I would do it all over again

They’ve been around for months now, walking through abandoned cities, woods and desolate plains, feet hurt and back giving them hell as they scampered around in search of a sanctuary for their soul as well as their tired limbs.

It’s annihilating. It’s scary and dangerous.

They’ve faces more horror than any soul still alive could bear.

And then they met you. In the most unexpected way.

While checking a large industrial food transport trailer, they find you inside. Hidden behind boxes of canned ravioli. With your arms raised in surrender, you look at them as if you haven't seen another person in an eternity. There isn't much left in the trailer. They put everything they can into their backpacks, and Joel asks if you want to join them.

Tommy is skeptical, Tess even more so. She sniffs the air around you like a wild beast.

Your lined face, the expression of someone who's seen too much painted on your features, your lost eyes, your tired body, your trembling hands, covered in cuts, ruined by the cold and the undergrowth and the icy earth beneath your feet.

Your shoes are too old. Your clothes stained and worn.

The image of someone who needs saving, miraculously emerging from the rot that grows and spreads in every crevice with that knowing and desperate frown on her face.

You're clinging to life with blood under your nails, scratching, screaming, clutching at everything that's keeping you afloat.

And Tess knows what that means.

She knows Joel won't be able to resist. She knows he sees something. She knows it's not beauty that will save you, but rather the quiet desperation of someone who no longer expects anything.

She knows. That awareness immediately settles on her temples and her aching bones.

After months of being with him, she quickly notices when Joel goes into protective mode. Something changes in his gaze, as if someone turned on the light and he could clearly make out the contours before his eyes.

His lips tighten, the crease between his eyebrows deepens, his nostrils flare, his hands clench into fists at his sides. It's not pity, it's recognition. It's not tenderness, it's a mechanism. It resides in the deepest part of his brain, behind his ribcage, in his bruised knuckles, in his weak knees.

Joel and the need to protect are an unbreakable bond.

When it stings all over his body, when it tightens on his jaw, when it runs in his blood, he can't help but follow it.

Tess knows there's nothing he won't do. He did it for her, for Tommy, and he'll do it for you, too.

Like a stray dog ​​who finally smells a place to call home.

It’s not jealousy, not really. It’s self preservation.

But no matter what she thinks, day after day you step into Joel's soul. And Tommy accepts you, too.

Joel dotes you with gift, let you be the first one to take a shower when you miraculously find an empty house with running water, search for snacks you said you were craving in abandoned supermarkets. He’s all about you but platonically, acting like a good friend.

So she puts on a brave face. At some point, she just stops fighting the idea of you joining their group.

Until one night.

It's almost dark, and you've offered to help Joel gather wood for the fire. The sounds of the forest whisper around you, creeping through the treetops, rustling on the ground, blowing through the grass and damp earth, as the light grows dimmer.

Tess sits with Tommy, guarding the few things you have in your backpacks while he skins a rabbit he caught a few hours earlier.

You and Joel still haven't returned, and it's getting really cold. Tess is impatient, her eyes peering through the trees, lost in the lush greenery. No one in sight. “Where the heck are they?” she grumbles to Tommy.

A smirk spreads across his face as his knife slides between the rabbit's skin and flesh, a repulsive sight that Tess has yet to fully get used to. A wave of nausea washes over her as she scolds, “Do you have to do that here?” “Where else should I go, then?” “Anywhere but next to me,” she grunts. Tommy chuckles, “If you don't want dinner, just say so, there'll be more for us.” “I didn't say that,” she glares at him. "Then stop whining, sweetheart" “Next time you call me that, I'll knock your teeth out,” she replies bluntly as she gets up.

“We'll see… and anyway, where the hell are you going?” asks Tommy, raising an eyebrow. “To look for them. I don't know about you, but I'd like to avoid freezing to death,” Tess cuts him off, walking away. Tommy blurts out, “Yeah, right, leave me alone, what's the big deal?”

"I'll be right back, idiot," she snarls, giving him the middle finger without even turning around, as she heads deeper into the bushes around the clearing where they have camped.

Tommy's grumbling voice is lost in the foliage as she walks in the direction she saw you go at least half an hour ago. The ground is littered with sticks, some wet and rotten but many usable. The smell of wet moss and grass fills her nostrils, the wind blows calmly, the sky grows darker by the minute.

Soon she won't be able to see anything. She curses under her breath as she walks, careful not to trip over the gnarled roots of the trees.

Step by step, her concern about not finding you grows.

She doesn't dare shout Joel's name, someone unwanted might hear her.

She continues a little further, finding herself in an area where they hadn't passed before, unsure of what to do as the cold creeps under her coat and makes her back shiver.

She hears noises. Like low moans. Walking towards the direction of the noises, she sees a handkerchief lying on the ground. It's Joel's.

Eyes wide, she picks it up from the ground, imagining the worst. Raiders must have found you. They captured you. They are torturing you to find out who you are with and what they can steal from you.

A little further on, she sees a large tree. The trunk is thick, probably centuries old. And she hears the moans again, getting closer.

She pushes aside the branches of a large bush and crouches behind it.

And she sees you.

She is about to get up and ask what the heck you are doing, and then she notices your closed eyes, your half-open mouth, and your contrite expression. Her tired brain takes a few seconds too long to register. You are not contrite.

Another moan escapes your lips. She moves aside and removes the branches from her view and sees Joel too. Or rather, she sees his back, his hair, his tense neck. He is kneeling in front of you. And you are naked from the waist down. It's exactly what she knew would happen. From the beginning, she knew it was only a matter of time. Your hand flies through Joel's graying hair. Tess puts her hand over her mouth, burying a cry of disappointment.

Something else reaches her ears. A frantic licking, grunts, Joel's low, deep voice murmuring something filthy right on your pussy.

You moan and writhe against the trunk, your eyes teary, you other hand on your clothed boob while Joel’s hand grabs at your hip to keep you steady.

It’s obscene, it’s maddening, the way you infiltrated in their group, the way you’re stealing Joel… and it’s something else.

Tess freeze when she realizes her nipples are hard, pushing against the fabric of her sweater. Her panties soaked. Her eyes sealed to the scene unfolding before them.

She can’t believe it.

Joel stands up.

His back is turned, and she can't see him, but she can easily imagine his face soaked with you, his glistening mustache, his swollen lips. He kisses you. Ravenous, messy, all teeth and spit, and when he pulls away, your chin glistens in the moonlight that's making its way across the sky.

She hears the sound of Joel's belt unbuckling, your hands fumbling with his shirt, pulling it out of his pants, sliding under it onto his bare skin, while he pulls down his jeans just enough to free his cock. Your excited breaths merge, he grabs your thigh and enters you with a single brutal thrust.

And that's when Tess loses herself completely. That's when she kneels on the wet grass, heedless of her sore and tired knees. That's when her hand drops down to cover her clothed pussy and her hips begin to grind against it, her clit rubbing frantically against the seam.

Joel pounds into you, your face is sweaty, your eyes are glossy, you chant his name incessantly while he grunts to be quiet and his hand tightens around your flesh as if claiming his prey.

He hushes you with a grunt, closing your mouth with his, devouring your lips. Tess unzip her jeans, her fingers sliding over the fabric of her panties, testing her wetness, shivering at the sensation.

The desperate movement of her hips resumes, her clit rubbing against her palm, her hand clasped on her mouth stifle her moans as Joel fucks you like a wild animal against the tree. He suddenly pulls out and turns you around, your hands resting on the trunk, your ass exposed and trembling for him. Tess's eyes are glued to it, drinking in your curves, your wide hips, and your plump ass. She sees Joel's cock slick with your juices, his palm closing around it before he enters you again, almost slamming your head against the bark.

She moves her panties aside, slipping two fingers inside, seeking relief for her throbbing hole. Knuckles deep, she fucks herself trying to match the rhythm Joel is fucking you at.

Urgent, feral, mindless. In and out, curling her middle and ring finger to reach that spongey spot, her thumb reaching for her swollen bundle of nerves.

Joel tighten one big paw on your neck, just above your pulse point, his palm covering the most of your skin and Tess does the same locking eyes to your back arching for Joel, your face a grimace of pain and pleasure, pleading and crying for him.

Feeling her pulse she pressed two fingers there, hardly, feeling her breath grow shallow and her moans die in her throat.

Her cheeks heat up as Joel lowers himself onto you, his grip firm on your delicate neck.

And just like that, his voice muttering what a good girl you are, your ass slapping hard against his balls, the lewd sound of his thrusts into your soaking wet pussy filling her ears, she cums.

Almost choking on her grip, her fingers deep in her dripping pussy, squirting onto the grass that smells of rain, her entire body shaking with adrenaline and regrets.

You come right after, moaning like a little kitten in a cage, your voice barely a whisper, your entire body a mess of shivers, sweat and tears.

Joel releases his grip on your neck, pulls out of you, fisting his cock a couple of times before spurting his seed on your bare ass. Long thick streak of his cum running on your skin like sinful rivulets.

His hair disheveled, sweaty curls plastered to the base of his neck, his jaw slack, mouth agape letting out a grunt that doesn’t sound human.

You’re both spent and dirty.

When Tess sees Joel slavishly licking his release off your skin, her fingers return to her clitoris, short, hurried circles hungry for a second orgasm.

She feels filthy too. Guilty and depraved like she never thought she could be.

And yet, there she was, kneeling on the dampened ground, rubbing her pussy, shamefully seeking her pleasure.

You stand up, get dressed, wrap your arms around Joel's neck as he fastens his belt, and kiss him, smiling blissfully into his deep brown eyes. Tess bites her lower lip, feeling her clit throbbing beneath the pad of her fingers.

Her second peak invades her body fast and cruel, leaving her breathless, her throats rasping as she silences her moans.

She zips up her jeans as you and Joel start hastily, blindly, gathering all the wood you can find.

She runs back to the camp where Tommy is waiting alone, straining her eyes to look for signs of orientation under the moon that is now high and bright in the sky.

When you and Joel return, arms full of sticks and a guilty expression on your face, she turns away, pretending to be busy taking cans out of her backpack.

“Oh shit, it's about time! Where the hell did you guys go? This rabbit won't magically roast!” Tommy yells and Joel glares at him “shut up” throwing sticks in front of him on the ground.

“It’s my fault, I asked Joel to find some wild blackberries… I was craving something sweet” you say softly, batting your eyelashes at him.

Tommy snorts like you just said the most ridiculous thing. And then he looks at Tess.

“Weren’t you gone to search them?” Questioning eyebrow lifted, his brown gaze moving to her and you and Joel.

“Yeah” Tess clears her throat “but I got lost, I just… walked in circle trying to find the way back”

Very unlikely for Tess. She never gets lost, and you all know that.

Joel is the first to clear silence, grunting “okay, enough with this bullshit, let’s lit that damn fire”

Tommy smirks under his mustache. He knows his brother better than anyone and senses the electricity between you and Joel.

Tess remains silent, fiddling with a can of ravioli, feeling her stomach tighten, what she has just done still tingling on her skin, flaring on her chest.

She doesn't have the heart to look at you or Joel as you sit around the fire, bunny roasting above the flames crackling in the center, your tired bodies lying limply on the ground, rifles resting beside Joel, Tommy and Tess in case of need.

When she finally rises her gaze to you, your face is relaxed, your neck covered by a scarf that doesn't arouse any suspicion given the freezing cold creeping through the trees.

You're looking at Joel. Softly, intensely, as he eats and discusses tomorrow's itinerary with Tommy.

It’s gut wrenching and arousing at the same time.

For the first time she was faced with a reality she was trying so hard to ignore.

It's like awaking from a stupor that she no longer knew she was carrying around with her.

She wants you. And Joel.

absolutely npt for some mutuals who I think might enjoy this: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @mcthsman @milla-frenchy @rosharanfiction @ess-evo

Days drifted in and out, and you slowly started to forget who you were. You hadn’t been to work in weeks; you weren’t really even sure how behind on your bills you might be. Your phone was dead the majority of the time, so it was hard to know who in your life had really noticed your absence. 

Self-care had completely fallen to the wayside. Showers were few and far between, laundry even less often. You ate at least one meal a day, but that was usually only when you’d finally gotten so hungry that you felt faint and couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach. 

It was a Friday evening and unsurprisingly, you had no plans. You’d finally gotten yourself to shower that day and were in a fresh pair of pajamas, cuddled into the corner of your couch, staring at the blank TV screen. It should have been concerning to you that you felt just as entertained watching a black screen as much as you did watching a movie, but the growing depression seemed to swallow up any remaining insight that you had left. 

Your head was so empty and body so numb and tired, that you hadn’t realized you started to drift off. The soft tug of sleep pulled you into a gentle doze as your eyes closed and your body sunk further into the plush of the couch. 

You didn’t hear him come in - didn’t hear the front door creaking open that you hadn’t even bothered to lock, didn’t hear the sound of his boots as he kicked them off in the entryway, didn’t hear the patting of his feet as he approached your sleeping form, and didn’t hear him take a seat on the coffee table across from you. 

It wasn’t until his hand settled on the outside of your thigh that your eyes shot open and you realized you weren’t alone. The usual panic didn’t set in. Instead, you stared at him for a moment. Your body stayed still, allowing his hand to rest on your leg. You watched as he furrowed his brow. 

“Can’t be doin’ that, angel,” he said. His voice was soft yet stern. “Leavin’ your door unlocked like that…what if someone came in and hurt you?” 

Your expression was blank as his words drifted in one ear and out the other. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel like he was truly there. Joel took immediate note of your change in disposition. Concern bubbled low in his belly and he stood up from the table. He knew he needed to snap you out of this in some way, but wasn’t sure how. 

“Stand up.” The command was sharp despite his voice still being quiet. 

