☆ liv

You watch his big hands twist the screw tighter, and the way his veins jump in his forearm as he grips the screwdriver tighter. The way his thick fingers curl around the handle. You feel yourself squeezing around nothing, already wet from your blood you feel it mix with your arousal. Your hands go clammy, the want and need is so bad that you genuinely feel like it’s making your heart hurt. You bite down on the knuckle of your hand that unconsciously made its way into your mouth. God you feel so pathetic and desperate right now.

But you haven’t had sex on your period.. you’ve taken care of yourself before sure. So you excuse yourself to do just that, you tell Frank that you’re going to go have a shower because you “haven’t had one today”. His eyebrow quirks up as you scurry off.

Closing the door behind you, you turn the shower on and peel off your clothes you step into the hot spray. You stand there eyes closed as he consumes your mind. Your finger trails slowly down your neck over your nipple as you circle over it, tweaking one in your finger trying to pretend it was franks hands instead. God this is stupid you think to yourself, he’s just outside .. but your brain quickly shuts the thought of asking for what you need down. So you continue, just a quick release you think to yourself.

So you continue massaging your breast with one hand as the other trails down your stomach and your finger begins circling your clit. You let your head fall back into the spray of water, eyes screwed shut imagining all the ways Frank touches you.

How his touch feels, how his lips and tongue feel when they trail over your body, how it feels when he slips his tongue in your mouth.. or in your hole and of course how his girth feels inside of you.

You lean your back on the tiles and sink down to the floor. Water still spraying you as you spread your legs a little to give yourself better access. Two fingers slide from your clit down to your hole as you push them in “oh frankieee” you whimper to yourself imagine they were his.

You alternate between pushing your fingers in and out of your hole and then circling around your clit. You look down, seemingly unbothered by the red that’s washing away from between your legs. And how it looks like each pump of your fingers pushes fresh blood out. Your other hand still massaging away at your sensitive breast and nipple.

You hear a creak as you feel a cool rush of air infiltrate your hot steamy sanctuary. You look up through the water and see the mass that is frank staring down at you through the shower door, fully clothed. Your brain catching up to speed as you scramble your way up.

You look down at your feet “hi” you offer sheepishly. Too embarrassed to look at him. You’re so sure he was watching you through the foggy glass shower door. You want to cry, you probably looked so pathetic. Moaning your boyfriend’s name in the shower when he was right outside the door.. too consumed by want for him but too embarrassed to ask him.

As you stand to your feet Franks eyes can’t help but catch the trickle of blood that races down your inner thigh. His cock already hard from the little show you unknowingly gave him starts dripping at the streaks of blood on your fingers that you’re trying to hide behind your back. The way you’re so shy and embarrased when you were just sighing his name while pleasuring yourself 30 seconds ago sends a rush of want straight to his cock.

“What're you doing baby?” He asks, somewhat mocking - but you catch the way his breath hitches.

“N-nothing, just showering” you say hesitantly still unable to meet his eyes

“On the floor?” He presses with his eyebrow quirked up

“I-I just.. yeah” you reply, almost mumbling. Hoping he doesn’t hear. Hoping the ground swallows you whole.

He reaches his arm forward hand cupping your face to make you look up at him “baby.. you lyin’ to me?” he chides.

“Well.. technically no, I am in the shower.” You look up at him now. Unfortunately him semi reprimanding you while being fully clothed and you stark naked isn’t the mood killer you’d hoped it’d be. Quite the opposite in fact.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time” he says firmer

“I-I just.. want you.. but” you sigh, looking up into his eyes

“But what? I’m yours honey, I’m always yours… why didn’t you ask ?” he questions, more sincerity in his tone

“Because” you look down “because of that” gesturing at the blood that’s washing down the drain.

“Why would that stop you?” He asks, genuinely confused not following your apprehension.

“Baby… you don’t want me like this” you whisper softly

He steps in the shower still fully clothed. Backing you up against the shower wall. Pressing his hip into your front and you feel the unmistakable hardness in his sweats. A small gasp leaves your mouth when his hand reaches down between your legs as he starts running his thick digits through your soaking folds.

“Who says I don’t want you like this huh? I want you all the fuckin time sweetheart” he says lowly, pushing two of his fat fingers inside you now - proving his point.

You moan looking up at him, your fist twisting in his t-shirt and sweats that are now fully soaked. You feel your eyes well up and you’re hoping he doesn’t notice with the shower still on. “Are you sure Frankie?” You ask him, so softly praying the wobble on your voice doesn’t give you away. He brings his hand to cup your face, other hand still working away at your folds. “M’sure baby, you’ll tell me if it’s hurting yeah?” He replies matching the softness in your voice “just wanna make my baby feel good yeah? Don’t want it to hurt baby” eyes locked on yours littering soft kisses all over your face, ending at your lips. “Mhmm I’ll tell you, please Frankie” you whisper into his mouth.

Your hands push his sweat pants and briefs down and he kicks it out of the shower while he removes his fingers from your hole to peel off his soaked shirt. He’s back on you in an instant. He takes your arm and guides them so you hold on to his shoulders. His hands go just under your ass as he picks up up, gently pushing you against the wall. He pins your there with his body and he locks his lips with yours - your mouth opens straight away giving his tongue access. The cool tiles on your back with the heat of the water on your body and the feel of franks tongue exploring your mouth make your pussy throb.

“Frankie pleaseee i need you” you cry into his mouth. He looks down between your bodies, between the valley of your heaving sensitive tits and sees the blood smeared on his lower torso from where your cunt was pressed into him. The sight making the hunger deep in his gut burn.

“Okay babygirl, I got you, hold tight yeah” he coos. With his firm grip on your hips and your arms around his shoulders locking your bodies together he finally gives you what you’ve been craving. He inches himself in slowly, his eyes fixated on you watching for any signs of discomfort. And there definitely is none when he sees the way your eyes roll back and your jaw goes slack. He smiles as he kisses the side of your neck “feel good baby?” He whispers and all you can let out in response is a high pitched “mhm” as the dull ache in your lower abdomen is completely drowned out by the intense stretch of him. “goddd you feel so good honey, so fuckin soaked” he groans as he bottoms out.

You're sandwiched between his hot chest pressing your tits up and the cool tiles on your back as he slowly continues to pump into you. Your hole is so sensitive you feel every single ridge of his veiny hard cock as he drags it in and out of you slowly, testing to see your reactions. He slides one of his hands up to cup your breasts, massaging gently with a firmer press of your nipple between his finger. He grinds his cock in and out of you as if he cant bear being out of you for a second too long.

He continues pumping in and out of you, impaling you against the wall. Both of your lips are locked onto each others as he swallows all your mewls and breathy whimpers "mmfuck baby feel so full" you sigh into him as he breaks apart to look between your bodies to where his cock pulls out and thrusts back into you. He see's the dark red of your blood streak his shaft and dribble down the base of his hard cock. "look at that baby, paintin' ma fuckin cock-christ-so fuckin hot" he grunts as his cock twitches, he feels his heavy balls tighten at the sight, your pussy tightens around him in response

Frank slips the hand down that was massaging your tits between your body. His thumb making itself home on your sensitive swollen clit. "oh fuckkkk frankie" your hips jump in response at the sensation. He smiles into your neck "yeah i know honey, you let it all go, i got you-frankies got you baby" his grip tightening on your ass as his thumb continues its ministrations around your clit. Your legs lock tighter around his waist as his thrusts get deeper and deeper, not harder, no. He knows what you need as the tip of his leaking cock massages through your walls, kissing your cervix. He knows your body so well, knows that in a few more deep thrusts and a few more circles around your bundle of nerves he'll have you convulsing around him.

