet his lips quickly upon hearing it. He almost looked shy, with his flushed cheeks and pouted swollen lips.

You hummed, hand drifting from his cheek to hover over his neck. Joel stiffened, nose pressing against your cheek as his head dropped forward doggedly. You let your fingertips graze the side of his neck, thumb brushing over his Adam’s apple.

“Is this what you want?” you murmured.

“Yes,” he repeated against your skin and you grinned, applying soft pressure on either side of his neck.

He moaned a low, tortured sound in response, and you leaned back to watch his mouth hang open as the sensation heightened everything he was feeling. With your free hand you stretched down to take one of his off the bed, and placed it firmly on the plush globe of your ass cheek. Joel’s eyes shot open in surprise, hand tightening instinctively.

He squeezed, gripping the flesh so tight it had you gasping, taking full advantage of the new freedom he’d been afforded. He used his hold to push you up and down faster, quickening the pace of your hips. And every time he bottomed out, he held you down on him for a second longer than you’d planned to allow, ensuring you felt every inch of him, every ridge and vein as he throbbed inside you, pressing against the deepest part of your core. You could already feel bruises forming where the tips of his calloused fingers squeezed you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Until you began to notice the signs, that is – the way his jaw slackened and his eyes glazed over. Relaxing your grip on his neck, you instead stroked your fingers along the skin there, feeling his thrumming pulse; listening to his hoarse laboured breaths; watching the way the rise and fall of his chest had rapidly increased. His cock twitched inside you.

“C’mon,” you whispered. “Tell me.”

“M’so fuckin’ close,” he garbled out mindlessly.

“Yeah?”

 “Y’feel so good,” he gasped, words slurring together. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, s’like you were made f’me.”

“Mmm, I know,” you hummed, dropping your hand to press down over his stomach. The muscles contracted under your fingers, tensing over and over again as you moved along his cock. “But you can’t come yet, Joel.”

His eyes snapped to your face, lips silently forming your name.

“I mean it,” you warned in a low voice, hips never ceasing their movement. “I’m not done with you.”

“You can fuck me again,” he shook his head. His face all but crumpled, pupils blown so wide that his eyes were almost entirely black. “Can fuck me as many times as you want, do whatever you want with me.”

You grinned breathlessly. “I know.”

“Please,” his voice cracked, abdomen tensing as you sunk down on him with a particularly heavy thrust. A high-pitched moan left your lips as you grinded your clit against the coarse hair at his base. “M’so close, darlin’.”

“No, Joel,” you admonished quickly, tone clearly too condescending for his liking.

Anger flashed across his face. Sharp and fast, but impossible to miss.

“Fuck you,” he hissed. You clenched around him without meaning to, the fire in your abdomen burning hotter as you watched his patience wane.

Swallowing down a moan, you gave him a measured look, and stopped moving entirely, relaxing your thighs against his.

“That’s not very nice,” you ground out. Joel’s expression loosened, panic glinting in his eyes. “What ever happened to southern hospitality, huh sugar? Do you think you deserve anything if that’s how you’re going to talk to me?” Not waiting for a response, you lifted your hips up, and his cock began to slide out of you painfully slow.

“No, no,” his hands lifted off the bed, hovering warily in the air over your thighs. “Wait, m’sorry, fuck—”

You ignored him, lifting up until you were completely separated. You gasped in unison at the loss, and you fought against the voice in your head that told you to just forget it – to end the entire charade. But you held strong.

“Is that any way to speak to a woman?” you teased, resting your ass on the meat of his thighs. The corners of his mouth were downturned, eyebrows furrowed as he stared despondently at you, face the picture definition of frustration. His length hung heavy in between you, glistening with a thin layer of slick and pre-come.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated softly, and your stomach twisted at the earnestness in his eyes. He meant it, and you knew that. Your sweet, kind, loving man… so quick to temper. And forgiving him too fast would be just setting a bad example.  

“You know I can do this without you,” you lied dolefully, stroking a hand along the damp skin of your own thigh. “You’re nothing special, y’can’t do anything I couldn’t do just as well to myself.”

His frown deepened at your words, hurt flashing across his features. But he knew better than to speak in that moment – knew better than to dig himself into an even deeper hole by trying to argue.

“I want you to watch me,” you ordered sternly, fingers stroking thoughtfully through the coarse hair on your mound. “And if you touch me, or yourself, I won’t make you come tonight. Not even once. If you want to touch yourself so badly, be my guest, but you’ll be finishing yourself off.”

Dark eyes flashed down, jaw flexing as he watched your fingers dip to slide between your folds. You let out an exaggerated sound, gaze trained on the way his eyes devoured your movements. You spotted the muscle in his bicep tightening and loosening intermittently, and noticed that he was gripping the bedsheets so tight that you almost worried they would tear.

Moving carefully, you trailed a finger to the apex of your core and began to run circles over your clit, humming genuinely as the pleasure that had been building inside of you was reignited.

It used to make you shy, the way you touched yourself. The way your brain would run hazy with pleasure, and your hands would take on a mind of their own, grazing over your body as you shivered beneath your own touch. But now? It made you feel fucking formidable. The way you squeezed your breasts, made yourself gasp as you pinched and rolled your nipples. To rub a hand over your lower stomach and press against the soft flesh there, putting pressure on all the nerves underneath the skin to stimulate your g-spot. You were greedy, never stinging away or pulling back from what you knew felt good. It was intoxicating, knowing every intricate part of what made your own body tick. And you knew for a fact that it was like a drug to Joel to see you touch yourself. 

His dark eyes glared at your fingers, awestruck as he watched your movements, tongue swiping greedily over his lips as if in an attempt to taste you again. And when you moaned, he did too, soft groans slipping past his lips and hands fisting in the bedsheets as he watched your fingers disappear inside yourself over and over again.

“That’s it,” Joel said roughly. “Add another finger for me, wanna see you stretch yourse—.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, refusing to do as he asked. He grunted, lips pursing closed. “You like watching me like this? Seeing how I touch myself?” He moaned his assent, raking a hand through his unruly curls.

You were already so high strung, so pent up, that it didn’t take long for you to bring yourself to the precipice. And as you approached to your end, expression contorting in pleasure, Joel’s eyes dragged upward to focus on your face instead of your pussy. Devastated, his eyes flicked once back down to your slick fingers, unsure of what he wanted to see more, before steadfastly holding eye contact with you. And as the high washed over you in sharp, twitching waves, he held your gaze, eyes raking across your features and delighting in the way your jaw hung open in a stupor. 

You rode the waves of your pleasure for a moment, only the stopping the ministrations of your soaked fingers when your clit began to burn with oversensitivity. Your eyes slowly flicked open to find Joel’s gaze still trained on your face, although his expression was lax now. His lips formed a small, somewhat dazed smile, and you felt heat rise in your neck at the way he stared at you. All lust forgotten for a moment, he simply watched.  

“What’re you lookin’ at?” you teased softly, your own mouth lilting into a grin.

“I’m admirin’ you,” he repeated your words from earlier in the night, and you huffed out a short laugh.

“You were so good, Joel,” you responded kindly, leaning forward on trembling legs to cup his face. “So patient, let me fuck myself on top of you and didn’t try to touch me once. Did everything I asked, just like you said you would.”

“Of course,” he murmured, turning to press a chaste kiss to the inside of your palm. “I’m sorry.”

Confusion flitted through you, and then you relaxed, remembering the way he had cursed at you. “It’s okay, honey. Why don’t you c’mere?”

Still smiling, he pushed back into a seated position, this time pressing his chest flush to yours. You looped an arm around his neck, toying with the short curls at the base of his neck as he lined himself back up to your entrance. Once he was in position, he gave you a quick look to check in, and in response you simply sunk your hips over him, letting him fill you to the brim once more. He sighed in relief, forehead pressing against yours.

Tilting your chin forward, you dragged your lips lightly across his, kissing him for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Where do you want to touch me?” you asked.

“Everywhere,” he breathed into your mouth.

Your fingers tightened on the back of his neck, tongue trailing lazily along the seam of his lips. “Then touch me, baby.”

His hands were on you in a second. Calloused palms running over the skin of your back, your shoulders, your hips, fingers gripping flesh for leverage as he began to fuck up into you. He had always been an attentive lover, with a keen eye for attention to detail. And it was never as apparent as when he was touching you. Because as he held you against his chest, dragging you harshly over his cock, he did everything just the way you liked it - the way you did it when you were touching yourself.

His palm pushed on your lower stomach, applying pressure there to intensify the feeling against your g-spot. And when your hands drifted to touch your breasts, his hands came up to cover yours, and you squeezed them together until he brushed your hands away to twist and play with one of your nipples, mouth dropping to flick his tongue against the other.  

It was intoxicating. Both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other, of finally throwing out the pretence and just being together, that you found yourself hurtling towards the edge faster than ever.

As if he read your mind, Joel’s mouth left your breast, face pulling back to watch you, saying “I’m not gonna last.”

“It’s okay,” you panted heavily. “You can—I want you to come.”

“Need to feel you,” he frowned, shaking his head dizzily. “Want to feel you come around me, please.”

“I will,” you swore. “Come on, give it to me.”

“It’s yours,” he whimpered, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you to him. “Fuckin’ take it, it’s yours.”

His hips begun to falter in their movement, and you picked up the slack with ease, rotating your hips against him to maintain the pace he’d set. His cock jumped inside of you in quick, jerking movements, and as soon as you felt his hot release inside you, your own orgasm hit like a freight train, walls pulsing around him, sucking him in as deep as you could take him. Your vision blacked out for a second, the intensity of multiple orgasms finally catching up to you and making you almost lightheaded. Extended moans and laboured breaths mingled in the air, forming a raucous symphony as you rode out your highs. Sweat beaded across his temples and dripped down the hard lines of his face. Your lower half shook with the intensity of it, thighs bracketed firmly against the outside of his hips. Joel sung your name, wet lips pressing the word into the flesh of your neck and repeating it there, embedding it into your sweat-soaked skin like it was all he knew how to say anymore.

“Fuuck,” he dragged out once your hips stopped moving, his teeth nipping gently against your pulse point.  

“Oh honey,” you murmured, head lolling forward to peck his forehead. “Don’t tell me you’re throwing in the towel? I seem to remember you saying something about how I could fuck you again, and do whatever I want with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his shoulders shook as he laughed quietly, keeping his face hidden in the crook of your neck. “Give me a damn minute.”

Although you could feel his length softening inside of you, and a mix of both of your come was steadily seeping out past his girth to make a mess of your thighs, you didn’t move just yet. And Joel seemed more than content to stay put, his strong arms enveloping your body almost entirely as he held you against his chest, breaths slowly beginning to even out. You shifted your head to the side to peer at his face, smiling when you saw that his eyes had indeed fallen shut.

“Lay down,” you encouraged quietly, letting out a quiet huff of surprise when he simply fell backwards into the mattress, dragging you down with him. Adjusting your legs to rest more comfortably on either side of him, you laid your head against his collarbone, pressing soft kisses to the burning skin of his chest.

“Just a minute,” he mumbled in assurance, although his eyes stayed closed and his breaths deepened.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly. “Can I get you some water? Something to eat?”

He hummed; eyes cracking open to peer blearily at you. “Water sounds about right.” You nodded, moving to get up from the bed, but he held you down, palm solid on your lower back. “Not just yet though,” he added quickly. “Just stay with me for a minute.”

“Okay baby,” you kissed his collarbone, allowing him a few more minutes of rest before you forced him to drink a litre of water and allow you to clean him up. His fingers mindlessly traced a pattern onto the skin of your back, stirring goosebumps across your flesh.

Slowly, a smirk slid across your face and you tilted your chin up to gaze at him once more. “Just saying though—you should probably get out of here before my boyfriend gets home. He’s pretty quick to anger, and I have a feeling he’d kill you if he found out what we just did.”

Joel groaned loudly, hand reaching up to press over your mouth and muffle your laughter. “Jesus, do you ever stop talking?”

-

“Come on baby try and keep it down.”The loud whimpers and yelps escaping his throat each time you went down on him.His hands gripping harshly the cold counter of the kitchen.The side of his face being pressed up against and small bits of drool dropping from his lips.He didn’t even know how loud he currently was.His mind was mushy,he couldn’t think of anything other than you.

With your hands roughly squeezing his hips and pulling him back towards yourself. “I-it’s too big!! Too big!”Shutting his eyes tightly and his hand gripping yours with all his strength.You were sure your hand was probably bruised if not broken.Your face scrunching up in pain and groaning loudly directed into Joel’s ear.Being on his toes to be almost as tall as you.His knees buckling and shaking from how much he felt you inside of him.

The warm breath of your ear hitting his sensitive ears.Turning his head with a muffled cry towards you,a glare starting to form on his face.For someone like you,you were getting a bit too confident with Joel.You’re surprised he didn’t throw you off the moment you put your hands on him.Despite the Menacing glare he gave you(one that made him look cuter).His hips were still moving on their own the best he could.

With the slow and deep pace you were moving at it was starting to get increasingly annoying for him that you’d tease his sweet spot.“Now you want me huh? How about we call Tess maybe she’ll do it much better for you.”Taking a handful of his hair you pull his head back,exposing his naked neck just for you.Joel’s eyes were half lidded and tears were started to leak out.Big drops flowed down his red puffy cheeks.

You stretched him out so good that it was starting to annoy him.Not moving at the pace he wanted despite how much he was desperately moving on you.He felt your tip rubbing against the spot that was making him go crazy from not being pressed up against on.So maybe he was a little drunk on you when he let out what he did.“Y-yeah maybe she can….”

Just hearing him sound so sure of himself annoyed you now.You’ve had a possessive urge over Joel all the time so having him say that to your face made you upset.Feeling your arms squeeze around him stomach and the feeling of your cold lips pressed on his neck.Joel’s back arching from the feeling.Soon letting out a loud gasp when you felt how deep you were in him.Pounding into him harshly,the tip of your wet leaking shaft kissing his insides.

Maybe it was in his imagination but he could feel it now in his stomach.Rearranging his insides just how he liked it. Your hands moving up to cup his chest and giving it rough gropes.“Tess can’t make you feel like I can baby…just me okay?”Pressing kissing on his cheeks and down his back.Your nose nuzzling into his soft curly hair.During your best to show him how much you loved him.

Biting his lip to prevent himself to say anything stupid to you.He didn’t want to admit to himself he loved you,maybe you only liked him for his body,for a nice time.He didn’t wanna ruin that…but with you whispering sweetly into his ear how could he not mistake that.A loud sob managed to escape his lips.Turning his head a bit and catching your lips when you pace fasten.His two arms pressed on the counter and keeping him up while you thrusted nicely into him.

“My Joel.”Whispering between kisses just made everything else feel better.Before you could finish with him he came quickly.Hips bucking up and twitching from how hard he came.Laying himself on the counter and still taking your thrusts to let you finish.Joel was overwhelmed and trying his best to hide his messy face away from you.Filling him with your load as you pulled out noticing just how much he shaking.Also quietly sobbing into the counter and tears pouring on the cold tile.

“I’ll make sure you’ll never feel anything like this with anyone but me.”

Jesus Christ you think to yourself. This man is so tightly wound it’s a wonder he hasn’t spontaneously combusted yet.

“Don’t exactly have a world-class dentistry outfit in Jackson, Joel,” you mutter.

Your ever snippy and disagreeable patrol partner whips his head around to meet you with narrowed eyes. Your comment is the first thing to break the silence in almost an hour. It would’ve been a peaceful quiet, too, if it weren’t for Joel’s nonstop teeth grinding. His jaw muscles were working his teeth so feverishly he would only have smooth, rounded nubs left in their place soon enough.

“The fuck you on about now?” he gripes.

Charming, as always.

“Might wanna cool it on gnawing your fucking teeth. You’re grinding your jaw so fucking loud, Miller. I know you have to have a headache. When you crack one of those puppies there isn’t gonna be much to do for you except take you out back and put you outta your misery,” you drawl.

You turn your attention back out the window of the small patrol station that once upon a time was a hunting blind box for Jackson resort-goers. The recreational function of it had long passed. No deer or duck hunting here. Just hunting clickers or tracking raiders, or any of the other millions of threats that presented themselves to the safety of Jackson.

Maybe that’s what had Joel worked up all the time. It was hard to say. He was never an easygoing person, but you’d think getting a good night’s rest, on a comfortable mattress, inside a heated house, inside a walled off city would be enough to get him to relax a little. No such luck. He only seemed to get worse the longer you knew him. 

It was your fourth month of being his patrol partner. You had almost laughed when Tommy approached you to take up the task after all of Joel’s other assigned partners had asked to be grouped with somebody else.

Turns out Joel had quite the nasty streak that didn’t take much to get directed at whatever poor bastard had said the wrong thing or breathed the wrong way or moved too abruptly. You weren’t afraid of some giant manbaby, and Tommy seemed at his wit’s end. So, you agreed to the pairing.

“Yeah, I gotta fuckin’ headache alright. Sittin’ right next to it,” Joel snaps in a huff.

You smirk at the unsurprising retort. Should’ve seen it coming.

“Set myself up for that one,” you chuckle lowly.

Joel only offers a derisive exhale through his nose at you and settles back into his cranky silence.

You were nearing the end of your shift, and boredom had set in. You decide to pass the rest of the time by getting on Joel’s nerves. You were good at it, too. His acrid demeanor didn’t faze you one bit, and that only seemed to annoy him more. His usual tricks that sent just about everybody else running for the hills wasn’t going to cut it with you. He’d have to try a lot harder if he wanted to ruffle your feathers.

Plus, there was something about him that made you want to break him down and see what was inside. He had a hell of a guard up, you’d give him that much.

“You think Ellie likes you enough to spoonfeed you applesauce once you grind your teeth to marbles and can’t handle solids?” you ask with an airy, casual tone.

“Shut–the fuck–up,” Joel grunts.

“Hm, I’ll take that as a no. I might be up for it, but only if you ask real nice,” you needle.

“Can’t believe you’re this much of a pain in the ass, but I’m the one who scares everybody off,” he huffs with an annoyed shake of his head.

You let out a genuine laugh at that, and Joel rolls his eyes.

“Imagine if you hadn’t been such a nasty grouch to any and everybody that was assigned to you before me. You could be up here with Phillip right now instead,” you chortle.

“Sounds fuckin’ worse, somehow. I hated bein’ assigned with him. God, he’s such a little fuckin’ bitch,” he snorts. 

“He is. He really is,” you laugh in amused agreement.

You settle back into a comfortable silence now that Joel is aware of his teeth grinding and has stopped. For now. He’d be right back to it and whatever other shitty coping mechanisms he had to work out his stress. Although it sometimes made for an irritating shift, Joel’s high strung disposition presented a greater risk. It was inevitable that it would get in the way of his ability to keep a level head during patrol, maybe even making a grave mistake. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Turns out, it was the former. As in, right after you both called it a day and climbed down from the lookout.

You and Joel rounded the corner to the small alcove where your horses were tethered. You stopped Joel in his tracks when you noticed muddy footprints leading to and from the spot. They weren’t yours or Joel’s, and they were fresh. You were both immediately on guard, weapons raised. You and Joel wordlessly went back to back as you started to scan the area for the owner of the footprints.

Before you could determine their location, a lone raider jumped out and kicked Joel’s knees out from under him. It was a flurry of scrambling and shouting after that. The raider had correctly determined the biggest threat as Joel, but he’d incorrectly calculated just how much of a threat you were. You unsheathed your knife with stealth accuracy, but the raider had a foot over you and at least 70 pounds. You only got a single jab into his side before he knocked the weapon out of your hand. “JOEL!” you yell, wildly searching for where the hell your backup was.

Your single stab on the raider had at least been straight into his gut where a number of vital organs were. He swung on you, but his stilted movements allowed you to dodge it quickly. You yank a serrated blade from your bootstrap and drive it into his calf. He shrieked in anger and pain, and you locked his neck into your elbow when he dipped down from the impact of his injury. You apply as much pressure as you can around his neck to cut off bloodflow and hopefully force him to lose consciousness. He struggled against your headlock, and one forceful buck from him made your balance teeter.

A loud whistling sound whizzed by your ear, startling you enough to lose your grip entirely and fly backwards to the ground. When you look up again, Joel is driving your serrated blade into the raider’s skull repeatedly. You scramble up from the ground and pull for Joel to get on his horse. You needed to get the hell out of there. Raiders weren’t lone creatures, and you had no doubt there were others nearby.

Joel wore a shocked expression when he turned to see you above him. He stared back at you like he’d seen a ghost. Like you being in front of him and snapping at him to leave it and go didn’t make sense somehow. The ride back to Jackson was a blur, and you didn’t have time to process what the look meant until after you and Joel gave Tommy the full rundown of events.

With a new group of patrollers gearing up and heading out to assess the area you and Joel had just left, Tommy sent you both on your way to head home and get rest.

Joel was acting almost shy, and that more than anything was what made it click. You dragged Joel into the stables away from prying eyes and ears. His remorseful expression confirmed what you already knew.

“You almost fucking killed me. You fucking idiot. You really almost KILLED ME,” you snap, shoving at Joel angrily.

“I had him in range, but then you moved. It was stupid, I know. I fuckin’ know it was stupid. I wasn’t thinkin’. I’m … fuck, I’m sorry, alright?” he bit out.

“Oh, you’re sorry? You’re sorry for almost shooting me in the fucking head? Sorry because you can’t aim for shit and missed the goddamn raider that was trying to murder me?” you bark. “You almost cost me my life, Joel!”

He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sighed. “I-I .. fuck, I know. FUCK.”

“You being trigger-happy almost cost me my life.” The statement had started out acidic but ended in a strangled whisper as the reality of how close you had come to dying sunk in. Joel’s high-strung, jumpy inclinations had almost been the end of you.

“Hey, I-I’m sorry…” his voice trailed. It was the softest you had ever heard him. When you looked up at him, his eyes were misted over. It was enough to make your decision of what needed to happen next an easy one.

“You’re coming with me. Now. To my house. No fucking questions,” you growl. You ignore the confused look he gives you and march off. You hear his footsteps behind you because of course he’s not going to argue when he almost killed you today. Whatever you had in mind was clearly warranted after his almost fatal error.

You stomped all the way to your house, angry and sad at what almost happened. You felt that familiar creep in your chest, the one where you needed to be in control for a little while. Be in control of a situation after feeling so helpless. And Joel? Joel needed to decompress. Immediately. Before his clouded mind and judgment actually did cause something horrific to happen.