You stayed laying on the couch but tilted your head up to look at his face. The evening sun created a glow around him that enhanced the unique shape of his features. You weren’t aware that you were smiling at him until his voice cut through the air again. 

“What’re you smilin’ ‘bout? I said, get up. Now.” 

You closed your eyes, flipping to your other side so that your back was facing him. Your mind was entirely too empty to be concerned about any potential consequences from him. Besides, it didn’t feel like you had control over anything - your body, your thoughts, your words. You’d never felt so far away and disconnected before. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?!” His hands grabbed you harshly by your arms, hauling you up and forcing you to stand in front of him. 

Your legs nearly gave out and he gripped you harder. If you’d been able to focus on him, you would’ve seen that his look was one of concern, not anger, but your gaze was fixed straight ahead on his chest as your body swayed slightly. 

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured as he picked you up, carrying you in a cradled position to the bedroom. 

He set you gently on the bed, overtop your comforter. His jaw clenched and he exhaled a sigh of frustration before he spoke, “You eat anything today?” 

You looked at his eyes again. Had they always been so brown? So dark? His gaze was fixed on you. You shrugged your shoulders in response to his question. 

“Use your words.” His voice was slightly louder than before as his irritation started to slip through. 

“N-no.” Your voice came out crackly, as though you hadn’t used it in days. Which, you hadn’t. You weren’t sure the last time you’d actually spoken.

“Jesus, angel…” He pulled out his phone, checking the time. “It’s 7 o’clock ‘n you haven’t had anything? The hell-” He cut himself off, instead just rubbing a hand down his face and turning around to leave the room. 

When Joel opened your fridge to find something to prepare for you, his heart sank. It was bare. There was some rotten produce that smelled rancid, and beyond that it was just condiments and some sort of questionable leftovers. He cleared it all out, wiping down the fridge in hopes of getting rid of the smell. He didn’t want to leave you to go to the store, so he ordered pizza and salad, along with taking time to complete an online grocery order for delivery. He periodically popped his head into the bedroom, and each time you were just staring up at the ceiling. 

While Joel waited for the food to arrive, he finished your partially started laundry, cleaned the few dishes that were in the sink, wiped down your counters, and vacuumed. It wasn’t like you to leave your home in this condition and he couldn’t shake the unsettling feelings stirring within him. 

The food arrived and after Joel put your groceries away, he plated the pizza and salad and brought it into the bedroom. You were curled up in bed with the blanket pulled over your head. He set your plate on the table beside you, carrying his plate to the other side and sitting down beside you on the bed. Carefully peeling back the blanket, he saw that your eyes were open and there was a trail of tears running across your face and onto the sheet beneath you. 

“Oh, darlin’,” he said as he scooped you up, pulling you up against his side as he lowered himself into the bed. His arms wrapped around you but he kept enough distance so he could see your face. You couldn’t help but to cry more at the embrace. You hadn’t been hugged in a while, and the tender act only brought more of your emotions to the surface. Joel shushed you gently as he kissed your forehead and then looked down at you. 

“Wanna tell me what this is all about?” His hand stroked up and down your back as he spoke. You didn’t think comfort from him would feel this safe or soothing, but it did. You couldn’t help but to lean into his touch as you peered up at him and responded, “I don’t know.” 

Joel didn’t know what else to ask, so he just sat up in the bed, lifting you with him and reaching across you to hand you your plate of food. Your stomach rumbled immediately upon holding the food in front of you. Of course, it was your favorite pizza, and you could tell by glancing between your plates that he had already removed the tomatoes from your salad, knowing you didn’t like them. It felt thoughtful. You took a bite of the pizza and it felt like your mind was already starting to come back to life. Bite after bite seemed to refuel you. The brain fog you’d been struggling with started to dissipate, you felt less shaky, and you weren’t crying anymore. 

Your plate was completely empty within a matter of minutes and you sighed in contentment. Joel reached over, taking your empty plate. “Want more?” When you looked over, he was smiling. His eyes were warm, almost prideful. You shook your head no, letting him stack both empty plates and set them off to the side. You felt more alert than you had in days, the desire to sleep finally not all encompassing. 

“I, uh…” He scratched at the back of his neck as he spoke. “I missed you, angel. Tried giving you some space after everything that happened last time…not sure that was the best idea now.” 

It felt as close to an apology as you were going to get. You’d spent days dwelling on your last incident with him, replaying it over and over in your head until you felt nauseous. You’d always known him to be violent, angry, sadistic…but there was an added layer of cruelty that you hadn’t expected from last time. You learned to not seek apologies from him. So, you just nodded at his words, not sure how to respond appropriately. 

“Didja miss me?” His words were still spoken with his usual nonchalance, but there was a vulnerability to his tone that caught you off guard. 

You took a moment to think about his question. You could feel the heat of his gaze on your face as you looked down at your lap. Memories of his multiple acts of service bubbled up. You thought about the care he offered you - his version of safety. You knew that as long as he was in your life, nothing else would hurt you - nothing other than him. Images of you underneath him rose up - the many times that he made you come undone over and over. No one in your life has ever brought you as much pleasure or as much pain as he has. What did that mean? 

Your eyes lifted to meet his, and you nodded. It was the truth, as much as you hated to admit it. At the same time, if he were to leave, and be guaranteed to be gone from your life forever, you imagined that might also be the happiest day of your life. 

Joel smiled. It was a little lopsided and didn’t quite reach his eyes. But nonetheless, it was a smile. A chill ran up your spine, though you couldn’t quite place why. It wasn’t until you blinked and he was suddenly on top of you that you realized your body was likely sensing what was to come. Your hands moved in front of you on instinct, a weak attempt at creating any amount of space between your bodies. 

It was as though Joel hadn’t even noticed. His lips met yours as he pressed his hips against you. He was already hard, very hard, and it had you wondering how long he had been like that. As he settled against your core, you felt your body already responding to him. A wet spot formed quicker than you would have liked and you whimpered into his mouth as his tongue moved against yours. 

“That’s it, angel…I know you missed me.” His hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing your clothed pussy as he continued kissing you. His touch was always one of precision. He knew just what to do, where to press, how firmly, and always the right speed. It had you arching off the bed within moments, your hands coming to his curls at the nape of his neck as you tugged gently, moaning. 

“More, more, more,” you were chanting, not even realizing it because of your focus on the orgasm building low in your belly. You felt a rush of slickness as you grunted at the peak of your orgasm, grabbing onto Joel tightly as he helped you work through it. 

He chuckled, pulling his hand away and looking down at you. “Needy lil thing tonight, huh?” 

You nodded. You weren’t sure what had seemingly possessed you, but you knew that this was the best you’d felt in weeks. You felt alive, awake and the arousal just continued coursing through you. Your hands trembled against Joel’s shoulders, your eyes looking up at him wide and pleading. 

It made his cock throb and his eyes go dark. Fuck, he thought to himself, she’s so fucking willing right now. He couldn’t help but be selfish and think about how he might use it to his advantage. His eyes searched yours for a moment. You already looked fucked out and desperate. He cradled your jaw, his thumb swiping gently across your bottom lip. 

“Angel, what d’you think about us tryin’ something new, hm?” His eyes twinkled as he spoke, not able to completely hide his eagerness. “Looks t’me like you’re needin’ somethin’ a little more today.” 

Without hesitation, you nodded your head. You were pretty sure you’d take whatever he wanted to give you. Your eyes were focused on him, your body like a magnet to his. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he put you under some sort of spell with how badly you craved him right now. All sense of safety seemed to leave your body, replaced with an insatiable need to be as close to him as possible. 

“I got you,” he murmured as he lifted off from you and rolled you onto your stomach. Your breath hitched and you became putty in his hands, letting him move and shift you as needed until you were on all fours, completely stripped of your clothing. Joel remained fully clothed, a juxtaposition that had you squeezing your thighs together, enjoying the feeling of being on display for him. 

His breath hit your bare pussy and you shuddered as his tongue licked a long trail from your clit up to your entrance. He pushed his tongue inside of you, swirling it and groaning at your taste. Joel’s hands held your cheeks spread for him as he buried his face between them, licking and sucking lewdly as you fell onto your forearms, making incomprehensible noises. 

When you started to orgasm for the second time, he didn’t eat you through it. Instead, he pulled back, enjoying watching how your pussy clenched around nothing and how sweet pearls of cum beaded and then dripped down your soaked folds. He kept you spread, his tongue finally meeting your skin again, warm and soft as he licked you clean. You caught your breath just for it to falter once more as his tongue moved up to your tight ring. Lurching forward, you looked over your shoulder at him. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Your eyes were wide, nervous for what he was about to say and do. 

“Gonna be good f’me, angel?” He unzipped his pants, reaching in and pulling out his thick cock. You moaned and looked back down at the blanket underneath you. Your hands fisted it lightly, preparing to brace yourself. “Gonna let me make both of us feel good, hm?” His cock swiped up and down, the head of it getting caught at your entrance before sliding through again. 

Surely he wasn’t going to just go for it, right? While you’d never done this before, you were sure there had to be some sort of prep involved. Before you could panic too much, you felt him press slowly into your wet pussy. Feeling relieved, you lowered your head with a deep moan, welcoming the stretch. 

“Oh my god, Joel,” you gasped out as he pushed all the way in. You felt the head of his cock deeper than you thought was possible and you arched your back, pushing back into him and melting into the sensation of him filling you completely. “So…full…,” you panted as he set the pace of his thrusts. “Uh…uh…uh…please…Joel…” You weren’t even quite sure what you were asking for, neither was Joel, but the sound of your moans was music to his ears and only spurred him on further. 

“So full, huh?” His hips snapped against you. His thrusts were rough but steady. “Don’t think you’re full enough quite yet, angel.” The tip of his thumb pressed to your puckered ring and once more, you tried moving forward, away from him, but his hand grasped your hip, pulling you back. “Where d’ya think you’re goin’, hm?” 

He removed his thumb to spread your cheeks. You heard him spit and then felt his saliva drip down your hole. His thumb quickly scooped it up, spreading it around your tight ring before dipping his finger in again. You groaned this time, loud and deep as his cock continued fucking into you. It was a new, unfamiliar stretch, but by the time he had worked most of his thumb inside, you felt your second orgasm building quickly. 

“Ohhh my god…” You gripped the sheet and lowered your head, your forehead pressed to the soft fabric underneath you as you pushed back into him and trembled. 

“There ya go…fuck yeah…shit…” Joel dragged his cock in and out slowly, letting you savor your orgasm as you shook against him. His hand held you firmly, keeping you up and arched so he could continue fucking you. When you stopped shaking, he popped his thumb out, watching in awe as your hole stayed open for him just a little. He knew his thumb wasn’t even close to the size of his cock, but at least he could say he tried to work you open beforehand.

Joel leaned over your back, kissing across the back of your shoulders and letting your spent body rest for a moment. His cock was hanging between your thighs now, dripping precum onto the blanket beneath you. His eyes were focused on you, becoming hungrier and hungrier as the moments passed by. His cock was coated in your slick as he nudged the head of it against your still-tight ring. 

This time you didn’t lunge forward, your body stayed relaxed from the orgasm and Joel held you up by your hips as your upper body pressed against the bed. 

“Y’ready, angel?” 

You gave a weak, timid nod, and Joel began to press inside of you. The stretch was unreal. There was no comparison to anything like it, and you grunted, trying to relax but the overwhelming sensation had goosebumps dotting your entire body. You moaned his name and reached around to try grabbing his wrist, but Joel was too focused on how your body was opening up for him. He looked down as he continued to push inside. He groaned, watching inch by inch slowly disappear inside of you. 

“Jesus Christ…so fuckin’ tight f’me, darlin’...” Before he could think better of it, his hips rolled forward and he plunged inside the rest of the way. His head bowed and he moaned, “Fuuuuuck.” 

“Ow, ow! Joel!” You tried to reach back again in hopes of pushing him away, but it was no use. He pulled out halfway, just to roll his hips again. It felt like you were being split in half. With each roll of his hips, he pushed you further and further into the mattress. You were completely prone underneath him now, your legs spread as he continued inserting himself into your tight tunnel. It was too much, and a sob fell from you as he snapped his hips quicker. “Please! I can’t,” you cried out, hoping he’d take some modicum of pity on you. 

When he heard your cry, he stilled. He stayed buried inside of you, but his hand reached up, brushing the hair from the side of your face so he could see you. His fingertips became damp with your tears and he leaned forward. “Too much, angel?” 

You nodded, desperate for his empathy and hopeful that he was going to listen to you. “Please, Joel…it hurts too much.” 

“Aw,” he cooed, kissing your cheek and using his hand to rub up and down your side. “I’ll go slower, hm?” He tried to ignore how his cock throbbed knowing you were in pain. 

You knew Joel well enough to know that there was no point in refusing, so you just stayed still and tried to keep your body pliant for him. His cock pulled out slowly and pressed in again even slower. You felt helpless under his full body weight, just feeling the drag of his cock and the painful stretch that was starting to gradually morph into pleasure. His hand slipped between the mattress and your cunt, his middle finger rubbing against your clit as he continued his careful thrusts. 

“Shit, sweetheart…goddamn, you feel good…tight lil asshole, fuckin’ squeezin’ me…” 

The combination of his words, steady thrusts, and the pressure on your clit had you moaning louder and louder. Joel smiled, noticing how quickly you acquiesced to him. He was proud of you for taking his cock so well. His thrusts started to get lazier, his mind just focusing on the sensation of your tight walls hugging his thick cock. 

He picked up the pace, no longer rolling his hips but instead hammering them against your ass. Your cheeks bounced against him with each thrust and you yelped at the sudden sharpness. 