And that you do, it hits you like a freight train, all your nerve endings feel like theyve been set ablaze. "ahhmygod yes frankie, im coming baby" you mewl as your hips rock, your legs seizing up as your arms strangle around his neck. But frank doesn't let up, he continues his steady pace, rocking his cock in and out of you as your pulsing walls milk him. Pumping his hot heavy cum into you "oh fuuuuckk shes fuckin milking me honey jesuss christ" he groans into you as his hips still. Spearing you into the wall with his cock.

Your breaths hot as the whole bathroom is fogged up with the steam from the shower and your sex. Frank gently pulls out and sees his come mixed with streaks of your blood drip out of your spent hole. The sight unlocks something primal in his brain.

He sets you down and spins you gently so your chest is pressed up against the glass of the shower wall. The sudden cold of the glass pressed against your tits making your body jump. You feel like a baby girrafe learning how to walk as your legs stumble. But you feel Franks mass behind you in an instant, holding you up, his lips on your neck. "C-can I taste please baby i just-fuck- just gotta clean you up yeah? yeah yeah thats it just cleaning you up baby" he desperately pants, sounding like he was trying you convince himself more than you that this was okay.

"mmhm yeah Frankie" is all your fucked out brain can manage in your blissed out haze. He drops to his knees, his meaty paws spreading your cheeks furthers apart. His eyes wild watching your hole pulse as you push out his come with fresh spurts of blood. Before his brain can chastise himself further, he lurches forward. Tongue straight into your hole, slurping at the sweet, metallic and salty concoction. Frank is reduced to grunts as he wildly licks up all your combined juices and fucks it back into your hole with his tongue."Oh goddd baby fuckkk" you cry out, one of your hand reaches back and hooks into franks hair as your ass unconsciously pushes back into his face. "yeah fuck my face cmon baby" he grunts into you as you grind your hips on his tongue.

It's obscene really, you know it is but as shameful as you should feel it’s really the opposite. It's dirty, it's urgent, it's primal and Frank on his knees for you when youre like this makes the second wave of your orgasm hit so much harder. Your other hand grips the top of the shower wall as your knees start to buckle as his tongue laps harder. Frank feels you go as you start to mewl. Your vision goes white, your moans so high pitched it sounds like you're crying "yes yes yes fuck babyyy" you wail into the steam. "yeah c'mon baby cmon" he growls, his grip tightening on your hips to hold you up as your feet start to lift off the ground, your toes curling while he works you through peak.

You feel like jelly as your body starts to melt down into him. Frank kisses his way up from the curve of your ass up your back and behind your neck as he takes the full weight of your body on his. He grabs the shower head off its holder and brings you down to the shower floor with him, situating you between his legs so your back is resting on his chest.

Your chest heaving as your panting getting your breath back while frank peppers you with soft kisses. Using the shower head he holds it up so the spray is gently washing over you. "you did so good baby, you feeling okay?" he coos while brushing your wet hair out of your face. You hum contently as you crane your head to look up at him, your blood smeared across his face. You can help but smile, he looks just as content as you. You press a soft kiss into his chest as you make a cup with your hands to collect some water and help clean his face. He smiles down at you pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Frank takes a few pumps of your body wash and lathers up the inside if your thighs, cleaning you up as he washes it away with the shower head. "Open up baby" he softly asks, you spread your legs a little and he angles the shower head, the soft stream of warm water spraying down your sensitive pussy. He brings his hands down between your legs to help wash away all the juices ever so softly cleaning you up, washing the water through your folds. You feel your heart swell at the way he cares for you like this. Its not sexual, its so soft and intimate as he lathers up the soap over your breasts to clean you up nice and thorough before scooping you up "lets get you to bed huh" he whispers before placing a soft kiss on your cheek "thank you Frankie" you sigh, eyes closed, body limp in his arms.

After getting into bed you’re cocooned into him, wearing one of his tshirts. Franks heavy warm hand on your lower belly acting as your heating pad as you drift off sleep in your little warm sanctuary ❤️

_

Thinking about Joel with those strands of grey marring his grown out hair and that scratchy peppering of facial hair.

Those glasses that slip down from the bridge of his nose; making him grumble every damn time they drop and he has to reach a finger up to put them back into place in the day.

His flannel is stripped away, worn tshirt just barley stretching over the plush curve of his belly. He's bigger now than he was when he and Ellie got to Jackson- stockier even- a routine in place meaning a type of comfort and with that comfort comes meals more than a can of scavenged beans or ravioli.

His thighs are bigger now too, thick and strong, muscles hidden under chubbed, hair smattered skin that has denim pulling sinfully tight over them.

Even his balls are round and fat, full and often just a tad achey as they rest in his pants.

That ache has followed him around for a while, his cock refusing to play the same game now he's way past 40. And Joel's tried- Jesus fuck has he tried- to get blood rushing south for a minute of bliss in this new found sanctuary.

But much like most in this world now; thing's happen when you least expect it, never when you want it.

Early morning light shimmers through the curtains of Joel's bedroom window, casting shadows on the walls. He rests on his side, bad ear down against a cushioning pillow. He grunts half conscious, trying to shift onto his front, belly pressing down on the mattress as his hips meet uncomfortable resistance.

It takes a second to click, for Joel to catch up from the haze of sleep, to realise that its his cock finally having stirred. Bulge thick and hot as it leaks stuck between boxers and thigh.

Bringing a wide palm down beneath the sheets doesn't help; a heavy, heady grumble vibrating from the depths of his chest at the slightest pressure. Joel's eyes blink open blearily, adjusting to the dim light as he lets out a sigh rolling onto his back.

The sheets ruck as his hips lift then, worn plaid pajama pants along with damp boxers and the duvet pushed down just past Joel's old knees. The cool air of his bedroom drawing a hiss from between his teeth as it brushes the swollen, sensitive head of his solid cock.

That hand comes up, spit slowly building inside his mouth, before he lets a glob drop from his lips. Palm now slick Joel's groan at the first contact is loud, breathy even. Sighing sound louder than he perhaps intends, echoing around the walls.

He takes it slow, despite the ache. Relishing in every tightly gripped jerk of his slicken fist. The sound is obscene, sight even more so. Mushroom tip flushed, drooling pearly drops of pre, veins pulsing in his palm.

It feels good.

Fuck. It feels so good.

It'd been so long since Joel got to experience this, the pleasure sparking off like fireworks up his spine, haze of sleep making everything just that little bit more intense. Calloused thumb swiping the tip as it dribbles, hips pumping up to chase the feeling that tingles beneath his skin.

In the bliss his mind wanders, hazy and growing fuzzy, a growl sliding past his lips at the thought of you. Of soft lines and that pretty pout on your lips, tongue wide and waiting. Neck and chest littered with kiss tinted bruises, the soft fatness of your tits in his palms, nipples pebbled and oh so sensitive from the lewd suckles and flicks of his tongue.

He thinks of your hips, his own bucking up wildly from the mattress with each slick stroke of his tightened fist. Where his hands would grip, where flesh would be squeezed and manipulate beneath him. How he'd ensure adoration would go toward every single perfect fucking inch of your body no matter how heated the moment.

And he of course thinks of that sweet little mound between those soft, perfect thighs. How could he not? Decorated with that little thatch of hair that keeps your shy delicate clit just tucked from view.

Groans after pleasure fueled moans fill Joel's bedroom, headboard thumping against the wall slightly from the vigor his dazed state fucks himself with. He's getting close, that coil that blooms in his stomach extending down to draw his balls in pulsing lifts.

"Awh fucking c-christ" he mewls, letting the it grow as that feeling tingles up his spine. The same spine that protests the way it bows up as Joel's head tilts back against the pillows to gasp in a lungful of air, fist so tight around his cock his knuckles are almost white.

