x

『••✎••』

The apartment door creaked open just a little too quietly for your liking.

You'd had the kind of day that made you want to crawl under a blanket and forget the world existed—late buses, spilled coffee, a client who wouldn't stop yelling over the phone. All you wanted was your couch, maybe a hot shower, and the vague hope that tomorrow would be kinder.

But the moment you stepped inside, something felt off.

The deadbolt wasn't locked. You always locked it, even when you were just running to the mailbox. Then there was the lamp—the one by your entryway, usually a warm, welcoming beacon. You flipped the switch, and nothing happened, leaving you in the dim glow of streetlights filtering through your window. Not to mention the strange, lumpy shapes on your kitchen counter, casting unfamiliar shadows across your living room floor.

Your heart hammered against your ribs. Every late-night horror movie you'd ever watched with Leon came rushing back. Don't go in there. Why would you investigate the strange noise?

But this was your home. Your space.

You crept forward, your footsteps silent on the rug. Your fingers wrapped around the handle of the baseball bat you kept propped by the coatrack—Leon's idea, a gift after you'd mentioned a break-in down the street. Now, it felt like the only solid thing in a world suddenly made of shadows.

From the back of the apartment, you heard a faint rustling, then footsteps returning.

A figure emerged from the darkness of the hallway, backlit by the weak light from your bedroom. Tall, familiar build, but in this dim, unfamiliar context, he was just a silhouette—an intruder. He was tossing something small and round in one hand, a smirk playing on what you could make out of his face.

That was it. That was the trigger.

Adrenaline surged through you, hot and immediate. With a grunt that was equal parts terror and fury, you swung the bat. It cut through the air with a satisfying whoosh, aimed directly at the shadow's head.

He moved with a speed that was almost insulting. A swift lean back, the bat whistling past his nose by millimeters. A small gasp from him as whatever he'd been holding—a lightbulb, you realized—slipped from his grasp and shattered on the hardwood floor.

But he was ready. His other hand shot out, catching the aluminum barrel of your bat before you could pull it back for another swing. His grip was iron, warm through the metal. Before you could process, before he could even open his mouth to speak, your body acted on pure instinct.

Your fist, balled tight with all the frustration of the day, shot forward and connected squarely with his jaw.

The impact vibrated up your arm. He stumbled back a step, his grip on the bat loosening in shock. The kitchen light flickered on, spilling yellow light over everything, illuminating the takeout bags on the counter, the DVD case on the coffee table, and the stranger in your living room who was suddenly, horribly, not a stranger at all.

Leon stood there, one hand still wrapped around the bat, the other flying to his face. His blue eyes, usually so warm and teasing, were wide with shock and something that looked a lot like hurt. A red mark was already blooming on his jaw.

"It's me," he finally managed to say, his voice a little shaky. He let go of the bat, which clattered to the floor. "Jesus, it's just me."

And just like that, the adrenaline evaporated, leaving behind a cold, sick dread that settled deep in your stomach. You saw it all—your favorite snacks from the gas station, your favorite fast food, the case for that dumb action movie he loved, the broken lightbulb at his feet from the lamp you now knew he was trying to fix.

You realized then that the phone call this morning wasn’t just him being nice. He was listening. He must’ve heard the exhaustion in your voice, the thinly veiled frustration. He didn't just get off work early; he came here, to your space, to try and fix it.

And you had responded by hitting him with a baseball bat and punching him in the face.

"Oh my god," you breathed out, the words barely a whisper. You felt your own jaw tremble. "Leon, I-I'm so sorry. I didn't... the door was unlocked, and the light... and you were just a shadow..."

You were rambling, but he was already shaking his head, a weak, pained smile trying to form on his lips. He stepped forward carefully, as if you might still be a threat.

"Hey, no, it's my fault," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I should have called. I just... wanted to surprise you. Clearly, I'm great at it."

You knew the joke was an attempt to soothe you, but it only made the guilt worse. Without warning, and without caring about the glass shards, you jumped forward, causing him to let out a surprised "oof" as your body collided with his. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him—laundry detergent, old coffee, and something that was just Leon.

His arms, slow and careful, wrapped around you. One hand settled on the back of your head, stroking your hair, while the other was a firm, steady pressure on your back. At first, you figured it was his way of comforting you, making sure you were okay. But then you remembered the glass on the floor, and you realized he was subtly shifting his body, making sure he was the one standing between you and the mess.

It was such a Leon thing to do—getting punched in the face and immediately worrying about you stepping on broken glass, regardless of whether you had shoes on.

A shaky laugh escaped you, a wet, hiccupping sound against the fabric of his jacket—his RPD jacket, the one you'd grown to love more than you thought you could love a piece of clothing. And it wasn't because you liked wearing it on occasion. Actually, you hated it when he let you wear it. Not because it didn't look good—because it did. No, it was because you liked him in it more. It smelled like him, felt like him, and that all went away when you were wearing it. All you could smell was your own perfume, and you just didn't like that. You wanted to smell him, not you.

You had a small smile for a moment, thinking about the first day you met him.

It wasn't anything special, nothing like a movie. It was simple. It was raining, and you were sitting at a bus stop in your work clothes, which were now soaked because you missed the bus and had to wait another half hour. To make matters worse, your umbrella had broken a few days before due to a windy day. You were just staring at your shoes, watching the small puddles gather around them, when a shadow suddenly loomed over you. When you looked up, there was a man, about as soaked as you, holding out that same jacket to you.

"Here," he said. His hair was dripping, and he was shivering a bit. You couldn't help but notice the way the water clung to his lashes. "It's not much, but it's better than nothing."

You'd taken it, of course, mumbling a small "thank you," before the delightful smell of him hit you. It was something you'd never smelled before, and you knew from the small, reassuring smile he gave you when you looked up again, and the respectful distance he kept, that you wanted to get to know this man.

And now here he was, in your apartment, taking a punch from you because he was trying to be a good boyfriend. A rookie, as he often called himself in both work and love, but even though he was sure he was doing a terrible job, it was moments like these that reminded you just how good he truly was.

It made situations like this all the more painful, in a weird way. You had the urge to just fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness, but you knew he wouldn't want that. Instead, you just held him tighter, trying to pour all of your apology into the simple action.

"I am so, so sorry, Le," you mumbled into his chest, the words muffled by the fabric. You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands coming up to cup his face. Your thumb gently brushed over the now-darkening bruise on his jaw. "Does it hurt?"

"Rookie cop, remember?" he said with a weak smile. "I've taken worse. Though... I gotta admit, you've got a mean right hook."

You couldn't help but laugh, a real, genuine laugh this time, and you felt some of the tension leave your body. You leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the bruised spot, a silent apology. His eyes fluttered closed at the contact, and you felt him lean into your touch.

"Let me get some ice for that," you whispered, pulling away. You turned to head to the kitchen in an attempt to right your wrong, but he stopped you with a gentle tug on your wrist.

He apologized to you instead. It made you pause, your eyes searching his. You were seriously debating arguing with him because he had no reason to be apologizing, but the look in those baby blues of his was enough to make you nod him on, to let him speak.

"I should've called," he said, his voice soft. "Should have let you know I was coming. I just... You sounded so tired this morning, and I wanted to... I don't know, fix it. Make it better." He looked away for a second, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Stupid, I know."

"It's not stupid," you said, your voice firm. "It's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

He finally looked back at you, a small, shy smile on his face. You felt your heart do that little flip-flop it always did when he looked at you like that.

"How about this," you said, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "You let me get you some ice, and clean up this mess, and then we can pretend this whole 'me assaulting a police officer' thing never happened."

He chuckled, a real, full-throated chuckle this time. "Deal. But only if you let me clean up the glass. I'm the one who broke it. It's only right."

You wanted to argue, but you knew it would be pointless. He had that determined look in his eyes that you knew all too well. The same look he got when he insisted on paying for dinner, even when you offered to split it. The same look he got when he would stay up late with you, even though he had an early shift the next day, just because you couldn't sleep.

"Okay," you relented. "But ice first. And you sit down. No arguing."

He opened his mouth to protest too, but you identically shot him a look that said, "Don't even think about it," and he closed it again, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright," he said, a playful smile on his face. "Yes, ma'am."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling back. Despite all the drama of the last few minutes, the rest of the night was salvageable. More than salvageable.

You gave him the ice, gently pressing the cold pack to his jaw for a few minutes before telling him to hold it there himself while you went to get the broom and dustpan from the closet. The moment you reached for them, he started to rise from the couch—clearly intending to take them from you before you could even carry them back.

You turned, catching him halfway up, and immediately shot him back down with your words, causing him to give a sheepish half-smile, conceding—at least for a few more minutes—that you could handle fetching the tools without him jumping in to do it for you.

Then, after the few minutes were up, he took the broom from you when you weren't looking and started cleaning up the glass, and you let him this time, because he was giving you that same look from before again. The determined look. The "I am going to take care of you, even if you don't want me to, because I love you" look.

And soon you were both sitting on your couch, the living room finally looking like your living room again, the only evidence of the earlier chaos being the bruise on Leon's jaw, the empty ice pack on the coffee table, and the faint smell of fast food that still lingered in the air.

The movie was at its climax—a ridiculously over-the-top car chase that usually had Leon smiling and leaning forward, completely engrossed. Tonight, he was still smiling, still watching the screen, but a part of his attention was on you. You could feel it like a warm current, a gentle awareness that settled in the space between you.

You were curled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder, the familiar rhythm of his breathing a soothing balm against the frayed edges of your day. His arm was draped around you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm, sending little shivers of delight through you.

"You know," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair, "I have an idea of how you can make it up to me."

You tilted your head back to look at him, a playful glint in your eye. "Oh, really? And what might that be, Officer Kennedy?"

He leaned down, his nose almost touching yours. "Well," he said, his voice a low whisper. "For starters, I know where you can get a really great deal on lightbulbs."

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. "I'm sure you do."

"And then," he continued, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I've got another place in mind if you wanted to give me another one of your famous right hooks—if you're up for the challenge of aiming somewhere else." He winked, and you felt a familiar warmth spread through your chest.

"And where is that?" you asked, playing along. You already knew the answer, of course, but you loved this game. The back-and-forth. The easy banter that had become your love language.

no song 2day im lazy

you’ve spent literally the entire day in bed, tippy-tapping at your laptop, working.

working from your bed as per leon’s request. that man has an ungodly amount of connections and can pull off just about anything he so desires, like you working from home! yay!

you haven’t even changed your top, still wearing the same worn-out sleep shirt from last night. you had the decency to change from one pair of fluffy pyjama bottoms to a new pair though.

you quietly smile to yourself as you hear a key jingle in the lock of the front door; leon’s home. its always a treat to have him working in the office instead of risking his life (he’d disagree though). 

you listen to him kick off his boots, imagining how he neatly places them beside your heels at the front door, and his slow foot steps up the stairs to greet you. you smile to yourself, imagining that he’s smiling too, although a little tired.

when he opens the bedroom door, you watch his shoulder physically relax, his body now recognizes he’s home and safe at the sight of you all curled up in bed behind your laptop screen.

“hi leon… how was work? any new drama?” you lean almost off the bed, a motion for a kiss from him. he gives you one of those lazy half-smirks before coming over to your side of the bed, giving you a soft peck.

“nothing particularly interesting… only another agent hook-up on the field, you know how those go…” you snort, the last time he told you about an instance where two agent got a little too eager to celebrate a successful mission.. they got blacklisted from field work and seeing each other.

you scoot over to give him room to crawl into bed beside you, eager to hear the full story. due to his high status, people have a tendency to spill things to him. its definitely the whole authoritative look n tone, hell, sometimes you even do it too.

as soon as he crawls beside you (on top of the covers; he’s wearing day clothes), he shuts your laptop screen. in retaliation, you yank him down by the tie so he’s laying properly beside you.

he loosens his tie, melting into the fluffy comforter covering the bed. you watch with admiration in your eyes as he takes a few breaths, murmurs a short, “i missed you so much..” before propping himself up on an elbow. a hand snakes under your shirt and you roll your eyes playfully, but he doesn’t pull up your shirt fully, he pulls it up just enough to stick his head in.

he whispers something against your stomach before starting his slow, soft, kisses. with every kiss, your stomach flutters, its an even stranger sensation when you can’t see his head, only the shape of it under your shirt. he presses little kisses everywhere, from the top of your stomach near your breasts, to the waistband of your pyjama pants.

you let out a few breathy giggles when his stubble brushes against a particularly ticklish spot, softly bonking his head as a threat. eventually, his kisses start to go lower, and lower, almost below the ribbon tie of your pants. you gently tap his head, he understands the signal to come up, poking his head out of your shirt.

you rest a hand on his cheek, “‘m sorry leon.. im just too tired for that..” his thumb comes up to swipe away the worry in your brow, like you were actually worried he’d be upset that you said no to sex.

instead, he dips down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “that’s fine baby,, i’ll just spoil you another day,” you smile softly at his gentle response and help ease him to lay back down beside you.

raking your fingers through his hair carefully, his eyes flutter closed. must’ve been a long day of paperwork.

“nap time lee?” you laugh soft at how he turns into a puddle at your touch. he just nods, prickly cheek nuzzling into your hand.

tippy-tapping reminds me of tapas i miss spain that shit was fireeeeee

yo dont wanna jinx myself but maayyyybe regular posting?? omg???

The woman over the loudspeaker called for the next outgoing flight just as you gathered the last of your bags. Luckily for you, yours had landed only minutes ago, though the moment the wheels had touched the runway, it felt like your heart had started racing faster than the plane itself. By the time you scooped up your luggage and hurried through the terminal, nothing in the world could have stopped you from bolting straight for the exit.

Except airport security.

Which, unfortunately, they did.

The flight into Washington Dulles International Airport had been miserable. Turbulence had rattled the plane for nearly half the trip, leaving your stomach knotted somewhere between excitement and nausea, and the anticipation of seeing Leon again had only made the sensation worse. Months had passed since the last time you’d seen him in person, months since that very thorough goodbye where he had held you a little longer than usual before climbing into the waiting taxi that carried him off to another classified destination he couldn’t talk about.

He always checked in when he could. A quick message. A brief call when the signal allowed it. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if those calls were meant more to reassure you or himself, as if he needed the reminder that somewhere in the world there was still a place waiting for him that wasn’t full of weapons, blood, and orders barked through an earpiece. Every conversation helped, but the silence between them always crept back eventually, whispering the same quiet fear that never quite left you alone: that one day the next call wouldn’t be Leon at all.

That it would be someone else offering condolences instead.

The security guards, at least, were kind enough to wave you through once your bags had been cleared. One of them gave you a curious look as you hurried past with your rolling luggage rattling behind you, clearly wondering why someone needed that much baggage for a single trip.

You were staying a week.

A full week with Leon.

After months apart, restraint had never been part of the packing process. Your suitcase held enough clothes to fill every possible moment you imagined spending together, though in reality you knew he was technically still working. It just happened to be the first time in months that his schedule had fallen into a rare lull. No active mission. No new deployment orders. Just a standing requirement that he remain in Washington for the time being. When he’d told you they’d put him up at The Watergate Hotel, barely forty minutes from the airport, the news alone had been enough to send you searching for flights.

The hotel hadn’t even been the part that caught your attention most.

It had been the car.

The “sweet ride,” as Leon had casually called it over the phone, was exactly what you were searching for now as you pushed through the final sliding doors and stepped out into the cold night air. The wind that rushed across the concrete lot nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. It blew up beneath the hem of your dress, the fabric lifting dangerously high against your thighs as the wind caught it, forcing you to grab at it with one hand before it climbed any farther.

After hours sealed inside a metal tube packed with overheated passengers, the chill was shocking enough on its own, but the sudden exposure made your pulse jump for an entirely different reason.

You smoothed the dress back down quickly, muttering under your breath as another gust tugged at it again, silently hoping the entire airport hadn’t just gotten a free show. The outfit had seemed like a perfectly reasonable choice when you packed it, something light and easy for a warm reunion night, but standing here now in the open pickup lane, you couldn’t help wondering if maybe it had been a little too optimistic.

After a moment you wondered if you had come out the wrong exit when you didn’t catch sight of him waiting for you nearby. 

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you tapped Leon’s name and reread the last message he had sent.

Meet you at gate three.

You looked up at the glowing blue sign hanging overhead.

Gate four.

“Damn it.”

Dragging your luggage behind you, you hurried down the sidewalk, weaving around other travelers and trying not to look like someone who had completely lost her composure after four months without seeing the man she loved. As you walked, you quickly typed a reply.

Came out the wrong gate. Be there in a sec.

The message was barely sent before another gust of wind swept through the pickup lane, tossing your hair across your face as you rounded the corner toward gate three. The closer you got, the more your nerves twisted in your stomach. Missing him had become its own quiet ache over the months, one that grew sharper the closer you came to finally closing the distance.

You missed everything about him. Not just the small domestic moments that most people took for granted, like falling asleep beside him or finding him already in the kitchen making breakfast in the morning. You missed the way his hands moved over you with quiet reverence, the way he treated your body like something precious he had almost lost and couldn’t quite believe he had again. Every reunion felt like a soldier returning home from war, desperate to memorize every inch of the life he might have to leave again tomorrow.

The thought alone quickened your pace.

By the time you rounded the final corner and the sign for gate three came into view, your eyes immediately locked onto the sleek black Porsche idling in the pickup circle beneath the yellow streetlights.

Yet it wasn’t the car that stopped you in your tracks.

It was the man leaning against it.

Leon stood with his arms crossed over his chest, the dark navy fabric of his shirt stretched tight across his shoulders as though the material was doing its best to keep up with the muscle beneath it. The casual posture might have fooled anyone else into thinking he’d been standing there for only a moment, but you knew him too well. He had probably been watching the terminal doors for the last ten minutes.

The moment his eyes found you, he pushed himself away from the car.

That was all it took.

Your suitcases nearly tipped over as you abandoned them in your rush, covering the distance between you before he had time to say a word. Before you thought Leon could react, you were already in his arms, your hands sliding around the back of his neck as your lips crashed into his.

But he didn’t hesitate. 

He caught you easily, like he had expected the impact, his arms locking around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. The kiss deepened instantly, months of distance collapsing into a single desperate moment as his hands spread across the curve of your hips and drew you closer.

One of them lingered there for a moment longer, fingers brushing along the hem of your dress where the wind had betrayed you earlier. With a small tug he smoothed the fabric back down over your thighs, the gesture so quick and natural it felt almost instinctive before his hand settled firmly against you again.

He had to lean down slightly to meet you, the familiar warmth of him grounding the restless ache that had followed you across the entire country.

When you finally pulled back for air, Leon didn’t release you. One hand remained at your waist while the other slid higher along your back, holding you close as that slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.

His eyes roamed over you for a moment before settling on yours again, one brow lifting slightly.

“So,” he said, voice low with amusement. “Did you miss me, Mrs. Kennedy?”

You twisted the wedding ring around your finger as he said it, warmth already spreading its way lower before the words had even finished leaving his mouth.

“God, I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”

The unpacking phase of your honeymoon had been the last time Leon had seen the house. At the time it hadn’t seemed strange. Just another goodbye before another trip, another stretch of days you assumed would pass quickly enough. You only wished someone had warned you what the first four months of marriage would actually look like when the man you married belonged just as much to the world as he did to you.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Your fingers slid up to the base of his neck, curling lightly against the warm skin there as he huffed out a quiet laugh. Leon dipped his head again, but this time he didn’t rush the moment. Instead, his mouth found the line of your jaw, slow kisses brushing across your skin while he spoke softly against you.

 “You planning on tackling me every time I pick you up,” he murmured, “or am I just lucky tonight?”

When he pulled back, your hand followed him instinctively, fingertips catching against the rough edge of his jaw. Your thumb traced along the week-old stubble there, the faint scratch of it unfamiliar beneath your touch. Leon always had a clean face, but you weren't against the scruff. 

“Four months,” you said quietly, eyes lingering on his face. “You are lucky that’s all I did.” 

Something in that answer softened him. You saw it immediately in his eyes. They drifted slowly across your features, studying you in a way that felt almost careful before continuing down the rest of you, taking their time like they had nowhere else to be.

Your gaze lingered on him in turn for a moment longer than necessary, taking in the lines of his face like you were committing them to memory all over again. Months apart had a way of doing that, making every reunion feel like rediscovering someone you never truly stopped missing.

A crooked smile returned to his mouth.

“You look different.”

He paused, like he was weighing the words.

“Good different.”

You smiled at the attempt to flatter you. Beneath everything he had become over the years—the hardened agent, the man who became quiet after so many weeks gone—there was still a piece of that rookie cop buried somewhere deep inside him. The one who had once been nervous taking you out for your first date, unsure of everything except the way he looked at you.

But the faint shadows beneath his eyes dulled the memory.

Your hands slid down the front of his chest, fingers spreading against the fabric of his shirt before your thumb began absentmindedly brushing back and forth along the seam near the center.

“Do you want me to be honest with you?”

Leon leaned back just enough to study you again, one brow lifting slightly in that familiar way.

“You look tired," you said. 

The smile he gave this time was different. Softer. Warmer. One hand came up, brushing a strand of wind-tossed hair away from your face with a gentleness that never quite left him no matter how many years passed.

“Hard not to be,” he murmured. “When you’re not here.”

You looked up at him through your brows. “That sounds suspiciously like you’re blaming me.” 

The same hand he had used to brush the hair from your face slid around to the back of your neck, his fingers settling there as he gently tugged you closer. For a moment it looked like he was going to kiss you again.

Instead, he stopped just short of your lips, hovering there, his breath warm against your mouth.

“I am.”

Your mouth dropped open in mock offense as you gave his chest a playful slap, pushing him back a step. Leon barely moved before his hand caught your wrist, his grip firm but easy as he pulled you right back toward him, closing the distance you’d tried to create.

His lips found yours again without question.

This time the kiss landed harder, like the teasing had snapped whatever restraint he’d been pretending to keep. You didn’t fight it, not for a second. Why would you? This was the exact thing you had missed most about him, the quiet confidence, the playful edge that always slipped through when the two of you were alone.

His hand slid back around you, drawing you close again as if the months apart had never happened. The moment your body settled against his again, the tension seemed to leave him all at once, like he had been holding it in since the moment you stepped off the plane.

You melted against him easily, your hands sliding up his chest again as he held you there, steady and warm, like he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon. Your body reacted differently than it had during that first kiss. When his thumb slid slowly to the hollow of your neck, pressing gently against the soft skin there and tilting your head, your mouth parted, letting him take exactly what he wanted.

The soft sound that rumbled low in Leon’s chest was enough to push you dangerously close to the edge. That, and the unmistakable way his grip on you had tightened, told you everything you needed to know about the storm building beneath his calm exterior. You could feel it in the way his body pressed closer, in the heat radiating from him like something barely contained. If the sliding terminal doors hadn’t suddenly opened behind you and a pair of passengers wandered out into the pickup lane, you were almost certain Leon would have taken you right there against the hood of his car without a second thought.

When he pulled back slightly, it wasn’t because he wanted to.

His attention flicked toward the newcomers as they passed, but his hand never left you. It stayed firm against your side, holding you in place like you might disappear the moment he let go. The brief interruption seemed to bring the reality of your surroundings crashing back over both of you at once.

You were standing in the middle of the airport pickup lane.

Very much in public.

Leon exhaled slowly through his nose as the couple moved past, his eyes tracking them for another second before he looked back at you again.

His hand tightened slightly at the back of your waist before he exhaled quietly through his nose again, the sound almost like he was steadying himself.

“We should go,” he muttered.

Then he pulled back.

The shift was immediate. The warmth in his eyes didn’t disappear, but something more controlled slid into place over it as he glanced briefly toward the terminal entrance behind you, clearly remembering where the two of you were standing as cars pulled in behind him.

Leon moved past you, grabbing the handles of your abandoned suitcases before you even thought about it, rolling them toward the Porsche with an efficiency that felt very practiced.

When he reached the passenger side, he stopped and opened the door for you, one hand resting against the top of it as he looked back at you.

His gaze lingered before he flicked his head toward the passenger seat, the motion quick and deliberate. The look in his eyes alone was enough to make you smile, quietly enjoying the way his posture had gone a little rigid as he fought the tension building slowly beneath the fabric of his dark cargo pants. 

As you stepped toward the open door, your smile widened just a little. Your hand slid across the front of his chest as you passed him, fingers brushing slowly over the firm line of muscle beneath his shirt.

Leon’s eyes dropped immediately to the movement, his jaw tightening slightly as he watched your hand trail away from him.

You didn’t miss it.