“Fuck, I knew you’d take it so good, angel..goddamn.” His length railed into you over and over. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his groans filled the room and you felt another orgasm start to build. It was entirely too much. The sensations had tipped into overwhelming and you were desperately gripping the sheets underneath you as you started to quiver against him. 

“Shit, can feel you clenching around me. Ahhh..fuck…” His rhythm became even more erratic as his balls tightened and he was right on the precipice of his own orgasm. “So fuckin’ tight, fuckin’ whore...you’ll take anything I goddamn give you, huh?” One of his hands moved up to fist your hair, pulling your head slightly back as he continued railing into you. “Ruining your fucking asshole, angel...never gonna…ah, fuck…never gonna be the fuckin’ same again…” He was panting aggressively above you, sweat beading across his brow as he fucked into your ass. 

Tears ran down your face and you cried out as you felt him start to release inside of you. He was so snug against your walls that you felt his entire length pulsing as his cock emptied. He was pressed firmly against you, his balls pulsing against your cheeks as he grunted and groaned. Feeling the spurts from his cock pushed you over the edge as well, hurtling through your fourth orgasm of the night. 

Right as you started to come down, Joel pulled out from inside of you. He immediately looked down, his hands spreading your ass cheeks so that he could see his spend drip out. 

“Wouldya lookathat…goddamn, angel. Beautiful fuckin’ thing.” His fingers scooped it up, tenderly pushing his cum back inside you. He could see just how much he opened you up. He smiled at how red and sore you looked, savoring the sight as much as he could. When he finally got enough, you were half asleep and limp on the bed. He chuckled as he climbed off of you. 

You only passively noticed as he pulled fresh clothes onto you, not cleaning between your legs because he wanted his cum to stay tucked inside of you for as long as possible. He rolled you onto your back, propping you against your pillows. Your eyes closed and it was quiet for a few minutes. When you heard something again, it was the clinking of ice as Joel held a straw to your lips for you to drink. The water felt good on your throat, soothing the soreness from the crying and moaning. 

“Take a bite,” he murmured, feeding you a protein bar. 

Your eyes stayed closed as you took a couple bites. You didn’t have an appetite, but you knew you’d sleep better with something on your stomach. Joel’s touch was gentle. He swept hair away from your face and pulled the blanket around you so you were more comfortable. His lips brushed your forehead then lips in soft kisses. 

“Did so good, angel.” His thumb stroked your cheek and you leaned into the tender touch. “Anything else you need?” 

You hesitated, remembering the unsuccessful begging you did the time before, wanting him to stay and hold you. So instead, you just opened your eyes to look at him one last time as you shook your head. 

Something unspoken seemed to flash between the two of you. You watched in real time as Joel’s eyes switched from dark to soft. He held your eye contact for a minute then got up and walked out of the room. 

This time, tears didn’t come. It was what you expected, so you hunkered down in your bed and closed your eyes to try and drift off to sleep once more. You felt taken care of, even despite the assault that your body had just endured. 

Right as your mind started to wander, you heard the creaking of the floorboards and opened your eyes again, turning to the side to see Joel standing in his boxers. He looked at you for a moment then got into bed, reaching over and turning off the bedside lamp. You stared at him with a confused expression. You couldn’t read his face. It was blank. But he placed his hand on your shoulder, gently turning you away from him as he sidled up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, spooning you. 

“G’night, angel.” 

“Good night, Joel.” You smiled to yourself as you fell asleep. And while you couldn’t see him, you hoped that Joel was doing the same. 

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"Days drifted in and out, and you slowly started to forget who you were."

That line immediately set the tone. This isn't just sadness anymore. It's depression swallowing someone's identity. She isn't even fighting back because she doesn't have the energy to.

And then...

"You knew that as long as he was in your life, nothing else would hurt you — nothing other than him."

THIS.

This is exactly why trauma bonds are so terrifying. The person who becomes your safest place is also the one causing the deepest wounds. Your brain starts associating comfort and fear with the same person, and that's exactly what I felt reading this chapter.

What makes Joel so fascinating to me is that he isn't written as a one-dimensional monster. He's terrifying because he's capable of genuine care.

He notices she hasn't eaten.

He cleans her apartment.

He orders her favorite pizza.

He even removes the tomatoes from her salad because he remembers she doesn't like them.

And somehow... those little acts of care make everything even more disturbing.

Then the ending completely got me.

"G'night, angel."

No dramatic confession. No redemption. Just that.

And somehow that quiet little moment affected me more than anything else in the chapter.

I seriously love psycho Joel. Not because I think he's "good," but because you've written him in such a psychologically compelling way. He's manipulative, obsessive, cruel... and somehow still painfully human.

Joel sat on the floor of his bedroom, rearranging his baseball cards in his black binder that was falling apart at the seam. Globs of duct tape surrounded it, and he hoped that it would last until Christmas-time when he could ask for another one. The house had been quiet this morning. It was about twenty minutes ago that he’d heard his dad’s tires crunch on the gravel outside their home, and while he had braced himself for potential chaos, he was relieved to not hear anything.

He only had about five cards left to organize and he felt a little disappointed that he was almost done. He spent most of his time in his room, and with limited toys and the same books, boredom was common. It was a Saturday, which meant that he still had practically two whole days until he could go back to school and spend his afternoons learning and socializing with friends.

Joel was about to slip the last card in the binder when the bedroom door flew open and Tommy rushed at him. “Joel! Joel!” He pushed to his feet quickly, just in time for Tommy to run into his arms, burying himself in Joel’s chest. “It’s happening again!” 

Joel’s heart started racing. He pulled Tommy away from him, holding him by the shoulders and lowering his head to make eye contact. “Look at me.” Tommy looked up at him with tear-stained cheeks. “Hide under the bed. Don’t come out until I say so. Got it? No matter what.”

He stood in the doorway, not leaving the room until he saw Tommy completely disappear under the bed. Gently closing the door behind him, he walked to the top of the stairs. He could already hear the ruckus happening down below in the kitchen. Drawing in a deep breath, he steeled himself for what was to come. He tried to ignore the tremor in his hand as he descended the steps, rolling his eyes at his nerves. He would sometimes fantasize about a magic elixir he could take that would make it so that he was never scared, never anxious. In his dreams, he’d drink down the mixture and then go fight a ginormous dragon with not even a tremble in sight. Those were some of the hardest dreams to wake up from, only left with the disappointing reality of just how incapable he really was. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!” Her shrill cries echoed in the dining room and Joel jumped down the last couple stairs, rounding the corner as fast as he could. She was already on the floor, just as he suspected and was worried about. 

It was mere seconds before Joel threw himself at his father, pulling him back by his shirt and yelling, “Leave her alone!” He braced himself for the punch before it came. The last thing Joel saw before his vision blacked out was his mother trying to push herself up from the ground and crawl toward him.

Joel woke up to a cool washcloth running along his forehead. Music was playing in the background - the comforting crackle of the record player accompanying the melody of Hank Williams singing, “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.” His mom sang along softly, “Did you ever see a robin weep when leaves begin to die? That means he’s lost the will to live, I’m so lonesome I could cry.” His head was in her lap, the scratchy cotton of her dress underneath his head as she dotted the damp cloth across his forehead. 

“Oh, there’s my baby,” she said with a smile as Joel opened his eyes. He immediately noticed her black eye and the cut across her lips. 

“Mom,” he said, sitting up suddenly and reaching for her face. She winced, pulling back as she gently wrapped her hand around his wrist, lowering it. 

“I’m okay, baby…I’m okay.” She gave a reassuring smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “How do you feel?”

Joel reached his hand up, touching his bruised cheekbone that he was sure he’d have to cover up before school Monday morning. “I feel fine,” he offered dismissively. He looked around the living room where they were sitting. “Where’s-”

“He went out,” his mother answered, standing up and smoothing down the pleats of her dress. “I ain’t got a clue where your brother is, though. Been callin’ for him for the past half an hour.” 

“Shit,” Joel swore, pushing off from the couch. 

“Hey! Watch your language, young man.” She narrowed her eyes at him but he didn’t miss the corner of her mouth pulling up in a subtle smile. 

Joel fought his own smile and replied, “Yes, mama.”

Winter came quickly, and it was brutal. Snow covered everything in sight and the temperatures were regularly below freezing. The horrible conditions also meant that Joel and Tommy lost their safe space - the outdoors. The woods behind their house was a regular space to explore, and although Joel didn’t like being away from home and his mom for very long, it was a nice escape when they had it. 

The school break seemed to stretch on. The first couple days were easy to occupy the time as Joel completed his schoolwork and helped Tommy with his. But then they were left with another ten days. 

Their dad wasn’t working, as was typical. He was somehow always “in between jobs,” and just worked the random odd job to make ends meet. He’d already made enough money for the week, so he just sat around the living room drinking beers from the time he woke up to the time he went to bed. Joel and Tommy were skilled at staying out of his way, but their mom wasn’t so lucky.

She’d try to keep herself busy - cleaning, organizing, cooking. But whenever she made a sound or crossed through the living room, he’d talk to her. Very rarely could they have a discussion that didn’t lead to an argument of some kind, and very rarely could they have an argument without it turning into a physical altercation. 

By the fifth day, Joel was covered in bruises, scratches, and welts. He winced when he bent over, his ribs bruised from all the punches. The only relief he felt was when he looked at his mom and saw that she was less battered than usual, him having weathered the brunt of the beatings to protect her. He’d sit at the kitchen counter and watch her as she cooked dinner, noticing the bruises on her wrists that were healing already. He offered to help every night, but his mom would shake her head with that knowing smile of hers, and just ask him to set the table. Joel obliged, he always did with his mom. 

They ate dinner at a precisely set table in silence aside from the occasional creak of a chair or scrape of a fork against a plate. After dinner, their dad went to the living room to drink some scotch, a norm in their house. Tommy went upstairs to play and Joel helped his mom clean up. She turned on the small radio in the kitchen, playing classic country songs that she started lip syncing to. Joel enjoyed watching her. He liked seeing her smile, and how her dress flowed out when she twirled. She caught him watching and sauntered closer to him, grabbing him and pulling him close to her so they could dance together. He bit his lip to stifle his laughter. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so silly, but these carefree moments were few and far between, so he tried to relax into it as best he could. 

They swayed to the music, his mother’s soft laughter huffing against his ear as they rocked side to side and spun around together. Joel took a step back in a playful bow and reached out for his mother’s hand. She smiled and curtsied before setting her hand in his and letting him spin her. They both stifled their giggles and he spun her again. Her arm swept across the counter, knocking over one of the measuring cups and sending it tumbling into the sink where it clattered with the other dishes she had yet to wash. 

“What’s that ruckus in there?!” his father shouted from the living room. 

Joel’s mom looked panicked, looking around and realizing just how behind she was on cleaning. She looked at the clock. His father always expected the kitchen to be cleaned by 7 P.M. She only had ten minutes and it surely wouldn’t be enough time. She looked back to Joel and said, “I need you to go get Tommy and draw him a bath. Turn on the radio in there and lock the door. Okay, baby?”

Joel shook his head. “No…no, I’m not leaving you, mom. I’ll help clean. I’ll help-”

She stepped forward, setting her hands gently on either side of his face. “Baby, you need to take care of your brother, okay? He needs you. I can handle your father…but you know what he gets like, and I can’t risk him coming in there to hurt either of you.” 

“Mom, no-” Tears brimmed Joel’s lower lashes.

“Look at me, baby. Tommy’s young, okay? He’s only eight-”

“He’s almost nine.”

She nodded, trying to be patient with him. “Yes, but you’re thirteen…you’re not a little boy anymore. Tommy is. He needs you to protect him…that’s your job as his older brother, okay? That’s what a man does, baby…he protects.” 

Joel drew in a sharp breath, steeling himself so that he wouldn’t cry. He puffed his chest out and stood up tall. 

“Good boy…a man’s job is to protect. And a mother’s job…what is that, baby?” Her features were soft as she regarded him. She had more pride for him than she knew what to do with. There were often times where she felt like Joel was the one thing she’d done right in this world. She had full confidence that he was going to grow into an incredible man, and she couldn’t wait to witness it. 

Joel shook his head. “I…I don’t know.”

“To love, baby…a mother’s job is to love.” She kissed his cheek. “Now go, take care of Tommy.”

Joel heard the grunt of his father getting up from the couch, and he ran upstairs as fast as he could. The tears started to flow and he brushed them away angrily, just like he was brushing away the thoughts of what his father was about to do to his mother. 

Tommy was playing with his toy trucks when Joel threw open their bedroom door. “Bath. Now,” he commanded brusquely. He kicked his toys to the side as he crossed the room then grabbed Tommy by the arm. 

“Ow, Joel! Stop! You’re hurting me!” Tommy attempted to yank his arm away but Joel only squeezed harder. 

He didn’t answer him, just pulled him out of the room and into the bathroom across the hall. When they crossed the corridor, they both could hear the scuffle occurring at the bottom of the stairs. Tommy looked worriedly at Joel who didn’t pay him any mind, just shoved him into the bathroom and shut the door quietly behind him, locking it. 

“Get in the bathtub.” Joel opened the bathroom cabinet, searching for the bubbles that Tommy always insisted on, even though Joel thought he should’ve outgrown them by now.

“But there isn’t even water yet…” Tommy stood against the bathroom wall, creating distance between him and Joel. 

“I don’t fuckin’ care. Get undressed ‘n in the bathtub.” He found the bottle, pulling it out and noticing what little was left. He made a mental note to add it to his shopping list. A few months ago, his father had banned his mother from going to the store, convinced that she was going there just to flirt with the cashiers. So, it had turned into yet another responsibility that Joel had on his plate. 