The mental images grow too much then, the sloppy, squelchy sounds with each pass of his leaking cock gliding in his hand too, barreling his orgasm into his body like the impact of a car crashing into a wall. Pearly seed spurts thick and in several fast twitchy ropes onto his belly, seemingly endless as Joel's eyes roll back before shutting entirely as his hand stills.

His grunts taper off as his chest heaves, cum pooling hot on peppered hair atop a rounded belly as the ropes finally begin to dribble off the tip and onto his fingers instead.

When his eyes do open again, lashes brushing his cheeks, a breathless chuckle drops free. There's so much, so fucking much, its truly a miracle his shirt remains clean despite the absolute mess hes made of himself.

Letting go of his now softening dick his mind decides to offer one final cruel thought. A hazy question that makes him twitch- could that sweet little pussy of yours handle this much cum? Hes almost positive you'd be leaking around him within the first few spurts-

Joel's stomach churns at the idea, mouth long dry. He considers it for a second still, exhausted, absolutely fucking spent. So a decision is made. Mercy to toward the sensitivity of his cock, bating any further thought about the answer away as quick as it flickered in.

Your face was flushed, flushed enough that steam could’ve poured out of your ears. And in your hand was the source of it all—a harmless little card made of blue and white cardstock. It had a cheerful cartoon on the front and big, blocky letters that read Happy Father’s Day! The kind of thing you’d grab at the last minute while picking up toothpaste and a Gatorade. Joel had opened it, smiled a little at the sentiment, and tossed it on the dresser without a second thought.

That had been his mistake.

“Who is she?” you asked, your voice sharp and almost eerily calm, holding the card between two fingers like it had been dipped in something rotten.

“It’s from my neighbor,” he said quickly. “That’s all. She put it in my mailbox. I don’t even—”

“Does she give you cards for every holiday, Joel?” Your voice rose, the tone saccharine, but he only knew it as a warning. 

He blinked. “What? No.”

“Christmas?”

“No!”

“Valentine’s Day?”

“Would you quit it?”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll quit it,” you replied sweetly, and before he could stop you, you were reaching into your back pocket for your Zippo. You flipped it open, rolled your thumb over the wheel, and lit the flame with simple finality.

He watched you hold the card to the fire, watched it curl and blacken, the edges glowing orange as it turned to ash in your hand. You dropped the smoldering remains into the little blue trash bin by his dresser and brushed your fingers off like you’d just done something as ordinary as take out the trash.

“Happy now?” he muttered.

“Not quite,” you snapped back, arms folded, mouth drawn tight in a pout that made him want to bend you over his knee.

He stepped toward you slowly, the fight still buzzing in the room like a second heartbeat. “I got somethin’ that could make you feel better.”

“Oh yeah?” you countered, no playfulness to your voice yet, and not moving an inch.

He nodded, a grin starting to pull at his lips even though he knew better. Even though there were claw marks on his back from the last time you got jealous. Even though last week you keyed a heart into the hood of his truck. You were fucking insane. Certifiable. But so was he. Because he was no better when his temper got to him. And yet you both seemed bound to each other, always coming back like moths to a bonfire.

“C’mere,” he said, voice rough as he approached you.

You sighed as his arms came around you, wrapping them tight, hands smoothing down your spine. Maybe if he held you hard enough, you’d melt into him, forgetting about the stupid card.

“Only want you, you know,” he murmured against your temple.

You tilted your head, lips ghosting the side of his neck before you bit down hard—right into the tender skin at his jaw, teeth sinking into the beard where it hurt the most. He hissed, breath catching, jeans already going tight.

“Good,” you whispered, releasing your hold to kiss his earlobe.

Yeah. You were both fucked.

You

The next morning, you were all tangled limbs and mellow sunlight spilling through the slats of the blinds when Joel’s alarm started buzzing. He groaned, the sound deep in his chest, dragging a heavy arm from around your shoulders to reach for the clock. You rolled on top of him before he could, laying across his stomach and stretching to shut it off yourself.

“Just a few more minutes,” you whispered, your bare body melting across his, cheek against his beard as you pressed lazy kisses to the coarse scruff. The dark hair tufting his chest tickled your skin as you slid higher, lips brushing his mouth.

“Gotta get up,” he rumbled, kissing you back even as his voice betrayed how badly he didn’t want to.

“Tell the guys you’ll be late,” you purred, mouthing down the column of his throat, your tongue dragging over the warm salt of his skin. You felt him stir beneath you, his morning hardness nudging your thigh. “Tell them I kept you in bed, that I made you come so hard you forgot what day it was. They’ll understand.”

“Oh yeah?” His hand tightened on your hip, gravel-thick voice edged with amusement. 

You nodded against his skin as he added: “Now, if I tell ‘em that, you makin’ it worth my while? Or are these lies n’ empty promises?”

You smiled as you slipped down his body, sheets falling over your head as you disappeared beneath them. He was already half-hard when you kissed the trail of dark hair leading south, licking lightly at the ridges of his lower abdomen until his cock was heavy in your hand. You dragged your tongue up the underside, tracing the thick vein that wrapped around him, before swallowing his cock into the heat of your mouth.

“Christ,” Joel hissed, his head falling back against the pillows. The sound of your spit mixed with the wet drag of your lips filled the room, obscene and slick. His hips jerked when you moaned around him, throat working to take him deeper.

Before long, his hand was in your hair, tugging you up with a roughness that made your stomach flip. “Enough,” he muttered, pulling you to straddle him again. “I ain’t blowin’ my load down your throat when I should be fuckin’ you.”

He flipped you easily, pressing you forward until your knees dug into the mattress and your cheek brushed the sheets. The moment he pushed inside you, the sharp stretch knocked a gasp from your lungs. His hips slammed against your ass, heavy, rhythmic, the slap of skin echoing in the quiet morning.

That was when you heard a faint vibration against the nightstand and looked for the source—Joel’s phone. The noise rattled steady and insistent as his thrusts picked up, and you twisted just enough to grab it, shoving the buzzing rectangle into the pillows beneath you.

Joel groaned behind you, too lost in the velvet keep of your body to notice. You angled the phone so you could peek at the glowing screen. 

Tommy.

A wicked smile tugged at your lips as you swiped to answer. You didn’t say hello, or any sort of greeting. Instead, you moaned into the speaker, biting your lip as Joel’s cock hit deep, the bed creaking with every thrust.

“What the fuck—” Tommy’s voice muffled faintly before you let another wanton cry spill into the phone, pushing your face into the pillows. Joel’s pace never faltered, his groans mixing with the filthy slap of bodies colliding.

You clutched the phone tighter, muffling laughter against the sheets, savoring the delicious chaos as Joel fucked you hard enough to drown out everything else.

“Oh, fuck, Joel,” you cried out, “Yes!”

You’d really put on the show for his little brother.

“Yeah, baby?” Joel growled, his thrusts sharp and deep, “That’s it, take it. Nothin’ better than my cock stuffin’ you first thing in the mornin’, huh? Greedy little thing.”

Tommy’s muffled “Jesus—” was nearly swallowed by the wet slap of Joel’s thighs on yours.

He bent over you, mouth hot against your neck. “Listen to you. Cryin’ for it already. Can’t even start the damn day without this cock stretchin’ you open, can you? You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come on daddy’s cock?”

Your grin curved wicked against the pillow, biting back a laugh as you let another loud moan slip free, feeding it to both men at once.

The thought of Tommy listening, hearing every filthy word, every cry that tore from your throat sent heat rushing straight through your belly.