Still smiling, you gathered the hem of your dress and slipped into the passenger seat, settling into the soft leather while Leon remained where he stood beside the door. For a moment he didn’t move, one hand resting along the top of the frame as his gaze stayed fixed on you, following the motion of you adjusting in the seat

The door remained open for only a moment longer before Leon shut it with a solid click, the sound sealing you inside the quiet interior of the Porsche like the world outside had suddenly been cut off. Only the click of him fitting your suitcases into the trunk followed. 

By the time he rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat, the low hum of the engine filled the interior with a steady vibration. For a second he just sat there, one hand resting on the steering wheel as he glanced toward the terminal behind you in the mirror, checking the flow of cars pulling in and out of the pickup lane.

Then his eyes drifted back to you.

Something unreadable flickered across his expression before he shifted the car into gear, guiding the Porsche smoothly away from the curb and into the line of traffic leaving the airport.

Bright streetlights filtered past the windshield as Leon guided the car through the late-night streets, the glow rolling across the dashboard in slow intervals. The hotel was still a bit of a drive, but the space inside the car already felt thick with everything the two of you had been holding back for months. The moment his hand settled on your exposed thigh, the tension tightened even further, his thumb gliding slowly back and forth over the soft skin like he had every intention of reminding you he was there.

You had missed him enough that the simple weight of his hand sent a small shiver through you. Your own hand drifted upward along his arm, fingers tracing the strong line of muscle as you followed the path of the veins that climbed his forearm before disappearing beneath the cuff of his shirt.

You admired him.

Leon wore the same watch he always had, the dark metal band hugging his wrist, the face scratched just enough to show it had seen more than its share of years and hard use. The faint glow of the dashboard lights caught along the edge of it as his hand flexed against your leg, the movement drawing your eyes farther up his arm.

From there it was impossible not to notice the rest of him.

The dark navy shirt stretched clean across his shoulders, the sleeves pushed just high enough to expose the muscle in his forearms, while the black cargo pants he wore sat low against his hips as he shifted in the driver’s seat. Everything about him looked the same and different all at once, familiar enough to make your chest ache and changed just enough to remind you how long it had been.

You were staring. 

And Leon noticed.

One corner of his mouth lifted slightly as his eyes flicked briefly away from the road to you before returning forward again.

“You planning on staring at me all night,” he murmured, voice calm, “or should I be worried about the road?”

A quiet laugh slipped from you as your fingers drifted back down his arm again, tracing the same path absently like you couldn’t quite help yourself. “Sorry,” you said softly, the word carrying more warmth than apology. Your hand stayed there for another moment before you glanced toward him again, your voice gentler when you spoke next.

“I just… missed you.”

The words settled quietly between you, simple and honest in a way that made the car feel briefly calmer, the months apart shrinking down into the small space between the two seats. Leon didn’t answer immediately. The movement of his thumb against your thigh slowed slightly, the gesture softer now, like he was turning the words over in his mind.

“I’ve missed you too,” he said at last, his voice low.

A small pause followed, the kind that carried more weight than the words themselves.

“More than you know.”

His hand shifted as he spoke, fingers tightening slightly where they rested against your leg before sliding a little higher along your thigh as he kept his eyes on the road ahead. The streetlights continued to drift past the windshield while Washington’s late-night traffic rolled quietly around the Porsche, each one briefly illuminating the sharp line of his jaw as he drove, the faintest hint of that familiar crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Somewhere along the way, the tension softened just enough for conversation to take over. Leon's hand stayed where it was. 

You started asking questions almost without realizing it. About where he’d been the last few months, about the kind of work that had kept him away so long, about the places he’d seen and the things he’d been doing while you’d been counting the days back home. Leon answered every one of them the way he always did, giving you just enough to satisfy your curiosity without stepping too far into the classified edges of his job. He told you about long flights, unfamiliar cities, and the kind of work that kept him moving from one place to the next without much rest in between. It wasn’t the full story; you knew that much by now, but it was the part he could share—and the part he trusted you with.

In return you filled him in on everything he’d missed.

You told him about the house, about the little things that had piled up while he was gone. The leaky faucet you’d finally managed to fix after three attempts and a YouTube video that had made it look far easier than it actually was. The neighbor who’d started mowing his lawn at six in the morning every Saturday. The way the garden had somehow survived the summer heat despite your questionable watering schedule.

He listened to every word.

Now and then he asked questions of his own, small ones that showed he was paying attention even while keeping the car steady through traffic. You told him about your job, about the long days and the quiet evenings that followed, and about the empty side of the bed that never quite stopped feeling strange no matter how many nights passed.

25 minutes slipped by like that, conversation flowing easily in the space between you, the miles of distance that had separated you over the past months slowly dissolving with every exchanged word.

“I’ll be home soon.” His hand gave your thigh a firm squeeze before he passed a glance your way. “I promise.”

You knew he would. He always came home.

But some days the doubt still crept in anyway, quiet and persistent, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“You can’t promise that.”

Your hand curled around his arm as you said it, your gaze drifting toward the window as the Porsche rolled onto a bridge, the dark water below reflecting scattered lights from the city.

The change in Leon was immediate.

You felt it before you even looked at him.

When you finally glanced back, his grip on the steering wheel had tightened, the muscles in his forearm shifting beneath your fingers as his eyes remained fixed straight ahead on the road.

The hotel wasn’t far now.

And suddenly the car felt too quiet. Your tongue sat heavy in your mouth, like a stone you couldn’t swallow back down, the regret settling in almost as quickly as the words had escaped you.

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“Don’t be.”

Leon exhaled slowly, the breath pushing a few stray silver strands of hair across his forehead before he brushed them back with a quick movement of his hand.

“You’re right.”

For a moment neither of you spoke. The low hum of the engine filled the space between you as the car carried the two of you across the bridge, the city lights stretching out ahead.

Then his hand returned to your leg.

This time when his fingers settled there, they slid a little higher again than before.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t try.”

For a moment you just watched him, the way the passing streetlights caught the lines of his face, the quiet determination that always seemed to sit just beneath the surface. It struck you then that every time he left, every mission that pulled him halfway across the world, it probably cost him more than he ever said out loud.

Being away hurt him too.

Leon wasn’t the kind of man who walked away from the things he believed in. You had known that long before the ring ever found your finger. The work, the danger, the endless string of places he could never fully talk about… it was part of him. Asking him to give it up would have been like asking him to stop breathing.

He couldn’t quit.

He wouldn’t.

And yet the thought that lingered in the back of your mind now was the same one that had been there the day he asked you to marry him.

If he knew the risks… if he knew how much of his life would always belong to that work…

Then why had he chosen this?

Why had he chosen you?

Your gaze drifted down to where his hand still rested against your thigh, the warmth of it steady and grounding as his thumb traced slow, absent circles against your skin. The motion wasn’t hurried anymore, but it wasn’t distant either. If anything, it felt more deliberate now, like something he was holding onto just as tightly as you were.

You reached for him again without thinking, your fingers sliding back along his arm, tracing the familiar lines of muscle beneath his sleeve until your hand settled there.

Stubborn.

That was the word for him.

The same stubbornness that kept him running toward danger again and again was the one that had brought him back to you every time.

And suddenly the tension in the car felt different.

Not sharp like it had been earlier.

Heavier.

Warmer.

Your thumb brushed slowly along his arm as you leaned back into the seat, your voice quieter when you spoke again.

“Good,” you murmured.

Leon glanced toward you briefly.

“Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The words lingered before you spoke again, softer this time. 

“I love you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched at that, but his hand tightened slightly where it rested against your leg, sliding this time inward a tad as the car continued through the quiet streets.

“Love you too.” 

It was simple, the way he always said it, but the quiet certainty in his voice made your chest tighten all the same. You could feel the shift in him too. The air inside the car felt charged now, like something had settled between you both that made the space feel smaller than before. His thumb continued its slow, torturous movements against your thigh, and the lingering heat from the airport kiss slipped back through your chest.

It was the shift your body needed to finally react.

The warmth spread lower, slowly at first, before building into something far harder to ignore. You found yourself wanting his hands higher, wanting them in places the cramped space of the car simply wouldn’t allow, and suddenly the hotel felt much farther away than it had five minutes ago.

Your fingers curled around his wrist, tighter this time, and you shifted slightly in your seat, your hips moving forward as if you were only trying to get comfortable.

Leon noticed.

His jaw flexed faintly as he glanced toward youl. The motion was subtle, but the quiet breath he let out afterward said enough.

“Keep doing that,” he muttered under his breath, “and we’re not making it to the hotel.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your face.

“Was that the plan?” you asked softly.

Leon didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he guided the Porsche through the next intersection, the low growl of the engine filling the quiet cabin as the car turned down a darker stretch of road lined with trees. The city lights thinned here, traffic nearly gone as the road curved alongside the river.

Only then did he glance toward you again, his eyes darker now.

“Starting to look that way.”

You noticed the exact moment he made the decision, like your small movements had been all he needed to finally give you exactly what you wanted.

It wasn’t dramatic. Just a slight shift of the wheel.

The Porsche rolled smoothly along the dark road, the river occasionally flashing between the trees as the headlights carved through the quiet stretch of pavement ahead. A second later the car slowed, Leon guiding it off the road onto a narrow pull-off overlooking the water, gravel crunching softly beneath the tires as he eased the Porsche into the empty space.

The engine idled for a moment, his jaw still set as one hand steadied the wheel. Then his other hand slid from your thigh so he could shift the car into park, right before they found their way back to your thigh.

Silence settled around the two of you.

For a brief moment it felt strangely familiar, like the very beginning again. Shared glances. The quiet tension of a nervous cop who hadn’t quite figured out how to admit he wanted you.

Except now the roles had shifted.

And suddenly you felt very small sitting beside the broad-shouldered government agent next to you, the same man who had crossed half the world more than once and still somehow looked at you like you were the thing he wanted most.

Your voice came out softer than you expected.

“Leon…”

He said nothing as he pulled your thighs apart, lifting your dress another inch.

Even though the thought of letting him do what he wanted out here sent sparks through your stomach, you still grew a little shy, your hand moving over his as he leaned across the center console toward you. When he did, he switched hands, replacing the warmth between your legs with his left one. 

“Leon—“ 

He leaned over to kiss you slowly, taking his time breathing you in, his hand inching its way toward your center and ghosting over the fabric of your panties. 

“Yes?” 

You shifted your hips again against him, nudging them forward slightly as you looked up at him through hooded eyes. 

He could already tell you were wet just by the way his fingers grazed over you. 

"I…" You didn't know what to say. 

This is exactly what you wanted, and he knew it. He knew you too well. Before any more thought could form, he kissed you again, looping his fingers around the fabric to slip underneath, feeling you entirely. 

You shifted again, the sensation pulling a soft moan from your lips into his mouth. 

“You wanna go?” he murmured between kisses. “Want me to stop?”

He dragged his finger in slow, slick motions up and down your sex without pushing further, causing a shaky breath to form. 

You shook your head, brushing your nose against his as you moved your hips against his hand. 

“Then take these off.” He stopped what he was doing, tugging at the fabric before pulling away and reaching for the car door. 

You did what he asked, shimmying them down your legs with little effort as he began to get out of the car. For a second the sudden absence of him left you blinking in confusion, the cool night air rushing in where his warmth had been only moments before. That wasn’t what you’d meant at all, and the thought that he might actually walk away made your stomach drop. 

You watched him round the front of the car, though, moving with purpose rather than distance. 

And then it clicked. 

He wasn't leaving. 

He was coming for you. 

Before you could even ask what he was doing, Leon yanked your door open. The night air was more prevalent as he offered you a hand, his expression unreadable but determined. 

“C’mon,” he said quietly. 

You slid your hand into his and stepped out, the gravel crunching softly beneath your feet. He didn’t let go right away. Instead, he glanced down, then suddenly bent over in front of you. 

The movement caught you off guard, a sudden flush of heat rising up your neck as your mind jumped to an entirely different conclusion. 

"What are you—"

But he only huffed a quiet laugh, reaching for the strap of your shoe. 

“Relax,” he muttered, slipping it off your foot before moving to the other one. “You’re not climbing back there in these.” 

For a second his breath hovered there, his hand sliding lightly up the length of your thigh before he pressed a quick kiss just above your knee. 

Then he straightened, your shoes dangling from his fingers, the same dangerous look settling in his eyes again. 

Without another word, he opened the back door. 

It took less than a minute for him to convince you into the backseat, where he pulled you on top of him, pushing your dress fully up over your hips. You claimed his mouth instantly, one hand braced against his chest while the other cupped his face. His head leaned back against the seat, and his hands enveloped your backside, pulling you down against him to match the needy movement of his hips.

You stole the air from each other, your mouths opening for one another as he claimed you like a starving man finally given what he wanted. When he left your lips to work at your neck, a pleading whimper slipped from you, overwhelmed with the feeling of his mouth against your skin. 

One of his hands left your hip to pull the straps of your dress down, exposing your chest to him. Without a second thought, he moved lower until he found your breast, biting and sucking at your skin. Your hand slid into his hair, and the moment his tongue brushed your sensitive peak, a wave of heat swept through your body, causing you to lean back for him as a soft moan sounded from you. 

Hearing you seemed to spur him on as his hand hiked up and under your dress completely. 

“Off.” He murmured against your chest, guiding it up your body as he spoke. He pulled away only long enough for you to raise your arms as he threw it to the side, leaving you bare on top of him. He found your lips again as he pushed his hips up, meeting your desperate movements to cause friction. His hands trailed over every inch of you before finally finding your hair, tugging your head back to trail his tongue across the length of your neck. 

You gasped at the movement, a shiver trailing across your skin as he slowed his pace, trailing his breath across your neck as he spoke. 

“So needy.”

A pathetic whine left your lips from the grueling tension building under you, feeling his length through his pants as you ground against him. 

"Leon—" you pleaded. 

His hand left your hair as he slipped a finger into your mouth, guiding your head down until your eyes met his.

"Yeah, baby?” 

You swirled your tongue around his finger before he slid a second in, eliciting a small sound from you as he let you lap at them, pulling your face closer. 

“Hmm?” He hummed, just inches from your mouth. “Use your words, baby.” 

He pulled his fingers out just enough to let you speak, his breath hot against your lips. "Please," you said. 

He smiled, leaning in to take your lower lip between his teeth as he reached between you, slowly gliding his now-wet fingers between your thighs. The second his touch found your entrance, a whimper slipped from your lips as you crashed your mouth against his again, gripping the back of the seat while lifting your hips to give him better leverage. 

He was so slow you thought the ache building inside you might actually kill you. But it wasn’t enough; his touches were feather-light, only scratching the surface of what you wanted.

The more he teased you, the more you shifted against him. Until he used his free hand to steady your hip. In the same motion he slipped his fingers deeper, curling them just enough to ease the burning tension for a moment. 

“Leon.” You breathed into his ear, frustration threading through your voice as you rolled your hips against him. 

“Tell me what you need,” he murmured into your ear, his fingers working achingly slow as he began to move his thumb right over your clit.

You could come undone like this if you wanted, but you hadn’t seen him in four months.

“I need you," you whispered, pressing your face against him. 

“You have me.” He breathed.

You bit at his earlobe, feeling every movement of his fingers as they worked you higher. You were a mess on top of him, exposed and desperate. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I need you to fuck me.” 

As soon as you said it, his free hand came up and gripped the space where your jaw and neck meet, pulling you just enough to meet his eyes. He was ravenous; it was like all this teasing was killing him just as much. 

He pulled his fingers free and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean before pulling you back in and claiming your lips again. He made sure you could taste it before pulling away. 

"Yes, ma’am.”

His hand left your neck, and he lifted your hips enough to work at his pants, freeing himself from the tightness of the fabric. 

You could feel your senses growing feral as he adjusted himself below you, gripping your hip with his free hand as he lined himself up. 

You dug your nails into his shoulder in anticipation as he claimed your mouth again, pushing you down onto him in one fluid motion. When you moaned into his kiss, you could feel his nails digging into your skin, holding you steady as you took him fully. 

It was everything and more, filling every empty need you’d carried for the last four months as you felt him stretch you completely. You didn’t move at first, only shifting your hips slightly as you adjusted to the feeling. 

“Fuck.” Leon let out a strangled moan into your mouth as you moved your hips forward, then back, little gasps melding with your kisses.

His patience ran thin as he helped you lift your hips right before pushing them back down, setting you into a toe-curling rhythm. 

You pulled back from his mouth, letting your head loll back as he set a devastatingly smooth pace, helping you work him. He took your movements to his advantage, his mouth finding your chest again as he sucked at your skin, leaving marks peppered across your breasts. 

For a moment it was pure perfection. Pure bliss. Everything you’d been waiting for, and now you were coming completely undone on top of him. 

Your breaths and moans melded together as he claimed every inch of you, marking your skin and fogging the windows of the car. The space was cramped, but he made the most of it, trailing one hand behind your back to support you as you leaned. Then his second hand found its way between your thighs, circling in just the right places to send you into a blissful coma. 

At this angle he hit you in just the right spot, each push filling you as much as you could take. You couldn’t tell up from down as he pulled moan after moan from your lips, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

He could tell, either by the way your eyes couldn’t focus or the way you began to tighten around him. He reacted instantly, pulling you closer as he kept his pace steady, the pressure of his grip mixing with the steady rhythm of his hips. 

“Come on, baby.”

You looked down at him, watching his eyes fill with lust as they found your lips, your mouth open in pure ecstasy. 

“I’ve got you.” 

He did. His grip on you was solid, hand splayed across your back as he supported you each time you rocked with him. 

“Fuck, Leon—“

“That’s it.”

You were so close. So close to coming undone. So close to letting it all go. You leaned forward, pressing your head against his. 

“Don’t stop—don't—"

He kissed your jaw, working his hand tirelessly as your climax was near its peak. He could feel how close you were, feel you clench around him right as it tipped. His hips were relentless as he took over, driving into you as you enjoyed every second. 

“That’s it, baby, let go.” 

A bright wave of ecstasy plowed through you, and you dug your nails into his back, clinging onto him now for dear life as you rode him through it, working his fingers in lazy circles while he dug his face into your neck. The moan you let out was mixed with curses, washing over you like cold water as you shuddered through the high. 

He must have been right behind you because his pace began to falter, his own moans and curses getting lost in your skin as he buried himself closer to you, staggered with each thrust. 

His hand left your center, coming up behind your back, and he pulled you flush to him, his movements finally ceasing. 

All you could do was breathe, collapsed against his chest as you buried your face into his neck. 

He stayed still, not pulling you off, your chests rising and falling in unison. His hands began moving slowly up and down your back before moving down to your thighs. He rubbed small circles in the places he held the hardest as he leaned his head back against the seat. 

"Fuck," he breathed. 

You let out a breathy laugh as you lifted your head, finally getting a good look at the disheveled mess he’d become. You reached up, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead, before kissing him there gently. 

When you pulled back, his mouth was still parted, panting, his eyes hooded as he searched your face. 

You pulled back another inch. “What?” 

He smiled, trailing his hands slowly back up your sides in soothing motions. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?” 

A heat flushed across your face as if you weren’t already married to this man, and you smiled giddily as your hand trailed across his stubble. 

He leaned forward to kiss your jaw again. “Especially like this.” 

He kissed your skin once more before pulling you back down against him, settling your head on his shoulder. 

You lay like this for some time, enjoying each other's warmth, basking in the backseat of his car until you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head, his hand gently settling into your hair. 

“I’m not goin anywhere.” 

You weren’t sure what he meant until you thought back to your earlier conversation. 

You can’t promise that. 

You lifted your head, looking at him as he stared out the windshield, absently stroking your hair. 

“I know,” you said, placing your hand on his chest. 

He looked at you then with a soft smile before kissing your forehead. 

“You got anything comfy in those suitcases?” 

You pulled back. "Yeah, why?" 

Then, you were rudely reminded that you were still sitting on him—still connected to him. When he lifted your hips from his lap, you gasped as reality washed back over you, and as he pulled out, the aftermath of your escapade dripped down your legs. 

“I’m not putting you back in that dress. Which suitcase? I’ll grab it.” 

He was so casual about it, helping you shift into the seat beside him while he tugged his pants back up and buttoned them before leaning over to give you a quick kiss. 

You just stared at him, star-struck. “Uh, well—” 

“Don’t think too hard. Whatever you pick is just gonna end up on my floor tonight anyway.” 

You raised your eyebrows at him, your lips parting slightly.

He seemed a little surprised too, though there was humor in it. “You think after four months I haven’t been dying for this exact fucking moment?” 

You blinked at him, a slow smile creeping across your face. 

“You know,” you said, leaning back against the seat, “most husbands wait at least five minutes before admitting that.” 

Leon's hand found your thigh again. “Do most husbands also fuck their wives in the back of a Porsche on the side of a greenway?” 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know,” you said. “But if they don’t, they're doing marriage wrong.” 

Leon laughed quietly under his breath before leaning over to press one more kiss to your temple. 

“That’s my girl.” He said, reaching for the door handle. “Now c’mon before I get distracted again, which suitcase?” 

You glanced at him as he stepped out of the car, shaking your head with a smile. 

It all started with that damn jacket. 

“It’s so cold, Joel. Please.” You whined, skin shuddering from the breeze. “Told you to bring a coat or somethin’, y’never listen.” He huffs, shedding off the outermost layer of his clothes. He holds it over you, eyebrows raised combined with pursed lips. 

You smile at him, quickly grabbing hold of the jacket and putting it on. You waste no time, zipping up the front of the jacket and tugging the ends of it to try and fit your body. It felt huge wrapped around you– it extended past your torso, and you had to tug the sleeves up just to use your hands. 

You looked so cute like this, he thinks for a moment, staring at you blankly. His eyes raked over you, eyeing you from head to toe. “Anyone ever tell you it’s bad manners if you stare?” Your voice chimes in like a chirp of a bird, and he’s back to reality. 

He shakes his head, walking past you, “Shut up.” He mutters. And you smile. 

You were fully aware of what effect you had on him. Ever since moving across his house a few months back, you’ve made it your life’s mission to make him fuck you. 

It didn’t take long for him and your dad to form a friendship over football and beer. However, ever since meeting Joel, he was always just this stuck-up, grumpy– presumably lonely– middle-aged man to you. You were just determined to help him, what’s wrong with that? Every time your dad invited him over for dinners or outings, you made sure you wore something that caught his eye. 

Even if that means wearing something skimpy during a cold weather. 

“I’ll wash this up for you and bring it back tomorrow morning, promise!” You say, looking at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes. He nods, shaking his hand in the air, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

Is it wrong that he turns you on?

Is it wrong that you’re thinking about getting stuffed full of his dick? Of his cum? 

“Come on, girl.” He calls out to you, and you follow. 

For the evening, your dad had invited him to an outing. A fancy word your dad uses for just ordering take-out and eating it in the truck by the woods. They talked for a while, with pauses and laughs in between. 

“.. Anyway, I have to drive back to our old place tomorrow.” Your dad says, biting down on his food. You nod before tilting your head, “Why?” He finishes his food before wrapping the packaging and throwing it in a piece of plastic, “Forgot some of my boxes, kid.” He shrugs casually then turns to Joel, “Keep an eye on her, would ‘ya?”

When you get back home, you rush up to your room. You sigh in relief, welcoming the warm air while taking off his jacket. You lay down on your bed, holding the jacket close to you and taking a deep breath of his scent. It was so distinct, so unique, so.. him. Your fingers trace over the fabric, a mental image of him appearing in your head. Your breath hitches in your throat, and your other hand hooks your panties down. 

You take a pillow, placing the jacket above it. You straddle over it, forcing the pillow between your thighs. You lean down, burying your face in the jacket as you start grinding on it. Your pussy rubs over the cloth of his jacket, and you can’t help but whimper at just the thought of that. 

You were like a woman possessed, chasing your own high as you kept his jacket close. It didn’t take long– his scent drives you mad, almost crazy, and just a few moments later, you let yourself unravel.  Sweaty and tired, you collapsed on top of the jacket, coating it with your sweat and essence.

You woke up in a panic, your dad’s knocking alarming you. You sit up straight, tossing the jacket to the side and yanking your blanket over your legs. “Yeah, dad?” You clear your own throat, stretching out your limbs. “Joel’s here, and I’m going.” He says from the outside of the door. “Alright, drive safe!” You call out. 

You make out the thuds of his boots down the stairs. You then eventually hear the engine of his car. You look out your window, waving your hand as your dad honks the car before driving off completely. 