Tommy sat in the empty bathtub, watching Joel as he turned on the radio, setting it on the closed toilet lid as he started to draw the bath. He averted his eyes from Tommy, knowing how embarrassed Tommy got when Joel saw him naked. Instead, Joel stared at the tiles on the wall, his eyes memorizing the imperfections in the grout as he let his mind zone out. He occasionally dipped his hand under the faucet, making sure the water wasn’t getting too hot or cold as it filled. There was a familiar sick feeling that started to brew in his core, and he clenched his jaw, willing it to go away. 

“Joel?” Tommy asked softly.

With his eyes still focused on the wall, Joel replied curtly, “What?”

“Are we…going to be okay?” The brothers never talked about anything serious, so the question caught Joel off guard who turned back to look at him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like…our family. Is our family okay?” The answer seemed so painfully obvious to Joel that he had to hesitate in his response. He assumed that what Tommy was really asking was whether things were going to eventually be okay. In which case, Joel wasn’t sure but liked to think so. 

He gave a white lie as he answered, “Yeah, Tommy…we’re gonna be fine.”

When Tommy woke up it was still dark out. He squinted his eyes out the window and could see the morning sun just barely peeking up. He noticed Joel’s bed was empty. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, scanning the room before patting to the bedroom door where he saw a note taped to the smooth wood. 

It was written in red crayon and read: stay in room

Joel’s handwriting. He recognized it immediately. Joel had put him to bed last night, ushering him quickly across the hallway after his bath. Tommy was exhausted and had fallen asleep quickly, assuming Joel was doing the same. His hand hovered above the doorknob as he read it, only hesitating for a moment before opening the door anyway. 

The house was quiet, almost eerily so. He walked down the hallway, watching where he stepped so that he didn’t land on any of the creaky spots. As he passed his parents’ bedroom, the door was cracked open and he could hear his dad snoring. When he peered into the room, he saw his dad sleeping in an otherwise empty bed with an open bottle of scotch on the nightstand. 

He crept down the stairs, still watching every careful place his feet landed. When he turned the corner, he saw his mother laying on the kitchen floor. He froze, his body going rigid as concern flooded him. But he was finally able to take a breath as he saw that her chest was moving along with her breaths. 

When he moved closer, he had to throw his hand against his mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to come out. She was covered in blood. There were scratches and welts on her arms and legs. Her dress was tattered and the hairclip she’d been wearing earlier was broken on the floor. He could hardly discern the features of her face because of how swollen and bruised she was. He began to tremble, tears streaming down his face as he took another step closer to her. 

That’s when he finally spotted him. Joel. He was curled up behind his mom, one of his hands pressed to the top of her back as he slept on his other arm that was stretched out underneath him. He was in a deep sleep, but there was a crease between his eyebrows - worry etched into his features even when sleeping. He noticed the blood underneath his fingernails, likely from trying to clean up their mom after the fight. Joel’s knuckles were bruised, a clear sign that he had tried beating their dad again. Tommy never understood why Joel kept trying to do that, knowing that it failed each and every time. 

There was a lot Tommy didn’t understand about Joel. Like why Joel never seemed to be able to hug him. Or why Joel insisted on getting involved in every fight between their parents. He didn’t understand why Joel never helped him with his homework - just huffed and said “Gotta figure shit out on your own.” And he definitely didn’t understand why Joel seemed to stand up for every single girl at school, yet never had a girlfriend. 

And yet, no matter how much he didn’t understand, that never prevented Joel from being the brother he always needed. He thought back to his birthday last year. His dad had been drinking more than usual. He noticed it as soon as he and Joel got back from school. Joel had even warned him when they went upstairs to change their clothes.

“Dad is…not feeling good, okay? So…we might not be able to do a whole lot tonight. Got it?” Tommy knew exactly what Joel meant, so he nodded his head, preparing himself for a disappointing birthday evening. 

The birthday dinner went fine. It was quiet, as usual, but their dad kept his mouth shut when their mom asked the usual birthday questions. Top three favorite things of this year, most looking forward to next year, and the thing they're most proud of themselves for. Tommy loved the questions. It wasn’t often he got his parents’ undivided attention, so he’d start thinking of his answers weeks before his birthday. Joel, on the other hand, hated them. He’d answer the first two, but somehow always got out of the last one. His mom would eventually give up, just offering Joel a small smile and a wink. 

When dinner was over, they all migrated to the living room for Tommy to open his gift and choose the movie he wanted to watch. There weren’t always things to look forward to at home, but their mother did what she could to make their birthdays feel special, and choosing a movie was one of them. 

Tommy made his choice, but something he had said pissed off his dad. He’d forgotten what it was as time went on, but he’d never forget the way his dad jumped off the couch, throwing him to the ground and then grabbing his gift and chucking it in the fireplace. Joel lurched toward the open fire initially, then realized better and walked toward Tommy, helping him up and then getting him into their bedroom.

“I’ll be right back,” Joel had said, before leaving and closing the door behind him. This was typical - Joel removing Tommy from whatever the conflict was before going right into the heart of it himself. 

Tommy cried in his bed, the disappointment from his ruined birthday weighing heavily on him. The only solace he had was knowing that he’d fall asleep and tomorrow it would all be over. What he didn’t expect was to hear Joel’s voice beside him, “Hey, sit up.” 

He rubbed his eyes, wiping away his tears on the sleeve of his shirt as he shuffled upwards in the bed. Joel was holding a small plate with a cinnamon roll on it. A candle was shoved into the center, glowing yellow and creating a halo between the two of them. “Happy birthday,” Joel murmured, holding the plate closer to Tommy so he could blow out the candle. 

He didn’t even bother making a wish. It was his first year not doing so. He took the plate from Joel. “Thanks, Joel…where did you get this?” 

The tips of Joel’s ears turned red as he shrugged his shoulders. “They had them for school lunch a couple days ago…it might not even be good anymore…” His voice trailed off as he continued, “probably stale as shit now.” 

Tommy tried not to smile too much as he said, “and you saved yours for me?” 

Joel rolled his eyes, “Oh come on, Tommy. Don’t make a big stink about it. Just knew that tonight was probably gonna be ruined one way or another, so…” 

“Thank you, Joel.” Tommy’s voice was painfully earnest and Joel had no choice but to sit in the discomfort of his brother’s gratitude. 

“One more thing,” he said as he pulled something wrapped in paper towels from behind his back. Tommy leaned to the side, trying to get a good look. Joel hardly looked at him as he handed him the item.

Tommy unraveled it in his lap, revealing a small wooden train. His eyes lit up. He’d been wanting a toy train for a long time, but finances were tight and their gifts were usually whatever toy was on sale at the time. 

He set it on the nightstand, rolling it forward and noticing that it wobbled unevenly. The wheels were different sizes and one of them was screwed in so tightly, it wouldn’t really move. It looked handmade - somewhat shoddy, but clearly having had care put into it. He turned it to the side and saw his initials painted along it. His eyes shot up to Joel. 

“Joel,” he started, “did you…”

Joel hung his head. “Yeah, I made it. I know it’s shit, I just-”

“I love it,” Tommy retorted quickly. 

Joel looked up at him. “Yeah?”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah. How did you make it?”

Joel looked over at the train. “Dad’s been letting me use his workbench after school sometimes. Took me a few attempts…but this was the best one I’d made.”

Tommy let go of the train and lunged forward, his arms wrapping around Joel’s neck in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Joel,” he spoke, muffled against Joels’ shoulder. 

Joel patted his back. He tried relaxing into the embrace but it felt impossible. His heart was thudding and he wasn’t sure why he felt so uncomfortable. He heard Tommy murmur, “love you,” and it took every last shred of energy he had to respond, “love you too.”

“God, I fuckin’ hate you,” Joel sneered, shoving past Tommy and out of the crowded bar. Tommy followed quickly after him, his beer bottle still held at his side as his shoes crunched on the gravel in the parking lot. 

“Yeah? Well, fuckin’ same. Asshole.” He took a swig from his beer and continued following Joel to his truck. 

“The fuck do you want?” Joel asked as he looked over his shoulder. 

“You never come with me. It’s one time a year, Joel. One fuckin’ time…and you can’t even do it for her?” Right as the words left Tommy’s mouth, Joel spun around. He took a menacing step toward Tommy, his eyes dark with anger. 

“Don’t you fucking bring her into this or I swear to god, Tommy, I’ll-”

“You’ll what, Joel? Punch me? Hit me? We all know that’s the only way you know how to handle anything. You’re fucking pathetic.” Tommy grimaced as he said the words, hating how they sounded. 

Joel shook his head, ready to be done with the conversation. He fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his truck. Just as he opened the door, ready to get inside, Tommy spoke again. 

“You know it’s your fault, right?” The anger and disdain Tommy felt outweighed the potential guilt of hurting Joel’s feelings. He was sick of Joel not accompanying him to their mother’s grave on her birthday. Every year, he’d find Joel at the bar, pleading with him to go. And every year, Joel rolled his eyes and didn’t so much as consider it. Aside from the day she was buried, Tommy wasn’t sure if Joel had ever gone to visit her.

Joel looked over his shoulder, a blank expression on his face as he tried to make sense of what Tommy was saying. Other patrons started to file out of the bar, the door opening and the music pouring out into the night air. 

“She’s dead because of you. Because of what you-” He couldn’t finish his sentence because Joel’s fist collided with his mouth so hard that it knocked him backwards. Blood started pouring from his mouth and he coughed, nearly choking on it. He grabbed at his face looking up at Joel. 

His broad shoulders were rising and falling with his breaths as he watched Tommy attempt to stop the blood from trickling out. His eyes were nearly black, and Tommy had never been so afraid of him before. 

“We’re fuckin’ done. That’s it, Tommy. I don’t want anything t’do with you. You can see me at work, that’s it. But don’t fuckin’ talk to me unless you have to. I don’t care about what happens in your life. Got it? Don’t give me fuckin’ updates ‘bout Maria, or any of that shit. In fact, I hope your life fuckin’ sucks. All that shit I did for you?” He was getting angrier, stalking toward Tommy and causing him to back up into the truck behind them. “Goddamnit Tommy, you’d be dead if it weren’t for me. Fuck. How many beatings did you get growin’ up? Huh? Answer me.” He was toe-to-toe with Tommy now. 

Tommy shook his head, sputtering blood. 

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought…can’t even fuckin’ give me an answer. Wanna know why? Because it’s none, Tommy…’cause I saved your ass every goddamn time. ‘N I’ve continued to. The amount of money I’ve thrown away at gettin’ you outta jail? Payin’ for a goddamn lawyer t’get you outta whatever mess you’re in?” He shook his head. “I’m done. Take care of your own goddamn messes now.” 

Joel walked to his car, getting in and closing the door without looking back. A group of bar patrons had gathered from afar to watch what was transpiring. Tommy glanced over at them, shame and regret bubbling up. “What are you fuckin’ lookin’ at?!” he shouted through blood-stained teeth. 

The group dissipated, scattering away to their cars. Tommy watched as Joel drove down the road. One of his wheels spun out and kicked up dirt as he hightailed it away from the bar. Tommy’s mind flashed back to the wheels on the toy train. A lump formed in his throat as he stifled his cry, instead just getting in his own truck and doing what he could to avoid looking at himself in the rearview mirror. 

He knew it was going to be a bad fight. He knew it by the look in his father’s eyes and the number of broken dishes on the kitchen floor. His mom looked at him pleadingly, quietly speaking, “Please, baby, take Tommy and go…” There was true terror in her eyes and it made Joel feel nauseous.

All of his nerves were on fire, telling him to run, stay, fight, anything. He wanted to stay and help his mom, but he looked over at Tommy cowering by the front door with his backpack still on from school. He looked more like a 4-year-old than an 8-year-old right now and it crushed Joel to see. 

He gave one last glance at his mom, and then his father smashed another plate on the floor, screaming nonsense. Joel turned to the front door, brushing past Tommy to yank it open before he grabbed Tommy by the backpack and said, “Come on.” 

They ran across the front yard and across the street to the woods on the opposite side. Joel was thankful for these woods. They were the main place that he and Tommy played, but also their main escape from home and their father. The boys were sure that their father knew that this was where they came to get away, but he never wanted to spend the energy it would take to track them down there. 

It was still going to be light out for a while, so Joel knew that Tommy would be fine out here. He tried to distract himself, watching Tommy gather sticks and build with them, but his leg wouldn’t stop bouncing and he kept glancing back in the direction of their home. 

He pulled a peppermint out from his pocket, offering one to Tommy silently who just shook his head. Joel popped it in his mouth and closed his eyes, trying to take the advice of his mom. He pictured her sitting with him in the bathroom, where she had found him nearly hyperventilating as he cried with the shower running behind him as he sat on the floor. He’d tried to cover up the sounds of his sobs, but his mother had heard anyway, coming to check on him. She’d told him that eating a peppermint would help, but hadn’t explained why. And on that morning, when she unwrapped it and handed it to him, pulling him against her chest as she cradled him, he found that it had worked. 

Tommy didn’t seem to notice Joel’s building anxiety, preoccupied with his pretend world that he was creating. Joel was envious that Tommy was still able to do that. He couldn’t remember the last time that he truly played. 

After another few minutes, Joel couldn’t take it anymore. “I’ll be back. Stay here, okay?” He gave Tommy a stern look, earning an uncertain nod in response. 

As Joel started toward their home, he got a bad feeling in his gut. He’d learned time and time again that that feeling was usually right. So he started running. Fast. He ripped through the trees, hardly looking as he crossed the road into their front yard. Just as his foot hit their property, he heard a gunshot. It froze him for a moment, his mind trying to discern whether that was really what he heard and whether it was really coming from his house. 

He burst in through the front door, nearly knocking it off its hinges. His jaw dropped as he saw his mother laying on the kitchen floor in a pool of her own blood, quiet whimpers coming from her trembling body. His heart was pounding as he looked up at his father standing above her. He opened his mouth to shout something, but then all he saw was red.