You lock your front door to your single story home once you both make it inside, and you waste no time in laying the groundwork.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, Joel. You’re gonna do what I say, when I say it. Your pent up bullshit almost got me killed, and you need to fucking let go of it,” you instruct in a dangerously low tone.

Joel raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Alright. I, uh, I know you’re right. I’m in my fuckin’ head. I know I am. I didn’t think it’d end up … I didn’t think it’d get that far.”

He cast his eyes downward and rubbed the back of his neck. He was genuinely remorseful, but that wasn’t going to cover his transgressions.

“Get naked and get on the bed,” you order. You start removing your shoes and jacket but pause when Joel hasn't moved.

“M’sorry, what the fuck did you just say?” he gasps with an incredulous laugh.

“You fucking heard me, and unless you want to make it worse for yourself I suggest you do as your told,” you shoot back coldly.

Joel looked bewildered and concerned. “You havin’ a fuckin’ mental break or somethin’?”

“You just added five onto your total,” you reply coolly, not bothering to look his way as you undo your shoelaces.

“Huh? Five? Five what?” he asks with a shake of his head. “Did you hit your fuckin’ head on the ground or somethin’?”

When you turn to him with a stern glare, he decides it’s probably not worth it to ask again and starts off towards your bedroom just visible through the living room. You are down to your bra and panties when you make your way to your bedroom. Joel is laying on your sheets completely stripped down, looking uncertain but curious.

“This is the fuckin’ weirdest way somebody’s asked to fuck me,” he admits with a hesitant chuckle.

You chuckle back, but it lacks the warmth and levity of his. “Oh, Joel. That’s not what’s going on here. I need you to pick a word, by the way.”

“It’s not? What? Why the fuck am I naked then? And what’d’ya mean ‘pick a word’?” He was starting to sound irritated, as if he had any right after what he did today.

When you make quick work of crawling across the bed and hovering over him in a straddle position, he loses the next remark on the tip of his tongue.

“Word. Now,” you command.

“I don’t fuckin’ know. Any word? Uh - christ, I dunno,” he falters. He’s rounding back to bewilderment.

“How about ‘trigger-happy’?” you suggest pointedly. Joel swallows, back to being remorseful, and nods.

“So if you need to stop, that’s what you’re going to say. Understand?”

“If I need to stop? Stop what?” he asks, somehow careening right back into confusion.

“Anything that you don’t want to happen. You’ll say ‘trigger-happy’, and whatever is happening will stop,” you explain calmly.

“Uh, alright?”

“I need to hear you say it, Joel. I need to know you understand,” you prod.

You get why Joel is confused as to what it is that he’d have to ask you to stop. He’s bigger than you. He’s stronger than you. He could overpower you easily. There’s not really a scenario where he’d be at a disadvantage. All things considered, it makes a lot more sense that  you’d be the one who should be picking a safe word to use if you wanted him to stop something.

“Alright. I understand. Say ‘trigger-happy’ and whatever’s goin’ on will stop,” he repeats dutifully.

“Good boy,” you say with a small smile. Joel’s eyebrows pinch together, but you can see your words had the intended effect when you feel his cock twitch under your thigh.

“Now, your smart mouth earned you an additional five, isn’t that right?” you ask.

“Yeah, whatever the fuck that’s supp-”

“You will answer my question with respect, and you do not speak unless I tell you to. Now say ‘yes, ma’am’ and behave,” you growl.

“This is … jesus, alright. Okay. Yes, ma’am, it was five more,” he drones.

His Southern twang added a sweet little twist to the words, and the sound of it shot straight into your panties.

You trail your hands down his chest and you lift yourself away from him. He hums in response to your touch, and you finally take a moment to appreciate his naked form. A hot thrill spreads in between your thighs when your gaze settles on his half-hard cock. It’s already a delicious length, and the circumference makes the ache in your pussy even worse.

“Like what you see, huh?” Joel chuckles when he catches you staring.

Without missing a beat, you snap your eyes up to his through your brows and inform him he’s added another three to his total for mouthing off. He smirks but doesn’t say anything else.

“On your belly,” you command. 

Joel obliges with a nonchalant roll, clearly enjoying what he thinks is nothing more than a strange response to a near-death experience on your part. He’s cooperative with your apparent power trip and need for release.

His bare ass is nicely rounded with decent musculature, but you can see it’s soft enough that your teeth would sink right into the flesh and leave beautiful little marks. However, you have to hold off on that for now as there are more pressing issues at hand.

“You are going to count all EIGHTEEN out loud. If you don’t, they won’t go towards your total. Understand?”

Joel’s head is resting lazily to the side atop his folded arms. “Yes, ma’am. Count ‘em out. Got it,” he hums, almost sounding bored at whatever this strange form of foreplay is that you’re clearly into.

Your smile grows devious as you draw your arm back and strike the tender flesh of his backside. Joel jumps and lets out a noise of disbelief and annoyance.

“What the fuck?!” he snaps.

When you land another slap onto the already reddening patch, he jerks again. “Shame none of these count towards your total. Disobedience gets you nowhere, baby boy.”

“Agh, two! TWO! What the fuck is this sh-”

“No. Not two. You didn’t count them. You have to listen to what I tell you to do, and then do it. So shut the fuck up and count. You’ve got a long way to go.” You cock your head to the side as if you’re daring him to act defiant.

Joel grumbles but repositions himself. You peek a tinge of pink across his chest, neck, and cheeks before he settles back down. The sight of it makes your thighs rub together without thought.

“Now, let’s try this again and see if you can be a good boy,” you say softly. A small choking noise catches in the back of his throat. Fuck. You were going to have to concentrate harder if he was going to start making sounds like that.

You land another swat across his backside and savor the way his skin prickles up in goosebumps.

“One.” His grunt was audible, but his enthusiasm and deference weren’t quite where you wanted them. Another seventeen swats should help get him there. You swat him a second and third time and watch how his thighs constrict and bunch together.

“Tell me how that feels,” you instruct.

Joel shifts and makes a feigned dissenting noise, but you need more than that for this dynamic to work like it should. You crawl back onto the bed and straddle one of his thighs. He makes a much less ambiguous noise when your damp panties meet his bare skin. You smooth a hand over the irritated splotches on his backside. His body relaxes under the palliative motion. A small sigh slips from his mouth.

“Joel, tell me. How does it make you feel when I’m giving you your punishment?” you ask.

He turns his head slightly to look over his shoulder at you. “Dunno.” His eyes flutter for a moment when you start squeezing his smarted flesh.

“Do you want me to stop?” The corner of your lip twitches up when his body tenses at the suggestion.

“No. Not when you’re gettin’ that fuckin’ wet from it,” he snorts.

You smile a little and crawl forward until you’re on all fours above his back. You sink down until your chest is flush with his back.

“You like doing a good job for me?” you purl.

Joel rolls his eyes and grins away from you.

“Mmmm, I like that. I like how you wanna do a good job for me. You do, don’t you?” you prod.

“Hmmpphhh, s’pose I do,” he agrees quietly.

“And that’s what makes you my special boy, Joel,” you coo. His eyes flicker to you with an expression like he’d been found out. Like he wasn’t sure how you were able to have this sort of effect on him all the while him not even being aware of this side to himself. This need. This empty space that you knew about before he did. This empty space that you knew just how to find and fill. This empty space he was now dying for you to take from him and pour yourself into it so he could be whole again.

You had many a time suspected it was in him, somewhere buried deep, but to see it confirmed by the source himself made you all the more resolute to tap into it and show him what else was there.

You smile warmly at him, earnest in the affection it holds. You nuzzle your noses together in a few passes and let him press a small kiss against your lips before sitting up again.

“This is how it works, Joel. You do a good job for me, and you get rewarded.” You emphasize the concept by gently scratching his scalp. He groans contentedly. “But if you fuck up, that’s when I have to punish you,” you add, grabbing a fistful of his hair where you’d just been tenderly minding him.

Joel winced at the pull, but you didn’t miss the pleasured hitch in his breath.

“So are you ready to get back to your punishment, Joel? So that you can try to do a good enough job that I can reward you?” You roll your hips against the small of his back and are amused when he involuntarily raises his hips to meet your movement.

“Yes. M’ready,” he grunts.

“Good. Because I like it when you’re a good enough boy that I can reward you,” you muse. The muscles in his broad back swell and contract with a deep pull of air. He was finally starting to give in a little to the blissful feeling of letting go.

You slink back down to your previous stance, rubbing one more soothing circle against his ass with your open hand.

“Remember to count, baby.” 

With that, you resume doling out the punishment Joel had earned himself. Again and again you leave your mark against his tender skin. Your own hand was beginning to tingle from the impact, but the stinging on your palm only made your cunt clench tighter around nothing.

“NGghhh. Goddammit. Seven. FUCK.”

You want to lick the sheen of sweat that was starting to glisten across his back, but you contain yourself. You scoot up to straddle him and lean close to his ear.

“You’re doing so well, baby. Being such a good boy for me. Think I wanna show you what being a good boy gets you, before we work our way to eighteen. What’dya think? Want me to show you?” you murmur into his ear.

He pauses for a moment, groaning slightly in thought and arousal, before nodding.

“I know it’s your first time, so I’m gonna be nice and remind you to use your words.”

Joel swallows deeply. “Yes, ma’am. Wan’you to show me. Please.”

“Ooohh, yes, I like it when you use your manners,” you breathe into his ear.

You trail a hand down to his thigh and nudge him to bend and extend his leg out to the side. The angle lifts his hips slightly off the bed and sideways, and when you sit up behind him you can see his weeping cock, stiff and red at the tip.

“Makin’ a mess, baby,” you tease. You spit into your hand and wrap your fingers gently around his base. He groans at the contact, hips jerking involuntarily. 

“Now now, don’t get jumpy. Too much of that today already,” you warn.

Joel stills at your words but looks down where your hand wraps around his length. You lean your chest against his side and back as you talk into his ear again.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby. Knew you could listen.” You slowly drag your fist along his length in steady passes, placing little appreciative kisses on the back of his neck.

The whimper of a sigh he lets out is almost heart-wrenching in its surrender. You realize just how badly he needed this. Not just the release, but handing himself over to someone else and letting them make the decisions. Letting go. Letting himself fall into you, trusting you with it. You swallow back a lump threatening to form in your throat at the thought of it.

“Good boy. Such a good boy for me,” you praise, working him faster.

When he chokes out a needy moan, it makes you want to forget about the rest of his 18 and ride him right then and there. “You sound so good for me. Singing out for me. You like how you get rewarded, huh? For being good for me? I’ll take care of you, baby. You’re safe with me. You just have to let go and give yourself to me, baby. I’ve got you.”

Joel lets out a little strangled whimper, and you have to work to collect yourself.

“Tell me how pretty your cock looks with my hand on it.”

“Ahff-fuck. It’s-god-yes, i-it’s pretty,” he rasps.

“Words,” you scold with a gentle slap to his balls. He jerks backwards with a hiss before rolling his hips forward again, his chest rumbling with a groan.

“My fuckin’ cock looks pretty with your hands on it,” he grits.

“Now was that so hard to do?” you tut. “All you have to do is listen and obey.”

You slowly massage his balls for a moment before getting things back on track.

“Think that’s enough for now,” you whisper, letting him drop from your hold. Joel’s annoyed grunt makes you smile and is amusing enough that you won’t punish him for it. Not this time, at least. “On your back, all the way.”

Joel rolls onto his back and shows a small twinge of discomfort in his expression when his tender backside meets the sheets. 

“Sore already, baby? We haven’t even made it halfway to eighteen,” you taunt.

His tongue darts across his lower lip hungrily. He’s closer to where you want him now. You eye the dribbles of precome trickling from his tip. His cock is standing at attention, desperate for any sort of contact.

“Open your mouth.”

When Joel doesn’t follow your command, your temple twitches in irritation. 

“Is this gonna be a fuckin’ problem, Joel?” you snap.

You grab roughly at his length, sinking your nails into the sensitive flesh just enough to leave crescent marks.

Joel emits a whinging groan and levels an annoyed glare at you. His breaths are coming in heaves. You give him a moment - it was his first time, after all - and eventually his stony scowl wanes into a yielding frown.

He barely opens his mouth. You tsk tsk with a derisive laugh at his lackluster effort. 

“Tongue OUT.” You cock your head sideways for emphasis.

His eyes narrow slightly, but he juts his tongue out, flat and wide. Heat pools in your lower belly at the thought of all the ways it could be put to use.

You had to touch it. See how it felt. Get a better idea of how it would feel running up and down your folds and tonguing your asshole. You snake your pointer finger into his mouth and rub it back and forth against his tongue. You scissor your index and middle fingers underneath it, enjoying the way his mouth looks wide open for you to use however you see fit.

“Suck.”

Joel closes his lips around your two digits and keeps his eyes locked on yours. You pull away from his mouth and admire the covering of slobber he’s worked up. You run the wet digits along the underside of his cock. It jumps at your merciful touch. Joel fists the sheets on either side of him.

“There’s just something about the way you get so pathetic for me that makes me so fucking wet,” you moan.

Joel’s throat bobs with a swallow. It’s as if he thinks making any move too quickly will snip the wrong wire and detonate all his restraint. 

“I didn’t tell you that you could close that pretty mouth,” you warn. It falls back open, tongue out and waiting for you to use.

“Good boy,” you praise with a smile.  

You lean forward with a soft touch grazing his chest. His eyes flutter at the sensation. You stroke him once without warning, just to see his body snap up to attention. His mouth is opened wide, and you curl your fingers into a tight grasp around his chin before spitting in his mouth.

“Swallow.”

Joel’s cock twitched. He obliged to your request.

“Mmmmhhhmmmmm, you like that, huh, baby? Like when I treat you that way?”

Joel didn’t reply, but his eyes wandered down your body to where you straddled his. You give a slow, teasing roll of your hips, and Joel’s buck up into you. His eyes snap shut tight, and a strained noise gathers in his throat.

“Answer me, Joel. Now.” You land a harsh swat to his inner thigh. He flinches and draws a rough, tight gulp of air between his teeth.

“YES. I like it. Like this. ‘N I like yo-” he cuts himself off. 

You catch yourself smiling with tenderness at the slip. You grind firmly into him, and his back arches off the bed.

“Finish that thought, honey. Wanna hear what you were gonna say,” you coax.

“You fuckin’ know what I was gonna say,” he grumbles. 

He won’t look at you, and that bothers you. You need him to feel safe enough and comfortable enough to look you in the eye, especially if he’s actually sharing something intimate. But, maybe that would be too much, too fast for Joel. You’ll just have to find a way to work it out of him next time. A boundary was a boundary, after all.

“Tell you what,” you playfully muse. “If you can’t say it, I’ll let you show it instead. Sound good?”

Joel’s eyes snap back to yours immediately with this offer. His expression quickly shifted from guarded to hungry. He nods with unabashed enthusiasm. You smile down at the perfect little pliant mess he’s become for you.

“I think there’s something that needs attention before we get back to counting all those yummy little slaps on your ass,” you purr. “Hands above your head.”

Joel obliges and rests his arms above his head.

“I know that pretty little mouth of yours can do a whole lot of talking and smarting off, but I’m interested to see if it can do anything else.” You unclasp your bra and throw it to the floor. You follow the bob of Joel’s adams apple when he gulps at the sight of your bare breasts.

“Something you wanna say?” you ask sweetly.

“Bring those here, sweetheart. Fuck, you look so good,” he mutters almost to himself. His eyes are locked onto your chest.

“You’re not the one giving orders,” you remind him pointedly.

“I. Uh. I’m not. You’re right, baby, but- fuck you look so good. Can I? Can I please?”

His big brown eyes are watery and earnest, and you have to get your pussy in check yet again.

“Not very convincing. What’s in it for me?” you challenge. You toy with your nipple and watch it harden

under your ministrations. The choked noise from Joel tells you he’s very intent on saying whatever configuration of words will bring your body closer to him.

“I-I wanna make you feel good, sweetheart. After today. Let me, please? Just for a minute. Won’t touch ‘em with my hands. I’ll be good. I’ll keep my hands up like you said,” he promises.

You have to pretend with painstaking effort that you’re indifferent to his pleas. You can feel yourself completely soaking through your panties at this point. You straddle him again, rocking your hips against his cock for good measure, before leaning your torso over his mouth.

“Show me how sorry you are.”

When Joel feverishly takes your entire nipple into his hot, wet mouth, you can’t help the pitched moan that comes out of you. Joel is so worked up that he doesn’t even get cocky like before at your responsiveness to him and instead releases one side and heads straight for the other. He skillfully rolls his tongue around and grazes his teeth in all the right spots.

“Hnngggggg. Fuck, oh fuck. Such a good fucking boy for me. Yes, baby. Use your mouth. Show me how bad you were today. Make it up to me,” you pant.

Joel is a noisy, ardent mess underneath you, devouring and nipping and kissing and sucking at whatever he can, like a man starved of touch for too long. And he probably was. Truth be told, you had gone far too long without the touch of someone else. You were both going to end up a mess if you didn’t slow this down.

You pull back abruptly and slam your mouth onto his in a rough kiss. You don’t stop or reprimand Joel when he removes his hands from above his head and wraps them around you, pulling you closer. It’s a mess of tongues and teeth and saliva as you both desperately taste one another. Your aching pussy is screaming to be touched, and you clamber to hoist yourself over his face. Joel doesn’t need to be told what comes next. He yanks the fabric over your lips aside and delves his tongue into your throbbing wet entrance.

You cry out and grab at his sweaty curls as you start to ride his face. “Don’t you dare fucking stop, Joel. You’re gonna fuck me with your tongue until I come,” you snarl as you set a furious pace rocking your hips against his face.

His large, angled nose grinds delightfully against your clit with each pass, and you feel your orgasm building rapidly. His greedy moans and grunts vibrate against your pussy as you make a drenching mess of his face.

“That’s it–right there, right there,” you rasp. “Hhhmmggg you’re such a fuckin’ pleasure to use, baby.”

By the sound of the noise Joel makes, you think he really must’ve liked what you just said. Fortunately for you, he’s eager to show you through his actions as well. When he pulls you down to anchor you into his mouth and sucks hard on your clit, your orgasm barrels through your gut and legs. You’re a shaking, moaning mess, crying out Joel’s name and grabbing at the headboard in vain for support. He’s pushing and pulling your hips to help you keep the tempo of your grind as you fuck his face.

“GAHDD-Gaah-JOEL!” you shout. “GOOD BOY. FUCK.”

His tongue laves and slurps every drip you give him as he greedily swallows your climax. The rush of pleasure goes straight to your head, and you zero in on your control over Joel with renewed zeal.

“THAT’S MY G-GOOD BOY, BABY. Yes, right there, baby,” you shakily exhale.

You indulge in a few more slowing passes before pushing off his face. You groan at the sloppy mess you’ve left it. Fuck, he looked so good with your wet slick smeared across it. His entire face glistens with a mixture of sweat and your come. You chuckle darkly when you notice he’s breathing primarily through his mouth.

“What’s wrong?” you taunt as you try to hide how out of breath you are from your climax. You swipe across his cheek and pinch down along his nose to remove the accumulation of your spend blocking his nostrils. “Can’t fucking breathe, huh? Got my come up your nose, baby? You’re so nasty. My pussy made a mess of that face, huh? So messy for me, baby boy.”

“More,” he growls, licking at the glistening arousal you’ve left dripping on his face.

You shake your head and smile. “Hm, that’s right. We do have more left, don’t we? On your belly.”

Joel slams his head against the pillow in frustration. That clearly isn’t what he meant when he begged for more. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, and right before you can discipline him for not answering, he responds, “Yes, ma’am. We finished seven.” He rolls with a sigh onto his stomach and settles into position again, but not before you catch a glimpse of his aching cock.

You land five smacks in quick succession and nearly salivate at the recoil of his plump flesh against your strikes. You smooth your hand across the tender skin beneath. Joel grunts and counts out “eight.” His resignation to only count it as one makes your core tingle.

“You’ve done so good, I’ll let you count them individually,” you graciously offer.

“Yes, ma’am. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twel-”

Joel actually counting out each single slap had your folds slipping against each other with every movement, and you can’t resist landing a firm smack on the part of his ass you hadn’t smarted yet.

“NNGGGHHhhhh. THIRTEEN,” he barks into the pillow.

“That’s it. Doin’ so good. I know you can take more. I know you can take all of them for me, isn’t that right?”

His sharp exhales punctuate the little bubble you’ve created for the two of you. “Yes. Can take ‘em all for you, sweetheart,” he affirms.

“Your body was made for me to break down,” you assert. His breathing picks up with excitement and anticipation. “And, once I break you, Joel, I’m gonna put you back together how I want,” you purr in a muted lilt right next to his ear.

His broken whimper floats through the room like the white tufts of a dandelion in a calm breeze. “I-I want that, too,” he admits.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, completely losing all sense of focus when he’s so eager to please you and follow your rules.

“Doing so good, baby. Keep counting,” you soothe as you dole out the rest of his allotted swats.

He’s panting and sweating by the time you make it to eighteen, and you don’t have much more restraint left.

“Hands and knees,” you grit out. You controlled yourself from shoving your fingers inside your pussy at the sight of his red, welting flesh. He slowly pushes himself off the bed and rests on his palms and knees as you instructed.

You brush soft, wet kisses across the tender flesh of his ass, sucking and licking gently at the harsher marks. Your eyes roll back at the soft sigh he lets out. You let your wet tongue pad across his skin and dip against his hole. He jerks at the unexpected sensation, and you quickly swipe the slick between your folds and use it to glide your hand quickly up and down his cock. The sputtering gasp and moan he lets out almost breaks your resolve to not fuck him senseless.

You dart your tongue in and out of him as you feverishly work his aching cock, turning your wrist at the tip where you apply more pressure on each pass.

He’s trying to fuck himself into your fist with small movements, as though he’s trying not to get caught for doing so. That sort of behavior would land him in trouble in the future, but for today you are benevolent. He’s getting close, you can feel his body starting to shake and tremble more, and you want to see his face when he comes undone.

“On your back now,” you clip out. You shove him onto his back as he starts to turn around and obey your command. He thuds gently against the headboard and eagerly spreads his legs. You take him into your mouth with one motion, cradling and massaging his balls while your thumb works firm circles against his asshole.

He’s a whining, whimpering mess. You release him from your mouth only long enough to say, “You’ve been a good boy for me, Joel. You’re gonna come for me now. Come for me, baby. Let me have it.”

His scrunched brow and frown of overwhelming pleasure is something you wish you could remember in perfect detail for the rest of your life. He’s so beautiful like this, completely obliging to your every whim, sweaty curls sticking to his forehead, a total surrender of control to you.