You get up, picking a pair of shorts from your drawer and putting them on. You grab the jacket from the side of your room, sighing to yourself before stepping out. You walk downstairs to the smell of a fresh coffee pot and some pancakes. 

“Figured you could eat somethin’.” Joel’s voice grounds you, his back facing you as he finishes cooking the last pancake. “Coffee’s there, if ‘ya want.” He points towards his right, the tone of his back muscles visible through his shirt. You nod, setting the jacket on one of the table chairs. You help yourself to a cup of coffee, taking a sip before sitting by the table. He turns around to face you before slipping the plate of pancakes in front of you. 

“I have to head out to the hardware store, d’ya wanna come?” He asks, sitting on the chair across from you. You nod, taking a fork and getting a bite out of one of the pancakes, “Mhm. Should let me change though.” Your voice is muffled, you haven’t finished the bite. “Now, sweetheart, I believe it’s bad manners to talk with your mouth full.” He grins at you, a smug look spreading across his face.

You roll your eyes, swallowing it before locking eyes with him. “Let me shower and change, Miller.” He chuckles, nodding as he takes a bite of a pancake. You finish your cup of coffee along with the pancake with a satisfied hum before standing up. 

Oh! You almost forgot his jacket. 

You reach over to the hunched cloth on the chair, grabbing it and sliding it in front of him. You’re off to the shower now, your footsteps echoing throughout the hallway.

He swears you’re trying to fuck him over. 

After your little banter, you slip him his jacket and you’re off on your feet. He shakes his head with a smile before his eyes glaze over his jacket.

Just as he was going to turn his gaze away, something caught his eye. A stain. A dried-up stain that left a darker patch on the hem of his jacket. It couldn’t be water, it would’ve dried up normally. He’s familiar with it. After fucking around with multiple women in a variety of compromising situations, he’s all too familiar with what it was. 

Dirty. Fucking. Girl. 

He takes a deep breath, the confines of his shorts tightening around his hardening erection. He looks down at it, shaking his head. 

This is fucked. He thinks, his hand going down to palm his cock through his shorts. He grabs the jacket, bringing the stain close to his nose to get a whiff of it. 

Fuck. You smelled amazing. Something sweet, something fresh. By now he’s rubbing his cock with his hand, hips bucking up into nothing. 

“Joel! Mind handing me a towel?” 

Your voice cuts through his heated session. A grunt caught in his throat, shaking his head and trying to shrug it off by clearing his throat. “Yeah, erm,” He lets go of the jacket, “Where?” He stands up quickly. “Should be one by my room.” You hum from the shower.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters to himself, dragging his feet up the stairs and towards your room. He creaks open the door, scanning the room for your towel. He sighs, walking in and looking at every corner. Your scent is everywhere, making his head spin and cock harder. 

He finds your towel hooked on the back of your door, and relief washes over him. He grabs it hastily, pulling a top you discarded days ago with it. It drops down to his boots, and he stares at it. A white lacy tank top, one you wear at home only. He takes a deep breath, every fiber of his being screaming no. 

This isn't right, he's too old for you.

He was just going to put it back where it came from. What’s the harm in that? He was just going to put it back nicely, as if this never happened. He scoops it up, the soft feel of the fabric a contrast to his rugged hands. Then it hits him. Your scent. He can smell it all over the top. Didn’t even need to bring it close to his nose to be able to get a whiff of it.

He folds it neatly before tucking it in his pants. 

Oh, he was going to hell for this.

It took you days to notice that some pieces of your clothing went missing. First were the tank tops you wore at home, you always tucked them away by the first drawer of your cabinet. Second were the laced bras you bought from a city a long time ago, you mostly just use it when you’re out. Then finally, your favorite white lace thong. 

Joel started to come over more frequently, always by the front door with a pack of beer. Your dad was more than happy to let him in. It was strange, some pieces of your clothing came back during the days Joel was over. You thought nothing of it. 

Not until you saw him sneaking about the door of your room. He had just excused himself to go the the bathroom, a routine you picked up on ever since he came over more. It was like a tick in your brain– you just needed to know what he was truly doing in there. 

Instead, you catch him by your room, thong in hand, nose-deep, and cock hard. You were by the lower part of the stairs, enough to get a good view of what he was doing. Your eyes widen in shock, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. 

You had him hooked.

Joel knew how fucked up it was. He was inviting your dad for drinks and a good time, only for his main objective to be to sneak into your room and snatch a few pieces of your garments. All for what? Jerking himself off late at night, when all of his pillows are covered in your scent, when all he can think about is the way your hips move, the way your tits bounce. 

He knew how fucked up it was, cumming on your garments, moaning your name, and imagining how sweet your pussy would feel wrapped around his cock. He knew how fucked up he was. 

But it was better than actually touching you, than actually crossing the line and fucking his friend’s daughter. He kept a safe distance, he kept boundaries, and he made sure he never stepped the line. So, surely, this was better, right? He’d slip into your room, grab a bra, a thong, or a top, and he’d be satisfied. And that was enough. 

It had to. 

But goddamn you were making it hard. You were making him really hard. 

You knew how to push his buttons, knew how to drive him to his limits. Every outfit you put on for him just got more and more enticing. And for tonight, his eyes are now shamelessly scanning every curve and dip of your body. 

The hour was late, your dad had excused himself to his room– his head was hurting. It was only you and him now, sitting on the couch, in front of the television. The past few moments were pure torture for him. Every skin-on-skin contact with you made him go crazy, and every time you walked past him, he could just inhale your scent.

He has one of the couch pillows set over his thighs, a weak attempt to cover up the hard-on he earned just by looking at you. Your eyes were glued to the screen, a knowing smile displaying itself on your lips. 

20 minutes pass, and so far, he wouldn’t budge off the couch or even get a new bottle of beer. “Would you like a new one?” You turn your head towards his direction. He hums, nodding, “Mhm, sure.” You walk over to the table, grabbing a new bottle of beer before walking back to him. You bend over a bit, handing it out to him.

His eyes lock in on your chest, the soft flesh of your boob peeking out through your low-cut top. And for a moment, he stays like that, mind completely distracted by the view in front of him. “Joel?” You ask innocently, beer bottle still in hand. He clears his throat, nodding his head before taking it out of your hand. 

He quickly takes a sip, trying to focus on what shows the television is playing. You smile to yourself, taking a seat beside him. You have a finger over your mouth– you feel the tension, and you scooch closer to him. “What’re ‘ya doin’, kid?” He asks, his voice low, eyes never leaving the screen. “It’s cold.” You shrug. 

He turns his back on you, his body facing the other way. Your eyes graze down on his back, admiring the way his muscles bulge through his shirt. Then, you catch a glimpse of your thong in his back pocket.

That was it.

“You know, it’s weird..” You start, looking at him. He looks over at you with his eyebrows raised, “Hm? What is?” You hook your finger on it, pulling it towards you in one swift motion. You dangle it in front of him, a smug look on your face. 

“Never took you for a pervert, Miller.” 

He looks at you, eyes wide with shock as his grip on the pillow tightens. “M’kay- fuck, I can explain–” He starts, standing up and letting the pillow fall to the ground. Your eyes lock with his boner, a smile forming on your lips. “Yeah?” You tilt your head to the direction of his boner. 

His eyes look down for a second, assessing himself. He sighs, running a hand over his face. “Been sneaking around and stealing my things when you could’ve just asked nicely.” You tut, standing up on your feet. “I know you want to fuck me, Joel.” You take a step closer to him. He looks at you, unsaid thoughts crossing over his eyes. He sighs before shaking his head. 

“Not here.” Is all he says before picking you up and placing you over his shoulder. You giggle quietly,  feet dangling in the air as he makes his way to your room. He fumbles with the door knob before clicking it open and setting you down on the bed. He locks the door behind him, turning around to face you properly.

You’re on your knees, fingers hiking up and glazing over your thighs. He eyes your movements, shaking his head. He walks closer to you until all you can see in front of you is just his tall frame. He grabs your chin, forcibly tilting your head to make you look at him. You don’t utter a word, your eyes scanning the entirety of his face. 

“Makin’ it so fuckin’ hard to control myself around you, angel.” He rubs his thumb by your bottom lip. You poke your tongue out, eventually taking his thumb in your mouth. “Just so happens you don’t have enough clothes to cover yourself with when ‘m around, is that it?” He looks at you with a dark gaze, his other hand reaching to unbuckle his belt. You nod, the sides of your lips curling into a smile. 

He takes his thumb out, tossing his belt to the side. He sits down on the edge of the bed before unbuttoning his pants. 

“Bend.” 

His voice drops an octave lower, his hand gesturing to his lap. You’re dumbfounded, lips parted with shock. “What are ‘ya, deaf?” He glares at you. You shake your head and do as you’re told, bending over his lap. He yanks your cotton shorts down, the cold air hitting your bare ass. “No panties?” He asks, his hand groping and getting a feel of your ass. You shake your head, squirming under his touch. 

You flinched as the sharp sound echoed throughout your room, a sting following– hot and immediate. 

“Words, baby. Let me hear ‘ya.” His gruff voice cooed from above you, his hand soothing over your flesh. “Deliberately wearin’ nothin’, hm? Is this for me, angel?” His fingers rub against your pooling hole. “Y-Yes.” You shook out the word, your hands pressing against his thighs. 

Another slap. “Yes what?” Oh, he sounds pissed. 

“Yes d-daddy-!” You whimper, your knees pressing together. He leans down on you until his lips are just by your ear, “Now you’re gonna have t’be quiet if you want me to fuck ‘ya properly, understood?” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. You nod your head, a tear slipping out of your eye. “Aw, poor baby.” His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping your tear away, “Does it hurt?” He hums. “N-No daddy, promise!” You say earnestly, trying your best to be good for him.  

“Count for me, sweet girl.” He orders, his tone leaving no room for protest. 

His hand landed on the flesh of your ass, sharp and unyielding.

“O-One.” Your voice trembled under the contact. 

“Wearin’ nothin’ but short skirts and cropped tops, tryin’ to kill me.”

The next landed with no hesitation, your cheeks retracting at the contact.

“Two!” You bite your lip, muffling your whimpers. 

“Intentionally wearin’ nothin’ underneath those pretty white bottoms.” 

The next was harder than the last, more painful– the impact of it spreading heat through your skin.

“Three..!” By now you were crying, your pretty pink cheeks glistening with tears. He pulls your body against his, letting you lean against him. His hands were brushing against your ass, a tender touch– a contrast to his earlier actions. “Did so good for me, angel.” He kisses your cheek, his arms wrapping around your waist, “Makin’ me so proud.” 

You straddle on his lap, taking one of his legs between your thighs. You start moving, eager for the friction. “What’s this? Pretty baby beggin’ to get fucked?” He coos against your ear, the palm of his hand on the back of your head. “Y-Yes please, please.. been so g-good for you..” You whine, moving your hips faster. His hands travel back to your waist, holding you in place before flipping you over and letting you lay on your back.

He pulls away, tugging his pants along with his boxers. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, long and girthy, twitching and begging to get buried inside of you. Your legs unconsciously spread open, your pussy all on display for him. He smiles at you, leaning over you before kissing your forehead. 

“Keep quiet. Think you can do that f’me, baby?” He whispers, his hands on the back of your knees. You nod, your pussy pulsing against the tip of his cock. He leans down, pressing your thighs to your chest as he pushes his cock deep into you. Your knees touch your shoulders, and your hands find their way to his. 

Your pussy is stuffed, and you lightly tap him as a signal for him to give you a few seconds to adjust to his size. “Little girl taking me in so well.” He breathes, his hips staying in place. You bite down on your bottom lip, trying your hardest not to make a sound. 

Just when you thought he was all in, his hips pressed further against you, driving the extra inches of his cock inside you. “D-Daddy..” You hiccup, tears flowing from your eyes as your legs tremble in pleasure. “I know baby, I know.” He kisses the tips of your eyes, nodding, “Don’t worry. I’ll stretch you out real good, angel.” He whispers by the side of your ear. “Have you beggin’ for more in no time, you want that, yeah?” He lets out a low moan, burying his cock deeper. You try to relax your body, nodding at his words.

His grip on your legs tightens, his hips rocking into you. A moan slips out of your mouth, and he’s quick to cover it with his hand. You look up at him, beads of sweat forming around his forehead, some of his hair sticking on his skin. He looks down at you, his eyes gazing at your chest– your hardened nipples moving against the fabric of your top. He removes his hands from the back of your knees, relocating them to grope on your tits. 

He grabs the fabric, tearing it into two impatiently. You gasp at the contact, his hips snapping rapidly as he grunts by your ear. Your tits bounce, and this only fuels him further, “You’re so beautiful, angel,” He praises, peppering kisses on your hands, “Always so good for me.” Your legs hook around his waist, his other hand making its way to your neck. He puts pressure on your airflow, your hands wrapping around his arm.

The obscene sound of your squelching pussy and his invading cock fills the room, and you start to feel light-headed. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching against his towering body. You clench around his cock, your legs pulling him closer to you. “Need me buried deep in your pussy, yeah, angel?” He smirks, his other hand teasing your nipples. Your pussy pulses with his words, your head nodding frantically. “M-Mhm- mmfh..” 

“You needed this so badly, huh?” He asks, his fingers glazing over your clit. You buck your hips up, desperate for his touch. “So pretty for me.” He rubs your clit with a soft and teasing touch. “M-More.. pleasepleaseplease– hngh–” You gasp, “So close, daddy!” He nods, adding more pressure to your clit. 

He looked so perfect right between your thighs, his large frame towering over yours, his hands exploring your body. His hips staggered, “This pussy is mine, understand me?” He lets go of your neck, hands pushing the back of your thighs to your chest. You nod, biting your lip while tears threaten to spill from your eyes. “D-Da- haaah– yours, all y-yours..!” He speeds up the pace, his fingers working their way on your clit. 

Your hands fall to your sides, your mind solely focusing on your release. “Just needed t’be fucked stupid.” He whispers, pulling his cock out before slamming it back in. Your back arches, and you’re met with your release. His hands land on your hips, pulling you towards him as he thrusts his cock into you one last time. 

He holds you still, his hands kneading on your hips as he leans over you. You feel his cum seep into you, steady ropes of it shooting inside you. He keeps still, making sure that you got every last drop. You feel breathless, your hands finding their way to his chest. 

He brings one of your hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your fingertips. “So good for me, sweetheart.” He pulls out, collapsing by your side. He snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

He scans your face, his hand cupping your face. He rubs his thumb over your cheek, leaning closer to kiss it. He was so tender, so sweet with you– like you were the most precious thing to him. His hand rests over the back of your head, cradling you to his chest. You sigh contently, your eyes fluttering as your breathing steadies itself. 

He kisses the top of your head, muttering sweet nothings and praises as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

Every girl gets her wish. 

white lace divider by @chilumitos , cupid divider by @ioveartfilm ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !

a/n: my second work! tried to do something new DOMJOELAHA, please feel free to correct me about any mistakes i made! i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! reblogs, comments, likes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!

You looked up to the sky above you and noticed the blue fading into green, darkening as the storm grew closer. The horses snorted in protest as you both pushed against the winds urging them forward. Fat droplets of rain started to fall one by one, tapping against the leather of your hat and fading into the hair of your horse. You looked forward to Arthur who was riding a few feet ahead of you on his own horse. 

Neither of you were expecting to be gone this long, and this storm was going to delay your journey back to camp by at least another day. He turned to look back at you, opening his mouth as if about to say something when suddenly the downpour came. 

The rain came fast and heavy, creating a thick veil you could barely see past. You shielded your face with your arm trying to stop the assault on your skin, your other hand held the reins and your coat tight to your body. “Up ahead!” You barely heard Arthur's voice shout back to you over another crack of thunder. You glanced upward past your arm trying to see through the curtain of rain and noticed a faint outline of a building off to the left side of the trail. Arthur spurred his horse forward with a faint “Hyah!” causing you to do the same and follow suit. Though difficult to see, you could just barely make out the details. It was a small log cottage with painted blue shutters, there was a covered well next to an outhouse, and a garden by the front door. It seemed vacant; no horses were hitched to the outside post and there was no stirring happening on the inside. It looked homely enough, but most importantly, it looked dry. The horses approached the cabin at a steady trot, their hooves squished into the mud as they reached the hitching posts. You swung your leg over the saddle and dismounted with a splash as your boots connected with the wet ground. The wind continued to rip through you as you struggled to keep your hat on your head and your coat from blowing open. 

Arthur clung to his own hat and ushered you along with him, his arm wrapped around your shoulders keeping you close to him as if afraid you would blow away with the winds. You couldn’t help but lean into him and his warmth, not complaining about how tight he was holding you. You two reached the door and Arthur knocked firmly. “Hello!” He shouted. “Anyone home?” The seconds passed by with no reply. Arthur muttered a curse under his breath. 

“I’m not standin’ out here all night.” His grip around you loosened as he took a step closer to the door. He took the handle in his hand and turned it open. A gust of wind pushed past you both and ripped through the threshold, snatching the door handle out of his grip and causing it to fling wide open with a loud creak. Arthur quickly drew his gun and turned to you. “Wait here.” He ordered. You nodded, your hand now hovered over the gun in your holster as he took a step inside, his revolver leading the way. 

Arthur turned quickly around the corners of the door frame, checking to see if anyone was there. You watched as he disappeared around the corner of the door and out of sight further into the cottage.

You stood there outside clutching your coat closed, quickly becoming drenched while waiting for his all clear. You glanced around you and looked back into the tree line and up the path from where you two had rode down from, not a single sign of life around. The winds continued to rip through the trees, snapping off clumps of twigs and leaves from their branches. 

“Anything?” You turned back and shouted impatiently into the cottage, not wanting to be stuck in this storm any longer. 

A few seconds passed without an answer and for a brief moment you held your breath, worried. Your hand wrapped around the handle of your gun and slowly lifted it from its holster. Suddenly, Arthur came back into your sight as he rounded the corner of the door, startling you. “Doesn’t look like anyone's home, c’mon.” He gestured for you to follow him inside and held his hand out for you to take. 

You let out your anxious breath and released your grip on your gun, reaching to take his hand instead. His fingers wrapped around yours as he gently pulled you inside, guiding you through the threshold and out of the rain. 

Upon first glance, the cottage was cozy and pleasant, an instant improvement from the usual filth and abandonment you had encountered in your previous travels. The door shut behind you and you breathed a sigh of relief to be out of the rain, reaching to take off your hat. Arthur chuckled at your sigh as he walked towards the kitchen, taking his coat and hat off and setting them down on the wooden table. You shrugged your wet coat off your shoulders and set it on the back of the chair that was positioned next to the fireplace to dry. 

The place was well furnished; wooden trim painted the same blue as the outside shutters, cabinets and shelves filled with books and trinkets, a stone fireplace built right into the wall adorned with trophy antlers and a golden mantle clock softly ticking away. The bed, positioned right beside the fireplace, was old and worn with faded bedding. The kitchen was well kept with clean dishes hanging up on the walls above the counter tops and decorative plates lined up along the shelves. Everything still looked lived in, like it hadn’t been neglected for long. Hopefully the homeowner wouldn’t mind if you and Arthur took shelter here for just the night. Arthur walked across the room, spurs clinking and wood creaking with each step he took. He knelt down in front of the hearth and prodded at the partially charred logs. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a box of matches, striking one before tossing it in. The fire slowly sparked to life as the flames clung to the logs, illuminating the room in an orange glow. Your body instantly relaxed as you felt the room begin to warm. “You think anyone's comin’ back?” You asked, concerned about the two of you trespassing. He stood up with a grunt and turned to you. “I don’t know, maybe,” his tone was low and his voice gravelly, “bread’s stale and food’s starting to rot. Been sittin’ out a few days at least.” He rubbed at his jaw, scratching at his grown in stubble. 

You turned and looked at the kitchen table Arthur had just placed his belongings on, noticing the half eaten and neglected food. You walked over to inspect the mess and wondered about the stranger who lived here, questioning what might have happened to them and if they were coming back. 

“We shouldn't stay long,” you say, “let's eat, get our strength back, and head back to camp.” 

At that moment, another clap of thunder cracked loudly through the valley as the rain and wind continued to slam against the wooden structure.

“I don't think headin’ back out in this rain is wise darlin’.” He hesitated, his heavy steps creaking the floorboards as he walked up beside you.

The way the pet name sounded against his lips made your heart skip a beat, but it wasn’t enough to mask your concern. “We’ve already been gone longer than we said we would. The gang’s gonna worry.” 

“We’ll leave as soon as the storm breaks,” Arthur walked to the kitchen window and peaked past the tattered curtains, “suns goin’ down too, we don't wanna get stuck out in the rain and the dark. It's too dangerous.” 

You frowned but didn’t protest, realizing your oversight. You knew it would be too dangerous, especially in these hills. The storm alone would make your path home much more treacherous, and between wandering the woods in the pitch black darkness and being surrounded by Murfree Broods, it would have been a death sentence to leave now. 

Arthur noticed the look on your face. “Hey,” the calm tone of his voice drew your eyes to his, “they’ll understand, ‘specially Hosea. We’ll get back tomorrow, it’ll be okay.”

“And if whoever lives here comes back and shoots us for trespassing?” You quipped.

“For their sake,” he paused, a smirk tugging at his lips, “they better be a faster draw.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him and back to the kitchen table. You grabbed your satchel and rummaged through it, pulling out two cans of food and a wrapped loaf of bread.

“We still need to eat.” You sassed, holding a can out to him.

“Looks like someone’s already started without us.” He joked, pointing his thumb over to the neglected food before taking the can from you. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his joke. 

Arthur pulled his knife from his side and stabbed it into the top of the can. He peeled back the aluminum top and brought the can to his lips, slurping down its contents. You both hadn't eaten all day and you felt your stomach grumble at the sight of food.

“I bet this wasn't the kinda adventure you were expecting.” He spoke, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You pulled out your own knife and cut off a corner of your bread loaf, bringing it up to your lips and taking a bite.

“I think I’d still prefer this to being shot at.” You chewed, cutting off another corner of bread and handing it to him. Arthur chuckled as he took the piece. 

“Yes, the rain is more preferable than being shot at,” you both were quiet for a few moments as you chewed on your food, “but this was a nice change of scenery for you, right?” Arthur's voice faltered as he started to grow self conscious about this trip he had taken you on. 

Arthur had decided to take you up into the mountains for a few days to teach you how to hunt and to look at the beauty of the mountain side. Thinking back, it was a bit strange how you were able to be out and away from camp like this. You rarely ever got to go on adventures, outside of running from lawmen and bounty hunters. For you, it was all chores, reading, and more chores and if you were being honest, you were starting to get sick of it. 

You longed to be a part of the action, even Karen got to help with heists every now and then, but not you. If you couldn’t help out on a job, you at least wanted to see more of the world. Arthur had all but gotten down on both knees and begged Dutch to let you come with him, talking about your “expertise in flower picking” or something of that nature, anything just to get you out of that camp for a little while. If it wasn't for Arthur, you would be back at camp right now probably doing laundry with the girls or helping Pearson with the stew.

“It’s better than dealin’ with Uncle’s drunken ramblings or gettin’ yelled at by Miss Grimshaw.” You joked as you ate the contents of your can.

Arthur didn't respond and you noticed the slightly unamused look on his face, realizing he wasn't joking. You swallowed and reached out to grab his hand, the touch bringing him some comfort. 

“Arthur, I've had more fun these last few days than I’ve had in a long time. Thank you for this. I mean it.” You told him earnestly. His eyes met yours as you gave him a smile and he smiled back.

“I think I’d rather be soaking wet in some stranger's home than dealin’ with Uncle too.” He joked and you laughed.

The storm had darkened more now as the sun fully set behind the clouds. You grabbed the neglected plate from the table along with both of the empty cans and placed everything in the kitchen sink. If anyone was going to come back, the least you two could do was not leave the place messy; you were outlaws, not pigs. 

You heard Arthurs heavy steps slowly come up from behind you followed by two warm hands sneaking their way onto your hips. His touch was comforting and you felt the butterflies erupt in your chest. He ducked his head down into your neck, placing his lips against your skin leaving gentle kisses along your shoulder. You tilted your head to allow him more access and closed your eyes with a contented smile. 

“Been waitin’ for this,” he hummed, lips and stubble brushing lightly against your warm skin, “wantin’ to be alone with you.” The vibration of his voice against your skin sent shivers across your body. 

“Arthur, you’ve been alone with me for days now.” You sighed, leaning back into him and feeling his chest rise and fall against your back. 

“Hmm, not like this.” His thumbs rubbed circles on your hips against the fabric of your clothes.