“Fuck, Joel,” you sobbed, clenching tight around him. “I’m—god, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah, you are,” he snarled, thrusts growing rougher, desperate. “Come on my cock, darlin’. Make a mess for me.”

Your body gave way all at once, ecstasy ripping through you as you gasped into the pillow, your whole frame trembling as he fucked you through it. Joel’s rhythm faltered shortly after, his groan breaking into a ragged curse as he pulled out quickly, fisting his cock until you felt the warm spurts of him over your back.

The line went dead in your hand at the same moment Joel pulled out of you, pressing a kiss to the damp curve of your neck, never knowing his brother had been there to hear it all.

Later that night, the Tipsy Bison was loud and hazy with neon lights bleeding against the wood-paneled walls, laughter and clinking bottles ringing out above the low hum of music. You slid onto a high stool, legs crossed, ordering a gin and tonic while Joel lingered behind you, already scanning the room like he didn’t trust a soul in it.

When he finally joined you, the weight of his presence filled the space before he even spoke.

“You wanna tell me why my brother couldn’t look me in the eye today, baby?” Joel asked, his voice pitched low, almost swallowed by the noise around you. He tilted his head, eyes sharp, catching yours like a trap. “Got anything you wanna say?”

You lifted your glass, took a slow sip, and shrugged, the ice clinking as if to punctuate your indifference.

“Got no idea, hm?” Joel asked, shifting closer. He stood close beside you where you sat at the barstool, crowding into your space like he owned it, lifting his beer and throwing back the last of it in one swallow. His throat worked, the cool neck of the bottle glinting as he drained it, then he set it down with a final clink on the counter.

The chatter of other bar goers washed over him, but it didn’t soften the heat rolling off his body as he leaned in, towering above you. One hand found the back of your chair, his palm broad and firm, caging you in. The other skimmed casually over your bare knee, thumb brushing slow circles that made your pulse jump.

“You gonna keep playin’ dumb,” he murmured, his mouth so close you could taste the beer on his breath, “or you gonna confess about your little stunt?”

You shifted, turning so your legs were on the opposite side of the seat, “Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You slid off the stool, ignoring the heat of Joel’s stare as you weaved through the crowd toward the jukebox tucked in the corner. The din of conversation and clatter of bottles filled the air, but you could feel him trailing you, heavy footsteps never far behind.

You leaned over the jukebox, flipping through the glowing list of songs, when his hand landed on the edge beside yours, caging you in.

“You’re lucky it was just my brother,” Joel murmured, his voice pitched low, private. “If any other man knew how sweet you sounded takin’ my cock, I might’ve had to kill ‘em.”

Your jaw tightened, finger still hovering over the screen. “You’re infuriating.”

He stepped in closer, chest brushing your back, his mouth brushing your cheek. “That noise you make when I’m inside you—that’s all mine, baby. That’s the holiest thing I got. And you went and handed it off to my baby brother like it was nothin’.”

You rolled your eyes, but were unable to help the way your stomach flipped at his breath on your neck.

“Don’t tell me,” he mocked, kissing the edge of your jaw before you flinched away, “You liked my baby brother hearin’ you?”

“Ew, no.” You rolled your eyes deeper, your head starting to throb with it. 

“Don’t gotta be shy,” he said, and though it sounded playful, the low lilt of his voice was anything but sweet. He pushed into you, hips flush with your ass, your hand having to flatten on the screen to hold yourself from leaning too hard into it. His mouth dragged along your cheek, almost a nuzzle if not for the teeth grazing your skin.

“If you ever do that again with another man,” Joel growled, “if you ever try to show what’s mine, I will kill him. You hear me? If you ever even looked at another man, even thought about givin’ what belongs to me to anyone else…” His teeth scraped harder, beard rasping against your skin, making your stomach knot, your thighs press together. “I’d ruin it for you, baby. Burn it right outta that pretty little head.”

You scoffed when he pressed a sudden, gentle kiss to your ear, the tenderness a mockery after all that venom. Your song came on, the jukebox humming to life behind you, and you twisted on him, shoving him hard.

Joel’s back hit the wall with a muted thud as your palm shoved hard up under his jaw, fingers flexing against the thick muscle of his neck. He was solid and hot beneath your grip, that maddening pulse thumping steady against your thumb. And the fucker was smiling.

That lazy, half lidded, cheshire cat grin that made your blood rise and your fists clench.

You could still hear the chords of the Nirvana song bleeding through the speakers, some drunk bastard singing along, but all you could focus on was the wicked gleam in Joel’s eyes.

“I don’t belong to you or anyone else, asshole.” you seethed through your teeth. 

Mmmmm, he hummed low, the rumblings of it tickling the heart of your palm, “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, voice rich and gravelled, full of heat and poison as he adjusted his jaw in your grip. “Right there. God, I love when you get like this.”

Your fingers clenched harder around the trunk of his throat without thinking. But you began to pull away, knowing you wouldn’t win this way, “Oh, fuck y—”

His hand shot out, snatching your wrist and keeping it in place, tightening it against his throat as he leaned down further, his beer tinged breath fanning over you as he towered into your space. 

“What?” he smirked. “Gonna give up so easy? Thought we were havin’ fun.”

“Let go, you bastard,” you seethed, eyes blazing as you struggled in his grip.

And then, a voice came from behind you.

“Um… excuse me, miss?”

The words sliced through the heat of it all, unwanted and clumsy. You turned, slowly. A guy stood there, tall-ish, clean cut in that polo wearing kind of way, with a nervous demeanor and khaki shorts. His hair was gelled, his eyes a little too earnest. He looked like someone’s nephew on spring break. He could've been your age. But the Hey Dudes were the final insult.

You stiffened, though Joel didn’t move, just cocked his head in your periphery like a predator clocking fresh prey.

The boy glanced between the two of you with that same naive concern you’d seen in well meaning men your whole life. You thought he must’ve seen your hand at Joel’s throat and the heat in your cheeks and thought this was his cue. 

And then he brought his hand up, letting the clammy skin touch the heated crest of your shoulder.

Joel’s demeanor changed immediately. He went stiff, the playful smile dropping from his mouth in an instant, the fury in his eyes burning molten as he stared down at the man beside you. The grip on your wrist didn’t change, you only felt his fingers twitch as if he was thinking of using them to wrap around the man’s throat instead. 

When he finally spoke, his voice came low and even, no louder than it needed to be, but somehow clearer than everything else in the room.

“Best get your hands off ’er if you wanna keep ‘em, son.”

The kid faltered, hand tightening on your shoulder as if he wasn’t sure whether to drop it or double down. His brows knit, lips parting like he was about to stammer something out, and for a second you thought that would be the end of it—that maybe he’d mutter an apology and walk off into the haze of beer and neon and learn never to touch someone else’s girl again.

But he just kept looking at you. 

Eyes narrowed, caught on your face, and whatever brief flash of uncertainty had gripped him evaporated. Maybe he thought your silence meant hesitation. Maybe he saw the flush on your chest, the bright heat still crawling up your neck, and mistook it for distress. Maybe it was that earnestness again, that dumb, open-faced naivety that in someone else’s life, they might’ve thought was sweet.

“Miss?” he asked again, a little firmer, steeling himself, like he’d puff out his chest and be your knight in shining armor, “I’ll take care of you, I can call the police if—”

Joel’s grip shifted at the same moment your mouth opened. He didn’t yank you, didn’t jerk your arm, but he took your wrist from his neck and pulled you aside so you were out of the way. 

Once you were safely out of his war path, he was moving. His hand came up, not in a punch or a slap, not a shove or a poke to the chest. 

His big, calloused hand came up, swallowing the stranger’s whole face like he was catching a flyball in a baseball glove. Joel’s fingers splayed across his entire face, palm crushing into his nose, and with a force that looked almost casual, he shoved the stranger back.