You lock eyes and take him into your throat. A guttural moan shakes from his chest as he comes into your throat and mouth. You slowly work him up and down through his release. Little tears prickling at the edge of his eyes start to slither down his temples and cheeks. His devastating, euphoric release is all too much to hold anything back anymore.

You swallow some of his come as it shoots down your throat. The rest of it gets spit out in messy, frothy bubbles down his spent cock. You stroke his length a few times as he starts to soften, unable to resist your curiosity of what Joel looks like when you overstimulate him. His strained expression and high pitched moan are delicious.

“AGGHH. T-TOO MUCH. Fuck. Fuck. STOP. FUCK. TRIGGER. SOMETHING,” he rambles in a frenzy.

You released him halfway through his plea, picking up on his threshold being passed before he could verbalize it. He sighs and slumps against the headboard, shutting his eyes in a pained look of relief.

You scoot up and straddle him, wiping the mixture of all your fluids against the sheets, before drawing him into your arms. You gently comb your fingers through his hair and place a lazy trail of kisses along his forehead.

“You did so good, baby. How do you feel?” you ask softly.

He grabs you into a tight embrace, rolling you both sideways onto the bed. He nuzzles against your neck contentedly and mumbles, “Good. Feel good. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Anything for you, baby. Anything,” you whisper into his sweaty scalp.

After a few moments of holding each other and lazy kisses, you get up and find some towels, cleaning Joel off and then yourself. You bring him a small snack and a glass of water, and he makes short work of them both. He lets out a big exhale as he sinks back down into the mattress.

You sit between his legs, facing away from him, and his hands automatically rest on your waist in a feeling of comfortable, safe companionship. Joel’s breathing is beginning to slow into that telltale hazy thrum of dozing off.

When you start pressing firm, circular movements against his knee, he seems to stir again.

“What’re you doin’, sweetheart?” Joel mumbles in a half-sleep state.

“Massaging your knee where that asshole kicked you,” you grumble in irritation at the memory of raider fucking up Joel’s already fucked up knees. 

You focus on smoothing across the muscle in even passes, pressing your thumb in small circular motions. Joel had trusted you with the gift of breaking him down, and you were going to show him the other side of that agreement where you built him back up again. Put the pieces back together so that it’s cohesive and strong and tended to. No fragments. No splintering. Just making him whole again.

“Mmmmm, feels s’good,” he slurs.

You methodically massage Joel’s entire body well past the point where he lay peacefully snoring, spread out across your bed in complete bliss.

Me, the entire time I was writing this:

plz lmk if there's anything in particular you'd like to see sub!Joel *~*~learn~*~*

And he does, patiently, and you know he’d wait for hours if you told him to. 

Abruptly, just how he likes it, you pull the gun up and shove it into his mouth. He stays still for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours, before he slowly pushes his head forward, inching the barrel of the gun deeper into his mouth. When you cock it, you watch lust descend onto his face, dripping over his unblinking eyes. His breath hitches and his eyebrows start to knit, pleading still. You know what he wants, so you push the gun further down until you feel it touch the back of his throat, just before his uvula. His eyelids droop, his shoulders moving with deepening breaths.

“You like that?” you ask him quietly, looking down on him, keeping your eyes trained on his, daring him to blink. He nods his head slowly. When he hears the click of your switchblade, out of his sight held in your other hand, he exhales and closes his eyes. He keeps them closed as you lift the blade to his neck, tracing slowly under his chin, over his jaw, over his cheek, stopping at his temple.

“You like being at my mercy?” he stays still but you can see his desperate yes when he opens his eyes again. You cock your head at him. “You’re drooling, baby.”

Joel slowly reaches his hand up to yours holding the knife against his skin, his touch light moving up your wrist, then clasps it just enough to push the blade in to break his skin. A drop of blood forms around the tip of the blade. He takes his hand away and slowly places it back to delicately hold your thigh. 

“You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you baby? I’d bet your let me cut off your fucking ear. You love being my little bitch, don’t you baby.” Joel nods his head slowly up and down again. You maneuver the tip of the switchblade to gather the ball of blood that has formed at the small slit in his skin and bring it to your tongue, dragging the flat side of the blade over your tongue, creating a dull trail of his blood. You do it real slow, like he likes it. His chest lifts and falls with a heavy, lustful sigh. “You like it when I taste you, don’t you baby. No one else knows how you taste, but I do. Because you’re mine, baby. I caught you, and now you’re all mine.” you drag out the last two words, still looking down deep into his eyes. You place the blade against his cheek again, this time flat side down so that he feels the wetness from your tongue. His eyes flutter closed and then open again. You’re sure he’s hard as a rock by now.

“My little Stockholm syndrome baby.” 

You would never speak this way in the light of day, but that makes it all the more hot to him–your dirty little secret. No way would he let anything like this happen with anyone else; even if it was life or death, obey or die, he’d rather die trying to kill whoever has the gun in his mouth than stay so lax as he does with you. His role is the protector, it’s his identity, but you’re the exception to all of that. The gun in his mouth and knife at his face is how he bears his soul to you, showing you he belongs to you completely, his heart is at your mercy, and he’d stay still as you slide a blade into it through his chest if you said you wanted to. As he’s said himself, Joel was born to be your bitch. And in what perfectly twisted way you’ve met–in a world gone depraved, corruption sprouting from perverted soil. Your love is pure, but it’s not innocent. Neither of you are sure if you’d have ever come together before the outbreak, but it doesn’t matter anyway. 

Behind closed doors, you relinquish and devour each other. 

You drop the knife onto the bed beside you and slink your hand up from his chest up to drag caresses over his face. Lust in his eyes, his brow furrowed up, drool still dripping from his mouth. 

“I’m gonna take the gun out of your mouth now, baby.” his teeth slide along the metal as you do, and then you grab his shoulders and pull him onto the bed, staying on top, letting him lean himself against the pillows. Instantly you grab his face and push your mouth onto his. His spit spreads over your mouth as you maul each other. His hands stroke and grab at your thighs and waist, grinding you over the hill on his jeans. He pushes his hips up into you and soft moans escape from his mouth. You know how much your gun down his throat gets him hot and after 5 minutes he’s pent up like he's a teenager and you’re his first. He knows how this’ll go, too: he can grope you as much as he wants but he won’t touch himself, your hands don’t move down past his belly, clothes stay on, and he’s going to cum in his jeans. 

Your mouth is full of the taste of him and his hands are all over the place. You love how high his voice gets when he’s like this, how big-bad-Joel mewls beneath you. You want to tear off his and your clothes and bounce on his cock until he cums inside you, but tonight’s his night, so you’ll play his game. You’re more than happy to provide him with the kind of pleasure you know he’s drowning in right now. 

Joel’s moans grow more uncontrollable, coming straight from his throat, and he kneads desperately into you. You sit up on him, riding him like a horse, holding his hands still on your hips, like he likes it. His back is almost arching off of the bed as his whole body flounders as he grinds his crotch into yours, his eyes squeezed shut. Open mouthed moans pour out of him. 

You love watching his face like this and how unmanageable his moans are right before he’s about to cum. He fucking needs you. 

And he loves it when you press yourself down so he can fuck himself into you through his jeans. His mind goes blank when you let him get off on you like this. 

Joel moans and groans and pulls you down harder to stroke himself through his orgasm. You can feel his cock twitch as he empties his balls into his underwear with his final pushes and pulls against you.

“Sheit doll.” Joel pants, out of breath, “I love it when you do that to me.”

“Yeah I know you do, baby. You’re such an animal.”

“I’m your animal. Alright, get off’a me so I can clean my cum off before it dries on my only pair of fuckin’ jeans.” 

“Gross, Joel.” You chuckle as you let him out from under you.

“That’s the world we live in, sweetheart.” Joel smirks and shrugs his hands, walking backward towards the bathroom. “Better reload that gun before we forget ‘n get killed because I’m such a fuckin’ kinky bastard.” he calls from the other room.

“You’re my kinky bastard.”

You’ve met Ellie a bunch of times, but your words were always cut short because your brother never liked you talking to her.

She liked talking to you though, you could tell. And that made you feel good. You enjoyed her just as much back.

Thinking of making your brother mad in front of Ellie made a small smirk crawl onto your face. She never let him get away with treating you bad, she would always stick up for you. That made you want to do it even more, knowing you’d both team up on him.

Biting your lip at the thought, you thought that maybe now was the perfect time to go and mess with him. Sighing, you get up from your bed and walk across the room to your door.

Opening it as quietly as you can, you peek down the hall to see if anyone was there. Once you see that the coast is clear, you start padding down the hall on your tippy toes, so as to not make any noise. You reach the living room and sneak a look around the corner to see what they were up to.

Your brother and Ellie take up the couch. Ears filling up with the sounds of their obnoxious laughs as they have their feet kicked up on the coffee table, showing each other random videos on their phones.

“Dude! He totally fucking broke his neck, look!” Ellie cackles, shoving the phone into your brother's face while chomping on chips.

He follows it with a wheeze. “Wait wait wait, no. Look at this one.” He snickers. It goes quiet for a moment as they look at whatever he’s showing. The room fills with a loud ‘OH!’s’ a second later as they react to the impact of the video.

Holding in your groan, you roll your eyes, you knew you shouldn't have expected much. Your shoulders begin to slouch in boredom as you wait for them to start doing something else that was worth interrupting.

After waiting for another minute, you hear Ellie speak up. “Hey wait, I thought we were supposed to be watching that one movie.” Her words have you smirking devilishly.

“Oh fuck, you’re right!” You watch him shuffle forward with a grunt, reaching for the remote on the table. “Ehh actually man, I’m kinda hungry, the chips aren't doing much. Maybe we should get something first.” She says.

Resting your arm up on the wall nonchalantly, you speak up. “I could go for something to eat.” Both of their heads dart over their shoulders to look at you, making your lips turn up into an innocent smile.

Ellie’s eyes widen as she sees you. She tilts her chin up and gives a small wave. “H-hey.” She says.

Raising a brow in amusement, you flutter your fingers at her. “Hey there.” Your voice is low.

“I thought I told you to not come in here.” Your brother grunts at you as you drop your arm from the wall, walking up to the couch.

“And no. We’re getting something, not you.” Her eyes stay on you as you finally reach the couch. “C’mon man, she can get something too.” Ellie defends you, shooting him a glare.

“Yeah, I can get something too asshole.” You snark down at him, which makes her huff a laugh. He looks back at her and smacks her knee.

“Hey!” She frowns. “Don't laugh dude.” He scolds her. In return, you bring your hand up and swat the back of his head. “Don't hit her, you jerk.”

“Ow!” He turns to you and rubs the back of his head. “You don't even have any money, and I'm not paying for you! So no,” He turns to look at Ellie, “She can’t get anything.” He shakes his head. A sour look takes over your face as you cross your arms.

“Fine. Then I'll pay for her, you big baby.” She shrugs coolly, her words are full of spite. “You’ll pay for her, but not me? I ask you all the time!” He sulks.

“Exactly. You ask me ‘all the time’ dumbass. She didn't ask me, I offered.” She says slowly. “I just don't get why I always have to pa-” Ellie groans in annoyance, letting her head fall back against the couch. “Jesus, i’ll fucking pay for you, just shut up!”

Your brother’s sulking body completely changes, now it exudes excitement. “Hell yeah! Pizza it is.” He celebrates as he brings his phone back to his face.

Shaking your head, you click your teeth in disagreement. “Hmm, no. I don't want pizza. I’m really in the mood for some cheesy fries though.” You say with enthusiasm.

“Well I want pizza and it's not up to you.” He snorts, continuing to scroll and find something to order.

Honestly, you didnt care what they got. You just didn't want your brother to be happy.

Thinking fast, you look at Ellie, who’s already looking at you. Bending to lean your hand on the back of the couch, you pout. “Ellie, can we get that one place? Y’know that one that has the really good mozzarella sticks and cheesy fries? It sounds really good right now and my tummy’s growling.” Hope shoots from your eyes to hers as you plead.

“Fuck no-”

“-Yeah. We can.” She nods at you. Turning his head quickly to her, he waves his hands angrily. “Why does she get to pick?” Rolling her eyes, she runs a hand through her short hair.

“She’s not picking, I am. I could go for some fries. And since I'm paying, I get to choose.” Ellie smiles.

A big groan fills your ears as he throws himself back against the couch. “But that stupid place doesn't even deliver anymore. And I don't want to go pick it up.” He whines annoyingly.

“Aw that sucks. I guess we’re not getting anything.” She says simply, bringing an arm up to lay over the headrest of the couch.

Ellie knows that your brother would never give up the opportunity for free food. “Really!” He cries out. She doesn't say anything, just flattens her lips and shrugs.

After a moment of sitting there contemplating, he huffs. “Fine asshole. Let's go.”

He grunts as he pushes himself off of the couch, walking around the armrest and nudging his shoulder rudely into yours.

You stumble back, frowning. Your eyes go directly back to Ellie, pouting dramatically. Tilting your head at her, you try to silently beg her not to go.

Somehow she easily caught on, her mouth turning into a small ‘o’, as she blinked at you.

“Uh, Nah. I’m comfy, man. You don't need me to go with you, just …get me whatever you get i guess. I’ll cashapp you.” Ellie responds, continuing to lounge lazily.

“Why are you being such dick tonight?” Your brother grumbles at Ellie as he steps his sock covered feet into his slides.

He walks across the room and picks up his keys. “Would you just shut up and go get it? I wanna watch the movie.” He shuffles across the wooden floor, heading towards the door, grumbling along the way.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. I’ll be back soon. Come lock me out, idiot.” His eyes dart to you as he unlocks the door and opens it.

You walk yourself up to the door with a pep in your step, you squint and smile sarcastically. “You already know what I want.” Finishing it with a snide “Obviously.” Grabbing the handle to close it after him, he turns and puts his hand on the door, stopping it.

“Dont fuck with my friend, go wait in your room or something. I don't want to come back to her saying she wants to dip because of you.” He scowls.

“Just go get the fucking food you douche.” Giving a bright smile, you finish it off with a, “Don't crash!” You flip him off and slam the door closed in his face, locking it.

Walking back up to the couch, you bend your elbows on the headrest to look down at her. A second later you hear the sound of a car door opening and then slamming shut. The buzz of the ignition starting up fills the silence. “Hey again.” You hum out.

Her head shoots up, looking at you with wide eyes. “Yeah.” She blinks. You furrow your brows in confusion, your face turning into a ‘what’ look. Fluttering her lashes she lets out an awkward laugh, “I-i mean, ‘yeah’ as in ‘hey’.” She tries playing it off.

“Uh, alright.” You answer back with a small laugh. Your ears perk up as you hear the car pull out of the driveway.

Clearing your throat, “So.” You look down at the seat that once had the company of your brother in it, “Can I sit?” You ask her sweetly, shrugging. She nods straight away, pulling the bag of chips up from the side of her, sliding it on the table.

“Of course! It’s your couch.” She goes to swipe at the seat, ridding it from all of the crumbs that have accumulated.

You walk around and sit down, almost shoulder to shoulder with her. You feel her try and leisure back. She lifts her hand and places it behind her head, trying to seem cool. As you look at her, she gives a sheepish smile back.

“Do you wanna-” Her voice cracks awkwardly. Ellie brings a fist up to her mouth and coughs to clear her throat. She winces, “I mean, do you wanna watch something? Till he gets back, I mean.” Her voice is filled with embarrassment as she gestures to the TV.

You don't mention that little awkward moment, instead you agree happily to her offer. “Sure! But nothing too scary though, I'm going to bed soon.” You squint your eyes and point at her playfully. “Cool cool.” She nods stiffly back.

After a few minutes of looking through movies wordlessly, your voice cuts through the silence. “So, how's your day been?”

“Um uh, good.” She gives a tight lipped smile as she stops scrolling through the TV. As you look at her, you can't help but shamelessly stare. You really did feel a little dazed by her.

Ellie’s big green eyes to her dark and pretty freckles, all the way up to her nice little wolf cut, makes you feel a little dizzy in the head.

You can’t help but think why someone so fucking hot could ever be friends with.. Your brother.

Your thoughts make your face cringe up. While you do it, you don't realize that you’re still staring directly at her.

“Uh.. Is something on my face? Sorry.” She wipes at the corner’s of her mouth quick, assuming there's still chip crumbs there.

“Oh no no! Sorry I just.. Couldn't help but think about you and my brother?” You trail off, tapping your thigh in wonder. “What do you mean?” Ellie’s face pulls up in confusion.

You shrug. “Like.. you being together?” Ellie nearly gags at your words. “What? Hell no. I’m definitely not into that.” She shakes her head. “My first crush growing up was literally Stephanie from Lazy town.” She laughs for a second and then suddenly stops to cringe at herself.

Bingo.

Gasping, you bring your hand up to lay on her shoulder. “Thank god! I was gonna fucking lose my shit if i found out that my brother was seeing someone as hot as you.” You scoff in amusement as you linger your hand on her.

Her breath hitches at your subtle compliment, looking away quickly. “Uh yeah, we-um, it's.. not like that.” She huffs a laugh, scratching her head. “Cool. Cuz you’re way too hot for him.” You giggle, rubbing over her shoulder.

Ellie’s head turns to stare at your hand, you watch her throat bob and her jaw clench. She doesn't say anything as you continue to rub her through her sweatshirt, her eyes flick away.

A light-bulb abruptly flashes in your head. You trail your hand down her arm, feeling her toned bicep through the baggy clothing.

“Oh my god Ellie! You’re so strong.” You tilt your head with wide eyes. “What are you hiding from me under there, huh?” You flirt shamelessly. Her cheeks tint pink from that, she laughs.

“Oh uh, nothing really. I just lift a little bit I guess. I mean sometimes, not like, all the time or anything i just go randomly. More like every so often, honestly. I went yesterday actually. I should probably go more but i don't have-” She stops, snapping her lips shut.

Ellie nods at herself, realizing that she’s rambling. “Yeahhh.. i'm gonna shut up now.” She trails off.

“No! Oh my god, It's ok. I like hearing you talk. Your voice is..” You trail off. “I don't know.. Really attractive?” You lean to the side, putting your temple to the headrest, keeping your eyes on her. She scoffs at that. “No.” she shakes her head. “It's not.”

“Now why would I lie to you?” You tap her cheek. As she looks over at you, your eyes climb up her face, landing on her messy head of hair. Biting your lip with a smile, your eyes roam over her hair.

“I like it.” Tipping your head at her. “Huh?” Ellie asks.

Lifting your hand, you push her hair back behind her ear with the tips of your fingers, gently. “Your hair. I like it. It looks good on you.” You smile, shrugging cutely. “Oh, Thank you.” She nods bashfully.

You ponder innocently, “So since you’re not into my brother, are you seeing anyone?” You perk up as you hear her scoff loudly. “What? Me? No..No way.” Ellie follows it with a laugh, like your question was unbelievable.

Oh, you were so gonna fuck her.

“I'm sorry! I was just curious, that's all.” Smiling sweetly, you shrug nonchalantly.

Looking down at yourself, you eye the oversized T you’re wearing, only accompanied by your underwear underneath. Your mind wanders, thinking of the practicality of whenever your brother would pop up again.

“Hey, how much longer do you think he’s gonna take?” You question, bringing your hand down to rest on her thigh. “Uhhh..” she becomes stiff as she spreads her legs wide at your touch. Fumbling with her phone, she taps it to turn on.

“Like uh, um- like 30 minutes? Probably? He takes forever to figure out what he wants, even though he always gets the same shit anywhere he goes.” She lets the phone fall on the couch.

Her chest raises heavily as she continues to stare down at your hand, which now starts to massage her.

“Oh, Good.” You hum, smiling. Staring at her, you put it simply. “Wanna fuck?”

It was like you knocked the breath out of her. “What?” Her voice raises as she breathes out loudly. Rolling your eyes, you pick up her hand and set it onto your bare thigh.

“I said, ‘Do. You. Want. To. Fuck.’” You spread the words out for her.

“I-i don't think that's a good idea.” She mumbles nervously. You scoff with fake offense. “What. Do you not find me attractive? Is that it?” You raise your brow as your lips turn up into an amused smile.

“No! No! Of course not! Y-you’re very pretty.” She rushes out. “Very.” Her eyes widened.

Smirking, you move in and give her a lingering kiss on her cheek. You stay close, almost nose to nose now. “Then what's the problem?” You tease. “It's just-your brother.” She says it like it was obvious.

“Hm? My brother? What about him?” You murmur, looking over the room, pretending to search for him. “I don't see him around.” You snicker to her mockingly. “Do you?” Ellie rolls her eyes, huffing heavily.

“It's not funn-” You interrupt her by planting hot open mouth kisses onto her jaw.

“I'm not laughing.” You continue to kiss and nibble along her skin. Her hand comes up to grasp at your hip, gripping you tightly. “Fuck..” She whispers, then bites her lips. “Mmm.” You hum against her. “You like that?” Your voice is low, only to where she can hear.

“Yeah.” She sighs out.

Ellie’s phone suddenly vibrates, knocking her out of the trance you put her in. “Goddammit.” Her hand pushes you back and away from her. You scowl, looking at the side of her face.

She picks her phone up quickly, looking at the screen. You peek at it, seeing your brother's nickname pop up.

Rolling your eyes, you hunch over and read his spammed messages.

‘Cashapp me idiot.’ Ding. ‘C’mon, I'm not paying for this shit.’ Ding. ‘HURRY UP’ Ding. ‘UR ALWAYS ON UR PHONE DUDE. LETS GO’

You sit up, huffing in annoyance.

“Shit.” Ellie whispers. “I forgot to send the money.” Beginning to unlock her phone, you snatch it from her, push the notification button off and let it drop onto the coffee table. “Who gives a fuck?” Shaking your head, you toss your body onto her, connecting your lips messily with hers.

“Wait.” She murmurs in between the kiss, making you pull back with a frown. “What?” Ellie’s face looked nervous, scared even. Her emotions made your face drop. “Are you a virgin or something?” You question with wide eyes.

Not really wanting to take someone's virginity like this, you go to pull off of her.

“No! I’m not!” Ellie stops you, her hands hold you by your waist. Those words put you at ease, making you fall back into her, “Then why not baby?” You mutter.

“It’s just.. Like I said, it's not a good idea.” She says breathlessly. Frowning, you shake your head. “It's nothing serious.. We’re both adults here.”

Ellie looks away, contemplating your words.