You two didn’t get to show your affection for each other much while in camp or around the others. Occasionally you both might steal a glance from each other while doing chores or you might catch one of Arthur’s longing stares when he got back from working a job; maybe even trade some secret smiles when he was alone in his cot or get to gently touch his hand for a brief moment in passing. 

All efforts made by you two for intimacy were quiet and discreet, like trading secrets only you two knew about. You both rarely got a moment alone together, but standing here in this space with him like this made the rest of the world around you disappear. The running, the bullets, the bloodshed, none of it mattered in this moment with each other. If you were going to be stuck here with each other, then you both were going to savor every second you could.

You turned around in his arms and leaned into him, his arms now wrapped fully around your waist keeping you as close to him as possible. Arthur ducked his head down to rest his forehead against yours. 

Thunder rumbled softly somewhere out in the distance and the rain continued to patter against the cottage as you both held onto each other, gently swaying to the ambiance. You wondered when was the last time you got a moment like this with him.

“Did you miss me?” You teased him already knowing his answer.

“Oh I missed ya alright.” He grinned and lifted his head back to look at you. 

You peered up at him through your lashes, the look in his eyes all too familiar to you. It was a look you only got to catch from him every so often, a look full of all the love and desire he had in him. He looked at you like you were a sky full of stars, and to him that’s what you were; dazzling and enough to shine through his darkest nights. The way he was with you in moments like these were a stark contrast to how the rest of the world viewed him, the way the gang viewed him. He was tender and gentle when he needed to be; when he wanted to be, with you. 

…

Arthurs head started to lean down to yours and your heart started to race. You met him halfway as his lips connected with yours like they were a missing piece to your puzzle, slotting against each other in smooth and slow motions. He was savoring the moment, the taste of you, he didn’t want to let it go. 

He couldn’t resist you no matter how hard he tried. Being near you back at camp but not being able to touch you was torture to him, and it was torture for you too. All those glances and brushes of your fingertips left you wanting more of him. 

It was a desire so strong that even now you couldn’t help your fingers from making their way from around the back of his neck to the collar of his shirt. You took the buttons between your fingertips and undid them one by one until his dress shirt was completely opened. Your hands lifted the hem over his shoulders as he helped to shrug the fabric off, discarding it to the floor and leaving his chest bare. 

Arthurs hands made their way to the buttons of your blouse, unbuttoning each one and slowly revealing your chemise underneath. Your lips separated for a brief moment leaving you breathless as one of his hands reached up to softly palm your breast, his thumb brushing across your nipple. 

The touch caused a soft moan to pass your lips that you couldn’t hold back. His lips feverishly connected back to yours as the sound you had let slip sent him over the edge, your tongues slipping between each other's lips leaving hungry kisses in their wakes. 

You felt as his hands continued to feel over your body, slipping underneath the fabric of your blouse and onto your back pulling you impossibly closer to his body. It all felt too good to stop, but you wanted to try something.

Your palms pressed against his bare chest, pushing him gently away from you. Your lips separated again and Arthur looked down at you with a concerned yet questioning look.

“Go wait on the bed.” You blushed at your sudden confidence. Arthur blinked at you for a moment trying to register what you had said and then looked at you pleasantly surprised, a wide grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes ma’am.” He flirted, nodding his head to you. You smirked back at him as he walked over to the old bed. He sat down on the edge and started to take off his boots, his eyes still glued to you not wanting to miss a single moment.

You continued to smile at him trying to hide your nerves as you kicked off your own boots. Your hands slipped the opened blouse off of your shoulders letting it drop to the floor near his shirt. Your fingers made their way to your waistline as you unfastened your ribbon belt, and your thumbs slipped under the waistline of your skirt as you tugged it past your hips. All of your garments fell to the ground in cascades of fabric leaving you to stand there in front of Arthur in only your chemise and nothing else.

He sat there on the edge of that bed, taking in the very sight of you, completely at a loss for words. His heart quickened along with his breathing and you could tell he was flustered. He wouldn’t admit it but he was a little nervous too. His face was flushed a deep red and his gaze softened, hungry eyes wandering up and down your body until finally meeting your own. 

The only thing he could muster in that moment was a soft, "C'mere." It was sensual yet wanting; it sounded like he was begging for you to come to him. 

You smirked slyly at him as your hands rose to your body. You slowly started to sway your hips from side to side, taking the sheer fabric of your chemise in your fingers and teasingly pulling the hem up ever-so-slightly over your thighs, teasing him with only a glimpse of skin. The wood floors creaked softly beneath your feet with each shift of your weight. 

You took a step towards him and your hands started to wander your body, gently feeling over your waist and up your chest. You took another achingly slow step towards him, and then another, keeping up with the same swaying movements. Arthur let out a frustrated and breathy chuckle knowing full well what you were doing, and he'd be damned if it wasn't working. 

You continued to move your hips side to side, slowly taking more steps closer to him until you finally stood there in between his legs. His hands connected with your body, finding their way to the space just above your hips. His fingers felt warm through the fabric as he gently gripped you, holding you close to him. He leaned forward and placed his lips against you leaving soft kisses across your abdomen, his warm lips separated only by the thin fabric.

You picked up your leg and placed your foot on the edge of the bed beside him, the inside of your thigh now brushed up against his ribs. His hand traveled its way along the curve of your hip, feeling along the outside of your thigh until reaching under your shift. His hand then felt its way back up the bare skin of your thighs. The warmth alone made you weaker to his touch.

“Shifts still damp,” he mused, his other hand feeling the fabric between his fingertips, “should probably take this off too.” Arthur shifted his eyes up to yours, giving you a soft look as if they were asking for permission. Your lips parted and you let out a soft breath, nodding your head slightly. His hands dropped the fabric and the grip on your thigh and made their way up your body, warm skin separated by cool fabric. His hands felt over every inch of your outline before finding the exposed skin at your collar. Two fingers slipped under the fabric and slowly glided the sleeves of your shift over your shoulders. The neckline of your chemise softly tugged down over your chest exposing you completely. Arthur continued, tugging the shift down your waist and past your hips, letting it fall to the ground in waves of white.

Thunder rumbled out through the trees again as the rain softly pattered against the windows. A subtle symphony to accompany this tender moment between your bare body and him. Arthur looked up at you once again, admiring the sight of you before him. Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers raking through his golden brown locks.

“You’re so beautiful.” He cooed, lips finding their way back to your body in praise. Your body was an altar he could worship at for the rest of his life, finding his salvation in your touch alone.

Without a word, you dropped one knee down onto the bed, and then the other, now straddling his thighs. His eyes never looked away from you once. He was being patient now, admiring every move you made and savoring every touch of your skin, but every second left him needing more of you. 

In a smooth motion, he softly took your face into both of his hands and brought you closer. Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips met yours again in more feverish kisses. His hands fell to either side of your bare waist as yours tugged at his hair. A groan passed his lips and against yours causing you to smirk into the kiss. 

You felt yourself growing hot and desperate for more, absolutely drunk on him. Your hands made their way down to his belt buckle undoing the clamp from the leather and then fumbling with the buttons underneath. You tugged suggestively at the open flaps of his pants. Arthur got the hint and hurriedly helped you get them off him, letting them fall onto the ground beneath you with a soft thud. There was nothing to separate you two now. 

Arthurs hands grasped onto your hips again as you climbed back on top of him and you felt his hard erection pressed against you. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your lips connected with his again. Your tongues shamelessly found their ways back to each other, slipping in between each kiss and gasp for air. Your body rocked against his as his hands felt all over you.

One of your hands dropped down and firmly grabbed hold of his member, the touch and warmth causing him to buck his hips slightly and groan again. You lightly tugged, stroking your hand up and down with pressure. You felt him pulse under your touch as he hardened more than before. He was achingly hard, and it was taking everything in him to not grab you and toss you onto the bed and selfishly have his way with you. 

Arthur's hand left your hip and dipped down between the two of you. You felt as his finger lightly traced the skin along your hip bone and down into your inner thigh, his fingers slipping right into your folds. You gasped at his warm presence as your hips rolled in response.

“Looks like someone’s ready for me.” He teased with a smirk, referring to how wet you had gotten. His finger slipped from your entrance up to your clit, swirling around the bulb, and you found yourself not being able to respond in words but in cursed moans instead. The sensation made your legs shudder as you closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against his. Your hips rocked forward with each swirl and you found yourself struggling to focus on your hand that was stroking him.

“Shit.” You breathed as Arthur continued his finger movements. You felt yourself getting closer, but as much as you would have loved to finish right there on his fingers, you wanted him. 

You moved his hand away before you could get any further and straightened up as you positioned his tip against your entrance. You looked up at him again searching for any sign of hesitation to stop. His eyes met yours and he nodded giving you the go ahead. You swirled his tip around your entrance before slowly settling down onto him, making sure to give yourself time to adjust to his size. 

You closed your eyes and let out a soft breath, your arms returning to wrap around his neck as you leaned your forehead against his once more. You slowly settled all the way down to his base, taking all of him in. You started to move yourself up and down, feeling him fill every inch of you. Arthur secured his arms around you as you moved, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he slowly thrust his hips up to meet you with each bounce. 

“Arthur.” You gasped as the softest of moan passed your lips. He loved hearing his name in the tone of your voice, and being the greedy giant he was, he needed to hear more of you. 

His hands gripped your hips as he guided you back and forth at a quicker pace. You threw your head back as another moan escaped your lips. His lips connected with your jaw leaving feverish kisses down your neck and subtle marks across your collarbone as he nipped at your skin. He groaned again against your skin as you rolled your hips, his hands moving to grab your ass and roll you forward on him again and again. 

It was just the two of you, skin against skin, bodies entwined and moving against each other like parts of a machine built to work with each other. No one else could touch you like this, not like how he could.

You tilted your head back as one hand gripped his shoulder for support, and the other gripped his bicep. Oh god, his arms, you thought to yourself and you bit your lip holding back another moan.

Arthur reached for your chin and angled your head back down gently with his thumb. He wanted you to look at him, but more importantly, he wanted to look at your face as he pleasured you. He wanted to see your puffy lips opening as you moaned out his name, he wanted to see your flushed face and furrowed brow twist into pleasure as he sunk deeper into you, he wanted to see the effect he had on you. 

Your eyes met his with your mouth agape as the moans spilled freely out of you. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip as you continued to grind up and down on him. 

“So damn beautiful.” He praised and you felt yourself melt in his touch, your heart pounding in your chest.

Your pace faltered for a moment as you leaned yourself back, your hands reaching behind you to steady yourself using Arthurs legs. Arthur leaned back mirroring you, both palms now on the bed behind him, the perfect view of all of you before him. You continued your pace as you moved up and down, his member slipping in and out of you.

You looked down at him underneath you, his face and body veiled in a thin sheen of sweat, his brow furrowed in pleasure and his face flushed as he moaned for you. It was unbelievably attractive to you seeing such a strong and stoic man like him reduced down to a blushing, panting mess, absolutely weak to your touch. 

You continued to bounce your hips up and down on him. Arthur shifted his weight to one arm as he brought his hand to his face. You looked at him confused for a moment as he licked his thumb. His hand now moved down between the two of you as his thumb connected with your clit, slowly swirling around. The movement amplified the pleasure you felt across your body and you knew you were getting dangerously close now.

“Arthur, I’m-,” you struggled to get the words out as the sensations became too much. You felt your legs start to weaken and your pace start to falter.

“That’s it darlin’,” his hips thrusted up to make up for the rhythm change, “keep going for me.” You tried your best to keep going between feeling him pound in and out of you and his finger swirling around your clit, until-

Your body suddenly tensed and you held your breath as you reached your climax, waves of bliss and release crashing over you, over and over again. You cried out as your body shuddered. 

Arthur continued his pace as you pulsed around his member, clenching tightly around him. His body rose up to yours again, hands grasping your hips as he continued to move you up and down on him, moaning into your neck over and over. Your hands cupped his cheeks and you lifted his head to look at you, your face burned as it flushed deep shades of red. 

“Come for me.” You whispered, your lips hovering over his, brushing slightly. His breaths were heavy against your lips and his moans grew louder until suddenly he stilled for a moment. He took your lips in his with one last grunt as his thrusts faltered, his kisses sloppy and irregular as he pumped into you.

Arthur pulled you down onto the bed with him, arms still around you. Both of you panted hard trying to catch your breaths as you slipped down beside him. You looked up to him and gave him a tired smile. His hand reached up to caress your cheek, they were calloused but you didn’t care as his thumb softly traced hearts along your cheek.

“How am I supposed to keep my hands off of ‘ya now?” He let out a breathy chuckle giving you that same look of love he always gave you. You grinned and wondered the same for yourself.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” You suggested knowing damn well it wouldn’t last. You bet that within the day of arriving back at camp he would be all over you again.

He chuckled again. “Don’t think I could if I tried.” He pulled you closer and placed a kiss on your sweaty forehead and you rested your head back down between his collar and jaw. His fingers gently traced along the curves of your back leaving a tingling feeling in their wake as you sank into the warm feeling of his arms around your body, your eyelids growing heavy. 

The unrelenting rain drummed against the wood like a lullaby and for a moment you imagined that this cottage belonged to both of you. The pictures on the walls were of you and him, the trinkets on the shelves all collected from your travels together. You imagined living room dancing in the warm orange glows and more nights close to him just like this. It was a silly dream for a couple of outlaws but maybe in another life it was possible. 

Arthurs breathing evened out as he started to drift off and you hadn’t even realized your own eyes had closed as you replayed the prior events behind your tired eyelids. You let out one last contented sigh as you drifted into cozy darkness.

…

Morning light peaked through the windows and your eyes blinked slowly. The rain had long stopped and instead of hearing the thundering, you could now hear the birds singing in the trees. From this angle, you could look out the window and just barely make out the mountain ridge peaking into view of the window frame. Trees blanketed the surface in rich shades of green as the sun rays beamed out from behind the ridge line. 

You patted the bed around you reaching to touch Arthur, but you noticed he wasn’t there. You sat up in the bed holding the blanket close to your bare body and looked around the cottage. The chair you had placed your coat on the evening prior was pulled up beside the bed, all of your clothes dried and neatly folded resting on the seat, but there was no Arthur in sight.

You got dressed, grabbed your belongings, and headed for the door. You took one last look around and smiled slightly as flashes of the evening played in your head.

You stepped out of the cottage and back into the wilderness. The sky was a bright blue without a single cloud to blemish the sky. You wouldn’t have ever known a storm had passed through if you hadn't been caught in it only hours before. The leaves in the trees rippled lightly as a gentle breeze passed through. You took a deep breath and looked around, spotting Arthur tending to your horses. 

He was in the middle of feeding them, his hand rubbing along the bridge of his horse's nose as his eyes wandered over and caught yours. He instantly smiled upon the sight of you and waved you over and you couldn’t help but smile back at the sight of him too. You walked over to him and to your own horse and brushed your hand along its mane and neck.

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he greeted you, “how’d you sleep?”

“Haven’t gotten a good rest like that in a while.” You let out a relieved sigh and reached into your satchel, pulling out an apple and lifting it to your horse's mouth for it to eat. 

“A good workout will do that.” He winked and you blushed looking back to your horse. He smirked at your sudden shyness, not willing to forget any time soon the new side of you he saw last night. He reached out and took your wrist in his hand and gently pulled you to him. You melted in his arms as they wrapped around you and he pressed his lips to yours in a single passionate and loving kiss. You sighed into him not wanting to pull away, but you remembered the journey you two had to make back to camp. You pulled away and looked up to him. 

“Ready to get an ass chewin’ from Dutch?” You teased, turning to hoist yourself up onto your horse. Arthur groaned as he turned to get on his own horse.

“Maybe we should just stay gone another day.” He muttered knowing he wouldn’t hear the end of it from Dutch. Arthur wanted nothing more than to just bury his head into your neck and your warmth and stay here for a moment longer.

“Come on Morgan,” you pulled the reins of your horse and directed it towards the road, spurring forward, “maybe you could stop by my tent later tonight.” You turned back to him with a wink. He looked up towards you with a smirk playing at his lips.

Especially gift-giving.

To you, there was really nothing better than seeing someone's face light up when they open a present.

This year, there was someone special you planned to go all out for.

It had been 3 days since Joel Miller fucked you in his house, on his bed.

You hadn't stopped replaying the moment in your mind, especially the part when he finished all over your stomach.

However, it just so happens that after those amazing thirty minutes, Joel was called away by Tommy.

He had to leave and do something that you weren't allowed to know about. Undoubtedly some dangerous mission that pained you to think about.

So your victory was short-lived.

But, like the gentleman he was, he walked you home and made sure you were okay before he left. You wanted to kiss him goodbye, but felt too nervous to do so.

You don't know why—he literally had his cock in you a few moments prior.

Yet you couldn't, and just had to watch him walk away.

Now, you haven't seen him in three days and were starting to get serious withdrawals. Whatever he was up to couldn't have come at a worse time.

You finally had the taste of his perfection, now he was gone, leaving you to deal with your desire alone.

You tried to preoccupy yourself with helping set up all the Christmas decorations around town as well as baking an absurd amount of treats.

You also managed to get him a little gift in the meantime, stuffing it in the cutest box with the prettiest wrapping paper.

God, you hoped he'd come back soon.

And luckily, he did!

You had heard from Maria that everyone had returned from their trip—safe and sound.

She had also told you that she was throwing a little Christmas get-together at her and Tommy's house to celebrate.

She was careful to mention that Joel would be in attendance.

So, that night, you whipped up your signature cinnamon apple recipe and put on your cutest outfit.

You topped it with some fuzzy reindeer antlers because you were in a very festive mood.

As you walked alone to Maria and Tommy's, you were freezing your ass off in your skirt and sweater. You wore tights with your skirt in hopes that it would help with the cold, but who were you kidding?

You didn't care, though. You just cared if Joel thought you looked pretty or not.

You pranced up the steps of their porch, letting yourself into the house and getting immediately bombarded by the hoard of people inside.

Maria made it seem like it was going to be a small thing, but the entire Jackson population seemed to be in her living room.

Thankfully, Tommy catches you come in and walks up to greet you. "Hey there stranger," He grins, looking down at the dish in your hands. "What you got there?"

"Brought desert," You chirp, handing it to him with a proud smile.

"Well well," He muses as he takes the glass container from you, looking it over with surprise. "Didn't think you could tie your own shoes, let alone bake anything."

You roll your eyes before scoffing. "You're just mad because I can tie my shoes and bake something before you can conjure a coherent thought."

Tommy fakes a wince before chuckling. "Alright, touché kid. We're gonna be playing charades in a little bit so stick around, alright?"

You nod, having absolutely no intention of 'sticking around' for charades. Tommy wanders off with your apples, finally giving you a moment to survey the party.

Obviously, you were looking for one person in particular.

You squeezed through all the crowds of people, scouring what felt like every room in the house.

But no dice.

Joel was nowhere to be found and sadness washes over you like a tidal wave.

Was he doing this on purpose?

Torturing you by depriving you of his presence? This was hell.

You plant yourself by the special eggnog and down several glasses to take the edge off.

You were tipsy in no time, it really didn't take much. It was like Maria just dumped an entire bottle of vodka in the bowl and splashed some milk in it. It was disgusting, really, but it was getting its job done.

As you hunched yourself over the bowl, someone tapped you on your shoulder.

You spin around, your hopes high.

"Joel!—Oh. Hi Connor." The disappointment you feel inside displays clearly in your tone.

You're now face to face with the boy who has been unsubtly trying to sleep with you for months.

"Hey there! You look fucking great tonight." He flirts, a smug grin on his face.

You grimace because you know he thinks he's so cool, even though you'd rather die than stand here with him right now.

"Thanks." You say flatly, turning back towards the eggnog and pouring yourself another glass. For some reason, Connor takes this as an invitation to step closer, now invading your space.

You don't even bother trying to hide your disgusted expression. His cologne is attacking your nostrils, and it doesn't even smell good.

"That skirt looks amazing on you." His eyes unabashedly drag along the skin of your legs, making you shiver in disgust. He takes it too far when his hand comes up to brush your arm.

"You come here with anyone?" He coos, leaning against the food table like he was hot shit or something.

You couldn't stand this douche. Just as you were about to tell him to fuck off or something, you feel someone looming over you.

"She did." A gruff voice comes from behind you, and you immediately recognize that it could only be one person.

You whip around, your face lighting up at the sight of Joel.

His expression is settled into a natural scowl, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at the boy in front of you both. Even though he looked scary as shit, he was so fucking hot.

You're instantly horny just at the sight of him.

Connor scoffs, looking between the two of you, but your eyes stayed glued to Joel.

"Really? Him? But he's like—an old man." Connor spits, which immediately earns a glare from you.

Just as you're about to cuss him out, Joel beats you to it.

"Walk away before this old man breaks your jaw." His voice is stern, not to be tested.

It makes your core tighten with need.

Hearing the threat that he assumes to be all too real, Connor doesn't waste time scurrying off.

You turn back towards Joel, a warm, relieved smile spreading across your face. “Hi,” You whisper, wanting to hug him so bad but holding yourself back because he wasn’t a big fan of PDA. “M'so glad you're back." You do, however, step closer into his personal bubble.

His face softens when he finally looks down at you, and you can almost swear you see his lips curling up into a smile.

"Yeah, me too, kid." He husks out, looking between you and the bowl of half-empty eggnog. "Enjoyin' yourself?" He asks with somewhat of a disappointed look on his face, clocking that you were a little tipsy.

"Now I am." You answer truthfully, beaming up at him. "Have you been here the whole time? I was looking for you earlier but I couldn't find you."

Joel shifted on his feet, sliding his hands in his pockets. "Just got here. Tommy was talkin' my ear off at the door." He explained, an exasperated look on his face.

You laughed and nodded, knowing you both shared that experience.

"Are you having a good time, though?" You ask, actually curious because he seemed like he would rather be anywhere else right now.

He shrugs, brushing a hand through his short hair. "This Christmas holiday crap is givin' me a fuckin' aneurysm." He huffs out with complete honestly, scratching the back of his neck.

"What? Really? Why?" The shock and bewilderment in your voice isn't lost on Joel.

He sighs out, knowing you're about to explain the magical spirit of the season or whatever.

"The blizzards, people spazzin' out over gifts, all 'cause some fat guy is coming down chimneys—s'all just ridiculous."

You want to giggle at how actually annoyed he sounded, but you hold it down.

Grouchy old man.

"I'd let you come down my chimney," you flirt, but then correct yourself. "I have let you come down my—"

Joel shoots you a glare, daring you to finish your sentence.

You know when to cut your losses, so you don't.

"Well, speaking of gifts," You start, rummaging in your bag to pull out your present for him. You hold it up, the pink wrapping paper making him cock an eyebrow. "Merry Christmas, Scrooge."

Joel feels an unfamiliar feeling swimming around in his stomach at the sight.

He slowly takes the box from you, looking at it like it was a puzzle.

He really wasn't expecting anything from you. But he supposed people who have had the other persons genitals inside them should probably give them something for Christmas.

He finds himself very pleasantly surprised.

After a moment, he finds something to say.

"Couldn't find some manlier wrapping paper?" He coughs, his voice low but it's obvious he's joking with you.

You roll your eyes and scoff. "Just open it!"

Joel somewhat grins at your impatience but finally starts to open the box.

That grin drops off his face after he sees the contents, an immediate bittersweet feeling swelling in his chest.

You're watching his face so intently, so scared that he didn't like it based on his reaction.

Joel pulls out the watch from the box, clutching it tightly. He's not saying anything, so you hear yourself start to ramble.

"Do you like it? I just saw that the watch you wear is broken so I figured I'd get you a new one. If you don't like it I can take it back."

You're starting to crumble underneath the weight of his silence, anxiety bubbling in your gut. Just as you're about to ask him if he's okay, Joel finally looks back at you.

"S'real great. Thank you." His tone is genuine, you can tell he's telling the truth. But why does he look so pained?

"Of course." Your murmur, your eyes searching his. After a moment of silence, you clear your throat. "There's one more thing, actually."

Joel's shoulder slump. "You got me another present?" He asked tiredly, looking at you with disbelief.

A guilty smile paints your face before you gesture for Joel to follow you. "It's upstairs. C'mon."

He doesn't know how much more his heart could handle.

Reluctantly, he follows you up the stairs, wondering why you had a gift waiting for him in Tommy's guest bedroom.

You open the door and close it behind you both, purposefully not turning the lights on.

Joel walks into the center of the room, standing aimlessly and confused as to why you hadn’t flipped the light switch yet.