But the sound that followed was anything but casual. The man’s body hit the edge of a nearby table with a sickening crack, sending pint glasses toppling, chairs screeching across the sticky floor, a half-eaten plate of wings flipping onto the ground as someone cursed nearby. A sharp burst of fry oil and spilled beer hit your nose, along with that sudden, unmistakable shift in bar noise—that pause that happens when everyone senses a fight is about to break loose.

“Jesus fucking Christ, man!” the boy started, breathless, one hand half lifted in placation, “What’s your problem!?”

Joel moved fast, stalking across the space between them like all that heat had been simmering under the surface, boiling over the edge and finally allowed to break.

He wound back his clenched hand, and the crack of his fist hitting the man’s nose rang out sharp and sickening, knuckle against bone, loud enough to turn heads even in a place like this, where fights were cheap and tempers cheaper. The guy’s head snapped back on impact, his knees buckling as blood burst from his nose, splattering across the grimy tabletop and the front of his pastel shirt like some cruel brand. His body crumpled into a graceless heap of limbs and shock and pain.

Joel didn’t seem done yet. 

He stood over him, looming, chest still heaving from the exertion, his hand still partially curled into fist, blood streaked across the creases of his knuckles. His lip twitched like he was gearing up for another.

And after a brief pause of surprise, of the entire bar watching, their little brains catching up with what was happening, the room erupted in noise.

Chairs scraped hard against the floor. A couple of voices shouted, some cheering, some cursing or jeering, and then multiple pairs of hands descended, grabbing Joel’s shoulders from behind, one of their voices snapping, “Hey—HEY! That’s enough buddy!”

Two men now, maybe three, trying to haul him back. Joel resisted at first— out of rage, out of something wild in him, like his body hadn’t gotten the message yet. His legs planted, weight low, still staring down at the stranger like he hadn’t finished making his point. It took a few seconds and a hard shove to get him to move, stumbling half a step back, shoulders flexed, chest rising and falling like a piston as they pulled at him.

You looked between the bleeding man and Joel being hauled out of the scene into the night air. And you couldn’t help the small smile that was playing on your lips as you skipped outside. 

The door slammed behind you, cutting off the last of the shouting. The night air brought a relief with the cool breeze, less stuffy than inside, but still thick with cigarette smoke and fried meat drifting from the open kitchen vent, the pavement still warm under your shoes. 

Joel was pacing like an animal just outside the halo of the entrance light, chest heaving, blood drying on his knuckles. 

“You’ve officially lost your fucking mind, Miller.”

He turned when he heard your voice. And God, he looked like he’d eat you just for speaking.

You ignored it, “I can’t believe you. And you think that’s somehow gonna make me want you? Bashing some guy’s face in like that?”

You started walking, scoffing and shaking your head, out into the parking lot. Anywhere but here, to get away from him and his simmering rage, his toxicity. It was too much. 

But you heard his boots before you could do anything about it, his heavy, broad hand catching your arm and pulling you back. And the thing was, he was never violent with you. Never too rough unless you asked him, but all the same, the air felt knocked out of you as he pushed you against the brick siding, the lights of the bar illuminating his face in red. 

You opened your mouth again to spit a retort at him, but his body was crowding yours, hips pinning you, chest crushing into yours, his knee shoved hard up between your thighs so fast you gasped, your balance gone.

"Where the hell d’you think you're goin’?" he purred, face just inches from yours.

You could smell the whiskey and the beer on his breath, the copper tang of blood, the sweat from the fight still drying in the crease of his neck. His hands found your waist, fingers bruising, digging in to hold you against him and the wall. 

"Think I don’t know your game by now, baby?" he rasped, voice low and knowing, hot against your cheek. “I know you love when I make a scene. That’s what all that was, huh? Wanted to see how far I’d go?”

His thigh flexed between your legs and your body betrayed you with a stuttered breath, your hand flying to his chest to shove him, grab him—something.

“Joel—”

"You watched like you didn’t fuckin’ love it,” he hissed, cutting you off. “You think I’d let you leave after that? After he touched you? Told you he’d take care of what’s mine?”

His head dropped, nose brushing your cheek, lips dragging along the edge of your jaw like a threat disguised as affection. You felt his breath in your hair, heavy and ragged, every inch of him pressed to you like a cage.

“He didn’t even—” you started, breath catching as he nibbled on your ear, “you were the one—”

“I told you I’d kill any man that thought he could take what’s mine,” he said, voice so soft it didn’t sound real. “You hear me, baby? You’re my girl, only mine. Say it now, be a good girl.”

“Fuck you, I can’t believe you!” you tried pushing him away, but his knee edged higher between your thighs, his chest pushing you into the wall even more, “Get off, Joel!”

“So you’re tellin’ me, if I reached down your panties right now, they wouldn’t be sopping wet for daddy, hm?”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his question, “You’re a freak, Miller.”

He hummed against your neck, lips tracing your pulse, tongue darting out to taste the salt of you, lips pressing and suckling at your skin. You couldn't help the bend in your back as your body betrayed you. His hand moved from pushing your hip into the wall to unbuttoning the tops of your jeans, and before you could protest, he was reaching down, past the waist band of your thong and into the gusset of the lace, pushing it aside to run his finger between your folds. 

The moan he let out was guttural and feral, a man half animal as he shoved your legs apart, dipping his fingertips into your entrance.

“Oh fuck–” you gripped his shirt, no longer pushing him away but pulling him in. 

“Yeahhh…” he breathed, “there she is.”

And that smugness, something in that dark, satisfied grin, snapped the last of your restraint. With a furious growl, you wrenched his hand out of your jeans, planting both hands on his chest, and shoved him again, this time with finality. 

Joel fell back before righting himself, his grin nowhere to be seen as you spit the words at him: “Stay away from me.”

He froze, chest heaving, the feral edge in his eyes dimming with confusion.

“I hate you.” Your voice cracked, but you forced the words out. “I don’t want you. Not anymore. You don’t own me.”

For once, he didn’t come after you. He only stood there, jaw tight, swallowing back something ugly as you pushed past him, leaving him under the bar light with his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Joel

He told himself he wasn’t stalking you. He just… missed you. Needed to know you were safe. Needed to see you, even if from a distance.

So he’d started to park his truck down the block from your gym in the days that passed since the bar fight. Engine off, of course, and hat pulled low, watching through the windshield as you slipped inside the building in your leggings and hoodie, earbuds dangling, a bounce in your step that gutted him. Sometimes he’d wait the whole hour just to watch you come back out, the front of your little tank damp with sweat, forehead glistening, tugging at your bag strap as you crossed the lot. He memorized every detail from afar, from the way you tied your jacket around your waist and the way you bent your head to check your phone. 

Between jobs, he’d find excuses to pull over, thumb flicking to the Find My app he shouldn’t have still had. You hadn’t realized it was still on his phone. The tiny dot pulsed on the map and he felt calmer knowing where you were. At home. At work or the gym. The store. He told himself it wasn’t wrong…he wasn’t trying to control you. He just couldn’t breathe not knowing if you were safe.

One night, you were in a new spot he didn’t recognize. And suddenly, a kindling fire burst into flames inside him, molten with that green monster clawing at his chest as he jumped in his truck, phone still open, following the dot to the other side of town. His knuckles ached on the wheel, jaw tight, imagination running wild with pictures of you in another man’s house, some stranger’s hands where only his should be. The longer he drove, the darker it got inside his head.

If he found you there, if he drove up and saw another man touching what was his, Joel wasn’t sure what he’d do, except that it wouldn’t be pretty. He thought about fire. How quick a house could go up if you knew where to start it. How easy it would be to walk away with nothing but smoke curling into the sky behind him.