“C’mon.” You murmur hotly in her ear, pecking at her jaw. She doesn't answer as her head falls back into the couch. “Just let me touch on you a little. I’ll make you feel so fucking good.”

“I dont know..” Ellie trails off, making you whine.

You shake your head, pouting. “That’s so mean.” Pulling back, you plant your hands onto her chest for leverage. You begin rocking your hips against her toned thighs. “So, so, mean Ellie.” You whisper as you let your eyes fall closed.

“Jesus.” She groans as she opens her eyes to look down at where you grind down onto her. Gasping, she whispers, “Please.” Smiling widely at the ceiling, you bow your head down shyly. “So you do want me to touch you?”

“Fuck yeah. Of course I do.” She gasps. “But you’re my best friend's-” Her voice is completely conflicted. “little sister.” Staying quiet for a moment, you sigh heavily. “Mmm-Yeah. But that's ok.” You reassure her with a giggle.

“No. No it's not. He’ll kill me if he finds out.” Her voice trembles.

Palming her shoulders, you try calming her down. “He wont find out, unless you tell him dummy. What he doesn't know, won't hurt him.” You assure her, grinding down harder.

She sighs out as her own hips start moving up. “I would never. You promise not to tell?” Moaning, you nod. “It’ll be our little secret.” Ellie groans against you as you bring your mouth back to hers.

You pull back for a second, her lips chase after you while her eyes stay shut. You give a breathless laugh while reaching down.

Curling your fingers around the edge of her sweatshirt, you pull it up and over her head. Her hair fluffs up, going askew. She swipes her hair out of her eyes quickly to see you.

Throwing it on the floor, you look over her body. She only wore a sports bra underneath, which was so thin it looked like second skin. Moving your eyes over her toned arms and hard abs, you nearly drool as your gaze catches onto her tattoo.

“Holy shit Els, you really were hiding all of this from me, huh?” You coo at her as you run your hands up and down her arms.

Ellie grits her teeth while looking up at you, she grabs your hips again, moving you rougher against her. Bending, you latch onto her lips again. “So big.” Peck. “And strong.” Peck. “Makes me so fucking wet. Y’know that?” You kiss messily down her mouth, her chin and down to her neck.

“F-fuck, really?” Your hands fall down to palm at her tits. Nodding, “Sooo, wet.” You purr, beginning to pluck at her nipples through the fabric, forcing them to harden.

Whispering, “Take this off.” as you toy with her bra. As soon as she hears that, her hands fly away from you to rip it off, launching it somewhere behind you.

Ellie looks from your face and then down at herself, resting her hands flat on your thighs. “I.. it's not much.” She huffs humorlessly.

You shush her, “Stop it. They’re perfect.” Trailing your palms up her naked sides, you bring them up to mold around her small peeks. “So perfect baby.”

“Thank you.” She lets out a shaky breath as you squeeze them tightly. Running your thumbs over her nipples, you groan. “You really are so hot Ellie. You have no clue.” You shake your head with a furrowed brow.

Every few seconds, you dip down to kiss her. One hand smooths up her neck to entangle in her short hair. The other hand drops from her chest and past her belly button, beginning to play with the waistband of her sweatpants. You feel her belly clench up against your knuckles as you run along her waist.

Biting your lip, your mind races thinking about all the things you wanna do to her. You quickly lift your shirt over your head, leaving you bare besides your panties. Ellie’s mouth falls agape as she stares at your bare chest. “Wanna touch?” She nods vigorously.

You push your chest forward into her face a little more. “Then what are you waiting for?” Her rough hands crawl up your sides, finally engulfing your tits. “God. You’re so fucking pretty.” Ellie whispers.

Your fingers return to rubbing teasingly underneath the band of her pants. She hesitantly glides one of her hands down from your boob to run it over your thigh, nervously. Reaching down, you fiddle with your panties. Her eyes follow your movements.

“We should hurry.” Pulling the crotch to the side very slowly, “It’s ok. Touch me.” You purr, picking up her hand to bring to your dripping center.

You whimper as she glides her fingers through your lips, passing over your clit. You finally dip past her pants and into the front of her briefs. Your fingers pass her trimmed hairs, “Shit!” She stiffens up as she feels you slide along her slit.

“Already so wet. Is this all for me?” You giggle breathily. “Fuck yeah, All for you.” Ellie groans as you begin circling her clit. Her hand follows yours as she begins to roll over your nub tightly. Sighing, you rock your hips against her movements.

Your fingers slowly begin drifting down from her clit, starting to rub at her entrance. Her hips jut up as you push inside of her.

“Shhh.. I got you.” You whisper. Your pace is slow as you drag them in and out of her. She pushes her head back into the seat while trying to maintain the movements of her own hand.

After a few more slow pumps, her feet plant to the floor to ground herself, as she starts to become antsy.

“Please.” Ellie heaves out. Gazing at her, you bite your lip. “Please what?” You continue to move your hand leisurely. Her fingers slip down and push into you with one thrust, making you buck your hips in surprise. “Please just fuck me.” She groans as she starts to move her fingers.

“Aww. Y’just need it so bad huh.” You taunt, beginning to fuck into her a little quicker while rolling yourself on her thin digits. Her free hand comes to wrap around your wrist. She feels your hand flex with each piston of them sliding into her.

As you start feeling her own pace falter, you curl your fingers, beginning to slam them up into the ceiling of her cunt. “Oh Fuck! God, Ngh-right there. Just like that.” Ellie’s legs shake under you. The feeling of her trying to fight to keep them open makes your belly bloom.

“Louder baby, I love hearing you.” You whisper. Ellie’s mind buzzes, feeling as if she needs to swim for her thoughts. Your confession makes her groan, “I can’t believe this is happening.” She whimpers out.

“I can't believe it either.. I thought I'd have to play with you a little longer.” You respond, amused. Her eyes pop open to look at you, hooded with lust.

“What?” She questions you as you pull out to rub over her clit a few times, then push back in. Snickering, you answer her. “I mean, I thought I'd have to butter you up a little more.” You peck her on the lips, furrowing your brows. “But no. You were just too easy. Couldn't resist some ‘off limits’ pussy, right?”

“I’m sorry. Ugh-so sorry.” Ellie sobs out.

“Ellie, you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to fuck you.” You sigh. “I.. I think about you all the time.” Ellie easily admits. Perking up, you stare at her face, your pace begins to pick up as your mind wonders.

“Yeah? Even when you fuck yourself?” Your fingers thrust harshly into her. “Yes!” She grits out. “Say it again.” Your chest heaves.

Ellie’s strength completely disintegrates, making her fingers completely stop their motions. “Think of you!” She hisses. You shake your head fast, “Nuh-Uh, use your words. What about me?” You bring your hand down to pull at her wrist, feeling as her fingers slip from within you with a soft squelch.

“Your pussy! I think of your pussy.” She cries. “How you smell, and t-taste.” Ellie whimpers as her hips try to move along with your thrusts. “Want you to stuff my face in your pussy and make me breathe you i-in.”

You laugh, bringing her hand up to her mouth. “That's what I wanted to hear.”

As she goes to speak, you stuff her wet fingers into her mouth. She automatically rolls her eyes back behind her lids as she tastes you on her tongue. Ellie huffs a sigh through her nose, her lips tighten around her fingers as her tongue dances over them.

Letting her own fingers go with a pop, her hand falls to your thigh, squeezing you with need. “Please-Oh fuck, please. Lemme taste you. Want it so bad.” Ellie begs. Her whiney voice makes your heart flutter.

The aching and burning of your arm starts to get to you, making your pace falter for a second. “Then you better fucking hurry, and cum.” You hiss out through the pain.

Ellie’s hand instantly flies down to rub at her clit at the same fast pace you continue to pound into her with, the loud squelches of her pussy were muffled behind her thick pants.

Planting your hand behind her head onto the head rest, you lean down to her ear. “I think..” You look down and then back up to her face. “I think this pussy’s mine. Don't you?” Ellie’s hips start moving aggressively against your hand, “Oh fuck yeah, this pussy’s yours.” She mewls. “S’all yours.”

“I’m fucking dripping for you, want you to lick me all up.” You moan as you feel her starting to tighten up around you. “Want you to grope me when you do it, and I don't want you to stop until it hurts.”

Her head turns to the side, shoving her face into your neck. Her hand slips around your waist, pulling you so that you’re chest to chest. “Please don't stop, please.” Ellie sobs out. “You close baby? You gonna cum, just for me?” Your voice is full of hope.

“Yes! Yes! I’m so close!” Ellie’s toned belly starts flexing harshly as she continues to gasp for breath.

Her noises become quicker as she rocks against your body, her legs begin to shake with each swipe against her pulsing bundle of nerves. “Take it. Take it. Take it.. Cum all over me.” You whisper huskily.

“Holy fu-I’m gonna-Oh.” She squeezes out through her tight throat. “I’m gonna fucking cum for you-” Suddenly, Ellie stiffens up underneath you.

With a loud overbearing groan, her walls squeeze you tightly, gushing all over your fingers. “Fuck! I’m cumming, I'm cumming..” Ellie chants as her walls twitch and flutter around you.

“So good for me baby. Takin’ it so good.” You don't stop hammering into her as she busts around you. The once soft wet noises now squelch loudly with your brutal pounds.

Thighs shaking violently, Ellie finishes with a spew of incoherent swears following with her body going limp under you. Your fingers come to a slow stop, and you gently pull out of her.

She hisses as you rub along her sloppy lips, twitching as you overstim her clit. You think it's cute, watching her twitch and shiver as you smear her cum up and down her slit.

Ellie doesn't stay quiet, every few moments she lets out a pained whimper. She lazily pulls her own hand out of her underwear, letting it droop lazily against her thigh.

Finally allowing Ellie to breathe, you pull out your hand from her pants. Wrapping your lips around your now sticky pruned up fingers, you moan at the deep musk she’s covered you in. You take your time sucking her cum off of them.

The shiney beads of sweat that roll down her temples catch your eyes. Letting your fingers fall from your mouth, you shuffle up closer to her while wiping your wet fingers on the couch. Dabbing at her hairline, you coo to her. “Shhh, I know baby. Came so hard for me.” You kiss her hot cheek.

Both hands come up to take a hold of your ass, kneading at them. “After this, I think I’d do anything for you.” She groans into your chest, kissing your collarbones. Sitting there while catching your breaths, you run your hand through her damp hair calmingly.

Ellie speaks up after a few moments. “You.. You never got to finish.” Timidness filled her tone. You hum,

“That's ok. Maybe we could go back to my room?” You try and persuade.

Sighing sadly, she thinks about it for a second. “He should be here soon. I don't think there’s ti-” The sound of a car pulling up into the driveway fills your ears. Suddenly, you’re harshly shoved off of her, landing in between the couch and the coffee table with a loud ‘Oof!’

“What the hell!” You grumble. “Fuck fuck fuck!” She says erratically, jumping up from the couch. Ellie stands and fixes her pants with one hand as she looks for her bra in a frenzy. Finding it, she slips it on with a quick swoop. “Get dressed!” She urges while waving her hand.

You use the coffee table as leverage to push yourself up, grabbing your shirt on the way. A loud slam of a car door makes a scared shiver run up your back. Ellie struggles to turn her sweatshirt inside out, throwing it over her head.

You rush up to her, gripping her forearm, “Come with me to my room, we can lock the door.” You repeat with a whisper, nodding. “What? No! Just go.” Ellie hisses. Taken aback, you scoff. “Oh, ‘Anything’ Huh?” You evilly squint at her as you tug your shirt back on.

When she hears your tone, she turns back to you quickly. “I’m sorry!” She cries, trying to pull you to her. Ellie bends to try and give you a swift kiss in apology, but you shove her back.

“You totally owe me, jerk.” You whisper angrily, running down the hall. The sound of an angry bang to the front door meshes with the slam to the one of your bedroom.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, there will probably be a second part to this. Or even maybe one a little less tame, and more on the darker side. Maybe Pervert!BBF!Ellie williams?

Don’t forget to reblog please! 😭

TAGLIST🏷️: @elliesfavgf @sarahduke @lov3lylotus @hi2647 @uraesthete @happysparklingshadows @annadoingshitpoorly

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You've had a really bad day. Like, spilled-coffee, flat-tire, card-declined, missed-deadline, and now only-key-you-have-is-broken-inside-your-door, bad day. By the time the man who answered your call - when you had manically typed "24 houe lpcksmith" into Google and clicked on the first search result - pulled into your driveway, you might as well have been dead on your feet. 

"Well I'll be damned," a familiar southern drawl greets you as a man in jeans, a flannel, and a cowboy hat and boots jumps out of the truck with a toolbag in his hand, "I thought that sweet voice sounded familiar over the phone."

"Oh, Whiskey, hi," you say, confusion lacing your words before recalling, "Right, I forgot you do this, lock stuff." 

He chuckles and nods his head as he sets the tools on your porch, "'Lock stuff', that's right." 

You'd met Jack Daniels a few times through mutual friends, casually at barbecues or birthday parties. You'd heard others call him 'Whiskey', but thought he was fucking with you the first time he introduced himself - a tall, dark and handsome man with a Tennessee accent named after a whiskey label? He'd laughed along with you then, before leaning in a little too close and drawling, "I've been told on many occasions, by anyone who's had a taste, that my Christian name suits me quite well." The wink and smirk he threw you before walking away sent a chill down your spine- not necessarily in a bad way - but ultimately you decided he was a bit too crass to be your type.

Normally you'd have remembered your manners and been overly gracious for the help, but you can barely even bring yourself to smile at him in your deflated state. Everything was distracting and annoying at the moment - your flickering porch light, the sound of loud-ass crickets and the highway off your street, and the fact that you were so close to being able to collapse in your bed but your own front door was in the way of that. 

It wasn't until he had greased the lock and pulled out a pair of pliers to retrieve the broken key that you began registering what he was saying to you in that sweet, southern twang. 

"...you can find that at any hardware store, honey. You really need to replace this cheap-ass lock, though, this thing couldn't keep raccoons out of a dumpster, let alone an intruder from your home." 

Any other day you probably would have considered his advice helpful, or thoughtful even, but you are not in the mood for even a semblance of scolding tonight. 

"Daniels, are you here to open my door, or to lecture me on home security?" 

His eyes snap to yours and he blinks several times, obviously taken aback at your frigid outburst. His brow furrows but quickly relaxes, and he smirks as he turns his attention back to his task at hand before saying matter-of-factly, "Ma'am, I am here to open your door."

You give a deep sigh and roll your eyes, not bothering to feel guilty for your quip since he seemed to find it amusing. He slips the broken key from the door and is now using longer, pointy tools to pick the lock. You're just about to ask how much longer this will take when you hear a 'click' and your door pops open. 

"That was fast," you say, surprise replacing almost all of the annoyance in your tone. After the day you've had, the sight of your couch brings more relief and weight off your shoulders than you would have imagined. 

"Only when it's prudent, darlin," he says with a smile as he tosses the lock picks into his bag and picks it off the ground. You can't help but snort at the innuendo - normally you aren't very amused by his crude jokes, but there's something about the way he innocuously delivers it that actually gets to you in your exhausted state. 

"Okay, well, you said you'll send me a bill, right?" 

"Eh, don't worry about it. First one's on the house, for a friend." 

"Oh. Thanks, Jack." 

"My pleasure," he says with a smile before clearing his throat. You notice he almost looks nervous before he speaks again.

"Listen, would you be interested in inviting me in for a drink? I don't wanna overstep by any means, and if you'd like me to haul ass off your property, feel free to say so. But I have the impression that you might be in the market for some company." 

You don't react to his proposition at first, a bit shocked at the forwardness. You guess it doesn't surprise you - he's given you nothing to indicate he is anything but candid at all times.

You contemplate for a moment, looking him up and down before giving a nonchalant expression and a shrug. You sigh, "What the hell. Sure. I don't have any whiskey, though."

He breaks into a wide grin that forms crinkles at the corners of his eyes and chuckles, "That's just fine sweetheart, I'll take whatever it is you have to give me." 

You're through the door with your back to him as he finishes speaking, so he doesn't see the small, mischievous smile you try to wipe off your face by pulling your lips between your teeth. 

Something interesting flickers in the back of your mind - and by the way you catch his eyes lingering on your hips as you turn back to him to motion to your kitchen, you guess he might be interested in it as well.

He joins you in the kitchen after closing and locking the door behind him. You swing open the fridge, grabbing two cheap beers from the shelf and then slam it shut. You use the counter's edge and a slap of your palm in lieu of a bottle opener to remove the caps and slide one of the bottles across the kitchen island to where Jack's seated himself. He raises one eyebrow at the somewhat violent nature in which you just served him, but just gives you an amused smile and takes a sip. 

"So, do you want to talk about your day? Seems that it's left you somewhat distressed," he asks, surprising you again at the sincereness in his question. 

"Not particularly," you say, kicking your shoes off and tossing them in the general direction of the front door, "Just know, it was infinitely shitty. Like, the universe may be out to ruin me and it's having a good laugh right about now." 

He raises one brow again, waiting for you to continue. 

You roll your eyes, and start to strip off the tights that have been digging into your waist all day. The countertop is tall enough that your bottom half is out of view when you lift the circle skirt you’re wearing to reach the top of the hose and roll them down. "Maybe I'm being dramatic. But you can only handle so many inconveniences in one day, ya know?" 

He nods and takes another drink, a bit confused by your movements behind the counter but deciding not to ask about it. "I understand darlin, maybe more than you realize. You see, I used to be in a…very different line of work. One that took a lot more outta me than just getting to assist pretty little things like you unlock their doors. I've discovered various mechanisms to cope with stress - some of which are more effective than others." 

You stand up straight after ridding yourself of the tights and stare at him from across the counter with narrowed eyes - taking him in. A single dim bulb over your sink casts shadows across the room and the angular planes of his face. He'd taken off his hat when he sat down, and although his fingers were busy fiddling with the rim between his fingers, his soft brown eyes hadn't left your face. You raise your brow this time and tilt your head to him, waiting for him to continue.

"Forgive me if I'm out of line, miss, but I think you might have some steam to blow off." 

There it is. You regard him one last time before taking a long swig of your drink and nodding your head. 

"You'd be right, Jack" you say, your voice dropping into a somewhat admonishing tone as you walk around the island and he swivels on the barstool to face you, "There's just one thing you need to know, okay?" 

You step into the v-shaped space between his knees and his hands reflexively go to your waist as he smirks and raises his eyebrows. 

"Tell me, sweetheart." 

You put your hands over his and trail them down from your waist to cup your ass beneath your skirt instead. You lean forward and place your lips just next to his ear, and you feel him shudder when you say, "I'm in charge. You'll take instruction well, right handsome?" 

Other than the flexing of his hands into the curve of your ass, he remains completely still as he sucks in a sharp breath and whispers back, "Yes ma'am." 

You pull back and smile at him, his expression full of awe and pupils blown wide with arousal already. 

"Good man." 

You place your hands on either side of his neck and lean in to place your mouth on his, kissing him slowly for a moment. His lips are somehow even softer than they look, and you barely have a taste of them with your tongue before he opens his mouth and returns the motion with a groan. The kiss is languid, but you can tell he’s showing restraint - based on the heavy rise and fall of his chest below you - waiting for your next move.

You hum softly into his mouth before pulling away and hopping up to sit on the counter next to him. He stands quickly, pushing the chair away to stand between your knees and dig his fingers into the flesh of your thighs, just below the hemline of your skirt. You arch into him and tilt your head back, and he places his mouth on your neck without hesitation, taking the cue. 

Your hands move to his shirt as he mouths and nips at your neck and under your chin. The fabric is soft and worn, and you untuck it from his jeans and unbutton it from the top down until it slips off his shoulders. You grab his hands from your thighs and move them to your own shirt buttons, and he picks up the task until your blouse is off as well. 

You grab his face to bring it to yours, crashing your lips to his as he lets out another filthy moan. The sound reverberates through your chest and down your abdomen, and you break the kiss to breathe out, “Do you think you can make me come on your mouth, handsome?” 

His eyes snap open and meet yours, heavy with want as a wicked smile reaches them. “I’m confident I’m the man for the job, darlin.” 

Jack clutches your hips and swiftly pulls you to the edge of the counter, lifting your skirt to bunch around your waist. His fingers move fast as he loops them beneath the elastic of your panties and pulls them off in one motion. Taking a small step back, he almost chokes on his breath at the sight - you hair messy and lips swollen, one strap of your bra hanging off your shoulder, skirt hiked up and legs spread - backlit by the dull kitchen light. 

“ Jesus, Mary and Joseph , I’ve never seen a sight quite so pretty.” 

You scoff, giving him a small smile as you lean back onto your elbows and say, “Get to work, cowboy.”

Another wicked grin overtakes his face and he places his palms on your knees. Pushing your legs apart just a bit wider, he squats in front of you and peppers small kisses on either side of your entrance before he flattens his tongue directly onto your clit, dragging it upwards until the tip teasingly flicks at it. 

Your head falls back instantly as you let out a wanton moan. Fuck , you were not expecting him to be so good at this. Jack’s pace is perfect against your clit - you don’t even notice when he removes a hand from your thigh to slip one thick finger inside of you until you feel the stretch. You gasp and look down at the intrusion, and feel a hot breath against your core as a smile reaches his eyes.

Once he adds a second digit inside of you, it doesn’t take long before heat is burning hot in your abdomen. You feel the tension in your muscles rise, coiling tight as your panting stutters and your legs shake. He feels you tighten around his fingers, and he curls them as he sets a relentless tempo with his tongue. You squeeze your eyes shut and gasp loudly, pulsing around his fingers as he hums against you. 

He doesn’t let up until you shift your hips to pull away from the stimulation. Jack stands and wipes his face with the back of his hand, but you sit up straight as quickly as you can to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply.

He chuckles darkly and murmurs between kisses, “You taste that there, darlin? So goddamn sweet, perfect taste from a perfect pussy.”

The praise in his deep drawl sends bolts of lightning through your core again, but the tension from your day is still humming in your chest. You place your hands on his chest to push him back, firmly but gently. 

“Take off your pants.”

“ Yes ma’am .”

He obliges and you slide off the counter, careful to keep a hand on the edge until you’re sure your knees won’t buckle. You watch him as he pulls each leg out of his jeans and steps out of them to reveal an impressive erection straining against his briefs.

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something smart, but you step to him and cover his mouth with yours before he can. You lead him by the waist as you walk backwards into your living room and pull away from the kiss so you can push him to sit on the couch. You lift your skirt and kneel over him, straddling his thighs and giving a slow roll of your hips, your wetness soaking through his briefs quickly as you grind his length against you. 