But then he hears the rustling of clothes and when you eventually turn the lights on, you're wearing nothing but a bra and panties.

His cock immediately gets hard.

"What do ya think you're doin'?" He whisper yells, trying to keep his eyes on your face but that proves to be impossible because your tits looked so good in lace.

"What? You don't like it? I bought it for you." You give him a 360 and he has to brace himself against the bed.

Fuck you looked good.

He sits down on the mattress, dragging a hand down his jaw in thought.

He's debating if he's really about to fuck you in his brother's house.

Why were you always making him go against his morals?

A few seconds of silence pass between the two of you before Joel snaps his eyes back to your figure.

"C'mere."

Got 'em.

You squeal excitedly before running over, slotting yourself between his legs and placing your hands on his shoulders.

In turn, his large hands come out to hold your hips, his gaze zeroing in on your perfect-looking cleavage that he was now eye-level with.

Just as he was about to slide his hands up to grope your breasts, you sink down to the floor.

Joel's puzzled as he watches you get on your knees, looking up at him with those mischievous eyes. He truly has no clue what you're up to, that is, until you bring your lips to the bulge in his jeans.

You place the softest kiss on his clothed hard-on, earning a groan from him.

Now he knows what you're trying to do.

He juts his hand out, holding you firm by your shoulder.

"You ain't gotta do that, sweetheart." Joel says softly, probably the softest you've ever heard him say anything.

Your body erupts in goosebumps when you hear the endearing pet name slip so effortlessly from his lips.

"I want to—been wanting to since, like, forever." You murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his inner thigh.

Joel wasn't sure what to think right now.

His past romantic experiences taught him that blowjobs were a hassle for women—something that they did only if they felt they had to.

But here you were, looking up at him with those wide eyes and wanting nothing more than his dick in your mouth.

You surprise him everyday.

His dick has literally never been harder, especially when you finally start unzipping his pants to let it spring free.

You gaze up at him again, waiting for his green light.

Joel had one hand white-knuckling the edge of the bed, while the other gently caressed the side of your head.

He offers a short nod of approval, already trying not to come just by the sight of his cock so close to your face.

You waste absolutely no time in grabbing the base of his dick with both hands, gingerly licking at his tip to warm him up.

Joel throws his head back, groaning at the feeling.

You tilt it up so you can drag your tongue all the way up his shaft, then bring your mouth down on his tip.

"Fuck," Joel curses, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before snapping back open, not being able to look away from you.

Tears are falling from your eyes the farther you go down on him, the sensation of his head poking the back of your throat was making you dizzy.

But you don't stop. You're eager to please.

Your hands pump at the length you can't reach, while your warm mouth and tongue swirl around him.

You're too good at this, and Joel knows he's not gonna last long.

He can't help it when his hand in your hair turns into a fist, tightly gripping the strands like he was afraid you might go somewhere.

You moan when he accidentally pulls your hair forwards, forcing you deep on his cock. You bet he didn't even realize what he just did, based on the way his chest was heaving and his face looked so lost in pleasure.

You gag and more tears spill from your eyes, but you don't even dream about lifting off. If Joel was getting off on this, you were going to do more of it.

You moan, still keeping his cock in your mouth as you try to go even deeper down on it.

"Oh fuck—" Joel suddenly yanks your mouth off his cock, breathing heavily as he stares down at you.

You cough and sputter at the loss, looking up at him with that same fucked out expression you had last time.

"Why?" You manage to whine, wondering why he stopped you before he came.

Joel doesn't answer—instead he picks you up by your armpits and places you on the bed.

The quick change almost gives you whiplash, but Joel's surprisingly steady and husky voice guides you.

"On your stomach, pretty girl." He mutters as he taps your leg in a gesturing manner.

...Was he trying to kill you with that bedroom voice of his?

A whimper crawls its way out of your throat, your body having an audible reaction to his sweet words.

You flip over onto your stomach, instantly arching your back for him.

Being the impatient man he was, he rips your panties and throws them to the side in a lust-driven blur.

You literally didn't even care. Sure, they were new, but you'd just find another pair. The only two thoughts in your mind right now was Joel and Joel's dick.

Something warm and soft prods at your entrance before slipping to wedge between your folds, gathering up your slick.

You try to push back on it, but Joel holds you still, making you lose the rest of the small amount of composure you had left.

"Joelpleasefuckme," You sob, your cunt weeping for his cock. "need you so bad it hurts,"

You reach back, your hand finding his that was holding your hip and squeezing it.

Joel didn't want to admit to himself how much he loved the neediness in your voice, your obvious desperation made him harder.

"M'gettin' there, don't gotta beg me baby." He mutters, his hand that you grabbed intertwining with your fingers. His other hand was rubbing circles in the skin around your hips.

You feel that same sensation of his tip, but then Joel also brings his chest down to engulf your back.

You're already trembling, but when he begins to pepper kisses down the nape of your neck and back, all while slowly sheathing himself inside your pussy...

You effectively lose your mind.

"OhFUCKJoelloveitsomuch," You blabber, not having enough strength to hold yourself up anymore so your head drops into a pillow, muffling your moans.

Effortlessly, he pulls you back up so that your back is flush with his chest, his one arm wrapped around your stomach to keep you secure.

You rest the back of your head on his shoulder as she starts rocking into you, letting your body go limp because you know he's got you.

"Can you take it or do I need'a stop?" He asks, his tone making you dizzier.

You frantically nod, turning your head to the side to look at him. "I can take it, promise I can," you muster out between moans. "please don't stop—want your cock in me forever-"

Joel chuckles.

God, he really never stood a chance against you.

"I don't know about forever sweet thing, but I'll see what I can do for tonight, yeah?"

You giggle airily, like you weren't all there, nodding your head in acknowledgement. Your eyes are closed for a second but you feel his lips on yours, hungrily taking whatever they wanted.

You passionately return his kiss, mewling into it because his lips paired with the slow thrust of his dick was enough to drive you crazy.

The stretch of his cock is as close to heaven as you're ever gonna get.

His speed picks up which means your moans get louder, and Joel has no choice put to bring his other hand up and cover your mouth.

There's still a party going on downstairs, after all.

"Gotta be quieter baby," he pants, even though he's not slowing down his speed at all.

You whine into his hand, surprisingly loving the feeling of it because it's like he's swallowing you whole.

You feel that tight coil in your stomach slowly start to come undone, and you know you won't last long now. You try to tell Joel, but his hand is muffling your noises.

All the sudden, he speaks in your ear—his voice low and raspy. "Don't want you doin' this with anyone else, hear me?"

...Well.

You weren't expecting that.

His words probably made you soak the sheets because of how wet you became.

He sounded so stern when he said it too, making your heart flutter even more.

You nod, tears pouring from your eyes. He lets his hand off your mouth for a moment and you immediately jump at the opportunity to speak.

"Only want you, only ever wanted you, Joel—m'all yours, always been yours," You mewl after gasping for air, your body jolting with each of his deep thrusts.

"Fuck," Joel swears, quickly but carefully putting you down only to flip you over onto your back. Now in missionary, he buries himself all the way inside you again before dropping down so your faces are centimeters apart. "All mine, huh?" Joel reiterates, and you can't tell if he's mocking you or maybe asking for clarification.

Probably the ladder.

You agree nonetheless, a string of yes's spilling from your mouth.

"Yeah, just for me." He pants, slamming into you with more vigor than before. Your cunt is constricting around him like a vice, he's—not planning to last much longer either.

"M'gonna cum," you whine, wrapping your arms around his shoulders for support.

When Joel hears this, he drops a hand down to rub at your clit, making you come undone altogether.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck waitwait Joel-" You feel something..unique boiling, but then Joel's expert fingers release the flood gates.

You scream as you squirt all over his cock, your entire body writhing with the overstimulating pleasure.

Your juices soak him. When he see's this, he comes immediately.

He groans as he finishes inside you, unloading into your snug cunt. The feeling is incomparable for the both of you.

Once the haze of perfect pleasure dissipates, Joel realizes what he's just done.

"Shit," he grits, pulling out and watching his seed drip from your hole. "Fuck."

You manage to sit up on your elbows, looking up at him with teary eyes. "Don't worry," Your voice is quiet and cracked—you just had the squirt fucked out of you, after all. "I've been on the pill since we had sex the first time."

Joel looks down at you, stupefied.

Eventually, he feels his heart start beating again and huffs out a sigh of relief. "Thank christ." He leans back against the headboard, raking a hand through his hair and thinking about how that was a fucking close one.

You're lying next to him, still trying to catch your breath. "That felt so good," You manage to murmur, your body still shivering from the after shocks.

After you catch your breath, you turn your head to look up at him. "M'serious about what I said, about bein' yours."

He looks at you and your serious face for a moment, then brings his hand down to gently ruffle the top of your head.

"Yeah, I know you are." His texan drawl prominent.

"I'd let you brand me with a fire poker if thats what you wanted." You say flatly, no joking tone in your voice whatsoever.

Joel is taken back by the sudden jump in intensity, assessing you to make sure you were being for real.

You were, and when he realizes this, he shakes his head. "You've lost your damn mind." He grunts, dragging a hand down his face.

You shrug.

"I think a ring would do the trick." Joel mutters, not meaning for it to have some kind of underlying message or anything. But you're quick to jump to conclusions.

"A ring?" You squeal, moving to lay on his chest which earns a huff from him. "Didn't know we were already goin' steady like that, Miller!" You tease, the giddiest smile on your face.

"I didn't mean—quit. You know what I was sayin'." Joel grunts, looking at you with an unamused expression.

You don't quit though.

"My ring finger is a size 6, would love 2 carats but if you can swing for 3 that would be perfect—also, I hate silver bands, it has to be gold—but make sure it's not that super yellow fake gold, I like more rustic looks, I mean, if that wasn't obvious-" You cast him a glance, alluding to the fact that he was rustic looking.

Joel rolls his eyes before gently nudging you off him, getting off the bed and walking over to your clothes that you discarded a long time ago.

You continue rambling from your position on the sheets, staring up at the ceiling as you recited, in extreme detail, how you loved oval shaped diamonds the most.

He walks back over and manhandles you to sit up. "Lift up your arms." He mutters, putting your sweater back on you.

"Hm, gettin' some serious deja vu right now." You murmur, smiling up at him.

"Yeah, yeah, hush." He grumbles before sliding your tights and skirt back on as well.

The act is so kind and heartwarming. You mumble a thank you before standing up, almost falling back down because your legs were still a bit weak.

Joel made a motion like he would've caught you, reaching his arms out. "Careful." He warns, planting a hand on your lower back for stability. You giggle and nod, regaining your ability to walk slowly but surely.

You guys tried to discretely walk back down the stairs, but with Joel's hand on your back and your happy expression--it wasn't hard for people to guess what happened.

***

A couple days had passed since Tommy and Maria's party.

You were finishing up some hand-made Christmas cards on your desk when you heard a knock at your door.

"Coming!" You shout, leisurely making your way to the front door.

When you open it, no one's there. You look around, only seeing a familiar male figure walking away in the distance. When you step outside to shout after him, you feel yourself kick something.

Upon looking down, a small velvet box lays at your feet.

You pick it up carefully, opening it to reveal a gold ring placed so delicately inside. The small note inside reads:

The invitation shouldn’t have made you as wet as it did. But it had. And Joel just grinned, lips twitching beneath his big fake beard and palms pulling you toward his body.

The kiss had had to be wholesome and quick. Before long, he’d be surrounded by a sea of eager, wide-eyed, and awe-stricken children in the middle of Jackson’s town square, and what sort of example would you be setting if you were the girl caught kissing Santa Claus?

It wouldn’t rally much confidence in Father Christmas, if either of you had had to guess. You let him go. With a soft, innocuous tug of his belt buckle and a pat on his padded belly, you’d promised to be extra good while he was gone and leave more than just milk and cookies out for him later. Joel had blinked twice, and in the glint of one look, you could tell he’d wanted to say much more.

But then Tommy, dressed as an elf and scowling like Ebenezer Scrooge, had tugged him off your porch.

“You can get those cookies later, Nick. Let’s go.”

And that had been the last you’d seen of the pair before you’d snuck off to see Maria about Joel’s secret gift.

Now, two hours later in the glow of a roaring fire and near-unbearable excitement, you were perched on the sofa. Sitting with your knees tucked underneath you and a glass of milk, a tray of cookies, and a small, rectangular box tied with a bow set beside you on the coffee table.

You really hoped Joel would like his present.

You also guessed it wouldn’t hurt that you were currently half-naked in a ruby red satin teddy for his return home.

As soon as you heard the creak of the front door, you straightened up. You watched a body shuffle in, head bowed and shaking snow off his sprayed-white locks. Joel looked perfectly ancient in his present get-up: thick black boots, velvet crimson pantsuit, chest-length beard, and lopsided hat. He looked haggard and adorable, too. You could tell by the way he kicked off his shoes and left them stranded by the door he was absolutely drained by the events of that night—dealing with every kid in town under the age of ten likely hadn’t been his first choice.

But now he was here. Joel had been so preoccupied with getting off his boots that he hadn’t even seen you on the couch, and the instant his gaze landed on you, it froze.

“Baby…” he groaned.

His whole face softened, like he couldn’t believe the sight in front of him then, and his arms stretched out for you.

He looked childlike, almost, with the way he lumbered over. His limbs were heavy, and they felt that way coming to crash over your cowered frame on the sofa. You leapt back and squealed, only to feel two big palms grab you by the hips and pin you underneath him. Joel’s breaths were warm, and his eyes were alight with rapt intrigue.

“This all for me?” he asked, sliding his hands down your thighs and in between them. He cursed feeling the heat.

You had to bite back a laugh at how silly this looked—Santa Clause, a staple of your childhood, prying your legs apart and all but drooling at the sight inside. Pawing at your legs, then at your hips, then at the band of your panties beneath the tulle hemline of your teddy. It felt fun in a depraved sort of way. You felt naughty, like you might not want to share Joel’s gift with him until after all the fun was over. But, deep down, you weren’t that cruel.

“Don’t you wanna see your gift? Have your milk and cookies?” you asked sweetly, just narrowly managing to slide an arm out from underneath Joel’s weight and pointing to the assortment of goodies on the table.

Joel looked that way briefly, but then his gaze was back on you. Its warmth was smoldering. Darkening in time.

“Later. Santa’s got a bone to pick with you first.”

You squealed again as fingers hooked in your panties.

“But— but— you’ll really like this gift, Joel. Really.”

“Yeah? Already got one for you right here, kiddo.”

In a crass, graceless sort of gesture, Joel removed one hand from you to grab his crotch, and shake it firmly—‘Got a good seven inches of this gift to share, sugar’—and from there, you had no choice but to acquiesce. If Joel really didn’t mind putting off his gift for yours, at first, that was on him. You leaned back to get comfy.

“If you insist.” The smile you flashed him was coy.

Knowing, as your underwear was slid down your legs and Joel nestled in between them on the couch. You propped your head on a pillow and watched, feeling another small wave of sick nostalgia wash over your senses; Joel was still fully dressed as Kris Kringle stripping you naked.

He’d just moved to pull off the white beard, tied snug with a string, when you reached down and stopped him.

“Leave it,” you said, voice quavering with the threat of a giggle. This was insane. “Leave the beard. Leave all of it.”

Joel flashed you a look with a brow cocked up, confused.

“You want me to eat you out as Santa Clause?” he asked.

He grinned, and you almost laughed again. His expression was still puzzled—mixed with arousal, the look suited him well—and before he could say another word, you just nodded. Shimmied your red panties the rest of the way down and kicked them off at your feet.

But when Joel reached for your legs to pull you closer to him, you slipped off the couch. Your limp, shimmering frock that barely covered the globes of your ass underneath it brushed the bare skin as you darted off.

You’d meant it to be playful. Joel couldn’t brush aside gift-giving and get his way quite that easily. You stood on your own two feet, pivoting back to face him before starting to make your way toward the stairs. You waved.

“Okay. Give me a minute. If you’re giving me my present now, I need to get the rest of yours ready. It’s…upstairs.”

Joel’s—or Santa’s—whole face dropped. He stood.

“That wasn’t the deal, kiddo. You before me.”

He was already pacing after you, slowly at first; then, when your feet reached the first step, he broke off in a run. You screamed, and tried to tear your way up the rest of the stairs, but before more than four thuds had sounded on the wood, you were being thrust back in Joel’s arms—hoisted off your feet, and carried to the living room without another breath or pause from him. You kicked your feet, pretended to be indignant, and were smiling to yourself, inwardly, the whole time. He would really be kicking himself for this later, you knew.

“Gonna be a good little girl for Santa and stay put now?” he huffed, setting you down on your feet. Rather than heading for the couch, he’d placed you on the rug by the warmth of the fireplace and the winking lights of the Christmas tree, where he knew you felt coziest. And, in the glow of both, he could drink the view in completely.

You dropped to the floor where you knew he wanted you.

Still smiling. Fighting a laugh: “Yes, daddy. I’ll be good.”

Joel laid you back. Spread your legs. Tugged your butt right where he wanted it beside the fire and slotted his torso in between your thighs. Your body was practically humming with anticipation as he brought his head lower.

The fluffy white bobble at the end of his hat swung in front of his face, preventing his mouth from sinking in.

He groaned.

“Fuckin’ kids.” He batted the thing out of his way.

“Been toyin’ with my hat and beard all goddamn night. You’d think I was a…a jungle gym to those little hellions,” Joel added with an edge of taut frustration to his voice.

You knew he’d liked the ‘hellion’ antics, whether he was willing to admit it or not. He’d pretend to be pissed at the kids for being kids, but deep down, he was always more than willing to oblige. He’d practically volunteered to take on the role of Santa before the ballot had even been cast for who’d get to play the Big Red Man for the festivities.

He was your old man. A softie at heart.

Hard in other places, but that was just how you liked it.

He spread your legs with both of his hands and practically moaned at what lay before him now.

You were wet. Glistening. In the light of the fireplace and the evergreen behind him, he could see it all too clearly: how pretty and slick and shiny you were along your slit. You’d been patient awaiting his return, and he could tell. Though you were dripping nectar through your folds, you hadn’t smeared one drop with your fingers—you sat like a gleaming, unwrapped present for the man to devour.

And maybe it felt wrong, all swollen and stiff beneath his costume pants and his hair dusted white to make him look even older than he was—about 1,700 years, give or take, instead of fifty-nine—but the look in his eyes said he wanted it all. He felt raw, and needy, and debased.

You liked seeing Joel this way. You liked feeling wrong.

It was what most of Jackson thought of you, anyway. What had taken Tommy, Maria, and the closest of your friends the longest time to accept, nearly all of your neighbors still thought was pretty strange: how Joel was decades your senior and you two were dating—happily. What they were liable to think when the news of you trying for a baby spread in town was anyone’s guess.

Joel seemed to forget all that as his head sank lower. He forked two of his big, meaty fingers in the shape of a ‘V’ and pushed your folds apart in just the way you liked, and he breathed out slow, warm puffs of air over your cunt. You shuddered, and you waited for his tongue.

“Baby…” he trailed off again.

“Yeah?” Your voice was tight.

A beat of silence passed.

“I’m…probably gonna need to take off the beard.”

You breathed out a soft, reflexive laugh, and you didn’t protest. Joel tugged down the big, white, wiry clump of hair from his face and let his other, shorter one surface.

This one wasn’t white, but it was a handsome black and grey, with a lot more of a silver sheen to its these days. You smiled as Joel drew closer, and that smile only faltered a little as the man kissed your inner thigh.

He did the same to the other leg. He dragged his mouth down the skin toward your center and let his lips part a little. He kissed you again, this time at the top of your mound. It made an extra low, almost lewd sort of sound. He rubbed his nose against your lower belly, and the contrast of the weathered texture to your own was stark.

Joel was old. He looked it even more with his hair painted white and his mouth hovering over your slit.

“She been good this year?” he hummed, peering up.

Before you could answer, Joel’s tongue slid out, and he drew a fat, wet line over the seam of your pussy. Your hips jolted in response, and his free hand held you down.

“She tastes good,” he went on in the most casual tone.

Then, without further warning, his jaw slackened some more and he started lapping at the tender flesh beneath it. He dragged his tongue through the thick, stringy mess and closed his eyes, like he was savoring the taste. His lips curled, and he kissed you again—this time, it closed around your clit, and he suckled you gently. With the first wet pop and a sickening squelch from his mouth, your eyes nearly rolled back in your head; Joel’s opened again as he flashed you a shit-eating grin between your legs.

“She’s been real good for me this year, hasn’t she, hon?” And he squeezed your leg to indicate he wanted a reply.

You tried to answer, but it came out garbled and weak:

“So good, daddy. So— so—”

Oh.

Joel’s fingers moved from their forked position to push his index inside your weeping hole. At the same time, the tip of his tongue flicked delicately against your clit. The two parts of him moved in tandem, and from the feeling of both, you had to bite your lip to keep from letting out a cry. Your hand reached down to grab his hair, but all it could find was that goddamn Santa hat. Joel snickered.

With his lips, tongue, and finger still working your needy cunt, he couldn’t help but smile as you cast the hat aside

“Damn thing,” you cursed, fingers lacing through his hair.

“Language, young lady,” Joel murmured.

Like he was one to talk.

You made a fist with the chalky white locks and rutted your hips the tiniest bit, too flush with pleasure to give a single fuck what words came out of your mouth, and from the way Joel grinned and slid a second finger inside, you had only to guess he didn’t mind either.

He could pretend, though. He licked a little harder, then:

“She’s gonna be sweet for her old man, isn’t she?”

“Y— yes, she is.”

“Nice and polite before she gets this cock?”

“I promise.”

Appearing satisfied with this response, or else simply wanting to bring you to the edge and make you cum on his tongue, Joel wedged his fingers even deeper, then curled them. He brushed the soft, fleshy wall in a beckoning motion and, at the same time, sucked your nub between his lips. He felt you tense, heard you moan, and likely sensed there was no better time for his tongue to dart out again. Just as he released your clit from its airtight kiss, he was back licking circles on the tender, swollen thing, eyes flitting up to yours to hold their gaze.

“Daddy,” you whimpered.

When his fingers curled another time, you cried out.

Your brain was on the fritz; your heels were digging in the rug, stomach tight as it had ever been, and your hands seemed to move with a mind of their own. One was gripping Joel’s hair, giving you leverage to cant your hips against his face, and the other was palming your breast through the thin lace fabric of your teddy. You craved stimulation—couldn’t breathe without the feel of something on you, and in you, as you were about to cum.

Joel nodded his soft approval. He watched you fondle yourself and seemed enthralled, even from where he lay.

“That’s it, baby. Touch yourself while daddy licks your pussy. Lemme see how good she’s feelin’, sweetheart.”

His words were all the propulsion you needed and more. You pinched your nipple through the fabric, whined at the pleasure wrought by your fingers and by Joel’s simultaneously, and felt an even deeper twist in your gut. You grip constricted in his hair; you didn’t need to speak.

“She’s right there, isn’t she? I know that feels nice, baby,” Joel groaned, voice low, “Gonna cum for daddy now?”

You whined. You gripped tighter. Your body needed this.

“C’mon, hon. Let me have it. Cum on daddy’s tongue.”

Two more strokes of his tongue, a gentle thrust of his fingers, and the brush of your own touch across taut, pebbled flesh was enough. The next second had you clamping down on Joel’s hand and giving him all you possibly could, lips parted and spilling a feverish, shrill whine while your orgasm washed over you. Your toes curled into the rug, and Joel pressed your hips down as his tongue fucked you through it. He licked and sucked and coaxed your needy walls again and again; he felt you tremble, and he let your wet essence soak him through.

By the time you were done, his face was glistening.

He lifted his head from between your legs, gaze wild and lips shiny with your full release. He licked them, elated.

“All good, hon?”

“Amazing.”

You let out a shaky breath and pet his hair. Joel smiled.

“Wanna go upstairs? Be a little comfier in the bed, I bet,” he offered, slowly starting to rise, before wincing. Then when his knees audibly cracked, “Your old man needs it.”

You had no doubt about that. You sat up and smiled, and let him lift you to your feet along with him. Another snap.

“Aw, hell,” Joel hissed, shaking his head.

You wrapped an arm around his waist before pacing another step. He leaned a little into you, though not too much, and you couldn’t help but flash him an arch look.

“Did your wishlist include new kneecaps, by chance?”

“No ma’am. Just stronger hands to spank with.”

Joel didn’t miss a beat, grinning down at you.

You would’ve returned with something equally cheeky and light, had you not remembered that thing close by.

“Wait, wait—your present!”