Or maybe it wouldn’t need fire. Maybe it’d just be one body to move. He knew where the ground stayed soft outside of town, how deep he’d need to dig to make sure no dog or man ever found it. What was having to bury one man in a grave, if it meant keeping you?

But when he pulled up, it wasn’t a house. It wasn’t even a bar to pick up strangers. It was a tattoo shop, neon light buzzing above the door. His pulse thundered as he killed the engine, eyes locked on the entrance. He couldn’t see you through the windows, but he stayed, headlights off, waiting.

When you finally came out, his stomach flipped at the sight of you again, though you looked the same—no fresh ink peeking out, no sign of what you’d done inside. That fire in him stoked down to embers, quiet but still burning, banked hot beneath his ribs.

It drove him insane that he couldn’t storm across the street, grab your face in his hands, kiss you until you remembered you were his. It drove him insane that he had to sit there in the dark, invisible, while you walked past him like he didn’t exist. All he wanted to do was show you how much you were meant to be with him and no one else. To touch, to hold, to bend you over and…well, he kept those thoughts between him and God nowadays.

Every night, he’d lie awake, phone in hand, staring at that little pulsing dot like it was the only tether keeping him sane. Joel Miller was half feral without you, starved, aching, sick in love and in need. The longer you stayed away, the more convinced he became: you weren’t just someone he wanted. You were his.

And if he had to watch, if he had to wait, if he had to burn with it, he’d do it. Because sooner or later, you’d understand. Nobody could love you the way he did. Nobody would ever try.

You

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that you saw Joel Miller again. Well, the first time you’d seen him when he wasn’t trying—and failing—to hide in the dark cab of his truck. You’d known he was following you, but it thrilled you. Maybe it should’ve scared you. But knowing a man was lovesick and obsessed only stoked the fire in your belly as you caught sight of his black pickup. You’d even left on your location for him to come find you whenever he wanted.

So now, in the blaring haze of the nightclub, you knew he’d show his face. You’d even thought about risking another nobody to grab his attention, to force his hand again, but for once you caught a stroke of pathetic empathy for the sweet brown haired, blue eyed stranger who tried to buy you a drink. It wasn’t his fault you looked single. So you’d turned him down before he could talk to you for more than a minute.

The place smelled of sweet fog smoke, bass pounding hard enough to rattle your bones. Bright lights strobed across sweat sticky bodies, the DJ hunched in the corner, spinning the same four beats into oblivion as you danced with one of the girls you’d come with that night. That’s when you saw Joel, arms folded over his chest, leaning against the wall like sin incarnate, his gaze locked on you. 

But there was a girl.

Tattooed, tipsy, sticky lip gloss smeared at the corner of her mouth. She was pawing at his arm, nails digging into the muscle of his bicep where it peeked from his black tee like she was claiming him. All flirty smiles and fake giggles, pressing herself close.

Joel wasn’t even looking at her. Not even a glance her way because his eyes were pinned to you. And that made your stomach twist tighter. Because she was still touching him even though he clearly wasn’t interested.

You pushed through the crowd, closing the space until you were face to face, your drink sloshing onto the sticky floor. You tilted your head, eyes raking over her cheap dress, her smeared mascara, her trembling little smile.

“You must be drunk,” you said sweetly, venom dripping off every word. “Because if you were sober, you’d know better than to touch something that isn’t yours. Unless you’ve got a death wish.”

Her eyes narrowed, mouth opening like she wanted to speak, but you leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. “You don’t want me as your enemy, sweetheart. So take your last chance and fuck off.”

The girl’s breath hitched. Joel chuckled low in his throat, his grin splitting wider, and you didn’t even need to look to know he was hard as stone watching you lose your mind.

The girl finally yanked her hand away, muttering something weak as she shoved into the crowd, vanishing into the fog.

You turned back to Joel, victory singing in your veins as the lights flashed across his face. He was still grinning, eyes dark and shining.

“What’re you doing here, Joel?” you asked, feigning your annoyance despite your win.

“You just told that girl I was yours.”

“No,” you corrected, tilting your chin up, “I said she shouldn’t touch what isn’t hers.”

“Because I’m yours.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “I’m so over this. I’m going home.”

You shoved your empty glass onto the nearest table and shouldered past the crowd. He followed instantly, slipping through the crowd like a shadow tethered to you, until the thump of bass gave way to the sharp night air outside.

“Baby, baby, c’mon,” he jogged up behind you, voice soft, coaxing. “Let’s just talk.”

You didn’t stop walking, heels clicking against the sidewalk, the neon buzz of the club sign painting the pavement in red and blue. “Talk about what? How you’re still following me around like some obsessed puppy?”

“Maybe,” Joel admitted, catching your wrist before you could slip further into the dark. His grip was warm, firm, but not rough, just insistent. “Because I can’t stand it. Because you’re mine, baby. You’ve always been mine.”

You stared down at his hand on your wrist, then back up at him, your lips curling into a cruel little smile. “If you’re so desperate, then maybe you can drive me home.”

His jaw tightened, eyes searching yours. “Okay.”

“Don’t get any ideas.” you said, snatching your hand back. But your heartbeat ricketed up a beat, betraying you. 

And on the way home, Joel kept his hands to himself, which both surprised you and made you fidgety. He asked about your day, about the past couple weeks at work with that coworker you hated, like things were normal again. His voice was even, steady, and for a moment it almost felt like it used to. Maybe he was just grateful to be close again. You weren’t sure. You hated that you liked it, though — hated how easy it was to slip back into his gravity.

As you pulled up to your apartment complex, the glow outside your door sputtered and crackled, flickering like a mosquito zapper about to short out. The pale light buzzed, flashing on and off, making the walkway look eerie and stuttered.

“When did that start?” Joel asked, his voice soft, too soft, as he frowned at your door.

“Dunno. Thanks for the ride,” you said quickly, sharper than you meant, pushing the door open before he could say more. But Joel cut the engine and got out after you, boots crunching on the gravel.

“I told you not to get any—”

“I know, darlin’,” he said gently, that maddening lilt curling around the word. He was infuriating when he was sweet, like he wasn’t the same tornado that ripped through everything you touched. “Just let me fix it. Might be the bulb, might be somethin’ with the wiring. I just wanna make sure you’re safe.”

You narrowed your eyes, arms folding over your chest as you stood planted in front of your door. “Fine.”

Joel nodded once, hazel eyes locked on you for a beat too long before he turned to the light. He reached up, big hand twisting the bulb, hissing when it burned his fingertips, but working at it anyway. He jiggled it loose, studied the socket, then shook his head.

“Gonna need to check your breaker.”

“Seriously?” you sighed, dragging the word.

He shrugged, looking annoyingly unbothered. “Sorry, baby.”

“Quit callin’ me that, Miller.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smirked at you, eyes glinting, and you rolled your own so hard it almost hurt.

You unlocked the door, muttering under your breath, letting him follow you inside. He didn’t even need pointing, he went straight for the coat closet like he’d lived there. The faint scent of him filled the space around you, leather and cedar, impossible to ignore.

Joel studied the breaker, flipping the switches with practiced ease. He went outside to replace the bulb, then came back in, wiping his hands together like a job well done.

“Should be good now.” He hit the switch, and sure enough, the porch lit up in a steady blaze, no flicker at all. Like it had never even been broken.

“Great,” you muttered, pushing your hair out of your face. “See you later, then.”

Joel chuckled, low and sure, shaking his head. “Not so fast.”

You groaned, leaning your shoulder into the doorframe. Here we go.