You watch his face - plush lips parted and dark eyes almost closed with how heavy his lids are. He moans as you undulate again, finally letting his eyes shut momentarily as he lets his head roll onto the back of the couch at the sensation. You grab his chin and his eyes snap open as you force him to look at you again, the eye contact intensifying the speed of your pulse and the roll of your hips. 

You’re both panting loudly now, the sounds of your breathing acting like gasoline to a fire in your body. You let go of his face and lift off of him slightly, and he catches the hint immediately, sliding his briefs down just far enough to free his achingly hard cock. Without breaking eye contact, you line yourself up and start to sink onto him, your breath catching at the stretch. You slowly bottom out, letting yourself adjust as you squeeze yourself around his cock. 

“ Fuck , baby” he rasps, and his whisper strikes another match to the already blazing flame between you. You lean forward slightly, placing your palms against his chest to help lift yourself almost completely off of him before sinking down again, each time with more momentum. You can feel him so deep like this, hitting a perfect spot inside of you with every hip roll you add at the end of a stroke. 

He slides his body down the seat cushion enough to angle his hips to thrust up into you now, fingers pressing bruises into your ass as he pushes impossibly further inside you.

“Jack- fuck , keep doing that,” you say between gasps.

His thrusts increase in tempo and in force, and he relinquishes his hold on one of your hips to lick his thumb and bring it to your clit to make smooth circles around it. You eventually stop your motions on top of him, unable to control your movements besides the sporadic jerk of your hips as you squeeze your eyes shut and feel your muscles tighten again. 

“That’s it darlin, don’t hold on to it, let me have it, okay?”

You move one hand from his chest up around the base of his throat, pressing down lightly as you lose all the air from your lungs and reach your crest, crying out as you do. 

You pulse tightly around him, and coupled with the pressure you’ve placed around his throat and on his chest, he’s unable to evade his own orgasm. He lifts you quickly up and off of his cock, hand gripping his length as he empties himself onto your skirt and his hand. Still coming down from your own waves of pleasure, you’re mesmerized at that sight of him, his hold tight as cum leaks from his tip.

Once he’s finished, you grab his hand to bring it to your mouth, licking his fingers clean as he watches in awe from beneath you. He can’t help the smile that breaks out across his face, and when you release his hand and look down between the two of you at the mess still there, you roll your eyes and snort in laughter. 

He joins in, and suddenly you're in a fit of giggles, the weight of all the things that went wrong today suddenly lighter - and honestly, kind of funny. 

You roll off him and stand on wobbly legs to fetch a towel and pull on a pair of shorts. He cleans himself up as you grab his clothes from the kitchen. 

Fully clothed, he grabs his hat from the counter and steps towards where you’re standing near the door, his smile softer and fondness in his eyes. 

“I’ve gotta say, it delights me to see you in a finer mood.”

Slowly, giving you time to reject it, he raises his hand to cup your cheek and places his lips to your forehead. The tenderness of the gesture surprises you - and even more surprising, you don’t shy away from it. 

He pulls away and reaches behind you to turn the deadbolt on the door and you step out of his way. He pulls the door open and when he gives you a last look before walking out, his smile turns devious again. 

That's where the one is. He's stepping up to this plate while everyone else holds their breath, waiting to step up to him. It's electric, it's so odd – a unanimous blanket of arousal is draped over possibly everyone, and it's been like that since the man walked in followed by his small entourage of blindingly different looking people (an older guy in a suit and a younger guy in trackie, covering the duality of London). He fits in here - a black Stetson sits comfortably on what looks like well-groomed dark hair and a leather jacket clings to his broad form over a tight white tshirt. Heck, the man is even wearing cowboy boots. But it suits him. The killer element was his drawl. You heard it waft past as he walked in, heading straight for the bar. Texan. It feels like he's a part of the place – it feels like he owns it. And he does. In that very moment, all eyes are on him as he bends to sheath his change into the mechanical bull, his jacket and shirt slipping forward with his angle, revealing the tiniest peak of golden skin at his hip. He knows that everyone is watching him – he smirks, his dark lone moustache that would look creepy on anyone else curls comically as he flashes teeth at his audience.

A tinny tune picks up as the bull whirrs into its beginning motion, and it's kind of like circus music – the type that you know will get faster the longer it stays on. The man turns to his entourage, grinning with pride and he points to them – a singular thick manicured finger cocky and authoritative.

"Eggsy, you better watch and learn, kid. This is how we do it back home!" He shouts and you feel everyone suck in their breath.

The sound of conversation in the bar is half hearted as he mounts the bull. He throws one leg over, stretching his already tight dark blue jeans around his thighs and he takes his rightful seat on the plastic moulded saddle. His hands fix at the neck, fingers spreading for maximum surface area, straining against the squeaky material when the bull makes its first turn, spinning to the left and taking its willing partner with it. It whips slowly at first and you watch as you knock back another mouthful of your drink, admiring how his torso remains still, his core keeping him upright while his hips pivot, his bottom half flowing like liquid with each unpredictable movement the bull makes. It speeds up, twisting and turning and trying to shake the man from its back but failing to do so, endlessly going on and on while the mechanics buck underneath him. It looks effortless but you've been here before – you know that only a handful have stayed on for the entire ride, earning a spot on the wall of victorious polaroids just outside the restrooms. He'll be up there by the end of tonight because he stays on until the theme music dies and the bull halts in its resting position. He gives the bull's head a friendly pat as he dismounts, swinging his legs around and jumping to land on the mat with a triumphant thud.

Thus begins the game.

Your friend Jamil lets out a low whistle from beside you before reaching for his partner's hand on the sticky table, giving it a squeeze.

"I think we've been blessed tonight," says Nick, oggling at the stylish cowboy while he trots off towards the bar again.

Jamil sighs wistfully and turns to you. "Babe, you're practically drooling. Look at you!"

Your hand flies up to your lower lip and you frown at him. "I am not drooling, fuck off."

"You so are," Nick gibes, looking at you with a cheesy grin. "But I can't blame you cause he's fucking hot."

You turn away, following the trail left by him in question. He easily parts the crowd and heads swivel as he moves past, earning a spot at the bar with a quick service. It's as if everyone's in a trance and he's commanding them. He's ridiculously cocky; his swagger, his mannerisms, his laugh. He's putting on a show.

Maybe you are drooling a little bit.

"You should go talk to him," Jamil speaks low while you stare, entranced by the man. His tone is encouraging but humorous with a touch of mocking - that playful banter of his set free while the alcohol loosens his tongue.

You talk to him? You wouldn't even get a chance. He's practically got a queue lining up for him. You watch as a tall blonde girl saunters over, batting her eyelids and flicking her hair. Maybe her effort is working, maybe his face is just like that; his eyes float around her features and that smirk is whacked permanently on his face in her presence. He accepts the drink she offers to buy him despite already having one in his hand and he flirts with her easily. Your skin burns when his tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip.

"Yeah...that man is bored, you should definitely go talk to him," Nick persuades while you still look at the man.

"Bored?" You mumble, entirely captivated by how his eyes shimmer and his eyebrows raise when he laughs. "He doesn't look bored at all."

"Take it from us, he is bored."

You watch as the girl turns away briefly, maybe to check where her friends are and the man's face dips, the spark leaving until she whips back, and his vibrant expression returns.

While they talk more, you keep your eyes on them, working up even a slither of courage to go over, quietly convincing yourself. Jamil and Nick change the conversation between them, drifting off, seeping into the background noise, and leaving you to it wordlessly. Time passes, the bar moves, and eventually, the girl walks off to head towards the toilet.

"I'm going over," you announce, snapping your friends back into the conversation you hadn't left, and they whoop, beginning to bang on the table as you pick up your drink to down the remainder in one, the wobble of the table growing louder under their hands until you wipe your mouth and clunk the glass down.

You leave the rowdy couple as they cheer and you track through the crowd, weaving in between drunken bodies with careless movements, drawing closer to the man, and quickly formulating a plan in your head. Do people usually have plans when they flirt? Never mind, you’ll wing it.

"So, London born and bred, right?" You say wittily when you get to him, leaning against the bar and hoping your opening line didn't sound as cringey out loud as it did in your head.

His smirk is back but this time it doesn't look flashy like before. He's assessing you, his gaze dragging over your features with that loose smile tugging at his lips. He moves slowly to pinch the rim of his Stetson and dips it, beginning to introduce himself—

"I'd say he's the least likely person to derive from this quaint city of little one-way roads and seemingly constant grey weather."

Frowning, you turn to face the man who was rudely interrupting your conversation before you even start it, mostly pissed but slightly confused when you realise that he sounds much like the one you're trying to flirt with.

He's sitting at the bar wearing a dusty looking green bomber jacket and brown combat pants that don't suit the typical going out attire. His beard is scruffy, his moustache curls over his plush top lip, and as you trace your distracted gaze across his face and up to his hair, you note a little blonde patch that creeps out of his brown tousled mop. His dark eyes flicker over yours curiously before they blitz past you to look at him. The man behind you.

This new guy's expression is recognisable. It's no doubt the one you wear as well, matching almost everyone else in this damn bar. Lust. As he sits in his bar stool, self-righteous and almost smarmy, you can tell he wants the cowboy. It looks like you've got some competition.

"But I am interested in enquiring into what has brought you here,” he continues, “I struggle to settle on the bull of the bar and all of its patrons being your only task at conquering in the entirety of this city."

The man with the Stetson huffs out a laugh, the smirk still loosely evident.

"I could ask the same about your intentions here on account of how you sound like me."

You watch as the intruder smirks deviously, avoiding the question. "I wonder if you would sound any more or any less like me when you're positioned under me tonight."

Jeesh. You whip back to your mutual pursuit, expecting to see blind rage after receiving a comment so blunt and explicit. But it's as if he knew exactly where to strike. The comment is a scorching blow - it causes his confident demeanour to stir a bit. His mouth hangs ever so slightly agape and his eyes melt pliantly, drifting down the green jacket to take in the man. It has you cursing yourself. Maybe you should have been forward straight off the bat. No, wait. You weren't even given the chance.

"The name’s Jack Daniels," he says and swiftly grabs a hold of his charm once more, sliding gleefully towards your competitor with his hand outstretched, in turn drawing nearer to you so that you catch a whiff of his cologne. It's notes of pine and smoke, and you want to lean in and close the gap between your lips and his neck, but you stiffen in defeat, utterly sure that you've lost the chance to flirt with him before you had a go.

The other man lets go of his drink, turning to reach out and shake the hand extended towards him. They mirror each other, wide forms and dark features pleasantly sizing each other up without care about who watches where their eyes wander off to. And you're in the middle, awkwardly waiting for a moment to leave.

"Ezra," he offers after quite a few beats.

You grind your teeth, clench your eyes shut, and you're about to turn when Jack's hand slips delicately to touch your lower back.

"I think you were about to tell me your name, sugar."

You open your eyes to stare up at him, seeing his easy smile falling back into the motions of wanting to lead after being thrown off course by Ezra's unexpected comment. You stumble, unsure whether this was a joke, turning to Ezra to see his gaze trail down you now with an equal amount of lust as when he'd stared at Jack. His clutch is back on his pint glass, swirling it and tipping it to his mouth, drinking some of the bubbling liquid all while his eyes are fixed on you. It's intimidating – you gulp as you watch his neck, the movement of his swallow tugging tendons and flesh under skin. Jack's hand presses firmer into your back, silently encouraging, and warm and then it all clicks together. If everyone wants the one in the bar, why would he pick just one if he had the chance? And why would you just pick one? From the way Ezra looks at you, it could have been him that you’d have tried to proposition to flirt tonight if you'd seen him earlier. There's a rugged handsomeness to him – he's rough around the edges and you think his eyes are the kind to hold many tales.

You turn back to Jack and give him your name, projecting your voice so Ezra gets it too. Jack's chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh, and he smiles dazzlingly at you. He tips his hat gracefully.

"I like that name. It suits you," he murmurs, biting his lip as his gaze sinks to crawl back up you again. "Where are you from?"

"South of the river," you reply.

"Posh," Ezra states into his glass, his lips tugging up

"Not really," you counter, staring at his lips. "What about you, where are you from then?"

Ezra pauses and drags his tongue along his bottom lip, knowing full well that you're watching him as you wait for him to answer Jack’s original prompt.

"Nowhere," he says bluntly, as if your words stung him, but he was trying not to react.

Something hums in you and the words fall out teasingly before you can think. "How poetic."

The look he gives you is consuming, as if you've just been given a hint to a little joke and you've grasped it full on. He chews on it like a bite well deserved and wanted, ticking his jaw to the side, and digging his tongue into his cheek. His eyes burn a brilliant orange flame. If you didn't know any better, you would say you've struck a deep chord in him.

Ezra tears his gaze away from you, coating Jack in the heavy look instead. "What about the champion of the bull?"

Jack huffs a laugh, pushing himself closer to you so that naturally your hand comes to rest on his lower back.

"Tonight, I'm from a little place called the Ritz downtown. A tall building and a mighty fine hotel suite that is a nice substitute for home.”

“A suite that grand must have an astonishing view,” Ezra muses.

Jack cocks his head to the side. “You probably wouldn’t be seeing much of it.”

Ezra grows silent again. Jack’s obvious intention floods your senses and watching these two talk has your body thrumming. You edge your hand underneath Jack’s jacket, snaking it behind his back suggestively as he stares at Ezra, revelling in his warmth under your fingertips.

Jack turns to stare at you. You stare back at him. You turn to stare at Ezra. Ezra stares back at you.

It's like a line of petrol was poured to connect where each of you stood and has been ignited. It flashes and erupts in no time, the flames licking your skin as it obviously does to the two men, growing higher with each second that passes. It's a wordless agreement. It's this easy. You've barely said anything but somehow, it feels like you've said everything. Your eyes sweep between them to assess, seeing them do the same. An apprehensive feeling blooms as Ezra chuckles softly at something in his head.

You realise you want him as much as you want Jack. You want them both if they'll have you.

Ezra chugs his drink. The rest of it falls into his open mouth and he wipes a hand across his face gritting his teeth, hissing through it. The burning grows as he rises from his seat, peering expectantly between you and Jack before he just...walks off. As he veers around you, brushing your shoulder when he passes, he shoots you a heavy glance that oozes charm.

"It appears I need to find a taxi," he coos over his shoulder, slinking through the crowd of people and disappearing.

You stand there, gormless for a second, your body yet to catch up with your mind as your eyes follow Jack do the same, an electric static charging through you as his fingers brush yours. You spin with the contact, impossibly drawn to him yet still unable to move properly, only capable of pivoting.

Jack turns back, his leather jacket swishing around his middle and his cowboy boot heels clicking against the wooden floor. He furrows his brow in a way that somehow makes him look even hotter.

"Are you coming then?"

You don't even say anything, you look very briefly towards Nick and Jamil to give them a nod, watching them fake swoons at their table with hands cast across their foreheads. You follow Ezra's direction without word, walking past Jack, past the mechanical bull and outside.

-

The cab is messy. You feel sorry for the driver.

Jack is pressed in between you and Ezra in the back seats, your team of kisses covering both sides of his neck as he staves off his grunts for fear that the cabbie will well and truly kick you all out. It's all grabs, lips, tongues, and heavy breaths – you’re mapping each other to get a head start before you arrive at Jack's hotel. The streetlights come and go through the car, lighting the bewildering scene in front of your eyes then plunging it into darkness again. You never thought you'd manage to pull Jack let alone Jack and Ezra – here you have two incredibly hot men who both seem into you and into each other. It feels like you're drunk even if you'd barely made it through a pint back at the bar – your head sways and your eyes have trouble focusing when you feel Jack pressed into you and hear Ezra mumbling quiet unintelligible drawls from the farthest seat.

Ezra drags Jack's face towards his own, capturing his lips in a hungry yet achingly soft kiss that makes your stomach bottom out. Their lips tangle together, their tongues venture out. Their noses press into each other’s cheeks and push and push, trying to be even closer together. Your hand is under Jack's leather jacket fisting his tshirt as you view their hunger. It's invigorating – his stunted moans rumble in his chest, halted at the mouth where Ezra claims them, and you feel it vibrate against your hand. Then Ezra is clawing at your thigh, yanking it up and over, spreading it across Jack's lap and closer to him while they kiss. His fingers creep up your leg, sliding round to the bottom of it where it meets inner thigh. He's so slow, it's like you're waiting for a sneeze to come – you keep sucking in breaths against Jack's neck, pulling in more and more oxygen with nowhere to put it as he inches higher. He circles his fingers up the inside of your thigh where it's pressed into Jack's groin and fuck, you can feel the effect you and Ezra are creating. You want to say fuck it to the seatbelt and you want to straddle Jack in the back of the car, to grind on him and formulate a firmer idea of him – his size, the way he would respond to you, the noises he would make so you can catalogue them.

Ezra's fingers dig deeper into the meat of your thigh when Jack's teeth cut hard into his lower lip during the kiss. Apparently, it had been getting more heated while you were focusing on Ezra's hand – they’re breathing heavier now, panting into each other's mouth while Jack clings onto the back of Ezra's neck for dear life. You have to stuff your mouth into the crook of Jack's neck to stop your moan from clawing its way out. It's dangerous. You're going to get kicked to the kerb. You need—

The car stops at a red light, and you all break apart like you've been caught. The engine hums awkwardly as the night idles for a moment – utterly silent. You catch your breath together in the back of the car, chests heaving and trying to look anywhere but the driver or the mirror for fear that eye contact would be made. Jack shifts beside you, pulling at the groin of his jeans, relieving some pressure but he doesn't move to cover himself. You find yourself staring at his bulge – the outline of him is thick and it makes your mouth water, giving you a painful reminder of your own arousal that thrums in your lower stomach. It's a pressure waiting to burst – your breaths, a rumbling metal chassis, the indicator clicking as it waits for the car to turn.

Ezra coughs.

"I feel as if I must apologise on behalf of our party, driver," he starts, his voice still catching in his throat despite the cough to clear it, "but when the opportunity strikes—"

Jack's hand clamps down on Ezra's thigh and it rightly shuts him up – he presses his own fingers to his lips and looks out of the window, not needing to be told twice. You peer at Jack to see his gaze drifting on you, sharing a knowing smirk. His other hand slowly rises to touch your chin, pushing two finger underneath and up gently to direct your face higher.

“You’re not drunk are you, darlin'? Say the word and we’ll call this off,” he whispers softly, his eyes searching yours for a sign.

You shake your head no and let him look at you for a moment. Streetlights dance in his black eyes as he smirks warmly at you. He drops his hand to your thigh too, both hands settled on his newly found entourage for the rest of the drive, and you watch his hold soften on Ezra, tracing light lines over his cargo pants as he does over your jeans. Ezra relaxes next to him – his head lolls back against the headrest and his eyes drift close.

But something tells you that the touch may not stay soft for the night to come.

-

The elevator is lined with mirrors. It's one small, reflected capsule that takes the three of you up to Jack's hotel room, but the reflective walls have made it an infinite space, expanding it as far as your eyes will take you. There's a row of Ezra and a row of Jack – the motions of Ezra ruffling his hair and Jack lifting his hat to smooth down his quiff blinks like a relay, repeated in the many versions of them.

You're turning, dancing a spin on the balls of your feet to face yourself, lust drunk and thrumming with anticipation in their silence. It shows on your face – your eyes are heavy lidded; your lips are parted tastefully. It feels electric in the stuffy space. It's hot and billowing as if you're all naked in a sauna, unabashedly keeping your gazes trained on each other, waiting for someone to make the move that breaks the barrier. You stare at them behind you, reflected in the mirror. They appear to be sitting on both your shoulders, like a little devil and a little angel. No, you'd pin them both as devils with how they return your stare – devious smirks that drag from your eyes and down your behind, their skin flushed with anticipation.

The numbers above the doors flash with each floor you pass.

5, 6, 7, 8....

It climbs higher and higher while the gazes of both men burn holes into you. Your heart beats hard as you're sure theirs does too.

"Jack, I think our little bird here must be a little cold, don't you think?" Ezra proses easily. "The night fares brisk and that driver didn't think to put the heating on. A good gesture missed if you ask me."

Jack throws him a glance through brown narrowed eyes, chewing on his jaw. "And what would you propose?"

Ezra's stare holds yours with devious intent. His lips fall open, the bottom one pink, plush and inviting. You want to sink your teeth into it.

"I think you need to warm her up."

Jack turns to you at Ezra's suggestion – a capturing trance seizes and bubbles between you, then he steps forward slowly, his arms swinging at his side. It appears like he’s walking aimlessly in the small lift – he paces in between you and Ezra, trained on you the whole time but circling you like prey, like a tease. Then he moves behind you, placing his arms on either side of where you’re holding the bar attached to the mirror, his large hands settling on the wooden banister next to yours so your skin touches. He draws in, locking eyes with you in the reflection, his finger makes way to your jaw and traces its line towards your neck. The touch makes you shiver. It's light as he trails on a downwards path and you tilt your head on instinct just as he removes his Stetson from his head, releasing some dark strands of hair to bounce over his forehead, ducking to kiss your neck.

You gasp and the sound gets trapped as if his lips have captured it – he's warm and soft and leaves slightly damp marks where he presses into you.

Ezra catches your eyes in the mirror – he's nestled himself into the opposite corner where two mirrored walls meet, his hands outstretched by his sides and braced on the rails perpendicular to each other, eyes a black fire and watching you as Jack edges closer, pressing his stomach into your lower back to cage you in further. Ezra's eyelids flutter when your jaw unhinges – Jack's teeth have dragged down your neck.

14, 15, 16, 18...

Ezra's pants constrict his obvious erection. It's a brown tent that's growing as Jack winds his hands around your body, crawling underneath your jacket and up your top, rising higher and higher like the elevator but reaching his destination first. Through your bra he finds your nipple, pinching lightly while his moustache grates deliciously under your ear. You moan as Jack kneads your breast, his other hand gripping your waist, his hips slotted behind yours and shifting slightly, one short grind to match his grunt all while Ezra watches you.

The elevator stops, dings and the door slides open, revealing the dim lights in a fancy corridor laid with maroon carpet – you can see it in the reflection, partially obscured by Jack's straggling hair. You noticed it when you all walked through the foyer – this hotel is expensive. You get a glimpse of a large painting illuminated around the corner that depicts a ghastly portrait of a man with a bow tie. The oil paint seems to swirl like your stomach does.