Joel eyed the square box as you retrieved it. His eyes flashed with curiosity before you reappeared under his arm and helped him start up the stairs. He walked, and let out a soft groan, and when you’d made it halfway up, he shook his head at you again. It was slow but emphatic

“Gotta finish your gift first, sweetheart,” he murmured.

And, try as you might to get an inch of give after that, you sensed fighting Joel’s generosity was futile by then. You knew him well enough to guess that he’d only be satisfied receiving his present once yours had been properly secured with another orgasm, and his spend dribbled in big, thick rivers down the insides of your legs.

You heaved a sigh and smiled, walking slowly with him.

Joel, if you only knew.

Despite his best efforts, the man still couldn’t work out how he’d ever gotten so lucky to find something like this—someone like you. As his hips worked their way up to a near-desperate pace, bordering on frenzied as he fucked into you, Joel decided that he wouldn’t bother guessing.

He’d accept this for what it was: a gift he didn’t deserve.

The two of you hadn’t even gotten around to the business of unwrapping your presents yet, and Joel already knew that he had it all just looking down at you.

With your back arched and your hands making fists in the sheets beside your head, wet and glistening cunt accepting each one of his thrusts and squeezing him tight on every stroke, Joel had to steel himself just feeling how good you were, knowing how well you fit him in every way, and sensing this was as close to replete happiness as he’d ever get. He couldn’t ask for more.

Even without a baby, he knew things would be okay.

The two of you had been trying for months now, wholly without success of yet. There had been the night he’d bought a blue pill and fucked you four times in one day, and you’d told him at the end of it all that your period was late. But then you’d bled the next morning, and your hopes, for the present moment, had been dashed away.

No pregnancy hopes since then had amounted to anything else, and at length, you’d agreed not to let it get your spirits down—or try not to, anyway. You’d fuck as often as you could, but you wouldn’t let the thought of wanting a baby make the process less fun for you now.

That didn’t mean Joel couldn’t remind you every now and then what you were hoping the endgame would be.

Presently, he leaned over your prone body on the bed and pressed his lips to your ear. He ground his hips against your ass so his cock wedged itself all the way in to the hilt, and when the tip was just threatening to graze the edge of your cervix, he dropped a kiss on your cheek.

“Want me to put a baby right here?” He spoke gently.

Your walls clenched around him involuntarily, and your head reared back to fall against his shoulder. Joel took this as his opportunity to start peppering more kisses. He knew how much you liked the dirty talk while he was deep inside, talking about how much he wanted to blow his load and knock you up. It was a melting point for you both, and he sensed that you wouldn’t last long after it.

He had your head tilted to his, your lips spilling moan after moan as his dick plunged further inside and your eyes struggling to stay open. They flitted between his, and they gave him a hopeful look. You managed a smile.

“Right…right there, daddy,” you whimpered out.

Another sound escaped your mouth and flooded his, and Joel couldn’t help it: he kissed you, and he fucked in deeper. He couldn’t have wanted this more if he tried.

His forehead was slick with sweat, as was yours. Your bodies were grinding together—Joel’s soft, warm belly filling the concave space where your spine curved down, and he rutted repeatedly into you, like an animal in heat.

His face was right beside yours as his teeth gritted out:

“My sweet girl want a baby in her for Christmas, that it?”

Again, you whined and rolled your hips against his, nodding your head, and the look in your eyes was wild.

“Baby—please. Please fuck your baby in me, Joel.”

Joel could do more than that. Much more. Ask him for twins, triplets, or however many kids you could’ve wanted, and he would’ve given it to you then.

He wished it were that simple, and he could’ve knocked you up and made you happy a long time ago, but sadly, that hadn’t been in the cards for you two. Joel shortly brushed that thought away, not wanting to lose his momentum or delay the oncoming orgasm about to rattle your body underneath him. He kissed your shoulder this time, thrusting with his stiff, wet cock in just the way you liked, and in seconds, he got what he wanted—what you needed, clearly, as your muscles seized and your lips let out a sharp, shrill cry in response.

Joel held you to him as long as he could. He felt you melt into the bed and only held your body tighter, rutting his hips at their relentless pace to keep your pleasure alive. He heard you whine, tell him to cum inside me, daddy, please, and from that point on, he sensed he’d have to slow a little. It couldn’t be helped. When he came, he had to pin you down and fill you completely—take his time working his spend inside your needy, pulsing cunt, and when he was done, just keep you there. Let you feel him. It was a satisfaction unlike any other for you both, and it was one he’d come to love these last few months. He stilled inside you, feeling his cum coating every inch of your walls around him, and he grinned. You let out a sigh.

“So I…I made the ‘Nice’ list, Mr. Clause?” you panted.

Joel’s head dropped to yours in a short, rumbling laugh.

His dick twitched inside you, and his belly growled a bit. He definitely should’ve taken you up on those cookies.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d say we’re square,” he breathed back.

How long you laid like that was anyone’s guess. Joel didn’t bother keeping track of the seconds or the minutes spent splayed out over your body; he only sensed when he was starting to go soft and you wriggled your hips underneath. He shifted and let you flip around.

His cock now completely out and a smile touching your lips as you turned to face him, your gaze flitted to his.

“Can you go get me one of your shirts, please?”

You were also both stark naked, thanks to the lightning-quick stripdown you’d both done the second you’d made it to the bedroom. Though Joel was sleepy, he knew the routine: get you a shirt, get him a clean pair of boxers, and get the two of you off to sleep. It’d been a long day.

“Yes, dear,” he answered dutifully.

He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose before rising. He padded his slow, heavy feet over to the dresser at the opposite end of the room, and he opened the top drawer.

“Second one, please. With the flannels,” you called out.

Okay.

Joel snagged a pair of underwear for himself, then went to the next drawer to get you a flannel to wear, since the scorching heat of your house evidently wasn’t enough to keep you warm. He smiled to himself, about to crack a wiseass comment about you being cold-blooded or something, when the man was obliged to stop. He took one look inside, dropped his boxers, and paused a spell.

When Joel started again, it wasn’t to speak—he just turned and lifted the first thing he saw in the drawer.

“Wha—oh, shoot. I was supposed to wrap that,” you said swiftly, wincing as he held it. Still smiling at him, though.

“Seems a little small to be a gift for me, don’t you think?”

In his grasp was a miniature onesie. Beneath it, in the drawer you’d directed him to, there had been at least four more just like it. All soft, pastel-colored, and small.

Your smile stretched even wider as you shook your head.

“It’s from Maria and Tommy. More of a…future present, for the two of us,” you shrugged, pushing to sit up in bed.

Joel eyed you a moment. He wasn’t sure what to say.

On your face, he saw hope and excitement etched bright. Like you were fine to keep waiting on this ‘future,’ no matter the duration. One glimpse of that and Joel felt a lump the size of his fist in his throat. He walked over.

And it had to be the last thing you wanted to see, surely—him setting the onesie down, dropping beside you in bed, then fumbling gracelessly, uselessly, to hold you.

Feeling every bit the remorseful, too-old man who couldn’t give you what you wanted. He wanted it, too.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he blurted out, unthinking. He pulled you to his chest; within his own, his heart was pounding, “I know…I know it’s taking us awhile. That’s my fault—”

“Joel.”

“My cum’s as old as dust and that’s probably why—”

“You don’t—”

“—you aren’t pregnant yet. I know it’s frustrating for—”

“Seriously, Joel—”

“—you to deal with. All of that disappointment, I mean—”

“JOEL.”

“What?”

His pulse was still thudding away. You blinked once.

Then, in a slow but deliberate path, your gaze trailed over to the nightstand. Joel’s followed after in similar fashion.

“You still haven’t opened your present,” you said. Stern.

It wasn’t the tone Joel had been expecting to hear at all.

And when you handed him the box, he felt his blood pressure spike. Absently, he thought that couldn’t be safe for a man his age. He couldn’t even tell what it held, and still, the prospect of it had him anxious beyond words. He turned it over; something rattled inside.

‘Go on, Joel.’ Your voice coaxed him gentler then.

And he did, though his fingers trembled some.

The weight in his grip could’ve been an ounce, a pound, or a ton, and his hands would’ve shaken all the same. Joel felt a current pulse through him as he slid the lid off.

Then he just stared.

His eyes widened.

“That’s…”

“Exactly what I have been trying to give you all night!” You laughed. The sound was light, not derisive or cruel.

When he looked up to you, your cheeks were as full and high as he’d seen them all day—you were smiling so big.

That made him think that this wasn’t a joke. Or a dream.

Surely his brain couldn’t have contrived both the most perfect, blinding smile on your face and a slim, white, pink-capped little stick with a ‘+’ on the screen at once.

It still hadn’t hit him completely, though, so he blinked.

“Really?” His voice was hoarse. Vacillating.

“Really.” Yours was more certain. Happy.

And, while the truth of it was slow to seep in, Joel knew he couldn’t waste another moment. He didn’t think—just pulled you in and squeezed you to him as tight as a vice. He couldn’t think—the rush of his blood in his ears and the puffs of your breath and the clatter of that positive pregnancy test in its box, discarded, were all too much.

As soon as he squeezed, your next breath was a sob.

“I meant to tell you, Joel. I meant to. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Your confession came out muffled against his chest, though Joel heard it all with total clarity. In a blink, he had you drawn back a little, just so he could hold your face and search your gaze with his own in a wide look.

Before he could even speak, he saw the tears welling up, as if coming from nowhere. You were still trying to smile.

“It’s been weeks. Since…since my period. I just—” With a wince that could’ve shredded Joel’s insides in two, you went on, “—I couldn’t stand disappointing you again.”

The same way he’d felt. Why you couldn’t tell him.

“Baby, hey, no— no. No, no, no. Please don’t say that.”

It was all Joel could do to keep his own emotions at bay.

“After the last time, and the— and the way you looked so happy at the thought of being a dad, I…I…had to be sure. Maria got me a test, and we triple-checked.” You sniffled.

Moving to wipe at tears as if any of this was your fault. Joel’s thumbs only grew more fervent in their path to smear the moisture away, and his head kept shaking back and forth—‘No, sweetheart, that’s not on you. Don’t even think that. Come here.’—as he tried to be a comfort. He couldn’t be happier. He hoped you were too. While tears engulfed his hands, he hoped you would be.

Even if his bones were old and his knees were weaker than he wanted them to be; even if you couldn’t count on two hands how many years stretched out between you and the decades made it seem like forever to the people in town. Even if this baby was the first, and last, you had.

Joel just wanted you happy.

It was all he could ask to have.

“We’re gonna be parents,” you said, half in awe.

You blinked harder and more tears slid down, but the look behind them was brighter. Your eyes were on his.

“We’re gonna be parents,” Joel repeated, “You and me.”

Then he pinched your puffy, wet cheeks, pictured a baby that looked the tiniest bit like you, and he had to lean in. He kissed slower than he meant to—had to savor you.

A baby.

His baby.

Your eyes were a little wider when he pulled away.

“Happy with your present, daddy?” you teased.

Joel blinked, and he thought of the dozen-odd boxes he had laid out under the tree downstairs—all for you to unwrap in the morning—and he realized then that you had him soundly beat in the gift department that year. Though none of what he’d bought could even hope to hold a candle to what you’d given him tonight, there were still ways to try and make it up. Say thank you.

“I love my present. And I love you.” Joel answered softly.

And just as you smiled, were about to slide back under the covers and tell him you loved him just as much, he grabbed your ankle. Started to lower himself after you.

Your eyes widened more.

“Joel Miller.”

His smirk widened right back.

“One more present before bed?”

You might’ve rolled your eyes, but you let him climb over you just the same. You felt his weight shift over yours, sensed a familiar stir in the depths of your body, and peered up to meet a matching smile you knew you’d find.

Joel was beaming from ear to ear like this was the luckiest day he’d lived to see. Like he couldn’t wait to show how glad he was to be a dad—over and over again.

“Just wanna make sure we made it…stick, y’know?”

He was grinning now. Gently laying you down.

You sighed, smiled, and spread your legs.

“Too late. You’re stuck with me, Miller.”

“Yeah? I like the sound of that.”

“What?”

Joel slowly untied your wrists, uncomfortably resting on your back, taking his time. He yanked at the rope and your hands slammed against his swollen bulge, an animalistic growl tearing his throat.

You swallowed, eyeing the open door in front of you and planning your escape route. Joel kept on tugging at the thick cord to free you from his grasp, your hands unwillingly brushing the tent on his worn jeans.

Then the hemp string completely loosened up, the tingling sensation in your fingers slowly fading away.

The tethers keeping you bound were quickly replaced by Joel’s hands, his meaty fingers wrapping around your wrists to keep you in place. The bastard pulled at your right hand, forcing your palm open to rub his covered erection.

Making a decided effort to ignore him, how he used you to get off, your eyes fixed on the door, your face expression a blank canvas. You knew better than showing him fear.

“One,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Two,” Joel continued to count out loud.

Your whole being automatically entered fight-or-flight mode, your breathing quicker and shallower as your heartbeat burst in your eardrums painfully. Your chest raised and then sunk in quick succession, the oxygen barely reaching your brain.

If you got to the door and ran for your life, you were almost sure you could lose him in the tangled maze of the abandoned mall. As he dragged you across the shopping center earlier, your mind recorded every single detail that could get you out of here. A few turns, down a corridor, some stairs, then straight ahead before another turn ― that was the closest fire exit.

You were so focused on running away, there was little room for any other feeling. If you let panic paralyse you, then he would win. And you were a bitter loser, especially if your integrity was at stake.

“Three.”

As soon as Joel took a step back, you lurched for a second, like a baby deer dazed by headlights. It only took your legs a moment to ground you ― then you lunged forward, almost falling face first, and ran towards the door. Grabbing the frame, you did a hard turn and sprinted as fast as your legs could take you.

Lungs burning and brimming with tears now, you sped up looking for that exit you saw on your way here. But keeping a cool mind while reality settled in was a hard task ― so much so you had lost track of how many turns you had taken.

“Shit, no,” you mumbled with a trembling little voice. “No, no, no,” you chanted, your throat clamping down.

Stopping, you scanned your surroundings, not recognising any of the untidy window displays. You paced around, trying to decide where to go, how the fuck to get out.

“Ready or not, here I come, kiddo,” Joel yelled, his voice not as far away as you would have liked.

You froze in place, weighing your options. Your hands were now shaking, the thrill of the chase giving you a burst of adrenaline but also clouding your mind.

Knees almost giving way, you saw the store to your right and decided your best option was waiting him out. He would tire, assume you had been able to run away. Didn’t matter if you had to stay put for hours, Joel would eventually stop looking. So, you ran inside, only to realise that it was a homeware shop.

It was pretty much run down, all decorations spilt everywhere in disarray. There were fake ghosts and corpses hanging from the ceiling, and you were sure the spiderwebs were not part of the décor. There were also some Santa toys laying around, candy canes and a decrepit nativity scene. Some orange lights flickered at the bottom of the store, giving the whole space a very eerie appearance. It was obvious that when the world went to shit, this shop was in the middle of selling all the Halloween décor, and transitioning into Christmas time.

You hesitated, but there was no time to choose another hideout. Booted steps approached, the heaviness of his footfall echoing in the distance. If the way your skin bristled was any indication, you knew Joel was close. Too close.

Almost tumbling, you circled the counter and ducked. There was a big, spacious cabinet underneath with the doors almost off the hinges. It was stuffed with macabre toys and plushies, but those didn’t deter you. Pushing them aside to make room, you wiggled inside, hoping Joel would never find you here.

As you shut the doors, darkness surrounded you. It was pitch-black inside, almost suffocating ― the blackness combined with the claustrophobia hastened the rush of blood through your veins.

No, too dark ― too damn dark. You poked at the door slightly, leaving it ajar so a sliver of light filtered in.

You drew in a big breath in an attempt to soothe your racing heart. Swallowed the knot in your throat too and curled your hands into fists to control the tremor.

Closing your eyes, you leaned back, your head resting against the back of the cabinet.

Then you heard him.

“Come out and play, you little brat,” Joel mocked you as he sauntered towards the counter. “You’re just postponing the inevitable, sweetheart.”

He had seen you go into this shop, so now only needed to find out your hiding place. Joel had already looked through the obvious spots and had come up empty. He was starting to consider he might have seen wrong, but your rugged breathing gave you away as soon as he walked around the cash register.

A grin curled the corners of his mouth, noticing the slightly ajar door underneath the worktop ― your little, sharp breaths filtering through the crack.

Like any other predator, he knew his prey very well ― you. Joel was completely sure that, right about now, your heart would be wildly beating in your chest, hearing him so close. You could probably see the tip of his boots too, your pulse quickening.

The thought of you all panicky and sweaty stirred something dark within him ― something lustful. So much so, his erection only got harder even though he had already worked himself up with the groping of your hand on his bulge. It felt uncomfortable really, how his shaft rubbed against the zipper, his pubic hairs catching in the chain.

With a low growl, he slipped one hand in his jeans to rearrange his cock, to ease the pain. Squeezing his throbbing dick between his fingers, Joel hissed at how sensitive the wet head was.

It was just a brief, feeble attempt to satiate his vice for you. Only fucking you would relieve him.

“Where are ya?” he mumbled, lightly poking at the cabinet’s door with the tip of his boot, dragging out the moment.

Joel heard you whimper, a hummed bleat that ignited the fire in his groin.

Not being able to resist the call of your cries any longer, he crouched down and swung the doors open.

Your teary, widened eyes greeted him, just as if he had arrived at the gates of his own personal heaven. You were tucked away, your back pressing onto the melamine sheet, as you cowered into the corner.

“Hi there, sugar,” he grinned, head tilted.

As soon as his strong, broad hand wrapped around one of your ankles, you started kicking and screaming, his cock twitching in response. Careful not to be in the receiving end of your strikes, he pulled you out while you put up an admirable fight. You clawed at whatever you could find, all the grisly plushies and toys spilling out of the cabinet.

“No! Let me go! STOP!” you yelled, a messy tangle of limbs kicking everywhere to free yourself from his grasp.

With your belly flat on the tiled floor, Joel yanked at your ponytail until your back arched uncomfortably, his lips trailing your jugular as he straddled the back of your waist.

“Yeah, fight back, kitten,” he grumbled in your ear, releasing his purchase on your hair.

Your head collapsed on the floor, your little sobs unleashing the beast within him. Grabbing your arms so you would cease in your futile escaping attempt, he shoved your limbs under his knees, pinning you down completely.

You wiggled under him, a begging mess as you tried to kick him off you.

“Please, Joel, don’t do this,” you pleaded, the swaying of your hips under him only enlivening his cock even more.

“That’s not what you were telling the other guy last night, were you?” he scolded you, unbuckling his belt and tugging at it in one clean sweep that took it off the loops on his jeans. “Hm? When you were making out with him in that alley, with your tiny hand buried in his pants and jerking him off. If he could have his share, so can I.”

He moved his knees just enough to liberate your arms, pressing your wrists onto the small of your back as he forcefully tied them up again, this time with his belt.

“Joel, I wasn’t―”

“Oh, yeah, you fucking were, sugar. You saw me standing there, watching, and you didn’t stop. Did you?” he groaned, ensuring the belt was as tight as possible around your wrists. “It actually made you wetter, I just know. Just like you probably are now.”

You wailed, words incoherent as you kept on mumbling and fighting back. Your resistance was an irresistible call for him, one that could not be ignored. Your sobs were a dark summon, the twisted side of him revelling in what was to come.

Joel slithered down your body, sitting on your calves with his knees on either side of you and then pulled your jeans and panties down unceremoniously, yanking at them eagerly. You choked on your tears, your tied hands trying to cover your exposed ass and the sweet dripping nook between your thighs.

Joel slapped your hands away, growling at you for denying him such a view. He held on to your wrists with the span of one hand, pressing them on the small of your back.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” he grumbled with an obscure need.

His right hand glided down the swell of your butt cheeks until his ring and middle fingers pried your pussy lips open. Dragging the pads along your damp, velvety seam drove him fucking mad.

“You’re such a slut, sugar,” he rejoiced, forcing his fingers in your dripping hole down to the knuckles. The sucking sound coming from your entrance made his mind spiral out of control. “So fucking wet, you’re enjoying this, aren’t ya?”

He pulled his fingers out, then back in harshly. You whimpered, the running tears ruining your eyeliner.

“I AM NOT! Stop, you motherfucker!” You screamed, writhing under Joel in an attempt to get him off you. “I fucking hate your guts!”

Your pitiful, pathetic sobs grew louder as Joel fingered you like a man possessed, your cunt leaking everywhere. Your inner walls clutched around his fingers involuntarily, the warmth inside your pussy skyrocketing.

Joel was mad with lust, his throbbing cock strained in his jeans. He released your hands to release his dick from the prison of his clothing and started to fist himself at the same pace his fingers sank into you.

“Your mouth says no, but your sweet little pussy is begging for me, you little fuck toy,” he growled, his nuts feeling heavy with every pump he imposed on you and himself. “My fuck toy.”

Feeling your climax building up, your reddened cunt sheathing his digits greedily and palpitating now, Joel slid the fingers out of your seeping opening. You began crying audibly now, your orgasm being denied and fading into oblivion. But Joel knew you wouldn’t beg him to let you finish, you proud little thing. At least not yet.

He smiled, jerking himself off with your slick, buttering his pearly glans with your arousal.

“Keep cryin’, sugar, no one’s coming to help ya,” he mumbled, eyelids heavy as he traced the fold of your ass with the tip of his thudding cock.

It hitched in your unprepared tight ring, and he didn’t hesitate to push in slightly.

You snarled like a wild animal, kicking again and screaming in pain as his mushroom head found refuge in your rimmed hole. It was so fucking tight inside, suffocating even, Joel felt his glans pulsating.

“Being the whore that you are, I know that your pussy has been worked open several times, but what about your ass, hm?” he teased you, tip buried in your―hopefully―virgin ass.

“You piece of shit!” you shrieked.

Joel cackled, head snapping back at your retort. Then tutted at you, pulling out of your apparently forbidden hole. He almost felt sorry for you, but one glance at your pussy was all he needed to have his attention redirected.

“Alright, alright, sugar. In your pussy then,” he conceded, feeling benevolent. “I know she’s greedy for some cock, isn’t she?”

Joel swiped his glans clean with your panties, then grabbed a few of the plush toys and teddy bears that had spilt from the cabinet. He shoved them under your waist to prop your perky ass up, giving him better access to your slit.

“There she is, look at her go. Your hole is clenching, sugar, I can see her. She’s mouthing for something to keep her quiet,” he mumbled, almost sweetly, before his thumb found your unattended, glistening clit. Joel pressed circles onto your bundle of nerves lazily, your little cries transforming into wanton hiccups. “She’s so needy, leaking everywhere. I’mma give her what she needs, I’m that altruistic.”

His thumb broke contact with your melting clit, then Joel aligned his cock with the opening in your cunt and buried himself in one harsh thrust, down to the hilt. You cried again, your hands holding onto the hem of his tee shirt. Joel leaned down on you, placing his elbows to either side of your head, but most of his weight rested on you ― suffocating, omnipresent above you.

He couldn’t wait any longer, his hard cock pulsing inside you, so Joel began railing you as if the world was ending. Jackhammering into you, he glued you to the floor, his balls slapping your clit with every pump.

Joel kissed your neck as you stilled under him with no fight left within you.

“Has my sweet little fuck toy finally broken?” he taunted you with a smirk.

You said nothing in reply, not wanting to inflate his ego any more.

A teddy bunny with crosses for eyes stared at you as Joel drilled into you, your body rocking back and forth beneath him with the force of every potent thrust. He was growing harder and warmer inside you, if that was even possible, because you already felt full to the fucking brim. The noises coming from where you were joint like mating dogs sounded obscene, squelching and wet. Sinful.

Your body betrayed you, your pussy squeezing his beating dick tight, as if she didn’t want to let him go. Joel’s nuts would bounce against your clit, adding another layer to it all, breaking your resolution. But you managed to keep your lips sealed shut, your bottom one trembling with effort.

He began pulsing, his girth stretching your burning walls further apart as if they were putty. The way you would mould around him, hugging him tight ― it felt damn wrong. Deliciously wrong. How his flushed cockhead dragged along the soft spot along your anterior wall drove you fucking insane, but still you did not whimper aloud ― would never give him that satisfaction.

And then, suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you empty and on the tipping edge of another orgasm.

“Joel, p-pl-please…” you sobbed quietly, ashamedly.

“Please what, sugar?”