He stepped in, the porch light humming steady behind him as he came closer in the doorway, casting him in a gold halo. The irony wasn’t lost on you. His voice dropped, softer than you’d expected, almost shy. “Missed you.”

Your eyes narrowed as his arms came up to cross over his thick, wide chest, mirroring your stance. He looked down at his boots, sucking in a tight breath as if to steady himself before looking at you again. “Haven’t been sleepin’. Haven’t been eatin’ right. Nothin’...nothin’ feels right without you,” His gaze flicked down, then back up, unguarded in a way that made your chest ache. “I don’t know how to do it without you, darlin’.”

You shifted, uncomfortable, heat crawling up your neck. “God, you’re so—” You huffed, throwing your hands up, unable to look at him straight on.

“Tell me you ain’t been feelin’ the same,” Joel pressed, his voice rough but steady. “Tell me to leave, I’ll leave. But look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t missed me too, baby.”

You glared up at him, your eyes raking over his face, searching for a crack you could wedge your anger into. “I haven’t—I—” The words snagged in your throat, the lie choking itself before it could reach the night air.

His mouth twitched, flattening for a beat before curling slow around the edges, that cocky grin sliding back into place like it had never left.

“Shut up,” you muttered, sharp and breathless, before fisting his shirt and lunging for him.

You kissed him with messy furiosity, all teeth and tongue, like you were trying to silence him with the only weapon you had left. Joel groaned into it, arms locking around you instantly, his body swallowing yours whole as if he’d been waiting all this time for you to finally break.

He shoved forward, making you stumble back a step before scooping you up in his arms, slamming the door shut with his boot and clicking the lock without ever breaking the kiss.

“Christ,” he panted against your mouth as you dragged kisses down the thick column of his neck, tasting soap and sweat and the pounding pulse beneath. “Missed you so fuckin’ much.” His groan cracked when your teeth sank into his throat.

“Fuck, please,” you gasped, grinding against his stomach where he held you aloft. Joel swallowed your moan into his mouth, tongue rough and hot against yours as he carried you up the stairs, each step jarring but never breaking the fever between you.

“Please what?” he rasped, his voice shredded thin. “Tell me, baby. I’ll give you anythin’ you want. Give you the damn moon if I could.”

“Fuck me, Joel, please, I can’t—” your words tumbled out, frantic, the heat of his body a furnace that would never be close enough. You clawed at him like you’d crawl inside if you could, just to be closer. “I hated seeing that girl all over you tonight,” you choked out, voice venomous. “Hated it. I could’ve—I wanted to—”

“Shh.” He tightened his grip in your hair, pulling your face back just enough to meet his eyes, steady and molten. “I know. I know, baby. Ain’t no one takin’ me from you. Ever.”

He set you down on the bed with a care that clashed with the storm in his fists and mouth. He quickly undressed himself, wholly bare before you as you stayed clothed before he descended onto you. His weight hovered over you as he kissed down your throat, over your collarbone, dragging his teeth along bare skin. His hands slid under your shirt, pushing it higher, calloused palms cupping your breasts through the thin fabric before tugging it over your head in one smooth pull.

“Pretty girl,” he muttered against your sternum, his mouth closing over a peaked nipple, teeth grazing before his tongue soothed. He palmed the other breast roughly, greedy, groaning into you like he was starving. You arched beneath him, your hands in his hair, pulling him closer, closer.

His mouth traced lower, down your stomach, his thumbs catching in the waistband of your pants.

“What’s this, hm?” Joel murmured, voice dropping low as he tugged them down, lace catching on his knuckles. The scrolled letters became visible slowly, unveiled by lace and Joel’s calloused fingers.

He stilled.

The script stood out stark and clean against your skin, perched right between the gentle curve of your hip and the bone just above your cunt.

𝓙𝓸𝓮𝓵

In black ink, just a couple weeks old and still healing.

Joel reeled back a little—not in shock or horror but in reverence, in something like awe, and when his eyes met yours, there was only heat. Dark and thick and heavy, the kind that filled the space between your lungs and made it hard to breathe.

"You’ve been hidin’ this from me, baby?” he asked, his voice light and lilting, like he was speaking to something fragile. But the edge of it curled mean. Sweet like syrup over a knife. “Tattooed my name on you like a good little girl, huh?”

You whimpered—surprised by your own nerves. You’d been proud of it when you got it. Smug, even. But now? Under his eyes? Under his hands?

Joel lowered his head.

His mouth found your skin and pressed his lips softly against each letter, tongue dipping out, licking over the lines like he wanted to taste every stroke. He kissed it, again and again, lips dragging across your skin, open-mouthed and worshipful. His tongue was hot against the sensitive skin, kissing it like he was kissing into your mouth and not the skin of your pelvis. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, breath warm and thick as it sank into your skin. Your hips jolted up against him, thighs twitching, need bleeding out of you like your body couldn’t hide it anymore.

“Can’t believe you got my fuckin’ name branded on you.”

You mewled, the sound raw, half formed in your throat as heat crawled up your spine now, your whole body alive with tension, every part of you sparking as his mouth trailed lower. Joel pulled your pants down the rest of the way, slow and greedy, and your legs opened for him without thought, a helpless thing begging to be touched.

He kissed down to your pubic bone, taking his time, all slow and reverent. He inhaled your scent, his nose brushing right up against your clit.

“Ohhh, baby,” he mocked, dragging the words out. “You’re soaked, huh? Pretty pussy just aching for daddy.”

“Shut up, old man,” you groaned, pushing the heels of your hands into your eyes, desperate and annoyed, thighs clenching with frustration.

He laughed low in his throat. “But you love this old man, don’t you, honey? Tell me how much you love me.”

You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek. “I love your cock, old man. Not you.”

“Mhm. Sure, sure,” he chuckled, kissing your hip again. “That why you got my name written in ink across your sweet body?”

“Drunken mistake.”

Joel shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so.”

Then he kissed your clit—so softly you almost missed it. Just a brush, feather light, enough to drive you insane. You looked down and saw the bastard smiling.

“Tell me you love me,” he murmured, gravel in his voice, dragging his mouth just to the side again, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh. You twitched, whined, your body betraying you completely.

“No,” you gasped, your head rolling back. “No, I’m not saying it.”

“But I love you, baby,” he said, eyeing your glistening folds, “Fuckin’ obsessed with you.”

You whimpered, mouth twisting, a broken frown pulling at your face and Joel mirrored it, mockingly.

“Aww, poor thing can’t even talk now? Too many needy thoughts?” he crooned, pressing his lips right beside where you wanted him, tongue flicking out to trace the crease of your thigh. “Come on, sweetheart. Tell me why you got that tattoo. Tell me why you keep crawling back to me.”

“‘Cause—‘cause—” You were stammering, hips searching for friction, clenching around nothing.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute like this,” he said, dragging it out, “Could make you squirm for hours.”

His tongue still hadn’t touched you where you needed it most. He leaned down, breathing against your clit, tracing the sensitive skin just outside of your folds with his nose—

“I love you, Joel,” you gasped, eyes squeezing shut. “I love you, I love you—”

His lips hit your soaked skin with just a wet peck and you jolted in surprise.

“Aww, baby. You mean it?”

“Yes, yes—I mean it!”

“Say it again.”

“I love you! I got it tattooed because I’m in love with you, you fucking bastard!”

Joel laughed, low and mean. “That’s my girl. But c’mon, I know you can be sweeter than that.”

You cried out, half with need, half with fury as your hips rolled in search of any kind of relief. Joel’s forearm slid hard across your hips, locking you in place, keeping you from grinding up against his mouth. You thrashed once and he held tighter.