Jack nips at your neck once more before pulling away. His hand leaves your breast, his face is retreating, and then his chest is no longer pressed against you. But he lingers, stealing your eyes away from Ezra who has pushed off the railing and his teeth catch his bottom lip as he takes in your heated expression. Slowly, he replaces his hat back on his head, winks at you and exits the lift. You're left stunned for a moment while you catch your breath, frozen with your vision drifting off through the mirror until Ezra gently pulls your hand from the rail and takes it in his, guiding you through the doors to follow Jack.

The corridor is dark - the lighting is low to set the mood. It's as if the hotel knew this was going to happen. You feel Ezra's large warm hand squeezing yours gently, once, twice, three times. Are you okay? You look up at him as he walks in front, his shoulders tilted so he can look back at you with a face etched in concern. It's sweet to see him care like this all of a sudden. You must be staring at the corridor with so much wonder that it verges on a look of fear for him to look at you like this – he appears so soft, entirely unthreatening with how he leads you assuredly in Jack's direction. His eyes are quizzical, asking his unspoken question, not pressuring as you both walk to Jack's room. To think that you thought you were going to be competing with this man when you first saw him. It struck you again just how handsome he was – the type that may be overlooked in a room full of people but as soon as he's in your sphere and talking, you're overwhelmed by his looks, his voice, and his demeanour.

You squeeze his hand twice in response, offering a quiet smile with it, and he nods to you before turning again, striding along the rich maroon carpet.

Jack's hips sway enticingly ahead as he leads you to the end of the corridor. And then you realise that this is the only door along here.

Wait, what floor are you on? The lift hadn't been productive at all - you have no recollection of how high you went up.

When Jack swipes his key card on the entrance display, the lights going green, and he opens the mahogany door, the surrounding floor to ceiling windows show you.

It's the penthouse suite and Ezra was right, there’s an astonishing view. You're almost in clouds – a grey mist laying over the night skyline of London, red lights on the tops of buildings that blink through the air against a purple background hue. Being this high up usually comes at a price of tourist crowds around you. You've never experienced a privacy quite like this for a view you’re so familiar with.

The door softly clicks closed quite some way behind and you realise that you've walked to the window. Your fingers ghost the glass in wonder, not wanting to leave a greasy mark but yearning to feel the cool smooth surface under your touch with vast sky and grand buildings of both modern and aged designs beyond it. You take in the scene before you breathlessly. Ezra is mumbling about the lushness and antiquity to the room behind you, his low voiced dripped in the anticipation of sin as he simply speaks to fill the space. His tone reaches around you like a lover's embrace, goading you to come to him, but you stay put for a while, trying to sear this to your memory for some far-off reason.

It is truly beautiful. Jack is either very lucky or very rich.

After a few minutes, you spin and take in the room – its dark wood furniture and beautifully upholstered armchairs are positioned neatly in the space. The carpet is thick, and the walls are lined with more paintings of the same style of those hung outside. It's flash and good quality but of course, there's an empty feeling that comes with a hotel suite in how blatantly impersonal it is. The only thing that shows Jack has been spending time here is the partially drunk bottle of whiskey and a tumbler both resting on the low coffee table.

Jack and Ezra aren't here. Ezra's voice has disappeared into the walls. It's dark, there are no lights on – you can see the room with the help of London's light pollution alone. Near to the door is a shaded recess in the wall and you draw nearer to see it's a short corridor. You pass through it, your eyes adjusting to take in the crack of orange light that streams through another door. Closer and closer to draw to it, reaching out to push it open, swinging it silently on its hinges, revealing Jack and Ezra.

Their mouths fix together in a passionate kiss – the orange glow comes from a bedside lamp behind that spills between the gap they create every time they break away only to crash back to each other once more. Jack's large hands slide underneath Ezra's jacket and up, giving experimental touches under his shirt that has Ezra groaning and taking off Jack's Stetson, letting a few dark strands free to tickle his forehead again. He reaches away to place it on the edge of the bed carefully with his eyes squeezed shut, rolling his hips down onto Jack on his retreat. The strangled sound that erupts in Jack's throat is a ripple across the room – it orders Ezra to grind again, rough cargo dragging against jeans, just like it orders you to take a seat in the armchair opposite.

Watching them lights a fire in your veins, spreading a creeping ache throughout your body. You feel like you're intruding and receiving a treat at the same time – Ezra's wide form covering Jack’s is like nothing you've ever seen before. It’s two strangers coming together in the dead of night – three strangers – hungry for each other. It sets your mind ablaze, running through all the possibilities of how this might pan out – what positions you might find yourself in – and you squeeze your thighs together as you look.

Ezra untangles himself from Jack's lap and sinks slowly to the floor, the gentle thud of his knees resounding over the faint hum of the city at night. Jack sucks in a sharp breath as Ezra pulls his jacket off sleeve by sleeve and chucks it behind him with considerably less care than Jack's hat. His black tshirt clings to him, tracing the curve of his back, the soft roll of his tummy and across his chest. Jack's eyes are hungry and everywhere, as are yours.

"Like what you see?" Ezra asks both you and Jack – his eyes quickly tuck to the side to regard you before they return – his question spoken as rasp grating over the soft tones in the room.

Jack doesn't reply immediately, he tenderly caresses Ezra's cheek, manicured fingers carting through fluffy stubble, and peering up at him with a small smirk. Ezra's eyes flutter closed briefly, the motion giving up how he didn't expect that, but the softness is bulldozed over when Jack speaks after a beat.

"Take out my cock," he orders quietly, a small snarl forming in his expression.

Ezra looks up at him through his eyelashes, his hands resting on Jack's knees. Slowly, he rubs up Jack's thighs, his thumbs extending to cover the space at his inner thigh, obviously disobeying his instruction for as long as possible. Jack bites his tongue, his gaze concrete on Ezra's that dips away, down to his crotch, onto his own hands, across Jack's torso.

"And what if I don't?" Ezra replies casually. Tauntingly.

"Then I'll have to, and you'll miss the chance of being the one to do the grand reveal, won't you?"

Your pussy throbs at his cocky words, and you see the way Ezra tries to hide his own effect when he gulps. They hold still for a few moments, eyeing each other through the brimming tension that pulsates in the room. You wait with a thick lump stuck in your throat, untouched in your armchair and stunned into silence as you watch it all pan out.

Finally, Ezra shifts to Jack's belt, unclipping the obscenely embellished buckle and nimbly popping out the metal button. He zips down his fly and the teeth of it cranks loudly in the room where breaths are stunted, waiting. Ezra pulls him out – from where you're sat, you can't see any other material besides the heavy denim jeans on Jack's thighs. Jack's not wearing underwear. It sends a little thrill down your spine at knowing that. When you had watched him straddle the bull back at the bar, the only thing that separated him and the plastic was his pants. Why was that getting you hot?

Ezra's hand circles around Jack's length – his strong grip is big, but still the head of Jack's dick and some can be seen protruding out. Jack hisses when Ezra squeezes, his body visibly tightening in pleasure as Ezra smoothes his hold up and down at a snail's pace.

"And what a reveal this is," Ezra mumbles, eyeing Jack’s cock hungrily through heavy lids.

Before he can say anything else, Jack hooks his thumb inside Ezra's mouth and impatiently pulls him forward by the jaw. He guides Ezra's lips to the head of his cock, telling him where to be and Ezra doesn't hesitate this time – his pink tongue darts out confidently and circles Jack, caressing a wealthy moan from him. Inch by inch, he takes him into his mouth, a soft gag sounding when he pushes down onto his length and a gasp when he pulls away.

You succumb to a trance, watching Ezra’s head bob up and down to Jack’s unfiltered moans. He’s loud – obscenities and grunts flow freely as he fists the sheets and deters himself from fucking up into Ezra’s mouth. Jack is clenching with control, and you revel in the sight – his neck pulses under the strain he puts himself in.

Jack says something but it doesn’t come to you until he clicks his fingers, ripping you from the trance and bringing you back to his voice. His whole face is pulled down by lust – weighted lips and heavy eye lids – and he beckons to you with two thick fingers that have untwisted themselves from sheets, repeating himself.

“Pretty girl, come here,” he drawls, rolling his head onto his shoulder lazily.

You rise with wobbling legs, treading on the carpet like it’s lined with hot coals. One of Jack’s hands settles onto Ezra’s head – threading his fingers through curls and giving them a firm tug – and his other finds your hip when you’re near enough, pulling you to sit on the bed. Closer up, you can see Ezra’s lips stretched impossibly wide around Jack’s fat cock. He takes it eagerly down his throat with his eyes closed, his cheeks flushed and humming lowly, and the energy seems to spread from his mouth where he’s filled, through Jack’s dick and to you where Jack’s palm is now burrowing under your shirt.

You kiss Jack as his hand explores. His skin is rough and dry, his warm touch pushing up your top to signal that you need to get it off; his soft lips cant hungrily over yours. You discard your jacket and your top as Jack’s tongue slinks into your mouth, his hand settling on your bra which he traces his finger over, admiring delicate lace of the well foresighted choice. He tastes like whiskey and something darker – it tugs at your arousal, bringing it towards him like an offering.

“Pretty girl,” Jack mumbles against your mouth, repeating his compliment with his eyes low to take in your chest, “so, so pretty. She’s pretty, isn’t she Ezra?”

Ezra groans and nods around Jack’s length, not wanting to break away to answer and instead sinking further, his nose brushing against Jack’s neatly trimmed pubic hair. It causes a strangled gasp – Jack’s mouth falls open and you slip your tongue inside now, licking the sound from him and grazing your teeth over his bottom lip.

Jack frees his grip from Ezra and works quickly to undo your jeans. You manage to pull them from your legs along with your underwear without unclasping yourself from Jack’s mouth, fused to him like Ezra is too, then you’re in your bra with your thighs framing his hips.

He’d teased you in the elevator. They’d both teased you. His lips on your neck, his hands engulfing your breast, and Ezra’s gravid stare. Nick and Jamil come to mind – their words of encouragement revived clearly despite your lust-drunk state. They’d told you to talk to Jack and now you were here – in the middle of a one-night stand that you will certainly replay in the future during your alone time. The burning in both of your partners’ eyes teetered on a dark edge which you wondered if you could tip over, hopefully sparking a brilliant orange flame scorched blue and hotter.

Your hand trails down Jack’s exposed stomach, following its curve to the open V of his trousers, and you cup around the base of his cock, stopping Ezra from taking it fully to the hilt. You break the kiss with Jack and turn to face Ezra. With one hand squeezing Jack, your other seeks Ezra’s jaw, cradling it and determinedly lifting his mouth completely from Jack. Ezra frowns at you.

“Little bird, what are you—”

Maintaining eye contact, you lean down closer to Ezra – your faces inches away where you hold him – and you gather saliva in your mouth. With his brown eyes fixed solely on yours, you slowly release spit that drops in a string onto Jack’s tip.

“Fuck,” Jack rasps from behind you after watching the whole thing.

Ezra looks aghast – he wears an expression of slow ruin. And as you direct him back towards where your spit slides down Jack’s shaft, you say two words that causes him to moan.

“Suck it.”

Ezra’s mouth slips him in greedily, groaning at how wet it is from you, and he begins an increased agile pace that earns a heavy grunt from Jack. Jack’s breathing turns laboured as you swivel to him – your expression significantly hazier than before. His hand finds the nape of your neck that’s surely dampened in sweat, encircling it, and using his grip to drag you back to him.

“You’re fucking filthy, darlin’, you know that?” – you nod – “You like knowing Ezra’s tasting your spit on my cock, yeah? Come here.”

He hooks a finger in your bra strap and leads you to fall back on the bed with him. You brace your hands on each side of his face and straddle his middle, his jacket zipper grating against your bare thighs. You dip down to seek his lips, but he tuts, making you halt.

“Nuh-uh, how about you take a seat right here,” he says, tapping just below his lip.

His suggestion takes a heated form in your lower belly and your throat tightens. You shift at his command, shuffling up his chest and eyeing your destination intensely, but his hands twist, directing you to spin and face the other way. To face Ezra.

“I want you to watch Ezra suck my cock while I lick this pretty pussy, sugar.”

A shudder wracks your body at his words and then it reverberates when he takes a proper hold of your thighs – his leather clad arms folding under and over them – tugging them down to meet his puckered lips.

Your eyes meet Ezra’s at the exact moment that Jack tenderly kisses your clit. He watches your face slowly crack with Jack’s cock still in his mouth, a piece of it shattering each time that Jack swipes his tongue in you, and it's reflected in Ezra – his eyes dip a shade darker with every involuntary buck of your hips.

Being watched is intoxicating. Ezra’s gaze verges on pure as he rakes over you like you’re nothing he’s ever seen. It’s full of wonder and it pauses indulgently where he can see Jack’s tongue lap at you, coming and going from sight as you grind on him.

You think that without Jack’s grip, you wouldn’t be moving at all. He guides you – a rough drag of your soaking pussy over his mouth. His tongue dips into your slit and scoops out your arousal, collecting it, taking it with him on the drag back that leads him to your clit. Over and over and over. He's the one that is making you rut against him – you’re completely delirious against his mouth and unable to even think about taking over your own movements.

But like before, he quick to encourage you.

“C’mon, fucking use my mouth, don’t be shy," he says as he squeezes your thighs.

His tongue retreats and you whine. He'd been giving very generously it seems, because the sensation that had pulsed at your clit ebbs away and lingers only from contact with Jack's lips. But when you give a roll of your hips that coats Jack's smooth chin in your slick, his tongue is back and you moan lewdly, rolling again so he keeps it there, creating a slow pace that makes your pleasure bloom.

The sounds are debauched. Ezra gags and Jack's cock squelches with each drag past his cheeks. Jack slurps at you, not wasting a single drop of what you have to give. The moans crescendo from the three of you, playing both bassy and light, all chasing a high. And it’s all dirty music to your ears.

Ezra pulls off Jack to lick his head, a bead of glossy precum slipping quietly onto his tongue upon retreat. His grip replaces where his mouth has left, slower than before, but he's wrapped around him tight, and Jack moans against you at the simultaneous loss of heat and new unrelenting pressure.

"His cock is throbbing in my grip," Ezra tells you like it’s a secret, hauntingly low as if Jack shouldn't hear, "I think you need to go faster."

“Is that so?” You murmur breathily, the temptation to give payback teasing into your voice. “Jack? What do you think?”

You didn’t know what to expect in response, but it wasn’t the harsh crack of Jack’s hand slapping your ass. It stings. It makes you throb. Ezra laughs and you take the hint when Jack’s grip pinches harder to say yes.

You press your hands into Jack's chest and use him as leverage to roll your hips down hard. You do use him then – his nose, his lips, his chin. It all grinds against you and the pressure builds thickly in your stomach. Your legs twitch as you continue, and soon the feeling reaches a tipping point from how Jack's tongue catches just right. You shatter above him as it rears, curling in on yourself and shaking, almost suffocating him with your pussy and your thighs as you clamp to take the final course of pleasure through him, drenching his face in way that would embarrass you in any other instance.

Jack inhales deeply underneath you and the groan he emits on his exhale releases any doubt that he wouldn’t want you to cum on his face. You lift up to let him catch his breath – seeking yours too and his hands knead comfort into your thighs as you gasp, a light rumbling chuckle coming from him underneath.

“Sweetheart,” he purrs, “I’m gonna need you to do that again for me.”

You clench when he says that – your orgasm still thrumming from you, swollen and stuttering. It heats further when Ezra touches your knee.

Ezra had kept his pace slow as he'd watched you – that stare of purity slowly darkening again. It was encompassing now, making him appear incredibly feral in between Jack’s legs, pinning you like a prize that he needed to win.

“You heard the man,” he whispers, with a reassuring slide of his palm up your leg, fingertips touching Jack’s. “A repeat is in order.”

You nod, wrecked and speechless, sighing when you lower back onto Jack’s mouth.

This time you have a different show.

Ezra stands up and undresses, pulling his shirt off in a single rushed motion and yanking his cargo pants down hurriedly. There’s barely any time for you to examine the planes of his golden skin as he becomes exposed – he’s just there, naked in front of you, his cock bulbous and weeping for both of you.

Jack is longer but Ezra is thicker, and your mouth waters as Ezra licks his palm, wraps his own fist around his girth and gives it a few languid strokes. The bed dips as he moves to straddle Jack's naked bottom half, seating himself on his groin with his knees tucked into Jack's sides as Jack begins to tend to your clit again. You stare at his chest – how it heaves, how it shows you more of him. Ezra’s soft middle shudders as he takes his slick cock and nestles it next to Jack's, both of them bobbing at the contact. Some scars that are scattered across his shoulders glint silver in the light when he places his hands on Jack’s sides – a particularly large, jagged mark on his right bicep twists as he caresses. Ezra’s neck pulls taught when he begins to move.

Your second orgasm already bubbles up as you watch Ezra’s cock slide over Jack’s. His hips roll to seek friction, taking a stunted form of pleasure after not being granted any and groaning from it. It’s not enough. His cock is swollen and red, needy for more but oozing precum with the smallest satisfaction at some contact. You can’t imagine how it feels and you can’t imagine what Jack is thinking. He can’t see it, but he can feel it and you know he must ache from how gut wrenching his moan is in between your legs. He gets sloppier with it.

Ezra’s brow is furrowed, and his eyes roll back as his head catches Jack’s.

And with his mouth free once more, he spews shit to you – to his audience.

"Look at you, taking your deserved seat. Rightly so…”

“…You're making such sweet sounds for us. Keep going…”

“…I’d wager a bet of high stakes that you taste divine…you must do – it’s impossible for Jack to keep quiet…listen to him…”

He smiles when your face breaks. It’s a cheeky and charming grin that melts your heart even while you’re doing something so filthy. You feel like he’s feasting on you with his gaze despite him not actually touching you – his voice reaches out instead, curling around your ears and tickling at pleasure points you didn't know you had. He murmurs and grates over you, drooling compliments as you grind faster over Jack’s mouth again, picking up your original pace and feeling your orgasm rounding a corner quicker than the first. Jack groans against your puffy lips, feeling Ezra’s cock slip over his and your shudders by his doing – and when you cum, a blinging hot jolt that makes you clamp on top of him again, Jack cums too. You think he would have shouted if you weren’t muffling his mouth – he must have been pent up from Ezra’s blowjob because his chest shakes underneath you and you feel his gasp against your skin. The grinding – subtle and teasing – is enough to tip him over the edge and spurt long threads of cum over his stomach. It douses Ezra’s cock as well, a shiny coat that leaves both men groaning equally with surprise and pleasure.

“Shit.” Ezra hisses, looking down and sliding his hands over Jack’s stomach tenderly to collect his spend. He fists himself, dragging cum up and down his length experimentally, a small whimper escaping from him that sends a shiver down your spine.

Jack pats your thighs, asking you to get up, and slowly you do, rolling to the side and stretching out on the bed like a cat. He sits up with Ezra still on his lap, their hard lengths touching and sticky between them, and Jack pulls him in for a kiss with an assured hand on the back of his neck. You watch them again, the pleasure a dull throb that vibrates through your limbs and billows between your legs. Jack is slower and Ezra’s is hungry – he’s playing catch up.

“I’m gonna go clean up,” Jack says against Ezra’s mouth when their lips part. “I think she’s waiting for you over there.” He juts his chin in your direction and turns to look at you, Ezra following. Their stares feel like medals placed upon your shoulders - a prize lent especially to you.

Jack is dishevelled. His jacket and shirt are rumpled on his shoulders, both riding up his stomach that drips with his cum, and his hair curls sweaty over his flushed forehead. He looks like he’s run a marathon whilst Ezra looks raring to go. And when he swings himself from Jack’s lap, letting him trudge to the bathroom to clean up, he pins you with his admiring stare that drips passion.

You coil round on the bed, unfurling your aching limbs then spreading them for him as he watches you, dipping lower to take in the sight of how you drip. Your heart hammers a start again as Ezra swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and you think about how he wasn’t what you had been expecting tonight. The tap gushes from the ensuite where Jack washes – the man you’d initially wanted to flirt with, the one who’d just coaxed two orgasms from you with his mouth alone. He’s confident, stylish, and extroverted in a way that had drawn everyone in with what seemed like the flick of a switch.

But Ezra. He seemed quiet and calculating upon first assessment, like he wasn’t afraid to step over someone who’d been knocked down, rather focusing on getting what he wanted. Then he’d grabbed your hand and made sure you were okay with a simple, warm squeeze before looking at you like you were what he’d been searching for. He looks at Jack in that way too.

He was pumping himself with Jack’s cum.

Fuck, you burn for him, and you're glad for it.

Jack re-enters as Ezra crawls over you in the bed. You can feel rather than see Jack take a back seat momentarily – he stays close to the door as Ezra hovers over you, blocking your view of anything but him. His cock slides wetly over your stomach and down as his lips map your face, your neck, and your chest. You cart your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp, and he rumbles with affection.

“Is Jack watching us?” he asks, hot breath fanning over your face.

Your eyes meet Jack’s when Ezra shifts closer to your ear, offering a peak behind. There's a surprising look coming from him – he’d been so authoritative with Ezra between his legs earlier, but this is just relaxed. A soft smirk is hidden partially beneath his glistening moustache, of which you match giddily when there’s a notch at your entrance.

“Uh-huh,” you barely make out, feeling Ezra’s hips roll, pressing against your thighs.

“He’s been remarkable company,” he whispers to you. “I suggest we present a show.”

And then you’re being filled slowly, stretching around Ezra with a gasp that he watches from above. He rests on his hands, and you dig nails into his strong forearms that show corded veins popping underneath his skin.

“Fuck, little bird…this feels like coming home,” he mutters, his voice sweet as his lips path a line over your jaw to nip your chin softly, a dizzying contrast when matched by each burying thrust that fills you more than the previous one.

He sighs heavily when he finally pushes himself to the hilt, but then the sound drags through positively strangled at the end. You peer up at him to see his eyes have widened; his whole body is tense and his dick throbs inside of you.

Jack’s hand slides over Ezra’s shoulder and he comes fully into view - his nose trailing along the other man’s ear.

“You like that?” he whispers and the shudder that tremors through Ezra’s torso is almost enough to shake you too.

It takes a moment for you to catch up – Ezra’s face sinks into a moan and a peek of Jack’s forearm moves behind them both. Then you realise it. He’s working Ezra open with his fingers.