The beeping of the hospital monitors lulled Joel into a stupor. He stared off, his mind seemingly empty as he studied the white wall. A doctor walked in, checking his mother’s vitals and glancing over at Joel through the corner of her eye. 

“You okay over there?” she asked. 

Joel looked over at her, simply nodding his head and continuing to pick at the skin around his thumb. 

“Your brother is down in the cafeteria with the social worker. You didn’t want to join them?” This doctor had been incredibly kind to both boys since they arrived. It broke her heart to see how scared they both had been, and she could only imagine the horrors that Joel had had to witness. 

Joel shook his head. She crossed the room to him, setting her hand on his shoulder. “Your mother’s stable…she’s going to be okay.” 

Joel clenched his jaw as tears came to his eyes. The doctor sighed, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she continued, “I’m so sorry about your father.”

His mom stirred in the bed and the doctor turned around, moving over to her and calmly speaking to her in a quiet voice. Joel tried to listen, but his brain felt so far away from his body, that all he could really do was just watch. 

Before they could finish their conversation, a police officer walked in. Joel’s eyes snapped up, his heart pounding. He watched in slow motion as the officer began speaking with his mom. He heard his mother crying, her sobs turning into pleading as she insisted over and over that his father wouldn’t kill himself. 

Joel didn’t respond as his mother started asking him questions. He felt like he was under water, only hearing distorted sounds. It wasn’t until the officer was standing in front of him that Joel came to and looked up. 

“You alright son?” he asked, peering down at Joel with a semblance of concern in his eyes. 

Joel took in a breath and nodded. 

“Alright kid, jus’ gotta confirm real quick…follow-up after your statement from earlier.” Joel hardly remembered making a statement. “You ‘n your brother were in the woods. Ya heard a gunshot and went running to the house, and then you heard a second gunshot. Your brother stayed back in the woods, and when you got into the house you saw both of your parents lying on the floor. Then you called 911.” He looked up from his clipboard. “That all correct?” 

Joel nervously glanced at his mother who was wide-eyed and staring at him, her jaw partially falling open. She vaguely remembered seeing Joel in the house. It was right before she lost consciousness, and she knew that at that point her husband was standing right beside her. The pieces clicked together slowly as she watched Joel confirm everything and listened to the officer give his report to the second officer who walked in, hearing how Joel’s and Tommy’s stories lined up. 

She was trying not to panic, but when Joel looked over at her, her motherly instincts kicked in and she offered him a comforting smile. Joel seemed to accept this, smiling back as his shoulders finally relaxed. He thought that maybe now, everything might finally be okay.

The school bus was running late, and Joel was growing more and more antsy by the minute. He wished that he had just walked home as usual, but lately he’d been trying to ride the bus with Tommy. Joel hadn’t anticipated how bad Tommy’s grief was going to be, and despite him not understanding why Tommy would miss their abusive father, he was trying to be as supportive as he could. 

The bus rounded the corner onto their street and Joel’s leg started bouncing. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, anxiously waiting to get off the bus. He hoped that his mother wouldn’t still be in bed. That seemed to be where she always was now. Joel would have to practically beg her to get up and take a shower. And even then, when she was finished, she would just go right back to bed. 

Joel cooked all the meals for him and Tommy, carrying a plate up to his mother and holding back tears when she wouldn’t even take a bite. 

But he’d talked to his teacher today, asking her questions about what to do when someone seems really, really sad. She had mentioned something called therapy. Joel had never heard of it before, but his teacher scribbled down some information for him, looking at him skeptically as he insisted that he was fine and it was just for a friend. 

Their mother was indeed still in bed when they got home, but she took the piece of paper from him and sat up to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

He fell asleep feeling hopeful for the first time in weeks.

Life had never been better. Tommy seemed to be doing better - he was back to playing and making stupid jokes that pissed Joel off. His mother started therapy and returned to her normal cooking and cleaning, even sometimes laughing at some silly thing that the boys were doing. 

Joel had never before experienced life without fear and abuse. His body didn’t stiffen every time he came home anymore. And their nightly dinners weren’t silent anymore either. He was sleeping better than ever before. His grades were improving. And his mom almost seemed back to her usual self. 

She was going to therapy weekly and even though she seemed exhausted, she wasn’t walking around crying anymore. 

A few months went by, and Joel was too preoccupied to notice the subtle changes in his mother’s behavior. He thought it was simply her being caring when she wanted to teach Joel new things. She made sure he knew how to sew and do his own laundry. She taught him how to balance a checkbook and navigate the phone directory. She instilled confidence in him. With every new skill he learned, she’d squeeze his arm and say, “That’s my boy.” Joel had already been pretty self-sufficient up to this point, so it didn’t take much for his mother to feel more reassured about his skillset. 

She started spending more time with him in the evenings. He noticed that she would read three or four chapters rather than two when she read to him and Tommy before bed. She started asking him to go on walks with her after dinner, where they would talk about whatever Joel wanted. She reminded him frequently that his job was to take care of Tommy, and rather than before, when she would follow it up by saying that her job was to love and take care of him, now she said that he didn’t need anyone to take care of him - that he was finally a man. 

But Joel didn’t feel like a man that one Friday afternoon when he walked off the bus with Tommy and saw the police car in his driveway. He didn’t feel like a man when the officer sat him down on the couch to tell him that his mother was gone. He didn’t feel like a man when he crumbled to the floor, sobbing so hard that he nearly vomited. And he didn’t feel like a man when his mother’s casket was lowered into the ground and he screamed louder than he ever had before. 

It was the social worker that had eventually told Joel that his mother left letters - letters to him and Tommy, as well as letters detailing how she hoped they’d be taken care of after she passed. Arrangements had been made for them to stay with an aunt they’d never met before. She was kind enough, but a bond never formed. He and Tommy stayed with her until the day Joel turned eighteen. 

He’d been working and saving up money, and he and Tommy were able to move into their own place. It didn’t take long for Joel to start to channel all of his grief into caring for Tommy, and it didn’t take Tommy long to start wreaking havoc everywhere he went. It turned into a natural pattern for the two of them. 

It felt right to Joel, caring for someone. As pissed as he got each time he got a phone call about some trouble Tommy had caused, he found himself grateful for something to pour his energy into. He realized that when you cared for someone else, you didn’t have to deal with your own emotions. It became a natural suppressant for him. 

Over time, he thought about his mother less and less. He was thankful to his brain for slowly tucking all of those memories away into a little box. He’d never read the letters that his mother wrote for him. He never went to her grave after seeing her buried in it. He removed the photos of her from the mantel, leaving only empty frames and pictures of him and Tommy. The only thing he kept was an always-stocked glass jar of peppermint candies in his kitchen cupboard. He didn’t have an explanation for it, didn’t ever really think much of it, but it had become such a habitual part of his life. Joel started to forget about the abuse, and the trauma, and the grief. He buried it so deep that he wasn’t sure if it was even there anymore. And it was then that he finally started to feel it. He was finally a man.

AO3 | masterlist | YSFL masterlist | part XI

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The chime of the doorbell makes your heart jump in your chest, the staccato rhythm picking up as you approach the front door.

After Joel had fucked you next to your pool, he gave you a kiss, left you there to sunbathe, and returned to the meticulous task of assembling your kitchen cabinets. You spent the entire time exchanging heated glances with him where you lay, still naked and reeling from being fucked so thoroughly.

This time, he made no attempt to hide his perusal of your body and it heated your skin more completely than the sun ever could.

By the time the sun began to dip behind the towering trees lining your property, he’d finished the cabinets and covered them with a canvas tarp to protect them overnight. You watched as he wiped his forehead with the end of this t-shirt, giving you a peak of his tummy. You licked your lips — something he quickly noticed even from across the yard.

Sauntering back over to you, he sat on the edge of the lounger and ran a hand from your hip, up your tummy and between your breasts before landing at your neck. His thumb circled your pulse point as he leaned over to kiss you.

“M’ gonna go home now, darlin’. Shower. Put something decent on. And then I’m comin’ right back. That sound good?” His voice was like gravel, deep and rough and it made your entire body tingle. It did sound good, but you wanted him to fuck you again.

All you could do was nod as he kissed you again and then helped you up. You wrapped yourself in your towel and took his hand as he guided you through the house. Your stomach fluttered as he brought those soft lips down to you again and kissed you goodbye.

It took you a long time to process everything that happened, and when you finally did, you couldn’t stop smiling. The thrill of dinner with Joel carried you on a cloud of anticipation as you showered, primped, prepped, and dressed in a baby blue sundress that reached the tops of your thighs, thin straps, and a sweetheart neckline. 

You even had time to paint your nails — a matching blue with small white polka dots. 

Now, you bite down on your lower lip to stifle your smile as you open the door to find Joel on your front porch, a bouquet of pink, orange, and white wild flowers clasped in his large hand.

The corner of his lips tick up as you take each other in, his eyes roaming you hungrily, nostrils flaring at the sight of you. He doesn’t say anything yet, and you’re equally as speechless.

He’s swapped his dirty boots for a pair of worn but carefully maintained ones, his jeans black and faded instead of the ones he normally wears that are always covered in dust, paint, and plaster. His green button down brings out the hints of gold shimmering in his eyes, the top few buttons open and providing you a glimpse of his hard chest. 

You don’t even want to go to dinner at this point, and it takes every ounce of self restraint you have to keep yourself from pouncing on him.

“You look gorgeous, darlin’” he rasps, voice quiet and low. It sends ripples of heat straight to your core. He steps forward to hand you the flowers, but something snaps between you and he’s wrapping you in a heated kiss before you even realize that you’re the one who leapt first.

He grunts as he presses you closer, one hand still holding the flowers while the other knots in your dress at your waist. He’s being respectful, not ripping your clothes to shreds or even touching your ass yet. But his tongue is right there, pushing past your lips and pulling a moan right from you.

Joel has the awareness to pull away before you do, breathing heavy, neck flushed with want.

“Gotta treat you to a nice meal before I fuck you again,” he reasons, setting the flowers onto the table by the door.

It’s sweet how he thinks you need that. Sweet that he knows you yearn for a little bit of romance. And even if there wasn’t the promise of him taking you home and fucking you senseless, you think you’d still love the idea of dinner with him. 

Getting to know him. Opening him up and taking a peek at his thoughts. His wants. His needs. Giving him the same. You haven’t dated in years, but the thrill of it is still the same with one exception. You know he’s good and he’ll treat you right. You’re sure of it.

He nods behind him at the open door, the beat to shit red pick up parked on the street, engine sizzling, “After you.”

You can’t resist. You stretch up to kiss his chin, nipping with your teeth and snickering when he growls low in his chest. You snatch your clutch from the hook by the door and saunter out to the truck. He opens the door for you and helps you up to settle on the comfortable seat.

It’s surprisingly clean for a guy who works construction and likely tracks all kinds of debris into his vehicle daily. 

“Cleaned it up real nice, just for you,” he says after climbing in and starting it.

Your skin heats, his thoughtfulness doing unspeakable things to you. 

The drive is quiet, but comfortable. If there’s one person who knows how to exist in easy silence, it’s Joel. You like that about him. He doesn’t feel the need to fill the space with inane chatter. Like Jeremy. Always eager to hear the sound of his own voice.

When Joel parks outside a small Italian bistro, your grin widens. It’s quaint and out of the way, tucked behind a copse of trees that doesn’t make it immediately visible from the busy street if you aren't looking for it. 

He helps you out of the truck and rests a hand at your lower back as he guides you inside. You can’t remember the last time you were treated with such care.

He tells the hostess his name and uses her momentary distraction to drop a kiss to your bare shoulder like it’s a habit he’s been waiting to fulfill. Your cheeks feel hot as you look up at him, his eyes twinkling in the dim candlelight of the restaurant. 

The hostess confirms the reservation and takes you to your table. It’s an intimate place, small tables dispersed throughout the room, white table cloths, a small vase containing a single white rose on each one, warm, flickering candles decorating the room.

There are a handful of other couples already seated, relaxed, enjoying their meals. But you pay them no attention as he helps you take your seat and finally settles in across from you. 

You can’t help but compare each and every one of his behaviors to Jeremy. You don’t want to, but you do. Jeremy would never pull your chair out. He’d never help you into the car. He’d never plan a romantic evening out. He’d never touch you the way Joel touches you.

He offers a tentative smile, tilting his head, “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, trying to fight the urge to beam at him. He may or may not be aware of just how thoroughly he’s romancing you.

He looks down at the menu, “How do you feel about wine?”

“Love it.”

“White?”

“Perfect.”

When your server flits by the table, he orders a bottle of Chardonnay that she quickly returns with to fill your glasses. The moment she steps away, you catch the amused glimmer in his eyes.

“So, you’re married. And I fucked you in your backyard.”

Very direct. Just as he was after he’d done it.

You almost choke on the wine, but are able to carefully arrange your features into a neutral, unbothered expression, “Yes.”

“He’s a piece of shit.”

It’s not a question or an assumption. He knows, heard Jeremy yelling at you the last time he was home, heard the derision in his voice, the malice. You nod.

“He cheated on you?”

Again, you nod, your eyes flashing with the briefest flicker of pain you’re unable to control. Even if your marriage had been failing long before you discovered Jeremy’s infidelity, it still hurts to know how deeply you’ve been betrayed.

“I’m sorry,” he offers, his voice soft and silken. He reaches across the table to thread your fingers together.

You want to climb into his lap and kiss him. His words are sincere, not placating, but genuinely apologetic about your husband’s indiscretions. About how it must make you feel. 

“Don’t make it right – what we did,” he says quietly, “What we’re doin’.”