“Please,” you begged now. Your voice cracked, tears burning the edges of your vision. You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him. “I love you, Daddy, I love you. Love you and everything about you. I’m obsessed with you too.”

Joel moved fast.

He surged his body upward, leaning in to crush his mouth to yours, his tongue deep and hungry, bypassing any kind of gentle pretense to devour you fully, kissing like he could never get close enough. You moaned into it, wild, grabbing his hair in tight fists, dragging him closer, pulling like you were starved.

“You make me insane,” he panted between kisses. “Make me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?”

“Yes—yes—I know,” you gasped. “You make me crazy too, Daddy, please, please—”

“Okay, baby,” he rasped, his voice dark and reverent as he moved back down, stopping to kiss your navel before saying: “Okay. Gonna give you what you need. What only Daddy can give you.”

And then his mouth was finally on you.

Tongue thick and wet, sliding out of him like something obscene, starved, pressing heavy against your folds as he licked an open, shameless stripe up the whole slick length of your cunt. No teasing now. No trace of mercy. Just filthy, hungry mouth, slathering spit all over you like he was trying to wear you.

He buried his face in it, lips sealing around your clit, dragging it between them with a deep, needy suck that made your vision blur, made your hands fly to his hair like you needed to anchor yourself to him. And the sounds he made between your legs, those wet, slurping groans, breath snarling through his nose as he devoured you, tongue moving in greedy circles, then sharp flicks, then back to that flat, full pressure that had your thighs snapping tight around his head.

He groaned into you like he couldn’t breathe without it. The vibrations rattled through your clit, right up into your spine, your hips jerking helplessly against the strength of his hold. He fucking growled, the sound thick and low and furious as he sucked hard enough to bruise, and when he pulled back just enough to spit on your cunt in a thick, warm, filthy glob before dragging his tongue through it again, you sobbed. He was sloppy, nasty, mean and loving all the same when he ate at you.

"Messy little pussy," he muttered against you, his chin already soaked, beard shining with your slick. “Look at this, baby.”

You couldn’t think or breathe. You couldn’t stop shaking. He was licking like he meant to ruin you, to split you open with his mouth alone. Your clit throbbed under the attention, swollen and pulsing with every pull of his lips, every lewd moan, every inch of his tongue gliding through the slick, messy heat of you. 

Your thighs were trembling, belly fluttering and your voice was lost somewhere between a scream and a gasp and a high, cracked wail of his name. White stars burst in your vision as you crested over the edge, the coil wrapping around your spine tightening and slackening and twitching until you started to come down. Your thighs shook as he kept licking at you, softer now, more careful, drinking you down like every drop was sacred, his tongue pushing inside you for one last taste.

He kissed your thighs and up your body until he was hovering over you, pressing his mouth to yours. The taste of you was dizzying—honey, salt, sweat—and his tongue swept through your mouth gently, moaning like he was the one coming down from the high.

His cock twitched heavy between your stomach and his as you bit his lip, your hand sliding down to wrap around him. He drew in a sharp breath, leaning his forehead to yours, eyes wild as you both watched your fist stroke up and down.

“Where you gonna get my name tattooed, Daddy?” you whispered, voice sweet and melodic.

He chuckled low, then groaned as your thumb swept across the leaking tip, spreading it around his length.

“Anywhere you want,” he said roughly, kissing you harder, before sitting back on his haunches to watch your hand work him. Your fingertips didn’t even meet around the thickest part of him.

“I think right here would be cute,” you cooed, releasing him so his cock slapped heavy against your pelvis, then dragging your fingertip just above the thatch of hair where he disappeared.

“Yeah? Your property, huh?” he teased, but his grin was sharp, hungry.

You nodded, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“All yours,” he agreed hoarsely, and began to drag himself through your glistening folds, the wet schlick obscene. He tapped the fat head against your clit, playful, before notching at your entrance.

Ohhh, you sighed as he pushed in an inch.

“Now,” he groaned, gripping your thigh to push you open wider, watching himself sink deeper, “wanna hear you say it again.”

“Ah–ah—say what?” you hiccuped, clutching at his forearm as he continued to disappear into you slowly.

“Why you got that little tattoo, baby.”

“I love you, Joel,” you whispered, eyes squeezing shut as he bottomed out.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he breathed, voice breaking, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder, the other hooking at his waist as he leaned forward above you. He pulled out slow, then slid back in deep, kissing your nose. “So much it hurts. Hurts in my chest, hurts in my fuckin’ bones.”

You moaned, eyes rolling back, arms circling his neck. His mouth crushed to yours as he moved, and he groaned into your mouth like a man who’d die without you.

His pace quickened, thrusts sharper, deeper, until the slap of skin was drowned by your ragged cries. Joel tore his mouth from yours, panting against your cheek, his voice rough, low, wrecked. “So damn tight around me. S’like this pussy was made for me, huh angel?”

“Yes, Joel,” you gasped, nails scoring down his back, desperate to keep him inside you.

“God, baby…” His teeth grazed your jaw as his hips sawed back and forth harder, his voice breaking with a new hunger. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you sobbed, head tipping back against the pillow. “Yours, forever.”

His hand caught your throat, not quite squeezing, just steadying you, his thumb brushing your pulse as if to remind himself you were alive, here, his. His cock pushed impossibly deep, kissing your womb, and he groaned against your ear. “I’d kill any man who even dreamed of you. I’d burn the whole world down if it meant keepin’ you here safe with me.”

Your thighs quivered as he drove into you, stars bursting white-hot behind your eyes. “I know,” you whined, broken on his rhythm. “You’ve already ruined me, I’m all yours.”

“That’s my good girl,” he growled, pressing his forehead hard to yours, sweat beading where your skin met. His thrusts grew frantic, almost pained, his voice unraveling. “And what if I knock you up, hm? Gonna hate me if I fuck a baby into you too?”

You clutched him tighter, delirious, babbling your devotion against his mouth, you should’ve never said those awful words, the ones you never meant outside the bar. “No, no, I could never hate you. I need you, I love you—keep me, keep me, Joel—make me yours.”

He kissed you like a vow, broken moans spilling hot against your lips. “Yeah, yeah, that’s it, gonna fill you, gonna put a baby in you, sweet girl, then you won’t be able to go anywhere,”

Joel’s hips snapped in merciless rhythm as if carving himself into you was the only prayer he knew, every word he spoke a fevered gospel, every thrust a confession of love so twisted it bordered on holy. 

The words seemed to stoke the fire in both of you at once, toppling your second orgasm over the peak, your back bowing into an arch you never thought possible as the world went white behind your eyelids.

Joel groaned above you, his body shuddering as he stilled, pressing as deep as he could, spilling into you with a sound that was half gasp and half curse. His arms locked tight around you, crushing you to him as if he could fuse you together.

For a long moment, the world was just the heat of him inside you and the rough sound of his breath against your skin. His mouth brushed your cheek, his voice ragged as he said: “Don’t ever leave me again,” he muttered, words splitting like they’d been torn straight from his chest.

Your nails scraped lightly through his hair. “Never,” you whispered back, your lips ghosting his ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a broken groan, holding you tighter, burying his face against your neck. His weight pressed you deep into the mattress, his chest rising and falling against yours in uneven bursts. You stroked his hair absently as he stayed inside you, the damp ends sticking to your fingers, soothing him with gentle touches.

Little by little, his breathing evened out, the frantic edge fading until the two of you were just a tangle of limbs and sweat, cocooned in the heavy quiet that always followed the storm. The haze of arousal began to thin, leaving you raw, dazed, but not entirely unsteady. Your fingers kept combing through his hair, softer now, more thoughtful, until they slowed to a halt.

“Joel?” you murmured into the dark.

He answered with a low hum, the sound muffled, half asleep, content.