His cock pulses in you thickly and you groan – your sounds joining theirs. Tentatively, you feel your way around Ezra’s stomach, sloping over his side and down to his ass cheek, feeling movement inches away from your fingertips. You seek out Jack’s forearm, jumping the gap from Ezra to him, and you close your palm around his wrist lightly. He moves back and forth in short movements and takes your hold with him. It fills the gaps for what you can’t see – the mental image you conjure up, scorching – and it’s enough to make you roll your hips up to beg Ezra to move. Jack sees it with those sharp eyes, meeting yours knowingly, and he acts.

“Move, Ezra,” he commands softly, and it’s like pistons have fired a worrisome start in Ezra.

He drags out then plunges in again, faster, harder, with Jack’s arm hugging his chest from behind and his opposite finger pushing achingly slowly into Ezra’s ass. His movements are sloppy – it’s like Ezra simultaneously wants to release all his force on you forwards but wants to be pulled back fully into Jack’s arms. He bites his lip hard and battles between the two, rocking to and from, caught between two soft places to land.

His breath comes out harsh.

“I’m not gonna last,” is all he says before a strong quiver wracks him from head to toe, stuttering his hips.

Your senses feel heightened when Ezra cums – it’s like each is governed by a single track. All you can hear is Jack’s groans when Ezra clenches. All you can see is Ezra’s face, scrunched up and beautiful as he lets go. All you can feel is hot ropes of cum fill you and Ezra’s skin fusing with yours.

And it’s blissful - the feeling of a victory you doubted you’d earn.

-

“I’m certain it was a ghost. Such a vulnerable moment, enjoying peace and nature, a beautiful clearing accepting me for a rest stop, and something had the nerve to reach out and strike me with fear when I was alone.”

Ezra’s bare back rises and falls as his cadence does, and right then, he's exasperated. Sleep evades the three of you, only allowing a unanimous snooze that Ezra keeps breaking softly, his voice crumbling and soft. It isn't annoying – he conjures up story after story, running his delightful mouth about tales that read like poetry and you can feel his feelings as he's describing them. In terms of post-sex conversations, it is the oddest yet the most comforting you've ever had.

"You said it was a touch to you shoulder, though," you challenge with a smile, and Ezra huffs. He can't see you - his face is turned away and towards the window - but you think he knows you're jesting.

"It may have been a touch to my shoulder, but the fright knocked me over," he grumbles into his pillow.

As he pauses, you peer passed his prone position, unsticking your cheek from Jack’s chest to take in the view that's changing.

The sun is coming up – it lights the low mist that settles over London in the early hours of the morning, a white blanket that allows the taller buildings to rise. Spires and glass shards and tall blocks of flats glint golden as the light edges over the horizon. You're glad you get to see it like this. You're glad you're still here.

Jack winds his arm around your shoulders and presses you back into him, Ezra taking up most of your view again. One of Jack's hands smoothes circles into Ezra's lower back, and the other mimics the motion on you. His naked chest is warm and sturdy, the crook where his shoulder and chest meet acting as the perfect place for your head to rest. You watch his hand slope up the curve of Ezra's ass, then back down, your eyes heavy but hanging on, the presence of both men on the bed holding you in consciousness like they know you yearn to stay there.

"I don't believe in ghosts," Jack muses, and you feel his voice through his chest before you hear it. "Why would they stick around here once they pass? Doesn't make much sense to me."

Ezra scoffs. "I guarantee your beliefs would have converted swiftly if you had been in my place."

Jack grunts warmly in response.

"Maybe they just wanted to say hello," you suggest softly.

"Well, if they intended to greet me, they shouldn't have snuck up on me."

Your human pillow shakes as Jack sniggers quietly, and you raise your face to him, meeting his warmth with a smile.

You couldn't help but relate Ezra's words back to this. This had snuck up on you, surprising but without fear - not a ghost but two men with hearts that were revealed to be larger than they initially showed. Rough touches turned soft made you contemplate whether this was only a hello. Perhaps. You figure you should ask for their numbers just in case, anyway.

You hum and Jack kisses the top of your head as you settle back on his chest, then you reach out to trace Ezra's shoulder, making him sigh contentedly on the other side of the bed.

-

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e.williams

Hey! I've gone thru your page and I love your work. Especially your big pieces, they're sick asf. I was wondering if you had any openings for July?

y/ntattoos

hi! i'm glad you like my work, thank you for the kind words! i've got a couple openings in july, when can you come in?

e.williams

I can come in whenever. I'll make time for it if I have to...I don't care when, as long as you're the one doing it haha

y/ntattoos

how does july 13th at 1pm sound?

e.williams

That works!

y/ntattoos

perfect. what are you looking to get done?

e.williams

I was looking to get something kind of floral but not super...soft, yk?

y/ntattoos

so not super feminine? like no roses?

e.williams

Yeah, exactly like that. I don't have a design in mind...I kind of wanted you to design it? I'll pay extra for it I don't mind, but I saw your other designs on your page and liked your style lol

y/ntattoos

okay, tell you what: i'll draw up a couple designs and send them your way before the appointment. sound okay?

e.williams

Yes! Perfect.

y/ntattoos

cool cool. i'll send you the quote once we choose a design. how big were you thinking? and where?

e.williams

I was on my thigh...? I know some artists won't do thighs so if you're uncomfortable w that it's cool!

I was hoping to cover most of my thigh tho

y/ntattoos

haha dw about it. i'm fine with the thigh. trust me, i'm sure i've had weirder requests.

e.williams

Oh yeah? Like what?

y/ntattoos

had a guy a few weeks ago who wanted a full portrait of his grandma on his ass.

e.williams

Oh my goddd. Did you do it?

y/ntattoos

...

$300 is $300...

e.williams

At least I know you're cool with a thigh 😭

y/ntattoos

absolutely. well, i've got some more dms to answer but i'll get to drawing up your design asap. i'll be in touch, thanks ellie :)

e.williams

Sweet. Have a good one :)

ellie walked into your tattoo shop about fifteen minutes early, to which the receptionist told her to take a sit as you were still finishing up with another client. "she shouldn't be too long."

you had reached out to ellie with five or six amazing designs, all of which she loved. she had such a hard time choosing between all of them, but you managed to rework her favourite parts of each design into one. you both finally came up with a tattoo design that she was obsessed with.

ellie half expected you to be a middle-aged woman with black lipstick and face tattoos, maybe even half of your head shaved and the other side bright pink. your page didn't feature any photos of yourself, just your work.

so when you came waltzing out from the studio and into the foyer, ellie thought you were the client.

"hey, your next client is here," jess said, gesturing to ellie in the chair by the entrance scrolling her phone.

"thanks, jess," you said before approaching ellie. "ellie?"

she looked up from her phone at you, completely startled by who was in front of her. a girl about her age, fucking gorgeous. there's no way you could've developed such skill in so little time.

"hi, yes, that's, uh, that's me," she said as she stood, shoving her phone in her pocket.

"nice to finally meet you," you said, holding your hand out for her to shake. her breath hitched slightly as she took yours.

"you too," she mumbled.

"i'll take you back into the studio now, i've just gotta wipe everything down from my last client." you started walking into the back and she followed you.

"cool, cool ," she said nervously.

this wasn't her first tattoo. she knew what it felt like. she wasn't sweating, stuttering, and shaking before she caught a glimpse of you.

her breath caught in her throat when she realized that you'd have to sit between her legs for most of the appointment.

she was so fucked.

she stood awkwardly playing with her fingers as you sanitized the tools and the chair, listening to you hum slightly to the music playing. she could hear the buzz of the tattoo gun from other artists in the space tattooing other clients.

in the back, an older man was tattooing a woman on the back of her knee. that had to hurt. next to them was a older woman tattooing a woman not much older than you two.

"alright, we're all set. i'm just gonna put this up," you said, unfolding one of those old-timey partitions that princesses change behind in the movies. "it's just to give us a bit of privacy, since you're getting tattooed in a bit more of an exposed place, you know?"

"oh yeah, that makes sense. thanks."

"don't thank me," you laughed. "okay, not to be too forward or anything, but if you brought shorts to change into, i'll give you a minute. if not, i'm cool with you just taking your pants off."

ellie laughed nervously, knowing it didn't even cross her mind to bring shorts. "take me out to dinner first, damn, she chuckled, starting to undo her belt buckle.

you pretended to occupy yourself with putting your gloves on and preparing your table as she took her pants and shoes off, leaving her in her black boxers, your mouth watering a little at her toned thighs.

"you can hop up on the chair when you're done. if you can just like, throw one leg over each side— yeah, like that. perfect."

ellie couldn't believe that she was borderline straddling a tattoo chair in her boxers right now. in front of you, especially. fuck.

without much warning, you slid your swivel chair almost between her legs.

"left or right?"

"uh, i write with my right hand, but i can do some things with my left?" she swallowed hard.

you laughed, "are you getting it on your left or right thigh?"

"oh, uh," god, she was an idiot. "left."

"cool. i'm gonna put the stencil on, then you can look in the mirror and see if you like it. 'kay?"

she nodded, watching you peel the film from the stencil, trying her hardest not to tense up when your soft fingers placed the stencil onto her milky skin, sending shivers straight to her centre.

when she looked at it in the mirror, she grinned, rotating her leg around to get a good look. "fuck, that's sick. i'd be content with just the stencil, you know."

you smiled at her through the mirror. "well hopefully you'll like it better once it's actually shaded."

once you had her back in the chair, you began prepping your gun. "okay, i know you've had a tattoo before, i saw that piece on your arm. so you know what to expect, right?"

"yeah. yeah, i'll be fine."

"okay. if you need a break, just let me know, kay? thighs can be sensitive." you switched the gun on.

"will do."

you began the outlining, humming to yourself over the buzz of the gun. she watched your face focused on the lines, keeping a steady hand.

"who did your arm piece?" you said as you wiped the ink away, making brief eye contact with her.

"oh, my ex-girlfriend did it. she bought a cheap tattoo gun when we were teenagers and i was her test subject i guess."

"cute," you said. "i was just curious." you went back to tattooing her thigh.

ex-girlfriend. that piqued your interest. i mean, it was kind of a given based on the fact that she was wearing boxers and looked like the idea of men repulsed her. and the way she took you in when she first saw you. like she was thirsty. and she was so fine, the way you could see her thigh clench and feel it under fingers making you want to take her right behind that privacy partition,

"my ex let me tat her too. she was brave. let me do an entire leg sleeve my first time."

"oh?"

"yeah. it kind of ended badly though, so she probably regrets it."

ellie sighs, "that's the beauty of being into girls. they fuck you up."

"amen," you said, looking up at her again.

you made small talk as you worked. you found out that she was a university student studying astrophysics, that she works with her dad in the summer as a contractor to make some extra cash, that she teaches guitar throughout the school year, and that she's an artist herself (her media of choice being oil paints). she even told you that she missed work with her dad today specifically to come.

you quite enjoyed how she'd tilt her head back when you shaded some more painful areas, the cords in her neck more prominent and the column of her throat exposed.

four and a half hours later, the tattoo was finished, and you placed the second skin over her tattoo. you gave her all the aftercare instructions, going over the dos and don'ts. she held her breath when you didn't move your hand from her knee until you told her to go look at it in the mirror.

"holy fuck!?"

"...is that a good reaction or a bad reaction?"

"it's fucking amazing! jesus christ, that's so fucking cool. oh my god. you're amazing."

you blushed and thanked her as you watched her check it out in the mirror, inspecting it and gushing over how detailed it was.

she put her pants and shoes back on and you walked her out to reception.

"i've got this one, jess. take a smoke break," you said, smiling at your receptionist. she thanked you and scurried into the back room.

"alright ellie, that's $200."

"what? you quoted me at $350?"

you just smiled and looked at her, leaning forward against the counter. "pretty girl discount."

her face turned red as she took out her wallet and grinned. she counted out the money, laying $200 in cash against the counter.

"you gonna give the next client who walks through that door today a pretty girl discount, or is it just me?"

"actually, you're my last. and for the record, you're the first to get the discount."

she smiled and returned to her wallet, folding up more bills. after you put the money in the register, she leaned forward and tucked a stack of folded bills into the front pocket of your shirt, pulling you in close. "pretty girl tip."

you bit your lip as you looked at her. her eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips, finally deciding on your eyes. "you said i'm your last client, yeah?"

"yeah," you breathed.

"what're you doing after this, then?"

"well, a pretty girl hasn't asked me to go home with her yet, so i guess i'll probably pick up a coffee and—"

"come home with me?" she breathed, leaning in slightly. "please."

you giggled, "like i could say no to that."

tired of her teasing, her breath eternally fanning over your lips, you grabbed her and pulled her into you over the counter. your lips met and she groaned into the kiss, pulling away after a few seconds. she held her car keys up and shook them, "you ready, babe?"

she had you pressed up against the wall as soon as she kicked her door shut behind her, hands all up in your hair, lips bruising against yours. you kissed her back fervently. your hand slid down to her core, feeling the wetness through her boxers and jeans. she whimpered into your open mouth at the feeling.

"fuck, you're so wet, ellie."

"then do something about it," she said, hiding her smirk in your neck as she sucked hickeys into it.

"then take me to your bed."

she led you to her room, closing and locking the door, just in case. you pushed her flannel from her shoulders and undid her belt buckle, undoing the buttons on her jeans and sliding them down her legs, being careful of her thigh. she groaned.

"this doesn't seem fair," she said, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and sliding it off. she slid your pants down your legs and threw them onto the floor. "that's better."

she laid on top of you, caging you in, undoing your bra and sucking on your tits, trailing kisses down to your stomach. "fuck, so beautiful," she groaned. 

you pressed your knee gently into her core, "still want me to take care of that?"

"fuck, yeah."

you flipped her over so her ass hung off the edge of the bed and you got on your knees on the carpeted floor. she propped herself up on your elbows, watching your every move.

you began running your finger over her covered core, soaked so good that your finger was covered in her wetness when you took it away, bringing it to your lips.

"please, fuck, i need more, take them off," she said, bucking her hips up.

you hummed, "but i'm enjoying myself, el."

"please, i need you so bad y/n."

"what do you need ellie? tell me."

"i need your fingers, your mouth, anything. i'll do anything. just need you," she begged, shame gone.

"you're lucky you're insanely hot."

you slid her boxers off, watching the strings of slick that connected her pussy to the fabric. you laid your head against the thigh that wasn't freshly tattooed, tracing your finger through her drilling core.

"open up for me, honey," you instructed, gently spreading her thighs further apart.

she let out the most guttural moan when your tongue finally slid through her folds, collecting her juices on your tongue. her hands found your hair and pulled gently, making you moan into her cunt.

you sucked her clit gently, sending waves of pleasure up her spine. when your middle finger slid into her entrance she tried to muffle her moan with the back of her hand, but you yanked it away. "wanna hear you, el. don't do that."

"fuck, you're too good. fuckkk."

"you almost there el? can feel you clenchin' around me," you said, sliding another finger in and returning your mouth to lapping at her folds, paying special attention to her bundle of nerves.

she hummed and nodded fervently. with every thrust in and out, you felt her clench around you, a small white ring forming around the base of your fingers.

"fuck, fuck! i'm gonna— ohhhhh god—!"

you lapped up all of her release that you could, only coming up for air once she had to push your head away from the overstimulation.

you wiped her release from your face with the back of your hand and brought your fingers to her lips, "open."

she grabbed your wrist and obeyed, swirling her tongue around your digits and closing her eyes. "see how good you taste?"

she released them with a 'pop'. "i bet you taste better."

"i seriously doubt that."

"you've been between my legs twice today. i think it's my turn to be between yours. take your panties off."

permanent taglist:

@winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs

ellie taglist:

@chrry1ovr @milly-louise @dankpunks @starhrtz

You never knew the exact story of how your father had gotten involved with the most notorious clan in New York City, but it was never any cause for worry; once you proved your loyalty to the Miller brothers, you were family for life. An unbreakable bond that ended in death, one way or another. Your father had never tampered with those odds; the security his loyalty provided his family was an irreplaceable asset.

Your mother had gone first. Cancer. It wasn’t easy, but it was simpler to digest than the tragedy you had seen around you your entire life. Men you had known as protectors and valuable parts of your fathers team shot or targeted, families torn apart or held captive. When you lost her, you couldn’t help but feel a semblance of peace knowing she went without terror. And after she died, your father vowed the same for you.

Your price of death would not come at the hands of the clan — even if his did.

A delivery gone wrong. It was a story you had heard a million times before, which likely explained why you felt so numb to the news at the time. Grief was an emotion you had avoided for much of your life, as death was always around you.

But Joel Miller made it easier to digest.

He had known you since you were just five years old, twenty at the time, and brand new to his role after his own father had passed on. It was natural for him to accept the position, being the eldest. But nowadays, he and Tommy shared the weight of their world fairly evenly — Tommy with most of the field work, and Joel the sharp mind behind every task.

Truly, for most of your years knowing the Miller brothers, you only saw them on rare occasions. Normally, a representative of the clan would do the talking or pay necessary visits. But the older you got, the more you anticipated seeing them.

Seeing Joel.

Around the age of sixteen was when you started to notice your budding attraction to the man. Time had aged him gracefully, and while he lost some of the brightness of his youth, the brooding, ruthless nature that replaced it became an object of your interest. He was a man of little conversation, but his presence alone commanded a room.

At eighteen, you could strike up a conversation with him without feeling like you were going to collapse. Speaking with the boss of a city clan was not for the faint of heart, but something seemed to soften in him when you were near; he would offer you a grin, seldom or unheard of to most who knew him. A roll of his eyes, always in jest or teasing. Sometimes, he would even extend a joke of his own, always witty and timed to perfection.

At twenty-one, his eyes started to linger.

Over the past four years, you had seen Joel more than you had ever in your life. At first, you weren’t in tune enough to question the intention of it; assuming he had his own reasonings for being so close that likely pertained more to your father than yourself.

You never imagined he would want to be near you as much as you wanted him to be.

After your fathers passing, Joel wasted little time in offering you a place in his estate. As far as he was concerned, you were his responsibility now. You had argued about it, promising him you would be fine in the apartment your father had secured for you in his will.

“You ain’t livin’ in no damned apartment on my watch.” His tone at the time had confirmed his seriousness on the matter, and you got the idea that no matter how hard you pushed, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

And that was how you ended up in the glorious four story estate on the coast, overlooking the tumultuous waves of the Atlantic. In his bedroom, another aspect of the arrangement you had argued about, assuring him the guest room was more than big enough for you to dwell in. He didn’t even bother to continue the conversation, ordering his staff to move out any items of his that would hinder your own from taking up the space.

Now, here you are ~

3 months after your fathers death, standing in front of Joel’s bathroom mirror. The ends of your hair are still damp from the shower as you brush your fingers through the strands, the reminisce of soap smelling like him; strong, earthy, comforting.

You develop a routine over the weeks. There is a luxury that comes with the way these men live. Call it nurture or even the grief, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care if it is wrong.

You enjoy every moment of it.

His room is large; bedroom sporting a king size mattress adjacent to a lush, golden bathroom. The jacuzzi tub a fine stress reliever for your ever aching muscles. You often wonder what it would be like to see him dwell in it; when you had moved in, it was well kept, but you figure that is just Joel.

He pays close attention to detail.

Signing softly to yourself, you carefully fold the damp towel over the rack before settling into your night attire. It varies. Sometimes, like tonight, you wear the flimsy black nightgown that makes your skin feel like silk. Other nights, you find yourself standing in front of his closet, hands itching to wrap yourself up in one of his sweaters. You never do. Too afraid to what questions there would be to answer if he caught you.

You never touch anything in his room, in fact. Save for the essentials. You think it’s maybe because you want Joel to trust you, be certain that keeping you in his life would be just as valuable as your fathers.

Carefully, you sit yourself down in front of the vanity beside the bed. This is an addition specifically for your occupancy of his room. You coat your fingers in cream, studying your features in the mirror as you soak it into your skin. You feel refreshed, relaxed. Ready to curl up and give way to a similar slumber. The soft patter of rain hits against the balcony of window; thunder rumbling in the near distance, indicative of the coming storm.

You flicker off the big light, leaving only the soft glow of a lamp on the bedside, ready to will yourself under the covers when a soft wrap of knuckles hits the door.

Letting go of the sheet you had been reaching for, you pad your way to the door, gently turning the handle to peek your head out. When your eyes meet the visitor, confusion melts to pleasant surprise.

Joel stands before the door way, peering down at you with tired eyes. His hair is tousled, like he’s been running his hands through it. He’s still in his day attire, black slacks with a button up of the same hue, the first three buttons undone, soft dark hair peeking through, the roll or his sleeves reveling his toned forearms.

“Joel,” you breathe softly, pulling the door open fully. His eyes take a once over, taking in the sight of you in nothing but your thin nightgown. He doesn’t hide it, which elicits a shiver down your arms.

“Hey darlin’,” he drawls, voice laced in a frustrated fatigue. He leans a hand against the door frame. “Hope I didn’t disrupt ya?”

You shake your head earnestly. “No, I was just settling down. Please-” you step away from the doorway, allowing him to shuffle into the room, and quietly close the door behind him.

He paces around the space for a moment, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. You stand patiently, rubbing at your arms to try to rid them of their goosebumps. Your entire body seems to be ignited in his presence.

He surveys the room with his eyes, and you wonder what he may be searching for. “You comfortable in here?” he asks then, stilling in his spot a few feet in front of you, eyes back on you. There’s a concern in them, one that suggests he’s asking about multiple types of comfort. You give him a soft, reassuring smile.

“Joel, yes. Everything is perfect. You have been more than hospitable to me.” Too much so, you want to add, but don’t. You’re too busy studying him, the crinkle to his brows, the rigid nature of his shoulders. You don’t often see him during the day, normally holed up in the parlor where his desk sits, or meeting with potential informants of adversaries. So when you do see him, usually when the sun has set past the horizon, you gather as much information as you can. Alone, like this, he is stripped down to a simpler version of himself. The side he doesn’t let the majority of the people in his life see.

He lets you.

The silence wills you forward, taking a few steps that closes the space between you until you are craning your neck to look up at him with sympathetic concern.

“Something’s wrong,” you say, a statement that lingers with questioning. He doesn’t meet your graze at first, and when he does, he releases a heavy sigh in the process.

“I gotta step away from the property for a few days. Headin’ down south back to our base in Texas. Got a call this afternoon that a deal fell through, and there was quite a bit of fallout,” he explains, keeping his voice level and hushed. “Need to go take care of some…business.”

You know what that means. You feel a knot form in your stomach, a wave of nausea overcoming you. Someone had wronged Joel Miller, a fatal mistake. Severe enough that he wants to handle it himself.