You take another measured sip of wine while you formulate your response, nodding slowly, “No. It doesn’t. Does that mean you don’t want to do it again?”

“Didn’t say that. Just said it ain’t right.”

The candle flickers across his expression, briefly illuminating the way his eyes have dilated, his lips tightening, his jaw ticks. You stare across at him, admiring the shape of his tension and the intensity of his gaze.

“Don’t know if I can stop myself now,” he admits.

You suppress a laugh, “Why? You seemed perfectly in control before I got naked and told you to touch me.”

That gets a low growl out of him, half grumble, half chuckle, “Tommy was there. Couldn’t very well go around flirtin’ and touchin’ you with him around. Anyway, he told me to stay away from you.”

You suck in a sharp breath, “Why?”

“You’re a client. Wouldn’t be right.”

“I think I can decide what’s right for me and what’s not,” you answer stubbornly, annoyed at Tommy’s intervention. Would Joel have fucked you sooner had Tommy not meddled? Probably not.

“Mm, I know, darlin’,” he says with an appraising nod. He sips his wine and purses his lips, disgruntled.

“We could’ve ordered something else,” you acknowledge, realizing he probably isn’t a wine drinker.

“‘S no trouble. You like it,” he says simply, forcing another sip.

That makes your chest ache, your need for him growing. Drinking something he doesn’t like just because you like it? Another point for Joel.

“So, Tommy is a meddler.”

Joel huffs, “Yeah. Always has been.”

“He told me to stay away from you too. Said you’re a grumpy old bastard,” you tell him.

His smile drops into a scowl, “I don’t care if he’s a brand new daddy, I’m gonna wring his neck.”

“Stop! Your niece or nephew can’t be fatherless!”

“Nephew. Benji. He’ll be alright. Better off, if I’m honest,” he grumbles. You know he doesn’t believe it, which makes it funnier.

You snicker into your glass, hidling your smirk just as the server approaches to take your orders. Joel looks across to you as you recite your selection. He orders the same and hands the menus to her with a gentle thanks.

“Big fan of ravioli?” You ask, resting your chin on your fist. “Would’ve pegged you for a steak kind of guy.”

He shrugs, “Ain’t no harm in tryin’ somethin’ new.”

“Hm, like fucking a client?”

“That’d be new, yes.”

“Is that so?”

His ears turn red at your inquisition, but he quickly settles his features into a calm, severe look as he leans forward to look at you properly, “Swear on my life. This is the first I’ve ever laid a hand on a client. Promise.”

Pressing your lips together to hide your smile, you nod, satisfied with his answer. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it. Were you unique? Does he do this with all his clients? He’s single, after all, according to Tommy. 

“‘M I the first tradesman you’ve fucked?” He asks suddenly, making you blanch and laugh louder than what is appropriate in a tiny little restaurant like this. He grins, clearly very pleased with himself.

“Oh my god, yes. Jesus, Joel, don’t do that,” you gasp through your laughter.

Dinner is easy after that, relaxed and smooth with the difficult topic of your ill conceived exploits out of the way. He pours each of you another glass of wine, devours his ravioli, and smirks across at you as you run your heeled foot up his leg to tease him. 

He plays with your fingers, his smile coy and shy despite having already fucked you within an inch of sanity. You finish the bottle of wine together, the alcohol warming your skin, cheeks hot with its effects, and with the way Joel makes you blush with his heated looks and dark eyes.

The candlesticks in the room shrink into nothing and soon, you and Joel are the only people left in the restaurant. When he realizes this, he signals for the check.

He’s a gentleman when he pays for your meal and helps you out of your chair. He’s a gentleman when he guides you out to the parking lot with a tender, warm hand on your lower back, then opens the truck door for you. But as you’re about to climb inside, he yanks you back, spins you around, and kisses you.

You lean up to meet him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he clutches at your dress, tangling his fingers in it like he wants to lift the skirt and fuck you right here in the parking lot. You really wish he would. Don’t really care who sees. You’ve been aching for him since he left you lying naked and trembling by your pool.

“You’re trouble,” he mutters, your back hitting the side of the truck, “Wearin’ this skimpy little dress. Lookin’ prettier than anythin’ I’ve ever seen.”

His beard scrapes against your cheek as he plunders your lips, tongue seeking yours while his hips pin you in place. You can feel the hard outline of him through his jeans and you shudder at the thought of sucking him off as he drives you home.

Despite his fervor, he doesn’t lift you up and fuck you against his truck in the parking lot of a little Italian bistro regardless of how desperately you want it.

Eventually, he tears himself away from you and offers you a heated look before finally helping you into the truck. His hand remains firmly planted on your thigh the entire drive home, his fingers steadily creeping upward each time your hips shift.

”Patience, darlin’,” he chastises, giving you a warning look as he drives toward your home.

The moment he parks in the driveway, you don’t wait for him to open your door like the gentleman he’s been all night. You hear him chuckle as he follows you up to the front door, wiggling your ass a little just for his benefit. 

As you fumble in your purse for your keys, he stands a respectable distance behind you, hands tucked in his pockets so the urge to paw at you doesn’t hinder your hunt. You find the keys, get the door unlocked, and skip inside like the excited little minx you know you are. He chuckles again.

“Someone’s eager,” he rumbles, shutting the door behind him and finally reaching for you.

Your purse gets tossed aside as your arms come up around his neck, his lips finding yours like a homing missile. He shuffles you in the direction of the stairs until your ankles hit the bottom step. Since he’s been working on your house for the better part of three months, he’s become intimately acquainted with its layout, making it easy for him to navigate while he guides you along and turns your legs to jelly.

In a stunning display of brute strength, he lifts you up, hooking your legs around his waist so he can carry you up the stairs. You break apart with a gasp and clutch his strong shoulders to stabilize yourself.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, hands under your ass, powerful legs climbing higher. 

“Nothing,” you squeak, instantly soaked at the ease with which he carries you. What girl doesn’t want to be whisked away and fucked within an inch of her life by the rugged handyman building her house? You’re a simple girl with simple needs that he’s extremely adept at handling.

His lips curve into a smile that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

He doesn’t set you down until he crosses the threshold to your bedroom, his lips on yours again, this time tender and slow like he’s trying to savor you. It weakens your knees and your fingers curl into his shirt to hang on.

“You understand what this means, don’t you?” He asks, big, strong arms curling around your waist while he backs you toward the bed.

You look up at him with wide, curious eyes, his meaning unclear.

“If I fuck you in this bed. In your house…” he lowers his head, lips brushing your ear, breath hot on your cheek, voice dripping with power, “You’re mine.”

Your entire body shudders at the possessiveness soaking his words. You were a goner the moment he laid his hands on you.

You nod, fingers curling in his shirt, “Yours.”

He lunges then, capturing your lips, sinking his tongue between them, devouring you wholly and completely. His big arms wrap around you, pressing you closer, making you whimper into him as he guides you toward the bed. Before you can fall onto its surface, his fingers find the zipper at your back and tugs.

He slips the straps off your shoulders and lets the dress fall to your ankles, leaving you bare apart from the scrap of lace covering your pussy. Joel breaks the kiss and takes a step back to admire you.

“Darlin’, you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he growls, eyes dark and hungry as they take you in. With one, thick finger, he skims a path from your belly button up to your chin, stopping briefly to play with each of your nipples before continuing on. He lifts your chin gently, assessing the way your breathing changes, lips swollen from his kisses, thighs squeezing together, “Your husband fuck you in this bed yet?”

Once Joel and Tommy had completed the renovation of your upstairs, you had opted to redecorate the space with all new furniture, art, accents, everything – mattress included. You’d only slept next to your husband once since then. And he hadn’t touched you. Not a single graze of flesh, or a tender caress. 

Shaking your head, you bite your lip, “No. He hasn’t fucked me in over a year.”

Joel’s eyes flash, something dark and dangerous in them that makes your thighs clench, “That right?”

”Too busy fucking his secretary,” you admit, leaning into his touch, his thumb tracing your plump lower lip. Your tongue darts out for a taste.

He allows it, and then grips your chin between his index finger and thumb, tilting his head, “You usin’ me to get back at him?”

You can tell by the question that he doesn’t like the idea of that. That he’s just some pawn in a battle between you and Jeremy. But it couldn’t be further from the truth. You shake your head, eyes softening.

”No, no, I promise. I want you, Joel,” you whisper, fists still clenched in his shirt as you press yourself against him, “I don’t care about getting back at him. I just want him gone.”

”You send your divorce papers yet?”

“Tomorrow. First thing, my lawyer will serve them.”

”Good girl,” he says lowly, giving you a brief kiss, “You still think fuckin’ me while you’re still married is a good idea?”

You nod, “Yes, I need it, Joel,” you whine, feeling the slick between your legs, the soaked fabric of your panties rubbing against you, “I need you.”

“You need to get fucked?” He nips at your chin, then moves down to your neck, making your legs weaken, “You need your pussy filled to the brim?”

Speechless, you nod frantically, hands flattening on his chest as he takes your waist and turns you to putty with his lips on your throat. “Please…”

”Alright, darlin’, lie back for me,” he grumbles, peeling himself away from you and helping you lie on the bed. When you position yourself in the center, he clicks his tongue and takes you by the thighs to pull your hips to the edge of the bed. Joel drops to his knees, and your stomach does a flip. “Need to taste this sweet little pussy before I fuck you.”

You’re not complaining.

His thumbs hook at the hem of your panties and he drags them down your legs slowly, your entire body lit with anticipation and a fresh wave of desire.

With his wide hands, he spreads your thighs gently, peppering kisses along your skin and inching his way methodically up to your center. The scruff of his beard tickles your skin, hips lifting in search of any sort of contact. It seems Joel isn’t in the mood for teasing today, because after parting your folds with his thumbs, he drags a slow, deliberate stripe up the center of your pussy.

He groans into you, your body overcome with sensation as he does it again. And again, and again, and again.

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby,” he says, moving his hands to your hips to pull you further toward the edge of the mattress. 

He drinks you in like a man possessed, his tongue strumming your clit effortlessly and drawing out the most pathetic noises from the back of your throat. You writhe and arch, his movements slow and precise as he licks you. Your toes curl, fingers digging into his mess of curls. Fuck, he’s good.

He uses his tongue on you like he can’t get enough of the taste of you. Like he’s been desperate to make you cum on his tongue all evening. And maybe he has been. Maybe it’s all he’s thought about, because you know damn well it’s all you’ve thought about.

Before you can even register anything else, two, thick fingers press into you and you have to slap your hand over your mouth to keep from crying out.

Joel lifts his head and scowls, “What are you doing?”

You blink, hips moving to the slow, steady stroke of his fingers, “I — I —“

“Nuh uh, I wanna hear those pretty little sounds you make. You understand?” He asks, voice hard and stern like you’ve made a grave mistake.

You nod, whimpering a little when he crooks his fingers just right.

“Words, baby. Use your words,” he rasps, “Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” you insist, letting loose a sound that would make a porn star blush when he starts pumping his fingers steadily. His tongue is back on you, and in the next instant, you’re careening toward your orgasm.

Your skin is hot and your blood electric in your veins as you cum, a strangled moan puncturing the quiet of your bedroom. Joel grunts into your pussy and licks and laps at your release until you’re sure you can’t take it anymore. You’re still trembling when he pulls his fingers from you and moves up your body to give you a kiss.

Tasting yourself on his lips, you let out a faint sigh, pulling at the buttons on his shirt and pushing it off. His tongue is heaven on your pussy, but infinitely more devious when it slips between your lips. It’s dirty and slow, like he’s building you up just to shatter you again and again. Your entire body still tingles with the aftermath of your climax.

Your hips lift against him, clit scraping against denim. His cock is hard in the confines of his jeans, and all you want is for him to be inside you. 

With searching hands, you map out the contours of his muscles, built slowly over time by his craft. His tummy is soft, but underneath, you feel his muscles clench as your fingers continue their perusal. 

As much as you enjoy kissing him, you need him to fill you up, so you begin the delicate task of undoing his jeans and shoving them down his hips. They’re barely down past his ass when you arch up again, and dig your nails into his lower back to get him closer. His cock is thick and heavy against your pussy, making you both groan.

“So fuckin’ needy,” he growls, pushing his hips against you and creating a friction so overwhelming you swear it’ll make you cum if he does it again.

All you can do is nod, because you are. You need him so bad, you think you’ll die if you don’t get him inside you soon.

He grinds against you again, the underside of his cock stimulating your overworked clit. You squeal, arching into him, both somehow seeking more and less at the same time. Joel takes your hip in his large hand, thumb pressing into you to still your movements.

“Ask nicely, darlin’.”

It takes a few seconds for your brain to catch up with his words. You sound needy when you say it. Desperate and fucked out. “Please, fuck me, Joel. Please, I need it so bad.”

The sentence hasn’t even fully left your lips before he pushes into you with a low growl. Once he’s seated with the coarse hairs at his base nestled against you, he flexes his hips, pushing just a bit deeper until there’s nowhere else to go. You’re so full of him, aching as he settles against you, his girth splitting you wide open. 

Your nails rake down his back, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“This pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, honey,” he hisses into your ear, withdrawing an inch and pushing back in. “Fuck.”

Under your hands, his muscles tremble with either the effort of holding himself over you, or with the restraint of not fucking into you like you want him to. Either way, you’re flattered and tilt your hips to take him deeper. 

“Don’t fuckin’ do that,” he warns, pushing his hips against you and making you gasp at the intrusion. Your walls flutter around him, practically screaming at him to move, pussy leaking with your arousal, “Ain’t bein’ polite.”

“S-sorry,” you whimper, nails digging into his lower back, “I need –”

“What do you need?”

“Need you to move, Joel, please fuck me,” you beg, sounding so pathetic to your own ears, you almost cringe. But the slow smile and jut of his hips makes you forget in an instant. 