You hated him for making you beg, but your cunt was drenched and throbbing ― your climax had been snatched away from you twice now, leaving you hanging on a precipice that was making you feel lightheaded.

You fought with your mind, not wanting to come but needing to.

Instead of answering, you sobbed through pursed lips, forehead resting on the tiled floor underneath you. Then Joel spanked your swollen pussy lips once and you wailed, the sudden sting flourishing into something else.

“Count out loud,” he ordered.

When his palm landed on your cunt again, your hips bucked up with equal parts of pain and pleasure.

“Two,” you whispered breathless.

His palm fell hard on your puffy skin, and you whimpered, tears welling up.

“Three,” another spank, another wail. “F-f-f-f-f-four…” you stuttered, tears falling off the cliffs of your cheeks.

The last slap was stronger than the others, foully resonating between the walls of the Halloween shop. It stung real bad, but then…

“FIVE!” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

Your whole body started shaking uncontrollably, your pussy gushing as she had never before, and the biggest wave of your life washed over you like a tsunami. The burning sensation flowed up your spine, waking up all your nerve endings, and down your legs curling your toes. Your eyes had rolled to the back of your head, and you were drooling all over the floor, breathing heavily, still trembling under Joel’s watchful gaze.

You would never admit to him that it had been the best orgasm of your life.

Joel rubbed his palm against your sensitive cunt, soothing the harshness of his spanks. Then crouched down to press a few delicate kisses on your bulgy pussy lips, his broad hands coaxing your ass cheeks apart for better access.

His tongue flicked and buried in your wet slit, the tip sweeping from your tender clit to your fucked-out hole, collecting the cream of your arousal in his mouth. His warm breath felt like a balm, your entrance squeezing with unwanted pleasure when he suckled on your clit again. Being eaten out from behind short-circuited your brain, slick heat pooling in your clit again.

Unwillingly, you grinded your cunt on his mouth, chasing another high, silently whimpering. Joel laughed, mouth still on your pussy with hot puffs of air fanning your damp fold.

“What a good little slut you are. But we need to work on your manners, you should be thanking me,” he hummed. “My turn to come.”

Joel came off you, turning you around on the floor so you were facing up. Another denied orgasm and you were close to losing your shit, but you kept the façade from tumbling down.

Then he grabbed your elbow, forcing you to sit up, and pushed your back against the cabinet you had previously hid in. He grounded each foot to either side of you, his cock at your eye level.

“Say ahhh for me, sugar,” he asked darkly, his hand holding your chin.

Looking up at him, your eyes glassy, you shook your head no, pursing your lips together to keep your mouth shut.

“Playing hard to get now, hmm, kiddo?” Joel chuckled, rubbing his slick glans on your lips. “I know you love to suck cock, you little bitch. Don’t deny it.”

The tip of his dick breached your lips and swiped along your clenched teeth, but you didn’t budge. That was until he slapped you, which made you open your mouth automatically. With no free will left in you, you let him slot his throbbing cock between your lips and down your throat.

“If you use your teeth, I’ll break your jaw. Understood?”

Doe-eyed, you glanced up at him innocently and nodded with his dick buried in your mouth.

“Good girl, I’m sure you can take it like a champ,” he chortled.

He held onto the edge of the counter and began rocking his hips back and forth, first gently. You hollowed your cheeks and let him use your mouth as he pleased, the pulsing glans caressing your palate and then your uvula. Lips sealed shut around his girth, you made sure your teeth wouldn’t graze his skin ― your crimsoned cheek still burnt.

Towering above you, Joel moaned, head tilted back and knuckles white. The rhythm of his hips started picking up a relentless pace, his mushroom head breaching your uvula and making you gag while saliva and precum pooled in your mouth, dripping off the corners and landing on your breasts.

It didn’t matter how much you retched, it didn’t stop him whatsoever ― the gurgling sounds just spurred him on even more. Joel fucked your mouth harshly, burying himself as further down as possible, his balls slapping your chin with every thrust. The back of your head banged the cabinet door repeatedly as you fought for air to reach your lungs.

With your hands tied to your back, there wasn't much you could do about the growing ache in the pebbled nub between your thighs. Unconsciously, you rubbed your knees together, aiming for the orgasm you had been denied.

Joel noticed your efforts and felt pity for you. His poor little thing throbbing, pussy used and crying for some more. Feeling generous, he moved one foot between your legs, the tip of his boot notching your bundle of nerves just right ― and that was your cue to tilt your hips absentmindedly, humping his boot while you moaned around his veiny shaft.

“Look at you, so fucking desperate, sugar,” he pressed his boot further into your seam, and you wailed in response. “Should be ashamed of yourself, you fucking brat. Like being used like this, don't ya?”

His degradation, along with your incessant rubbing, was your undoing. Your hole clenched around nothing and a massive bubble of thick slick came down your narrow cavity, wetting the tip of his boot with your white cream, as you climaxed ― cunt pulsing and squeezing uncontrollably.

At the sight of you orgasming, Joel finally came in your mouth with a guttural groan, pinning you against the cabinet, dick pulsing maddingly on your tongue as the white ropes of his hot cum filled up your wet cavity, almost choking you.

Joel looked down at you with a satisfied grin and swept some tears away with his thumb, his cock still plugging your lips.

“You’ve done well for me, kiddo. You haven’t thrown up,” his praise made your eyes perk up, fixed on his brown ones. “As messy as you look right now, you look beautiful with my dick in your mouth.”

He pulled back, freeing your mouth. Before you could spit out his spent, Joel pinched your nose and sealed your mouth with the palm of his hand, forcing you to swallow. So you did.

Tucking away his cock, he then helped you up, veered you around in his arms, and untied your hands, restoring your circulation. As Joel put the belt back on, your pulled up your panties and jeans, then stirred around to face him.

A smile crept up on your face, curling the corners of your mouth.

Joel reciprocated, his sideways smirk making your heart jolt. He bowed down to kiss you, tasting himself in your mouth.

“I love it when you unleash this side of you, when you get rough like this,” you whispered cheekily against his lips. “We should do this more often.”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head with fake disapproval, and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“You’re such a good actress. There was a point where I almost believed you, sweetheart,” he admitted, and it was your turn to laugh.

“Was that when I used the safe words?” you taunted, and he nodded.

“Yeah, sorry I got carried away. But you know how much I would love to be the first one to fuck your ass, baby,” he pleaded with you, his hands gently resting on the small of your back.

“Maybe next time and with a bit more prep. But only if you behave,” you promised him, kissing him again.

“I always behave, sugar.”

“How long have you been a dad again?” 

You’re staring at the pile of gifts that Joel has “wrapped” so far. The striped paper is wrinkled on a few of them like he balled up the paper before wrapping the gift, other ones have glaring bald spots that reveal what they are without having to unwrap them. 

Joel huffs, grumbling to himself as he’s hunched on the floor, cutting out another square of paper to wrap a book. 

“Long enough to know that if I stay down here too long my back’ll hurt tomorrow,” he responds. 

The Christmas tree in his living room has been thoroughly decorated, leaving the lights to reflect from glass ornaments onto his face. Joel looks stressed tonight, but he’s just been stressed all the time lately. The colder months have brought shittier weather, which has him worried about snowfall on sites that couldn’t take it at the moment. Anytime you’ve seen him recently, his skin has still been cold from the outside, his nose slightly red. 

He looks at your pile of gifts, which have been neatly wrapped and finished with stick-on bows, and then scrunches his face, quietly mocking your words. You laugh, feigning offense as you tilt your head.

“Oh I’m sorry, I just assumed you would have been better with your hands, Joel,” you retort in return. Instantly his head is back up so he can look at you, a shocked expression on his face. 

“You sayin’ I’m no good with my hands?” He asks, a bit incredulous.

Your eyes are rolling before you can help it, smiling as you shake your head.

“No–” you start.

“I can prove that I got perfectly fine hands. Fingers too for that matter,” he dares.

Joel shoves the wrapping paper out of his way as he scoots his way over to you, his knees scrubbing the hardwood floor. He’s smiling stupidly, clearly excited to get out of wrapping gifts.

“Joel!!” You huff, trying to squirm away from him as he gets closer to you. You’ve learned he has a serious personal space problem.

“What, angel? S’not like anybody else is home,” he grins, nosing at your cheek.

And God. Yeah, finally, nobody is fucking home.

You and Joel have been something for the past however many months. Time has flown quickly, with life and love brushing past your skin in a wind of smiles. Work takes over Joel’s life before he realizes it, and it happens a lot. Maybe that would be a problem for most people, but you live right next door. It’s not like there’s space between you, especially since you can knock on his door whenever you want to.

But you’re both adults, and spontaneity requires energy that you both lack. 

The current schedule you’ve fallen into is seeing him on Friday evenings, whenever he gets home from work, a small date on Saturday if you have the energy, and family dinner on Sunday. Yes, you’ve now worked up the courage to look his daughters and brother in the eye. After you started showing up more often they began to bond with you more, especially his girls. Ellie and Sarah are both young, both smart, and as different as they are, it just makes for a firecracker-y relationship that’s hard not to interact with.

You’ve fallen into place as Joel’s something, as someone to his family.

The only problem you and Joel have is actually getting alone time. Since you both work so much, and he’s so family oriented, it’s been hell actually trying to get alone time with him. Not even just time to… do stuff. Just having a private moment is tough. Someone is always in his house, and as much as you have your own house, his feels more like home. 

You didn’t even set up your tree this year. The living room is bare of holiday cheer, save for the growing pile of presents that you’ve built in the corner near the couch. Finding home in Joel has not helped you find your place in Austin still, the lack of familial familiarity has sucked the love from your walls. The whole house just feels like dead skin that’s ready to flake away anytime you’re there. You want to brush it from its plot of land and go back to the place next door, where warm light and voices hold the roof down and raise it all the same. 

So yeah, your house isn’t really where you want to be, ever. Sacrificing sex with Joel isn’t the best, but you want to be around him more than anything. As long as he’s there, you don’t care so much if he’s getting you there. At least not usually. 

“Yeah, no one’s home,” you repeat back to him.

The incandescent bulbs that are strung onto the tree are casting light through his hair. Tiny flecks of grey are all you can get a view of right now as he pushes his nose beneath your jaw, pressing kisses to the tender skin that tingles under his lips. 

“Mhm,” he grunts, biting at your skin then kissing over it when you wince slightly. “N’they won’t be home for at least an hour.” His hands are skimming over the waistband of your pajama pants, warm fingers dipping to touch the band of your undies. 

“Yeah,” you say again. You’re losing words. It always feels like you lose your words, breath, and brain around him, but maybe it’s because you don’t need it. Joel keeps kissing at your neck as he reaches around, tapping your bum so you lift up for him. 

The lights in the room flash into pink as your eyes slide shut and your pants are tugged down more. It’s been too long, you need this, he needs this. 

Joel doesn’t hesitate. As soon as your pants are down enough, his hand is in your undies, skimming the hair there and then pressing against you. A surprised huff puffs into your neck as he feels how wet you’ve gotten, how quick. 

And then keys. And then the front door is swinging open. And then your pants are shoved up and everyone’s home and you aren’t in your mind, but it’s fine. It’s fine. 

You’ll find time before Christmas. 

—

Today is Shitmas.

“Shitmas. Y’know, like the day in Christmas week where you do a bunch of Christmas-y shit,” Tommy had informed you about a week ago, after you had slowly turned to look at him in the living room.

The Miller family does Shitmas on the 23rd of December, and supposedly it includes, but is not limited to, family pictures in the living room, cookie baking and decorating (lead by Sarah), and sock snowman making. 

They do this every year, and you can tell because as soon as you show up on Shitmas, you’re greeted by little sock snowmen. They line the stairs, each one with a year labelled on the belly. The first few are singular snowmen, but somewhere along the way it turns into two, marking when Ellie joined their family. Over the years they’ve obviously improved, but there’s something special about the first few on the stairs. Mismatched eyes, splattered glitter glue, and Joel’s printing on their bellies, instead of Sarah’s, all grace the earliest dated snowmen.

Ellie was the one to let you into the house today, since apparently Joel is helping Sarah bake and his hands are “nasty,” in Ellie’s words. 

“Kinda ugly, huh?” Ellie teases as you crouch to look at them on the stairs. Sarah calls out somewhere in the house, over the noise of the electric mixer, and it makes you huff a laugh.

“I think they’re endearing. It’s nice that Joel keeps these,” you reply. She somewhat agrees, an “I guess,” begrudgingly leaving her lips before Joel finally walks up and she skips off back to the kitchen. 

Joel’s drying his hands with a dishtowel still as he embraces you, sighing deeply. 

“Hey angel, sorry. Fuckin… Raw egg all over my hands,” he mutters as he squeezes you tight. The two of you pull apart for a moment, but not before Joel’s going back in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. As your palms settle against his chest, you can’t help but notice how warm he is, the skin beneath his shirt, hot and giving plushly under your fingers. 

“I like the girls’ snowmen,” you tell him fondly, peeking over your shoulder at them. When you look back at him, he’s looking at them, a softness in his eyes.

“Ellie hates doing those, she only does it because Sarah likes to.” 

—

Shitmas has been stupidly fun so far. Watching Tommy and Joel try their best to decorate cookies while Sarah makes Great British Bake Off worthy ones, all while Ellie smears smiley faces onto each one in an effort to make her sister proud has raised your spirits infinitely. You decorated a few cookies, but mostly watched in awe as Sarah expertly pressed sprinkles into each of the cookies and piped patterns onto them. It kind of felt like wasting cookies to not let her decorate them, even though she bakes them each year so everyone can participate. 

Now, you’re sitting on the couch. The cookies are all sitting on the kitchen counter, abandoned as each family member bustles around the house getting ready for the picture they’ll take in front of the tree. 

Surprisingly, Tommy is done getting ready first. Honestly you figured it would have been Joel, but maybe he’s putting some extra effort in today, rather than just running a comb through his hair. Tommy’s appearance at first is only surprising because of how meticulous he can be with his hair. Joel has told you about the times they’ve been late because his hair was “fighting” him some mornings. 

“Hair cooperated with me,” he says as he takes a seat next to you on the couch. Sometimes it feels like Tommy can either read your mind, or just says shit to take up space. You respond with a nod and a mild expression of acknowledgement, a little off in your own world. 

“You forget your flannel or somethin?” Tommy asks next. You almost nod again, on auto-pilot, but then stop.

“What?” You ask, head turning in his direction. He laughs in disbelief, and for a moment you feel embarrassment start burning at the base of your neck in fear he’s laughing at you. Were you told to bring something and didn’t?

“Hold on,” Tommy says, grunting as he curls up and off the couch a second later.

He leaves you alone in the living room, left to listen to the crackling fireplace channel on TV and the sound of Ellie protesting over Sarah wanting to put hairspray on her. 

Tommy’s heavy footsteps clomp around upstairs, leading into Joel’s bedroom. Not dissimilar to the girls downstairs, the rumble of Joel’s voice hits the floor and you roll your eyes, holding a laugh. There aren’t words you can make out, but you’re sure that Joel is mightily unhappy at the random intrusion of his brother.

The more you learn about this family, the more you feel like you’re falling into place, and the more you experience being in it, the farther away your own family feels.

You sit on the couch, still as can be, as you listen to the sound of Tommy rummaging around his older brother’s room, the sound of the hairspray being spritzed while Ellie groans. The sounds are feeling increasingly farther away, even though the girls are downstairs and the boys are only upstairs. Your eyes move to the cookies sitting on the counter, the messy dishes in the sink, and suddenly the stickiness from the icing beneath your nails is too much. 

What are you doing here? What is this Hallmark movie family you’ve found yourself in? 

The thump of your heart ramps up, pumping blood to your ears and making it rssshhhh in the back of your mind just as you begin to chase your breath. It’s all too nice, and maybe you aren’t entirely undeserving, but this is all so unfamiliar. Your own family isn’t terrible, but in comparison to this, it feels so dull. Christmas was just lights and presents before, not tradition and excitement the way that fucking Shitmas has been so far. You’re one activity into the day and it’s already so much better than what you can remember from back home. 

Maybe this is what influenced your decision to stay in Texas for the holidays. Maybe somewhere in you, you knew that this would be better. You’re sitting here, in another family’s home, taking your own family for granted, and for what? Some cookies and some pictures? For the sake of a relationship that isn’t even labelled yet? You deserve this, you deserve to chase your breath and wipe your tears. Selfish girl, if you didn’t feel right in your own family, what right do you have to find a place in theirs?

Nobody in this house asked you to be here but Joel, and really, you just showed up on his doorstep. 

Your eyes are shut as you catch your breath, squinched together so tightly that you see sparks of colour behind your eyelids. Tears keep slipping out and you wipe under your eyes politely, trying not to choke on any noises. The bathrooms are occupied, don’t make a fool of yourself in the living room. 

Tommy and Joel’s voices increase in volume until they’re in front of you, and you open your eyes to see the pair staring at you. Tommy avoids your eyes as soon as you’re looking back at him, while Joel just seems a little shocked.

“Hey,” Joel says, a festive red flannel in his grip. “Why don’t we head upstairs for a second?”

—

You cry for a long while before you actually manage to tell Joel what’s upset you. 

Sat on the edge of his bed, you cry into your palms until your cheeks are red and blotchy, and snot covers the inside of your palms and the bridge of your nose. It’s ugly, nasty, and not what you want to be doing at all. Your family is fine, just boring and emotionally detached, and you’re crying about it to the hardest working single father you know, who has essentially built his life on his own with the help of his brother. 

“I just feel so stupid and– and totally out of place. What have I done to earn my place here?” You ask him, eyes puffy and sad as you stare up at him.

Joel looks hurt. He has looked hurt for a long while, but you couldn’t see it when you were buried in your palms. His brows are pinched, his eyes wrinkled at the outer corners as he looks at you, almost seeming to pity you. For a moment his eyes flash away, not to anything in particular, but just to gather himself.

“Earn your place? Baby, what?” He questions. You stay quiet, feeling just as confused as he sounds. 

His hands clench where they rest on his thighs, then relax as he sighs, head tilting to the side so he can look at you again. 

“You don’t… earn your place in our family, darlin, you’re invited.”

How could you be so fucking dense?

Anyone that’s in Joel’s life, apart from Sarah, is somebody he actively invited in. His allowance of Tommy to be a near second father figure to Sarah and Ellie, his adoption of Ellie on its own,  the majority of his family has been let in. It could have been just him and Sarah, but he wanted more so he allowed more, and he allows more because he loves what the more in his life is. 

Joel takes a deep breath, again, and seems to steel his nerves. 

“You are so much more than invited into our family, angel, you’re welcomed wholly. But, if that’s too much right now and it’s bringing you worry, it’s fine for you to just be my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

That is not the topic right now, that is so not the topic right now, but he said the word. 

Joel loves the more in his life, and now he’s added you to that “more” officially. A label, a name, a little add-on to your identity. You’re putting “Joel’s Girlfriend” on your imaginary nametag in a million different fonts in your head before you realize he’s still talking. 

“You fit right in with us, baby. The girls love you, Tommy loves you, I love you, but you know that one,” he laughs. “It’s up to you if you wanna think of yourself as a part of our family, but know that we already do.” 

A smarter response should come out of your mouth here. Joel has just said a lot of touching things that have sunk into the meat of your body, warming you, but a smart response isn’t something you can manage.

“I’m your girlfriend?”  You ask.

Joel’s brows furrow. “Yeah?”

He says it the way an eighth grader would say “Duh.”

Your look of “When did this happen?” meets Joel’s look of “Where have you been?” at the same time, and only then does he realize. 

—

His apology for completely forgetting to ask you to be his official girlfriend for the last however many months is by cleaning you up really nicely for the photo.

Joel starts by fixing your hair, letting you sit between his knees as he gently pulls it away from your face. His hands run through it so carefully, a tenderness that only an experienced girl-dad like him could provide. When he’s finished, he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head, adding a mumbled “sorry” in, just to really save his ass. 

With anyone else you’d be upset at them for forgetting something so pivotal in a relationship, but with Joel you lend as much patience as he gives you. He’s busy, stupidly so, and with how close and intense the two of you are with one another, it’s not absurd for it to have slipped his mind. In some ways it’s flattering, and you’d like to ask how long he’s been thinking of you as his girlfriend. 

You’re just about to when he holds up the flannel in front of you, the one that he and the rest of his family are apparently wearing for the photo.

“You don’t have to. Seriously. We just talked about family and stuff and if you aren’t ready for that, then that’s–” He’s talking fast, but not as fast as you move to grab the flannel from him.

“I’m your girlfriend, of course I have to be in the picture.”

—

The rest of Shitmas was less, well, shit. 

Ellie and Sarah did their yearly sock snowmen after the photo was taken and they turned out lovely, or at least Sarah’s did. Ellie purposefully overstuffed hers with rice just to see how big she could make the snowman before he exploded, which resulted in him exploding later that evening when his rotund body toppled down the stairs.

Now it’s Christmas Eve, and you’re prepping for tomorrow morning. Your house still isn’t decorated in the slightest, the only festive thing about it being a laundry basket full of gifts that you’ll tote over to Joel’s tomorrow morning. 

Your lower back is absolutely killing you from wrapping the last of Joel’s gifts, something he had warned you of, but you had foolishly ignored. You figured it was an old man thing, not a consequence of too many presents. It feels like heaven when your back finally rests against the couch, your head leaning back as you sigh.

Since talking with Joel yesterday about the family stress and what the two of you are, you feel a hell of a lot better. Your lungs almost feel like they’re more open than before.

Just as you’re relaxing, eyes sliding shut in stressless bliss, someones at the door. 

You grunt as you peel yourself off the couch, trudging to the door and opening it. It’s strange that anyone is at your door, especially since Joel is out with Tommy and the girls going Christmas light spotting.

Or at least he’s supposed to be.

Joel stands at your door in a loose shirt and grey sweatpants, looking sheepish. 

“Do you want to come over for a bit?”

—

Alone. Finally, alone. 

You’re sat halfway on Joel’s lap, sucking a mark into his neck as he leans back, cursing softly. 

“Fuuuckin’ god, you know I missed you,” he groans. You nod into his skin, teething at the skin softly before pulling back to lick at the reddened spot. 

Your hands grip up his sides, feeling the solid width of his body, the plushness of his tummy when your hands sink into the right spot, and you want to whimper. He’s so stupidly big, and you’re so grateful he took his shirt off almost as soon as you both started making out.

Under the lights of the tree, he already looks fucked out. Joel is almost completely limp against the back of the couch, head leaned back to expose his thick throat, bitten down and bruised with marks he might regret in a few hours. His eyes are halfway shut, but dark as ever even in the warm glow of the room which also illuminates the contours that form along his tanned skin. 

He feels your eyes on him, his own opening in an attempt to meet yours, but it only brings attention to his face. Pink lips sit pretty on his face, slightly parted and puffy from kissing you dizzy earlier. Again, his eyes squeeze shut as you drag your nails up across his chest, only to fly open.

“Wait– Wait I have something,” Joel sputters. He slides you off his lap, scrambling to the Christmas tree with boyish urgency.

Joel returns with a red present, one that he actually wrapped fairly neatly.

It’d be sweet if you weren’t literally two seconds from tearing his grey sweats off his body and riding him into next year before he had shoved you off. 

“It’s not Christmas,” you point out, but he shakes his head and shoves the gift into your hands.

Begrudgingly, you unwrap the gift and lift the lid off the box beneath the paper. Laying flat in the bottom of the thin box, cushioned by white tissue paper, is a red, babydoll, nightie. A blush lashes across your cheeks as you lift it out of the box, discovering that the top of it has no bra cups, or really anything to support your tits at all. Red ribbon frames the bust of the nightie limply in a triangular shape, a fluttery mesh making up for the remainder of the piece. It looks and feels expensive, and on top of that it’s totally sexy, even more so since Joel is the one that bought it for you.

Joel had gone out and picked this just for you, he had probably thought about you wearing this every night for the past week. The idea of it is making you increasingly more aroused, your eyes flicking to his, then down to the bulge in his pants. 

“If it’s too much then I’ll return it but,” Joel’s chest is heaving with excitement, biting his lip as he looks at the nightie, “but I kind of want to fuck my beautiful girlfriend before Christmas.”

The two of you are upstairs quickly, with Joel settling in bed and you changing in the bathroom. 

You look at yourself in the reflection of the mirror once you’ve put the ensemble on, if you can call it that. The underwear that came with the nightie are barely a scrap of fabric. Normally you’d feel really uncomfortable in something like this, hyperfocusing on small things, like how the pouch of your belly looks, or how your tits don’t look nearly as full as you want them to, but not right now. 