This would be the first time in your three months of living in his estate that he wouldn’t be here, or at least within arms reach. An unfamiliar panic starts to overtake you at the thought of him gone, exposed to the threats that hide around every corner. He is not the only man with vendettas.

You don’t even notice the way your breathing starts to heave until you feel the rough touch of his calloused fingers cradling your jaw, bringing your attention back to him. His eyes are soft as they peer down at you, just like his touch.

“S’only for a few days, darlin’. I promise.”

You don’t argue with him, wishing not to cause him anymore stress than he’s already enduring. Instead, you nod slowly in his grasp, swallowing the thick lump forming in your throat and threatening to sting your eyes with tears.

“So, I-I’ll be alone?” you inquire hesitantly, scolding yourself for how pathetic the question sounds coming shakily off your lips.

You didn’t want to be alone. You didn’t want to be away from Joel.

His hand falls from your face, and you find yourself missing the warmth of it instantly. “No, no, not at all,” he shakes his head. “Usual security’ll be here, and I asked Tommy to come back to take care of things on this end. He’ll be in tomorrow mornin.’”

You like Tommy. You trust Tommy, of course you do. But he isn’t Joel. And you can’t stop yourself from picturing him returning to you the way the last person you cared about did.

With a bullet between his eyes.

You did not notice the tears that silently poured down your cheeks until Joel's warm hands are cupping them, his eyes flitting over your face in an array of confusion and concern.

"Hey, hey," he soothes softly when a meek sob leaves your lips. Then, he is pulling you into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around your waist in a firm hug that lifts you to your toes. This is not the first time you have cried in front of Joel, and you are certain it will not be the last. Usually, these kinds of emotions overcome you in a moment of unbearable grief, too strong to be avoided, and you trust no one else with such vulnerability. But now, they are tears of worry. Anxiety. A crippling amount of it you have noticed worsening over the weeks. Always feeling like you have something to lose.

He is silent for a long while, tracing soft circles against your back as you cling onto the collar of his shirt, silently crying against the warm flesh of his chest. He rests his chin atop your head, and you are grateful for the comfort his touch provides.

"Just a few days," he reiterates, only a whisper. "I promise."

And then, he is cradling your cheeks again, wiping the reminisce of tears away with his thumbs. He is shushing your embarrassed apologies for being so emotional while tucking strands of damp hair behind your ear. He is letting his eyes wash over you again, in the way that makes your stomach coil, before pressing a delicate kiss to your forehead and telling you to sleep tight.

You try. You really do. But no matter what way you twist or turn, you cannot situate yourself. Cannot silence your brain that runs amuck with scenarios of terror. And eventually, you are sitting up in a huff; skin slick with sweat, breathing labored, and eyes searching the room frantically. A flash of light startles you, and you realize the storm has centered over the estate. Once distant thunder now rumbling at your windows. You run your hands down your face.

This is stupid. You're being stupid. Just go back to bed.

You don't. No, instead, you throw the covers off of you and reach for your silk robe to cover yourself in your nightgown. You open the door, carefully, taking a good look of the upper corridor. Any guards that are on duty are likely stationed on the lower levels, leaving you an open pathway to cross the hall without questioning. The entire time you pad across the wooden floors, you are internally scolding yourself to turn around, to suck it up and cut it out. But your body wills you forward before your mind has a chance to intervene, and before you know it, you are standing outside the guest room door at two in the morning knocking for Joel.

A few moments of silence go by, your rationality catching up to you as you realize how ridiculous this is. You are about to turn around and endure a sleepless night when you hear the lock unlatch, and with it, the door opens.

You suck in a deep breath.

He stands shirtless before you now, tan skin glowing in the soft moonlight that comes in through the cracked curtains. Gray sweatpants hang low on his hips, and you use every bit of willpower you have left in you not to look down. His eyes are squinted, hardly even open, face contorted in disorientation as he tries to register you outside the door. You can't help the warmth that invades your chest seeing him like this: stripped down to the essentials, bare and peaceful, save for the worry that quickly consumes him.

"What's goin' on? What happened?" he grumbles, voice laced with sleep. It's unbearably sexy.

"Nothing, nothing," you are quick to rush out, keeping your voice a careful whisper. "I just-"

You're gnawing at your bottom lip then, shame overtaking you. He lifts a hand to rub at his eyes with his middle finger and thumb, shaking away some of the sleep. He looks at you a bit clearer now.

You play with the strings of your robe, eyes dropping to your bare feet. "I can't...I can't sleep," you admit, sheepishly, peering up at him then through your lashes wistfully.

He stares at you for a long while, and you cannot decipher if he is upset or merely processing the information. But then, you watch his chest fill with a deep breath, groggy expression turning sympathetic. He doesn't hesitate to tell you to c'mere, moving out of your way to let you into the room, locking the door behind the both of you.

The room smells like him, even more so than his own bedroom as months of no longer dwelling in it has dimmed the scent. You are wordless in your movements, walking carefully towards the less messy side of the bed, figuring he is occupying the other. You shimmy off the robe, letting it fall to the floor, and take in the sights outside the window when you sit on the edge of the mattress. Rain hits the glass in large pellets, the wind taking up big waves to the shore. You're even more grateful he's here now, as you never did well in thunderstorms, another anxiety bound to overtake you just as much as the thought of his absence.

You curl under the covers on your side, facing away from him, pulling your knees slightly to your chest. You are already invading his privacy, the last thing you want is to take up too much space. When the mattress dips behind you, you are acutely aware of your predicament all of a sudden.

You are alone. In bed. With Joel. In nothing but your night slip and panties, feeling the heat of him behind you, warm breath just barely tickling your shoulder blades.

God, you really didn't think this through.

If you were awake before, you are wired now. The bubble of anxiety in your stomach spreading throughout the rest of your body. You squeeze your eyes shut, taking in deep, calculated breaths to try and center yourself. And that's when you feel it; as light as a feather, the tip of his finger reaching out to trace the exposed skin of your spine. Your body stiffens instinctively.

"You're breathin' so hard," he grumbles, matter of factly. Still sounding like he's only half with you. You feel bad for waking him, for bothering him.

"I'm sorry," you whisper back, coiling further in on yourself.

"Don't," he huffs, and you feel the mattress shift again, his breath closer. "Don't apologize."

You bask in the moment, the breath, the tension. Until your mind is too clouded with grief, worry, and desire, that you blurt out the words you have been aching to say since you were sixteen years old.

"Will you hold me?"

You're not sure he even hears you at first, a still silence overtaking the room, save for the crash of thunder that vibrates the windows, and the steady hum of rain. You're about to retract your statement, desperately searching for the right words to explain such an idiotic idea.

But then you feel it. The solid sturdiness of his chest pressing into your back, strong arms circling your waist, molding you into him. And just like that, every drop of worry is rolling off of you at an alarming rate. You sink into him like an anchor, hands coming up to grip his where they rest just under your breasts. You feel the tickle of his stubble against your neck, and you just can't help yourself, wiggling within his hold, nuzzling yourself back into him. You want to feel every bit of him.

He let's out a soft grunt at this, and you freeze, unable to question it before you can feel it. Undeniable and strong, his erection pressed into your lower back.

Chalk it up to anxiety, the looming thought that after tonight, there is a chance you would never see him again. That is true every night he is gone, but tonight feels different. You are not wrapped in his arms every night.

Testing your luck, you shimmy your hips just the slightest bit again. This time, his arm across your waist slinks back, fingers digging into your hip firmly.

"Babygirl," he mutters. It's a warning. Joel has offered you many terms of endearment over the years, but never that one. And hearing it come off his tongue has a certain spot between your legs aching for attention. "Can't be doin' that," he tsks, giving your hip one last, stern squeeze before looping his arm around you again.

You must be losing it.

"Why not?" you challenge, surprised at your own boldness. Only a fool would be so brave as to disobey Joel Miller. You stare into the nothingness, bathing in doubt, arousal, and Joel. Awaiting his response in the deafening silence.

You hear him mutter something unintelligible, and then:

"Look at me."

You heed his command instantly, twisting in his arms to face him, bracing yourself for his eyes.

Oh, he's awake now.

Pupils blown wide, jaw set heavy and clenched. At first, you think he may be angry, but then, he is licking his lips, dragging his eyes over your lips, your neck, your cleavage that is poorly covered by the flimsy material of your gown. You feel the weight of his grip tighten on your hips, both covered by his hands. It elicits a gasp, causing you to push your chest further up to his, your own fingers finding their way to his skin, shyly placing them on the expanse of his chest.

You cannot help yourself. You tilt your head up, the tip of you nose brushing his. When he shows no sign of disinterest, you let your eyes flutter closed, pressing your lips to his in a tender kiss. His lips are soft, warm, hands steady. You savor the feeling, a familiarity and comfort in the way your lips touch. And just as you dig your nails into his skin, encouraging him to deepen the kiss, he pulls back with a sharp hiss, hands leaving your waist.

“Darlin’, I—”

You’re reaching for his face then, cradling either of his cheeks, and forcing him to look at you. He’s flushed, but even in his uncertainty, you can see the unbridled lust.

“Please,” you whisper, a soft begging. Your hands trail from his cheeks, over his shoulders and down his chest until you’re reaching for his own, slowly placing them back to their rightful place on your hips. His eyes are on you the entire time, the crease between his brows twitching. “Please, don’t make me wait any longer.”

You are on your back in an instant.

Joel's hips are slotted between your thighs, and his lips are on yours, kissing you with a hunger that suggests years of restraint. You cannot help but arch from the mattress, your legs circling his hips, your arms his neck, engulfing yourself in the mass of him. He's eager, but soft. Tongue massaging into yours with precision and expertise. His hands are unforgiving, caressing down your ribcage, squeezing at your hips, your thighs, anywhere he can touch you, he marks with his prints.

"Shit," he seethes, breaking your lips momentarily only to begin his descent over your jawline, down to your neck. You grant him access freely, head lulling back against the pillow, eyes fluttering closed to relish in the burn that is his lips on your skin. When he nips at the sensitive spot below your ear, you mewl in delight, tugging at the hair at the base of his neck. This evokes something in him, and he's growling into your skin, rutting his hips forward between your thighs for you to feel the unforgiving hardness of his cock against your cotton clad lips.

"You have no idea," he begins between each peck, voice a heavy drawl of desire. "How long I've wanted you like this, darlin.'"

You always had your suspicions, but hearing the words from Joel himself in such a moment of vulnerability and lust has you reeling. You think maybe deep down, there is a worry in Joel, too. A worry of losing you, regretting the chance to ever have you this way before the possibility of something terrible could happen. Even if it is a mistake - a life altering, change the game completely mistake - doubt would have to wait until morning.

You want to tell him you do know, you know exactly what he feels, your own fantasies plaguing you far longer than his. But your mind goes blank at his ministrations, now delicately pulling the neckline of your night gown below your breasts, exposing them to the crisp air. The straps fall off your shoulders, nipples tightening as a hand comes up to knead one of them, the other entertained by his lips, sucking and nipping at the flesh.

You can't think, can't breathe, the looming sound of thunder now a distant roar in the haze of your mind, high off the only man you have ever really wanted in your life.

"Joel," you whine, giving his curls another impatient tug.

He chuckles into your skin. "Relax, baby," he whispers against your stomach, carefully pulling the hem of your night gown up to kiss the bare flesh. He scoots his weight down the mattress, lips resting just above the waistband of your panties. "Let me get you ready for me, hm?"

You want to scream in frustration, tell him you're already ready, that there are no more moments to spare. Time feeling incredibly precious all of a sudden. But you refrain from complaint when he places a firm kiss to your clothed clit, your hands flying to cover his on your hips. The electricity the jolts through your core is almost unbearable, only now realizing how desperate you are for relief. Your cunt involuntary clenches around nothing, every rub of the lacy fabric against your center shooting little tremors down your legs. It sticks to you uncomfortably, glued by your own slick. And he's barely even touched you yet.

When you allow yourself to look down at him, his eyes are already on you. The intimacy of it makes your breath hitch, and you watch as he hooks both of his thumbs into your panties, slowly maneuvering them down your legs. You kick them off when they reach your toes, immediately letting your feet fall against the mattress, legs spread apart.

"Didn't know you could be so needy, baby," he teases, and then, he is situating himself between your legs, gentle hands spreading your thighs apart and hooking your knees over his shoulders. As soon as his hot breath hits your lower lips, your head rears back against the pillow.

"Fuck," he breathes, just barely grazing his lips against your inner thigh. "But I did suspect you'd have such a pretty pussy, darlin'." He speaks in pure filth, but it riles you up beyond comprehension. "Wonder if it tastes as good as it looks."

He wastes no time then, warm tongue licking a slow stripe from your leaking hole all the way up to your clit. He lets it linger there before flicking against the hard bud in calculated strokes. Your wanton moans mix with the sound of thunder, and your hands are flying back to his hair, urging him closer. You want more, you need more. His tongue descends back down to your opening, collecting the ambrosia like a starved man.

"Tastes so fuckin' sweet," he praises. One of his hands abandons your trembling thighs, fingers prodding at your cunt before he sinks two, thick fingers inside the flesh. You cry out at the sudden stretch, but are quickly filled with relief as your walls finally have something to clamp around, emptiness replaced with the urgency to be filled.

"So tight too, darlin'. Scared I might not fit." His fingers curl, meeting the spongey spot inside of you, making your thighs clench around his shoulders.

"You will," you gasp as he slowly, much too slowly, begins to pump his fingers in and out of you, tickling that special spot every single time. "You-you have to."

You cannot bring yourself to care how pathetic you sound, too spellbound by your fantasies come to life. And by Joel's reactions, you don't think he minds much either. In fact, he looks like he's relishing in it, giving your words a hum of satisfaction before his lips are back on your point of nerves, growing ever more sensitive by the second.

"Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours, sweet girl. I'm gonna take care of you," he promises, and you believe him. With your whole being; Joel would always take care of you.

His lips wrap around your clit to suck on it gently. This, coupled with his fingers quickening their assault inside of you, has you seeing stars. You do your best to stay still, his free hand keeping you steady against the mattress as you writhe below him. When you feel the growing coil in your lower belly, you crane your head up to look at him, whimpering at the sight.

His dark eyes are peering up at you from between your legs, lips ravenously tasting every bit of you, and you think the view of him enjoying the devouring of your pussy may be the hottest thing you've ever seen.

Your hands are tugging on his hair then, but he doesn't seem to mind, hell bent on building you up to your budding release. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, feeling the waves of pleasure beginning to ripple through your thighs. Your breathing is erratic, and when you feel the slight graze of his teeth against your clit, your vision goes white.

"Joel, Joel. Oh, fuck, I'm gonna-"

You never find the words, only watch him with wide eyes as your jaw goes slack, his forearm pumping his fingers in and out of you at an unruly pace as your orgasm washes over you, even more turbulent than the stormy waves outside the window. When your legs go to close around his head, he's pulling his fingers out of you, using both hands to keep your legs pried apart as he buries his face into your cunt, licking and sucking you through the high. And even when the aftershocks begin to pulse through you, he still tastes you, making sure to get every last drop.

Your legs feel like jelly when he is shuffling out from under them, body molten into the mattress, the toll your orgasm took on you sending you into a blissful stupor. You watch through hooded eyes as he stands at the foot of the bed, taking in the sight of you with a grin on his lips.

"So beautiful," he whispers, so low you almost miss it, before he undoes the waistband of his sweatpants and rids himself of them, no boxers to be found.

You cannot help the soft gasp of air that leaves you when his cock springs free from its confines, thick and veiny, hitting his stomach where a string of precum stains the flesh. Your body moves slowly, sensually. Sitting up before turning onto your hands and knees and crawling towards the edge of the bed. He watches you, hair a wild mess, sweat sheen skin, and dire eyes, looking as though he would answer to your will without a second thought. But when you reach your hand out to stroke him, he takes you by the wrist, stopping you.

Your eyes shoot up to him, lip jutted in a disappointed pout while your mouth waters to taste him. He flashes you an amused expression, clearly satisfied by your eagerness to please him, but carefully shakes his head.

"Not this time, baby," he says, and instead, takes your hand into his as he guides you both towards the center of the mattress. The insinuation that there would be more than just this time makes your stomach erupt in an endless flutter.

He settles back against the headboard, gently tugging you forward and onto his lap, legs straddling over his thighs. His hands land onto the curve of your ass, rocking the flesh, and you moan at the hard rub of his cock against your bare cunt. Your hands find refuge on his shoulders, appreciating the firmness of them. You like this, sitting up on him like this. Studying the way he looks at you, the hard lines of his face seeming to soften; you think he looks younger like this, a youthful glow overtaking him.

This man. This frightening, powerful man that you have given your entire life over to. And here you are, willingly handing off the last piece of yourself you have to offer him, knowing that deep down, no matter the fall out of both your actions, he would handle it with care.

Your hands come up to his face then, cradling it like you did when you first kissed him, and gingerly bringing your lips to touch his again. The kiss is softer than before, slower, and you cannot repress the emotion that overcomes you. Tears sting your eyes as they did before, in his bedroom, while he comforted and soothed you. You realize then why you are so afraid of him leaving, knowing it is something you could never admit aloud, at least not until you are certain you could even entertain the idea of losing him.

You love him. You love Joel, and you likely always have. Always will.

“I wanna feel you,” you whisper against his lips, reaching a hand between your bodies to grip his cock. He grunts at he contact, helping you lift your weight off of him to line him up at your entrance, nestling the tip between your folds. You meet his eyes when you begin to sink down his shaft, watching the way his own roll back into his skull, teeth clenching almost as hard as his hands that bruise into your ass.

Your head falls forward against his chest once he’s sheathed inside of you, desperately trying to catch your breath. The stretch is wide, a momentary rattle of pain as you get use to the sheer size of him. It has been so long since you knew a man this way, but you know none of those experiences could prepare you for the way Joel is making you feel.

After a brief moment of silence, except for the song of your shared grunts and moans, you begin to rock your hips. You lift your head from his chest, pressing your forehead to his, sweat sticking your skin together. The tuft of hair that sits at the base of his shaft tickles your clit, and as quickly as it came, the pain disappears, your walls relaxing to accommodate him, aching for more.

The rock of your hips just isn’t enough, thighs sore just from the broad expanse of having to straddle him. You let out a frustrated sigh, to which Joel counters with a smirk, pecking at your lips.

“Need some help, sweetheart?” he asks, and you look at him bashfully, merely nodding your head.

“What did I say?” he whispers against your lips, hands slipping to the under curve of your ass to steady your weight in his hands. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

And then, he’s thrusting up into you, slow and deep at first, and you’re gasping for air, hands scrambling to steady back on his shoulder. His lips latch onto your neck, hands spreading you open while simultaneously forcing you to ride up and down his cock.

“Oh my god, Joel.” You are breathless again, wrapping your arms entirely around him now, molding yourself into him. Wet, needy, clenching so feverishly around him. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, animalistic grunts echoing in your ear as he begins to piston up into you. The sound of slapping skin is accompanied by your cries, yelling out into the room, unafraid of anyone who may hear. You are in the safest spot in the world right now, as far as you’re concerned.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he’s mumbling, fucking you absolutely senseless. And you let him, allowing yourself to go blank, drunk on his cock, feeling nothing but Joel. “So good for me, taking my cock so well, pretty girl. Just like I knew you would.”

His praise has your eyes squeezing shut, tiny squeals coming from the back of your throat with each pound of his cock against your cervix. His pace is slower now, but inexplicably deep, and you can feel the way he’s swelling inside of you.

“Joel,” you moan, and suddenly, it’s the only word you know. Singing off your lips in prayer, over and over again.

“M’gonna fill you up, darlin.’ Is that what you want? Want me to make your pussy all mine?”

He could be saying anything to you in this moment, and you think you would agree. You nod frantically, clutching onto him for dear life as he starts to hammer into you again. You’re practically flying off of him only for him to slam you back down on his cock, filling you to the brim.

You're fluttering around him, uncontrollable now, pussy milking his cock in critical need of him to fill you. The sensation of your second orgasm building in your gut almost too much to bare. Joel seems to notice, as he keeps his steady pace and angle that has your toes curling.

“That’s it, baby,” he coos against your ear, taking the lobe lovingly between his teeth. “Just let go. Cum on my cock, and I promise I’ll give you what you need.”

And you do need it. So bad. The sickening desire to be branded by him. You focus on every minute detail about him; his hands, his breath, the sounds he makes, no shame detected in the way he graces you with them, until the pleasure is too much to mange and you're throwing your head back in ecstasy, your second release hitting you even harder than the first, leaving you to tremble uncontrollably around him.

He catches you, holding you steady as he chases his own release, muttering sweet nothings of how beautiful you are, how good you've been for him, and how he wants nothing more than to take care of you. Seconds later, his thrusts grow sloppy until he is still, filling you up one last time before he releases his seed inside of you, coating your walls in the comforting warmth with a string of disgruntled sounds.

You're not sure how much time passes, but you both remain unmoved. Sitting, entangled in one another, his cock falling soft inside of you, the sticky invasion of his release leaking onto his thighs and the sheets. You're both searching for your breath, once sporadic pants now falling into melodic puffs of air. One after another. Yours and his, melting into each other.

You have not brought yourself to look at him yet, still huddled safely against his chest when another loud crack of thunder shakes the room.

This one startles you again, the others having been so lost in your lust. When you perk your head up, his eyes are already on you. You recognize the display of worry on his face. His hands abandon your skin to graze over your cheeks, palms cradling them so delicately, as if you may break.

He gives you a narrow, serious look. "Are you alright?"

You realize then that it is not only worry for you, but panic that overtakes him, any certainty and confidence from the moments before reduced down to what you fear may be regret.

You flash him the most reassuring eyes you can muster, leaning into his touch, tilting your head to press a chaste kiss to one of his palms.

"I'm okay," you whisper. "More than okay. I promise."

You have made so many promises to one another, you are beginning to wonder if one will ever break. Thus far, they hadn't.

Promise to take care of you.

Promise to protect you.

Promise to give you what you need.

The sorrow finds you again then, and you are slumping forward, wrapping your arms around him to find reprieve. And to shield him from the stubborn tears that finally start to pour down your cheeks again. Time is precious, and it keeps ticking away. Mere hours would pass before he is back to being more than just your Joel, back into a world that places a target on his back.

"Just a few days?" you mutter quietly against his skin.

He chuckles breathily, relief seeming to find him. He places a kiss atop your head, hugging you to his chest. "Just a few days," he repeats, and as the fatigue finally starts to overcome you, you vow that whatever questions or worries tonight would pose for your future together, you would deal with them when he returned safely to you.

"I promise."

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