“Yeah? Need me to wreck this pretty little pussy?” He hums, the low vibrato of his voice sending you into another simpering fit as you try to move your hips against him. “Careful.”

He gives you a hard kiss before sitting up to tower over you, knees braced on the edge of the bed as his hands roam your body. The steady shift of his cock inside you has slowly eased the ache, but you need more. He feels so big, your cunt practically drools around him.

“You’ve got such good manners, baby,” he huffs, arms hooking under your thighs to lift you higher, pushing his cock deeper. Your hands fly out to cling to the comforter, eyes hazy as he withdraws and pushes in again, so fucking slowly it’s driving you crazy. It’s the same position he took you on the lounger by the pool, the same heavy stare, the same dark look and powerful body looming over you.

When speech evades you, he simply smiles and adjusts you again before he begins a steady, rhythmic pace that’s both hard and easy all at once. His hips smack into you, before he slowly withdraws, then fucking into you again like he’s trying to make you cum on force alone. And it’s working.

Each push of his hips elicits a little gasp from you and a spark of arousal pulsing through you. Sweat gleams on his forehead with the effort of his control, so you’re not surprised when he abandons his subdued pace in favor of quicker, deeper thrusts. 

“Takin’ my cock so good,” he grunts, pulling you up higher, “You gonna cum on it like a good girl?”

You nod frantically, already on your way to your own undoing. When his thumb circles your clit and his cock hits you just right, your vision goes dark and your back arches. Your moans are obscene and loud, and you’re certain your neighbors can hear the way you scream for him. But you don’t care. The pleasure coursing through you crests while he fucks you through your orgasm, his groans faint and labored.

The moment you come down, he pulls out, making you suck in a sharp breath at the loss. He flips you onto your stomach while he lies prone on top of you and pants into your ear, “This sweet little pussy is gonna be the death of me, baby.”

In one, brutal thrust, he’s back inside you, making your back arch against him. He takes the opportunity to wrap a large hand around your neck, holding you up as he takes his own pleasure and gives you everything in return. Even after two orgasms, the size of him burns through you, fire coiling tight in your belly with each plunge.

Your walls clench around him and he growls into your ear, his breath hard. His lips find your throat and he grunts with each push, “Tryn’ to make me cum before I’m ready to be done with you, darlin’?”

You shake your head, voice broken and barely there, like he’s fucked the will right out of you, “No… no, I swear.”

His fingers squeeze around your neck, not enough to cut off your air supply, but the pressure is there, and it’s exquisite. His pace is relentless, his cock so deep, filling you so completely, all you can do is writhe and cry under him. A large hand lands on your ass as he growls into your ear, “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

You don’t even hesitate, not for a second, “You, it’s yours. It belongs to you.”

“What belongs to me?”

“My p-pussy,” you cry out, another crack of his palm against your ass. “Joel…”

“I gotcha, baby,” he breathes into your ear, his beard scraping your cheek, lips and teeth adding sensation to your skin as his cock stretches you out. His restraint snaps then, and he begins pounding into you with a force that makes your eyes roll back into your head and your entire body lock up. “That’s it, honey. I know you’re about to cum. Give it to me.”

It’s remarkable how quickly he’s become attuned to your body and its signals. He adjusts his hips, pushing deeper, harder, faster than what he should be capable of. His breath ragged in your ear, muscles tight against your back, cock dragging in and out of you. When he releases your neck, you slump to the bed, only for him to plant his hand next to you, while the other sneaks underneath you to rub your clit in time with his thrusts.

It undoes you so quickly, you scream into the sheets, hips pushing against him as you cum. Your climax washes over you so completely, you think you lose consciousness for several seconds. You’re nothing but sensation and bliss.

His deep growl reaches your ears, breaths coming in short bursts as he fucks you through it, “Fuck, feels so good. Pussy is grippin’ me nice and tight baby. I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum inside me,” you plead, words muffled by the bedding. You can feel him trembling above you, holding himself back, and then a rush of warmth as he fills you, cumming with a bone shattering groan that makes your entire body tingle. You love the way he sounds, love that you can do this to him. Wreck him just as thoroughly as he wrecks you.

His thrusts slow, then ease to a stop, and he bends over you to kiss along your shoulder and down your back until he’s withdrawing from you completely. A quiet whimper leaves you, devastated at the loss. 

After wiping up the mess you two had made, Joel settles in bed next to you, drawing you against his chest and giving you a tender kiss. It’s slow and thoughtful and lingering. There’s no intent behind it other than to claim and cherish.

“I can’t stay,” he says when he pulls away, “Gotta be up early for a job tomorrow.”

You sigh and nestle deeper, chasing his lips, “I don’t want you to go.”

“Mm, I don’t either. But my client is extremely demanding. Gotta get to the site on time to make her happy,” he mutters, tongue swiping against you. Your heart flutters, cheeks warming as he pulls away with a smile, “I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Stay a little while longer?”

He answers by pulling the sheets around the both of you, his arms cradling you against him despite the sweat you’ve both worked up. Joel kisses you again, his hand sliding up your back to rest at the base of your neck.

He’s warm and solid against you, his breathing heavy and deep, but you know he’s not asleep yet.

“Joel?”

“Mm?”

“Are you gonna tell Tommy?” You ask, not out of fear or hesitancy, but simple curiosity. If he tells his brother, what will that convey about the two of you? 

He lifts his head to peek down at you and arches an eyebrow, “Do you want me to?”

You shrug, truly unsure. You’re still married. He’s still technically working for you, and you’re not sure what this means for either of you. 

“Don’t see that it’s any of his business. But I meant what I said earlier. I don’t do shit half way, darlin’. This ain’t some game to me,” he tells you, resting on his elbow to look down at you. You look up at him with wide, glimmering eyes, “You either want this, or you don’t. But you better tell me soon so I –”

“I like you too,” you blurt, cutting him off so he doesn’t spiral. You’re growing accustomed to his directness. He doesn’t want to play mind games like some men. Doesn’t want to string you along. It’s refreshing. “I – I don’t want to tell Tommy, though. Not until you’re done… working for me.”

A sly smile creeps onto his face, “You don’t want him to know I’m fuckin’ the boss?”

“No!” Your skin heats and you bring the sheet up to hide your embarrassment, “It’ll look like I’m taking advantage of you.”

“Darlin’, if anyone’s takin’ advantage, it’s me,” he chuckles, pulling the sheet down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Saw you walkin’ around in those skimpy little outfits and couldn’t help myself.”

“I didn’t exactly give you a choice, Joel. I basically stripped naked and threw myself at you.”

“Still,” he shrugs, “Could’ve said no.”

You look up at him with a slight smile, his eyes warm and gentle, softened in the dull light of the bedroom lamp, “Glad you didn’t.”

He smiles back. “Me too.”

The next morning, you wake to an email from your lawyer telling you that the papers have been delivered to Jeremy. He was confused and pissed off, but it’s done. The weight of it shifts something in you, the relief burning at your eyes. 

Joel left sometime during the night, but you wish you could reach for him, celebrate with him, kiss him. Because of him, your life has changed drastically in the past twenty-four hours. You want to thank him.

You get the chance to do just that over the course of the next few days, kissing him when he arrives to work on your house for the day, sitting in his lap while he eats lunch, begging him to fuck you before he leaves for the evening. It’s pure bliss, and for the first time in years, you feel something dangerously close to happiness. Something Jeremy hasn’t given you in so long, you forgot what it felt like.

You should’ve known, then, that it would all come crashing down.

AO3 | TWA Masterlist | Professor Miller’s POV

It had been two weeks. Two weeks of him dodging you in the hallway, shifting his office hours to a time that he knew wouldn’t work for you, and nearly sprinting out of the classroom after lecture. 

He’d ended the arrangement between the two of you, and while you feigned indifference at the time, it had now become all-consuming and you could think of little else other than missing the fullness of him inside you.

You took your seat in class, the usual spot, right in his eyeline. You felt torn between continuing your advances toward him and giving up entirely. Pulling out your notebook and pencil, you began to scribble on the pages - rough sketches that you’d undoubtedly scratch over later. 

A hushed voice a couple seats over caught your attention, “Oh my god, look at him. I’ve never seen him in a flannel before.” Your eyes darted over to the two girls who were whispering and then at the front of the lecture hall where Joel stood, broad shoulders looming over the square podium. 

It wasn’t abnormal for female students, and sometimes male, to gush over Professor Miller. Giggles and snickers would often follow after he addressed a student or offered any form of praise. The women in the class would blush as he affirmed their answer to his question, “That’s right, good work.” 

Students would vie for his attention, often approaching him after class to ask unnecessary questions, only to be met with his typical stern exterior. His office hours became less popular as students realized that he was not one for chatting and would only give dry replies. 

You, however, had unlocked something in him. Something that he didn’t understand and maybe even feared. A primitiveness escaped from him whenever he had you close to him, and he felt he’d made a mistake by letting it out. 

It had been a month of the two of you inappropriately using his office hours, or meeting up in the back faculty parking lot between classes, even one time in the dusty janitor’s closet. 

You knew why he cut it off, understood, even. But that wasn’t enough to distinguish the fire that once again began to build in your core as you watched him dig through his briefcase at the front of the class. 

His flannel fit him well, but even so it pulled tight across his biceps when he moved his arms. He was dressed more casually today than usual, and you found yourself analyzing the potential reasons. Was he out of clean clothes? Did he stay somewhere else and borrow other clothes? Was it some sort of casual Friday attire? Was he switching up his wardrobe? 

Your racing thoughts ceased when he stepped to the side of the podium and you saw his dark-wash jeans. You’d never seen jeans that fit someone so well and you swallowed back saliva that you felt beginning to fill your mouth. God the hold he had on you was absurd. 

He glanced up at the clock at the back of the room then scanned the student seats. The room was mostly filled. His eyes paused for the briefest second when he saw you and you unconsciously squeezed your thighs together. 

Pathetic. You were practically drooling over this man. 

Lecture seemed to last an eternity. You found yourself daydreaming about his cock and had to keep re-centering yourself to continue your note writing. You pictured the veiny girth, the perfect length that rubbed against your sweet spot deep inside. Thought about how he sounded grunting, pushing into your wet softness. A throbbing began between your legs when you remembered how deeply he came the last time, how you felt him coating your walls with every pulse from his hardened cock, and the way he was mercilessly squeezing your tits as he buried his face in your neck and groaned sinfully. 

When class ended, a female student in the front row stood up, “Professor Miller?” she asked. 

He looked over at her attentively and responded with his deep voice, “Yes?” 

“Can you help me with the assignment? I have a question about the topic of the paper.” She slung her bookbag over her shoulder and stood, awaiting his permission. 

“Of course, we can meet in my office,” he replied in his typical monotone voice and picked up his briefcase. You pretended to busy yourself with something inside your backpack as the two of them exited the classroom together. You looked up at the last second to see him peer behind him before letting the lecture hall door close after them. 

You walked the familiar pathway to his office, weaving between other students, and trying to ignore the wetness that had nearly soaked through your cotton panties. 

His office door was cracked, and you could hear the student’s voice. You stood to the side and waited, debating how foolish you were being. Desperation had grabbed hold and you were ambivalent to escaping its clutches. 

“Okay, thank you, Professor Miller,” the student’s voice rang louder as she opened the door to leave. She gave a sideways glance at you as she walked out, her face one of disappointment. No doubt she would embellish the story to her friends later. 

Now was your chance. You slipped into the room, slyly shutting the door behind you. He looked up from his desk, readjusting his glasses as he focused on you. 

He straightened his posture and sighed, leaning back onto his chair, “What do you think you’re doing?” His voice sounded exasperated but did little to discourage you. 

“I…” you hesitated, unsure of what you wanted to say. You hadn’t thought much beyond your desperate need to feel him between your legs, “wanted to talk…” 

Professor Miller tsk’d and said, “Sweetheart…we both know that’s not why you’re here.” The pet name never failed to melt you into a puddle of pure desire. 

“I told you, we can’t be doing this anymore,” his voice was forced determination. You were going to call his bluff. 

Approaching his desk, you moved your hand between your legs, putting slight pressure on your pussy overtop your skirt. His eyes dropped down to the movement of your hand and you saw his jaw tense. The muscles twitching. 

He made a hmph noise and readjusted in his seat, his hand coming down to his lap and attempting to hide what you imagined was a growing erection. 

“You need to leave,” his tone had softened, and you immediately knew you won, despite his actual words. 

You licked your lips before biting your bottom lip and stepping right in front of him. His chair was facing sideways, allowing you to stand right in front of his parted legs, the hem of your skirt brushing his jeans. 

You reached down and picked up his hand, he flinched momentarily before letting you guide him. You rested his palm against your hip and allowed the smallest whine to escape your lips. His eyes darkened immediately and you felt his fingertips push into your soft flesh. 

“You still want me to leave?” you asked, big puppy dog eyes staring straight at him. 

He pulled his hand away from your hip and scooted his chair back. Your heart sank before you heard him say, “Lock the door.” 

The words had barely left his lips before you were turning back to the door and locking it hurriedly. You hadn’t any time to turn back around before you felt his hands at your waist. 

His lips met the shell of your ear, and you felt the vibrations of his voice through your hair as he said, “you gonna let me teach you?” 

You swallowed at the words and nodded silently. 

“Uh uh, babygirl, you know what I want…” his hands trailed down your waist to your hips, his thumbs rounding your ass as he squeezed. 

“Yes, Professor,” you cooed, tilting your head back to rest on his firm chest. You pushed your ass back into his crotch, feeling a throb of his cock. 

“Oh, good girl,” Joel grinded against you once before taking a step back, “we’re gonna try something new today. You up for that, baby?” 

You could practically cry with want at his words, you nodded quickly accompanied with a, “Yes, Professor.” 

He threaded his fingers through your hair, cupping the back of your head as he leaned down and planted a firm kiss to your forehead. You leaned into it until he pulled your head back slowly, forcing you to look up at him, and you finally saw just how blown out his pupils were. 

With a grip on your hair, he pulled down, lowering you to your knees until you were facing the outline of his cock. Your lips parted slightly and an involuntary whimper left your lips. 

“Easy there, sugar,” Joel hummed, “we’re gonna take this slow, yeah?” 

“Yes, Professor.” 

You watched as he slowly unzipped his jeans then, fingers hooked into the waistband, pulled them down along with his boxers, unsheathing his large cock. It bounced in your face but you stayed still, awaiting his instructions. Heart pounding. 

“Go ahead and kiss it, baby. Show him how much you missed him.” He kept one hand at his side and set the other one on the back of your head, not applying any pressure, just cradling you. 

Trying not to be too eager, you gave a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, salty precum glossing your lips. You licked them clean before returning your lips to his hard shaft, kissing up and down. You started with small pecks before transitioning to open mouthed kisses, allowing your own saliva to start to accumulate on his cock. 

Joel was silent, just patiently watching you, an adoring smile spread across his face. Precum began to gather at the tip and you pulled away to watch it. His cock bounced with a throb and you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to catch the drip of precum as it landed on your flattened tongue. 

Joel praised you sweetly, “What a good girl.” 

You batted your eyelashes at him as you peered up. He leaned down and planted another kiss atop your head before straightening up again and saying, “Now I’m gonna need you to open up real wide, okay? Hands here.” He patted the fronts of his thighs and you obeyed, placing your hands right where his had been. 

You dropped your jaw, opening your mouth as wide as you could. Professor Miller took his cock in his hand, his other hand placed back on your head, now resting on the top. He gazed hungrily at your open mouth and then eased the tip of his cock onto your tongue. 

He let it rest there, watching your saliva start to wash up around it. “Suck, baby.” 

You closed your lips around his cock and hollowed your cheeks, swallowing down salty precum with your spit. You continued sucking and drinking until he groaned menacingly and pulled his cock out of your mouth. 

“Fuck, ya got a perfect mouth ya know that?” His thumb brushed your lips and he clenched his jaw before continuing, “Open up again, honey, we’re gonna go deeper this time.” 

“Yes, Professor Miller,” you said before opening your mouth, earning a pleased smile from him. 

He took his time, once again easing his cock into your mouth. You felt the stretch as he pushed further. The tip of his cock nudged the back of your throat and you gagged, pulling away quickly. Tears stung your eyes and you looked up at him. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, baby,” Joel dropped to his knees in front of you, both his hands now cradling your face. He kissed you passionately and you warmed at the touch. He brushed the hair out of your face and smiled reassuredly, “you wanna try again? I’ll give you a better lesson this time.” 

You nuzzled into his hand and said, “Yes, please, Professor.” 

He stood up once more and stroked his cock a couple times, making your mouth water. “Can you spit on it f’me?” 

You hadn’t done this before, and felt yourself growing nervous, not wanting to look foolish. Professor Miller caught your uncertainty and met it with warmth. 

“It’s okay, this is going to get messy, honey. It’s part of it.” 

At his reassurance, you gathered saliva in your mouth then spat onto his cock, a connecting string of spit lingering. 

“That’s it, now open up,” he commanded. 

You obeyed and he promptly shoved his cock into your mouth, gentleness falling to the wayside. But you were okay with that, feeling your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Okay now, I need you to breathe through your nose,” he set his hand back atop your head, eyes focused on your face, “let me see.” 

You wrapped your lips around his cock and breathed through your nose, holding his cock in your mouth. 

“Good, good,” he spoke patiently but you could hear the rough edge to his voice, “now I want you to relax your throat, don’t fight me. Okay?”

You nodded and hummed around his cock, precum beading once more as you felt it reach the back of your tongue. 

“I’m gonna push in now, you better take it, okay? I know you can take it for me, baby. You’re such a good girl f’me.” 

You moaned as his grip on your head tightened, pushing down slightly as he eased his cock into your throat. You’d never felt something so deep in your mouth before and you felt your throat stretch to accommodate his girth. 

You did as he instructed and continued to breathe through your nose. You looked up at him through watery eyes, doing all you could to fight off the gag as he held his cock deep in your throat. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re a natural. Shit,” he said through agonizing pleasure. You could sense he was restraining himself. 

He pulled out completely, letting you catch your breath. You noticed the ache between your legs, growing need being unmet. He played with your hair, twirling it in his fingers and combing through it until your breathing evened out. 

You looked up at him and you knew that you looked fucked out, even without him touching you. He smirked and said, “how’s my girl doin’?” 

Letting out a small whimper you murmured, “Good, Professor.” 

He nodded, his thumb brushing your bottom lip and tugging it down slightly, then releasing it with smack against your upper lip. He moved his thumb between your lips, your mouth opening just enough for him to slide his digit into your mouth. You sucked at it dutifully and he watched you through piercing eyes, his brain imagining every crude thing he’d like to do to you. 

“I’m gonna fuck that pretty mouth now, okay?” 

You opened your mouth in response and he removed his thumb, replacing it quickly with his hardened cock. His hand came back to the top of your head, this time grabbing a fistful of your hair. His other hand joined beside it and he began to thrust at a slow pace. 

You remembered his instructions and focused on breathing through your nose, and opening your throat as much as you could for him. 

He picked up speed, fucking into your mouth with his dripping cock. Spit began to build steadily in your mouth and created lewd sounds that filled the room. It began to drip out of your mouth and down your chin, his balls slapping against the wetness that was coating your face. 

He closed his eyes and groaned, relishing in the tight, warm feeling of your throat. You kept your eyes looking up at him, hardly noticing the discomfort forming in your jaw from how wide you had to keep your mouth just to fit him. 

Feeling used felt so good. While they weren’t words that he would ever say to you, you loved feeling like you were his fucktoy. You wanted him to use your holes as if he owned them. Wanted him to abuse you until you were sore and crying. It was rare to see him fully let go like this, and you wanted it to last for as long as possible. 

Your arousal was building to a painful level, and you moved your heel underneath your crotch, grinding down in hopes of feeling any sort of friction, seeking relief. 

Joel put his hands on the back of your head and shoved you as far down on his cock as you could go. Your nose mashed into his dark, curly pubes, his cock buried all the way down your throat, and his balls pressed against your chin. 

“Look at me, babygirl,” he demanded. His voice was wrecked. You obliged and looked up at him, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks, breathing deeply in and out through your nose, trying your hardest to not gag. 

“Oh fuck, honey, you look so beautiful stuffed with my cock.” You gagged lightly, your hands braced on his thighs and his eyes rolled back into his head. “Just one more moment, sweetie, you’re doing so good for me. You’re doing perfect.” 

It took everything in you to not rip away from his cock, not that you actually could with how firmly he was holding your head. Even so, with the discomfort of choking on his cock, your pussy still dripped and ached for contact. You grinded down on your heel again, and this time, Professor Miller took note. 

He released your head and you stumbled backwards, your hands flying behind you to stop you from crashing onto the floor. He bent down toward you, wiping some of the spit that was hanging from your chin and then leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the lips. 

His cock was jutted out in front of him, the tip red and swollen, and your spit hanging down, dripping off. You were panting and looking up at him, wide-eyed, wanting. 

“Does my baby need some attention?” His eyes were focused on the area between your legs, and you pulsed realizing that he was referring to your pussy, not you. 

You nodded, brain fuzzy, and it wasn’t until he shot you a disapproving look that you quickly muttered, “Y-yes, Professor Miller…please.” 

“I got you something,” he said as he made his way back to his desk. He pulled open the bottom desk drawer and your jaw dropped as you saw what was in his hand. 

A long purple dildo with a suction cup at the end was gripped in his hand. He smirked at your expression and approached you. “What do you think honey? You wanna try it?” 

“P-please, yes,” you uttered, your wetness now completely soaked through your underwear and creating slick between your legs. 

Professor Miller stood in front of you, then bent down and secured the dildo to the floor with a loud suction noise. You looked up at him, mildly confused. 

“You’re not done with your assignment, baby. But I’ll let you use this while you finish.” 

You stayed kneeling on the floor, waiting for explicit instructions from your professor. 

“Stand up,” he reached his hand down to help pull you up. As soon as you were standing, he got on his knees, creaking as he did so. 

His hands roamed up your legs, appreciating your body. When his fingertips reached the top of your tights, he hooked them into the fabric, along with your panties, and pulled them down, helping you step out of them. 

Your hands gripped your skirt, ready to pull the material down before his hands covered your own. “No baby, this is staying on, alright?” You nodded and gave a quick, “Yes, professor.” 

“Now I need you to straddle this for me, okay? And you’re gonna sink down on it real slow. But I’m gonna make this a little challenging. You listening?” His eyes searched your glazed over expression, desire was making a fool of you. 

“Yes, professor.” You had to work to speak, words wanting to evade you. 

“Good girl. You’re gonna suck on my cock as you sink down, okay? And you’ve gotta keep your eyes on me the whole time. No looking away and no stopping sucking. You got that, pretty girl?” 

God, you were wrecked at his words alone. You whimpered and squeezed your thighs together. Professor Miller chuckled and held your hands as you shuffled over top of the dildo on your knees. 

He spat into his hand and gave his cock a couple pumps, not wanting to ask anymore of you and taking it into his own hands. 

He stood in front of you now and spoke with equal parts firmness and tenderness, “Open your mouth, sweetie.” 

You took his throbbing cock in your mouth, loving the briny taste. You began to suck, bobbing your head up and down his cock, cheeks hollowing every time you pulled back near the tip. 

“Fuck, yes, don’t stop, baby, don’t you dare stop,” Joel groaned in pleasure as he watched you needily suck his cock. 

You moaned at his words and then slowly started to lower yourself onto the dildo. You were so wet that your pussy practically sucked it in. You whimpered at the stretch as you continued sinking. 

“Look at me,” the harshness in his voice jerked your head up toward him, as you hadn’t realized that your eyes were closed. “There ya go, baby, keep goin’.” 

You were now fully seated on the dildo, piercing yourself on it in the best way possible. You began to rock back and forth, allowing it to rub against your spongy spot deep inside. 

You moaned loudly, holding eye contact with him and sucking on his cock with all your might. His hands found your head again and he gently moved you forward and backward in the rhythm that he liked. 

You matched the rhythm with the rocking of your hips and finally felt sated with the fullness inside you. Totally blissed out, it was like the room began to blur other than Professor Miller standing above you, looking down with his mouth ajar at the absolute filth he was witnessing. 

“Fuck, you’re so sexy kneeling in front of me, mouth full of my cock. I wish you could see yourself, pretty girl.” 

Your walls fluttered around the dildo at his words. You reached a hand down to your clit, quickly rubbing circles to bring yourself to the edge. 

“I’m gonna cum soon, sweet thing. You gonna be good for me and swallow it all down? Huh?” He thrusted into your mouth hard, rocking you back a bit. “You gonna earn your A?” 

You moaned an affirmative that he seemed to understand. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl.” He praised. 

You’d brought yourself to your peak and Joel saw the shift in your eyes. He grinned, allowing you to slow your pace on his cock so you could focus on your own release. 

“Let go, baby, let me see you cream around that dildo. Ride it hard.” 

You bounced up and down, briefly forgetting about his cock that was still lodged in your mouth. You felt it slamming deep inside you, bumping against your cervix in a delightfully painful way. You thrusted yourself down, fingers circling desperately at your swollen clit, and then you came undone. 

Your mouth opened as your orgasm peaked and Joel watched in admiration as his cock rested on your tongue and you whimpered and whined, coming down from your release. He gave you a moment to recenter yourself before his hands were back on your head. 

“Just a little longer, almost there, baby, almost there. Fuck.” 

You peered up at him with glossy eyes, tears forming a smeared mascara mess underneath. You let him use your head, moving it up and down his shaft until you felt him spasm. His hips stuttered and he spilled in your mouth, down your throat. 

The salty spend coating your tongue and the walls of your throat, and you drank it down greedily. Professor Miller watched you with blissed out eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

The dildo was still inside you and you felt the final pulses of your pussy squeezing it. You looked up at Joel and then down at the dildo you were pierced on.

He helped you stand up, the dildo creating a squelching noise as it left your body. Joel pulled your panties on and handed you your tights. You reached down and tucked them into your backpack, smoothed down your skirt. 

You both looked down at the dildo stuck to the floor, glistening with your fluids dripping down from it. Joel looked like he was about to get on his knees and worship the thing as you felt your face flush. 

“Damn, baby,” he looped his arm around your waist and kissed your cheek. 

“Thank you,” you said, nuzzling your head into his chest. 

He pulled back and with his finger under your chin, tilted your face up to look at him. “Sweet thing,” he muttered, using his thumbs to wipe away the mascara under your eyes. 

He moved to his desk and plucked a few kleenex out of the box, bringing them to you and then getting on his knees to clean up the mess between your legs. You ran your fingers through his wavy hair as he tended to you. 

He stood up, disposed of the tissues, then returned to you, placing his hand on your back, “Are you good, baby?” 

You nodded quickly with a smile, “Yeah, I’m good. Better than, I think.” 

He hummed in approval and moved back to his desk, taking a seat. You collected your things and made your way back to the door, clicking the lock to open it up. 

“I’m changing my office hours,” Professor Miller said. 

You looked back at him questioningly. He was leaning over his desk, holding his pen and preparing to return to his grading. He glanced up at you, peering through his glasses. 

“Going back to the old hours. You know, if you need help with that assignment.”