Joel Miller just gave you, his official girlfriend, lingerie for Christmas. Because he wants to fuck you in it. 

Shamelessly, you open the door into Joel’s bedroom, basically bouncing onto the bed. 

“It’s so nice,” you tell him right away, wanting to show your gratitude. He’s down to his boxers as he lays beside you, eyes scanning up and down your body as you sit in his bed, almost as sexy as you are naked. 

Joel is still like that for almost a minute, making your brain run haywire. Tonight, he’s left the bedside light on. It’s probably so he can see you, but it’s always special when he lets you see him while you both get intimate. He doesn’t touch you at all, just scoots up the bed so he’s sitting upright and unblinking, until finally:

“I want you to use me,” Joel blurts out. 

It’s more surprising than the gift. Your voice is a tiny whine in the back of your throat, your mouth forming the word “what,” but before you can finish, his hands are on your hips, lifting you onto his thigh. 

“There, I want you to use me there,” he near-demands. 

You’re speechless. Joel is vocal in bed for sure, always talking a lot and never really quiet, but he hasn’t been so… commanding before. He’ll ask for things occasionally, a certain position or act, but not like this. Your hips are still as he pushes you down onto his thigh, the hair on it smushing into the softness of your skin. 

“C’mon, angel, I can feel you. Fuck my thigh, use me, I want it.” He encourages.

Joel’s hands grab onto you tighter now, starting to make you move your hips until you do it on your own. It feels like you’re making a dumb face, eyes wide and brows pinched together, but you can’t help but feel surprised.

This is Joel, your Joel, who was hesitant to have sex with the lights on, or even let you look at his dick in general, and now he’s making you hump his thigh? It’s completely new to you, but you aren’t mad.

Once you’ve picked up your own pace, and stabilized yourself with your hands on his shoulders, he reaches up. Joel keeps his eyes trained on your face as he takes advantage of how your tits are on full display in the nightie, plucking and rolling your nipples in his fingers all while talking you through what’s going on. 

“I know, I know you needed this,” he nods at you, “I needed it too, baby. Missed you like this.” 

It feels awfully good grinding against his thigh, and something about this newfound side of Joel with the added fact that you guys haven’t had a moment alone in probably a month, is making this so much more explosive. You roll your hips just right and gasp as one side of the undies slips into the slit of your cunt, the less soft edge of the elastic brushing your clit. A pathetic noise is ripped from you as your hips stutter, body shocked from the sudden direct stimulation.

“No,” Joel says right away. His hand reaches around and cups the bottom of your ass, letting his fingers sink into the crease between your butt and thigh as he drags you forward again. 

“Want your messy pussy all over me, please angel I need it so bad,” he says, guiding your movements as you start to go limp, head falling back. You barely register the feeling of his hand on your waist, trying to balance you as he fucks your wet cunt onto his leg. 

You let out a tiny noise as the elastic of the undies bites into your clit again and for whatever reason it makes Joel groan too. 

“S’exactly what I wanted, angel. Wanted my pretty girlfriend to come all over me an’ have her tits in my face.”

Whatever the hell has gotten into him you hope it gets into him again. He keeps rubbing you into his leg until you’re begging for more stimulation, your limp arms reaching to grab at his hand and push it up to your breasts again. 

“M-my nipples,” you beg softly, tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation on your clit. He doesn’t hesitate, half smiling as he starts playing with your nipples again.

“Like this? Is this gonna make my pretty baby come?” He teases as he rolls your nipples repeatedly between his fingers.

All of it is too much, but it’s exactly what you wanted at the same time. Your orgasm completely fucks you out as you keep your eyes on his, mouth hanging open dumbly as he keeps one hand playing with your nipple and the other reaching down to cup your ass and grind your cunt harder on his thigh. 

“Good girl, fuckin’ God,” Joel says, staring down as your ruined undies mash into his skin. You can’t tell if you’re coming down or if this orgasm is just super long for no reason, but if it was ending, it’s extended the moment Joel’s thigh clenches up.

You look down as you whimper, wondering why he’s chosen midway through your orgasm to fuck you up again, but then realize that he didn’t choose. 

A fat, pearly, translucent bead, sprouts from where the head of his cock lays beneath his black briefs. You can see it grow bigger in the light, listening as Joel groans and curses, his lower half thrashing beneath you. His chest is heaving and the hand on your ass is digging deep. 

“Jesus– God, baby, what you do to me,” he grits through his teeth as his back finally hits the headboard again. 

Frankly, you’re speechless. You didn’t realize that would happen, or really that it could happen. You weren’t even touching him and he came, he was only watching you. It isn’t like he shot a huge load of come, but still, something came out. 

Joel seems to be coming to the same conclusion as he breathily laughs, looking down at the mess before tugging you down onto him anyway, burying his nose in your hair. 

“Good gift,” he mumbles, maybe to you, maybe to himself. “Definitely buyin’ you another one next year.” [ <3 ]

----

In the beginning, Joel Miller had hoped he would make a great stepfather. He hoped he would get along with you, find ways to make you laugh, get to know all your interests, and maybe help with schoolwork. He had been a father before, after all. He was sure he could do it again, even if you were already a teenager with your own life. He could guarantee you were safe, loved, and had a warm bed to come home to.

But, it turned out, you were completely different than what he had experienced with his daughter, Sarah. She was grown now, off to a big city hours away from him. Joel always thought she was easy to raise, but after living with you for the past two years, he was one hundred percent sure being a stepdad was nearly impossible. Now, he would settle to know he was a ‘kinda okay’ stepfather. 

Joel knew that you hadn’t really done anything wrong. You were a good girl, always coming home before curfew, making all A’s in your senior year, and never bringing around any shitty dudes. But fuck, if you weren’t slowly ruining his life with your little outfits and teasing glares. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, the way your eyes lingered on him, but he could feel you in the back of his mind all the time.

Maybe it would have been easier for him to manage if it happened slowly, the gutted feeling he got when looking at you. But it came on fast, like a truck traveling ninety miles per hour into a brick wall the day you moved in. He hated to admit it, but a part of him deep down in the darkest pits of his decaying soul, loved it. A kind of unimaginable pain he craved constantly, like when you get a small bruise and can’t help but press into the discolored skin. You know that icky, repulsive feeling you get when you touch wet food in the sink? That was how he felt every time he looked at you, his skin recoiling into itself as you hugged him goodbye, your arms wrapped loosely around his waist.

The fantasies were the absolute worst, haunting him like an uninvited spirit watching in a dark corner of every room. He would imagine the most ghastly, devilish images when he was alone. Ones where you would be all spread open for him, letting him devour your swollen pussy while he pumped his fingers in and out of you. Ones where you were waiting on your knees at the front door, a perfect set of lingerie displaying your tits as you sat with your mouth open, waiting for him to come home from work and fuck your little throat. Ones where you were screaming into your pillow as he stretched you open with his thick cock, pounding you into the mattress until you were begging him to stop. It was driving him insane. Insane like he couldn’t control himself. Insane like he wondered if he might have needed to get some serious professional help.

There was a time when he had truly loved his wife. At least he thought he did, hoped it. But she was always so busy, traveling out of town for some important work conference or meetings. He hated being lonely in his own home, hated that he fell asleep knowing you were right down the hall, no one stopping him from sneaking into your room and taking you like a dirty little whore. You didn't deserve it. He knew you were a good girl, an intoxicating innocent clouding his mind. It was exhilarating but left a bad, sour taste in his mouth, sort of like biting into a rotten piece of fruit. His wife was becoming more of an annoyance, her body never helping ease the pain of you. He would try, truly he would. But every time her hands landed on his skin, he thought of you, sleeping alone down the hall. 

“Joel?” Tommy waved his hand in front of his face, “Joel?”

Joel shook his head, eyes darting to his brother and thoughts snapping back to reality. “Huh?” Joel pitched the bridge of his nose before running his hand through his hair. “Sorry. Uh, what were you sayin?” He sat quietly across from Tommy, his broad shoulders pressed lazily into the small booth, red vinyl sticking to his back. 

“You okay? You haven't listened to a word I’ve said.” Tommy laughed, taking a swig of his beer and eating stale french fries. 

“Actually, I ain't feeling very good. Think I might be sick,” Joel muttered his words, hoping he was putting on a believable show. He felt fine. He just wanted to be back home. Back with his girl. As much as he loved his brother, he was begging to be close to you, not in some shitty dive bar avoiding the flirty glare from the bartender. 

“You should get home, rest.” Tommy stood, throwing down a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket. 

“Yeah, it's getting late anyway”. Joel dragged his body from the booth, slamming down the rest of his drink and grabbing his keys. 

It took everything in Joel’s body not to sprint to his truck, his boots stomping across the gravel parking lot. He jumped into the truck, the engine rowing to life. His jaw was clenched, music vibrating through the speakers as he gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white and tight against the worn out leather. 

He stumbled into the house, shoulders dropping and his eyes falling to the cold hardwood floor as he walked inside. The house was eerily quiet, the living room dark and empty. He had expected you to be in your usual place, sitting on the couch, wearing a tiny pair of shorts and a crop top that somehow showed way too much and nothing at the same time. His hands rested at his sides, eyes darting to your bedroom with a slight frown. 

You knew it was wrong, the way your panties instantly soaked in a pool of arousal anytime you were alone with Joel Miller. It was happening at an alarming rate lately, your mother always gone on work trips or fancy dinners. It was agonizing, your skin constantly on fire for a man you could never touch. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact day or even moment when you started pinning for the man. He was just always around, messy hair always falling in his eyes in the morning, eyes sparkling in the sun as he mowed the grass, and the way he rolled his sleeves up, the material hugging his toned shoulders as he washed the dishes. He was a goddamn masterpiece waiting for you to fall apart and end up in arms. It was wrong on every account. He was rough, older than you by a good fifteen years. Not to mention, he was married to your mother. 

You relished in the fact you were finally home alone, the perfect opportunity to get yourself some type of release from the constant yearning. Joel didn't like leaving you alone. Your mother was already gone all the time and he wasn’t going to be another person in your life too busy to show up when you needed him. As much as you loved being around him, feeling his gaze from across the room, you needed a night to yourself. You knew you shouldn’t. You wanted to respect Joel and his house, but it wasn’t nearly enough to stop you. 

You laid on your bed, a loose t-shirt hanging off your shoulders, goosebumps rising over your body. You had been seeing a guy for a few months, keeping him a tightly wrapped secret. He was sweet, tall, and smart. The boy hovered over you, his hands falling to your hips as you grind into him, lips lightly parting and panting breaths flowing from you. His fingers grazed the hem of your red panties, the material hugging your waist. He brushed his lips over ours, pulling you into a gentle kiss. Not enough to send any sparks but enough to leave you whining and body raving. His hands traveled lower, dipping just inside your panties. You gasp, bucking your hips into his hand for any type of friction. You were so close to a release, hoping it would help settle the growing need for Joel. You had to stop yourself from imagining him, stop yourself from moaning his name as the boy dipped a finger inside you. 

Joel stood in the living room, debating on whether to knock on your door. Maybe you were hungry? Maybe you needed help with that new anatomy project? He lingered towards the door, hand hovering over the handle when he heard a quiet whimper. He listened for a moment longer, the sound of small moans reverberating on the other side. He should knock, he knows that. But in a second of impulse, he was swiftly throwing the door open.

“What the fuck?” Disdain dripped off his tongue, his broad shoulders standing in your doorframe as you lay on the bed, legs spread open. The boy’s hands roamed over your body, kissing your neck and palming at your panties. 

“Joel, oh my god! Get out,” you yelped, quickly pushing the boy off of you. You watched as the muscles in Joel’s jaw tightened, the veins in his throat contracting as he swallowed a huff of air. 

The boy stood in front of you, helpless fear written all over his face. “I’m uh...I-I’m gonna go,” he muttered, quickly throwing on a pair of Nike Sneakers. God, he looked pathetic. Weak and small next to the man you had really been longing for. 

“Yeah. You do that.” Joel cut his eyes at the boy, begging him to give Joel a reason. Joel wanted nothing more than to throw that kid against the wall and fuck him up so bad the cops would have to drag him out. But, he held back, hands crossed around his chest, the muscles in his shoulders flexing against his body. The boy awkwardly slipped through Joel, his eyes on the floor and shoulder shrugging. He squeezed himself between Joel’s large frame and the doorway, quickly leaving with a slight slam of the front door. 

You felt your body trembling, the edge of euphoria quickly fading and leaving you feeling empty. You felt your throat go dry, fingers shaky as you looked at Joel, your eyes darting between him, the floor, and your quivering fingers. 

“Who the hell was that?” Joel stepped into the room, scanning the way your bottom lip pouted, eyes full of regret and fear. It was cute, the way you were avoiding looking at him, but he needed to see the look in your eyes when he was talking to you. 

“No one,” you whispered, voice barely audible over the sound of Joel’s hitched breaths.

“No one? You let…no one touch you like…that?” Anger rose higher, Joel’s voice thick with venom and a hint of disgust.

“N-No. I-I.” You shifted in your bed, sitting on the mattress with a ‘thud’. “He’s just some guy I’ve been talking to”.

“Does this ‘guy’ have a name?” Joel stood at the foot of your bed, his feet planted in the carpet. His eyes filled with darkness. 

“R-Ryan.” You spoke matter-of-fact, skin growing hot with embarrassment. 

“Ryan?” Joel sucked his teeth, his tongue pressed against his lips as he repeated the boy's name. Stupid and plain, he thought. He wasn’t even hot. He looked like a fucking nerd. Were these the kind of guys you actually liked? He definitely wasn't good enough for you and Joel could guarantee whatever he was about to do with you would have been over in five minutes. You deserved so much more than that. Deserved a real man. A man who could give you everything you needed, leave your body exhausted and voice raspy from screaming. “And what were you and ‘Ryan’ doin’?” 

You somehow mustered up the courage to look up at Joel, your cheeks flustered and on the verge of tears. “Nothing,” you mumbled again, eyes quickly falling down Joel’s body.

“Didn’t look like nothin’. Looked like you were about to spread those little legs for him. Were you gonna let that kid fuck you?” Joel stalked towards you, his large frame lingering over you like a lion stalked its prey. 

You cringed at his words hating the way it made your body all hot. “N-No! I swear. I wasn’t. I just…” You shifted again, pulling your shirt down in hopes of hiding the wetness formed in between your thighs.

“Just what? You were just under him, lettin’ him rub your pussy and you weren’t gonna fuck ‘em?” Joel grabbed your chin, his calloused fingers pulled at the soft skin, forcing you to look up and meet his gaze as his thumb stroked your cheek softly. 

“I-” You tried to speak, words harshly cut off.

“Were you gonna suck his dick?” Joel dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, pressing into the soft skin. “Think that kid could actually give you what you need?”Joel chuckled, a sinister vibration shuddering through you. “You need to learn some goddamn respect, sweetheart. Bringin’ a boy like that into my house”. 

“I-I’m sorry, Joel. Please, I-I thought you would be gone longer.” Every nerve on your body is electrified with the soft touch of Joel's callous hands, a heavy contrast between his words. He was so close, the smell of whisky on his breath wafting between you.

“You’re sorry?” Joel huffed, “I don’t think you’re sorry, darlin’. Think ya’ liked it. Think ya’ wanted more, huh?” 

You stared up at Joel. You hesitated but voiclessly shook your head yes. There was no point in trying to hide it, not with your flustered cheeks and glossed-over eyes.

“Think I need to teach a lesson about what happens to little girls like you.” Joel sat next to you, his chest expanding with each breath as he pulled your arms, directing your body until you were all sprawled out, ass in his lap and face in the blankets. He tugged at the bottom of your shirt, bunching the material at your waist to finally reveal those tiny red panties, your cunt swollen and outlined under the lace.

“Look at these fucking panties. Got all dressed up for him, huh?” Joel’s fingers travel to the thin material between your legs, hooking at the fabric before letting it go with a loud ‘pop’. He caressed your skin, calloused hands squeezing at the fat of your thighs. 

You flinched, your skin begging for more of him. Goosebumps rose across your body and your breath hitched in your throat, waiting as Joel’s hands lingered on your ass. 

“Joel, What are you-,” A loud slap echoed across the room, Joel’s strong hands striking the curvy fat of your ass cheek hard. Your body rejected the sensation, causing you to stur against him, hips writhing in a stinging pain. 

“Stay still,” Joel demanded, his words rushing through you like lightning strikes a metal pole. He struck you hard again, hand lingering on your skin a moment too long, caressing you before he spanked you again.

“Ow!” You immediately cried out at the unexpected impact. Your skin stung, and a red handprint started to form. 

Joel ignored your plea, slapping you again. This time, harder, enough to almost make you cry.

“Joel, ow!” A tear formed in your eye and your back arched with each impact. “I’m sorry, Joel. Please, I’ll be a good girl”. 

“Don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet, darlin’,” Joel hit you again, fingers traveling down to your panties for the second time.

“Look at how fucking wet you are. You're dripping all over my lap, sweetheart.” You moaned at his words, his hands palming at the sensitive skin, panties adding a rough sensation as he rubbed small circles on your clit. “This all for me or did that dumb boy do this?” 

“Fuck, Joel. P-please,” You bucked your hips, ass on fire but begging for more. 

“Answer me,” Joel growled, striking you again. His fingers moved just slow enough to work you up, but leave you whining for more. 

“Ahh! J-just y-you. I don’t e-even like h-him,” you yelped, cold air hitting your body as Joel reached for your top, swiftly pulling it over your arms and past your head. 

“Ya’ don’t even like him? Then why was he in my house? Why were you lettin’ him touch what’s mine?” His fingers returned to your cunt, settling on your soft skin and tugging on the lace. Finally, he was pulling the fabric down your legs, exposing that glistening pussy he had been craving for an eternity. 

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You swallowed hard, mouth going dry as you laid completely naked over him. Your ass stung and your pussy was crying. 

Joel spread your swollen lips, using two fingers to expose the arousal leaking from your tight hole. “Look at that,” Joel whispered, his fingers softly rubbing the outside of your soft lips, gathering your arousal thick on his fingers. He moved slowly, expertly rubbing your clit in a figure eight motion. You shuddered, the feeling just enough to add a sense of pleasure under the pain of your abused skin. You bucked your hips back into his hand, little moans falling out of you. 

His free hand traveled lower, lightly circling the soaking skin of your cunt, tight and swollen as he pressed his finger gently inside. 

“Oh god,” you squealed, Joel’s finger pressing right against that sweet spot. 

“So responsive. This is what ya’ like, huh?” He curled his finger up, his other hand still massaging your clit. “Like makin’ a mess on your stepdaddy's fingers?” He whispered, quickly adding a second finger to pump into you. “I know you do. You’re fuckin’ drippin’, baby girl”. 

Every muscle in Joel’s body was flexing, his toned arms stiff as he hits that sweet spot over and over again. The sensation is almost too much, your stomach tightening as he stretches you out. 

“Fuck, daddy. Please”, you cry, your mouth falling open as Joel ignores all your pleas for mercy. That tight feeling in your stomach grows, and shaky legs cause your hips to falter.  

“I know you're close, baby girl. Cum on your daddy’s fingers. It’s okay.” Joel struggled to keep you from sliding off his fingers, your walls tightening around him as his fingers press into your velvet skin.

“Joel!” You’re practically crying, eyes gripped close as a rush of euphoria flows through you. Everything in you relaxes, that sweet sensation leaving you vibrating with pleasure. 

“Good girl,” Joel mutters, eyes locked on the way your body is sucking his fingers in, your juices running down his hand. Joel hesitates for a moment. He thinks about fucking you with his fingers until you're a burning pile of ash under him. Reluctantly, he decides to show some type mercy, gently helping you lay back on the bed. 

He positions you on your back, your knees bent so your feet lay flat against the blanket. Before he can think, before he can force himself to get up and walk out the door, he is sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around your thighs. 

“Let me clean you up, darlin’,” Joel mutters, placing gentle kisses down your stomach.

He settles on your thighs, lightly biting at the skin and sucking harsh red marks. He spreads your legs wider, hovering his face above your core. He can guarantee your little boyfriend was not planning on doing this. 

Jole’s breath lands on your pussy, hot and slow as he licks a long stripe through your folds. Fuck, that’s the taste he had been dreaming of, like heaven oozing out of you and onto his tastebuds. He uses the tip of his tongue to tease your clit, flicking it up and down against you. Your hands fall to his thick hair, tugging at the loose strands that fall down his forehead. Joel hums, sending a vibration through you as his spit mixes with your wetness. 

His tongue traces every part of your core, settling back on your clit. This time harsher, like he's on a mission. His teeth graze the gentle skin, fingers digging into your thighs as you fuck his mouth. You're a mess under him, bucking your hips into his mouth as he sucks at the plump skin. 

“That’s it. Just like that. Cum on your daddy’s mouth, little girl”. Joel’s words echo through you, his tongue ripping another orgasm through you like a hot blade cuts through rubber. It's gentler but just powerful, leaving your mind foggy and breathless. 

“Such a good girl,” Joel growls, quickly forcing himself to stand. Finally, he gets a real look at your body. Your hair is already messy, red strands falling down your shoulders. Your nipples are swollen, the dark pink buds standing on edge. Fuck, you were breathtaking. 

Joel knew this was the moment that he truly couldn’t come back from. Maybe there was nothing wrong with just helping his girl get off. It was safer with him, he thought. But actually, fucking you? It would be too much. He should leave. He taught you a lesson. Taught you who you really belong to, right? He thought it would be easier. Thought he could stop whenever he was getting too close to crossing that line of no return, but his feet were planted in the ground and his cock was throbbing against the zipper of his jeans. 

Your eyes pleaded up at him, pupils dilated as you watched in silence. You didn't look scared and he found no hint of regret in your eyes. You looked happy even, a slight smile on your face.

“Think you can take your daddy’s dick?” He stood above you, watching your pussy dripping with his saliva. 

You nodded your head, arms grazing the soft skin of your stomach. He shouldn’t fold this easily. He should’ve made you say it, how much you wanted him. But that little nod was all he needed to kick off his boots and pull the zipper of his blue jeans down. 

“Just, fuck…Your mom can never know”. Joel pulled at his shirt, swiftly throwing it up over his head. His broad shoulders were finally on display, the muscles in his arms all toned. You had never seen him like this, his chest sprinkled with greying hair. He was like a Roman painting, his stomach firm but with a little bit of extra fat to grab onto. A true dad bod, you thought. 

“I know. J-Just want you. All of you,” you muttered, sitting up on your forearms as you watched him pull his jeans down his legs, leaving him in a pair of dark briefs. You could tell from here just how hard his cock was, the fabric strained and tight against him. 

“I know, baby girl. Think I don’t see it? The way you're always watchin’ me? Or the way you grab my arms when ya’ laugh? Fuckin’ drives me crazy, ya know.” Joel stepped closer, his heart pounding in his chest. God, he really was about to fuck the little girl he was supposed to be helping raise. I mean, it’s not like you shared blood or anything. He wasn’t actually your dad. He was just a guy…married to your mom. 

“Just let me know…if gets to be too much,” Joel groaned, closing his eyes as he swallowed. He cursed himself for this, pulling his boxers off his hips. As much as he hated it, his cock sprang free, dripping with precum as he dragged his body to hover over you. It was a sweet relief, the air hitting him as he pumped his hand up and down his dick. 

Joel spread your legs wider, his hips falling over yours as pulled you into a hungry kiss. His lips meet yours with a subtle taste of whiskey and you. His tongue slowly licks at your lips, his hands gripping your hips as he lines himself up to your entrance. You open your mouth a bit, letting him trace his tongue against yours, exploring every crevice of your mouth. The tip of his cock brushes against your clit, his large member teasing you and gathering your wetness. 

“Please,” you whine. Your arms fall down Joel’s shoulders, meeting his eyes as he gently presses his tip past your folds. 

“Fuck, baby. So fuckin’ tight.” Joel growled, pushing himself inside you with a sweet burning stretch. 

“Oh, Joel!” You moan, your throat tightening around your words as he sinks deeper inside you. You're taking half his cock now, so much bigger than the boy you had been seeing. 

“I got you, baby. Doing so good.” Joel’s head fell into the crease of your neck, placing hot kisses as he hit the back of your pussy. He stayed like this for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of him before he pulled back. “That’s a good girl. Takin’ her daddy so well.” Joel dragged himself out, leaving the tip inside before falling completely back into you, brushing against your g-spot like a pro. 

“Feel so good,” you whine, your nails dragging down his back as he picks up speed. 

“God, baby girl. Fuckin’ doing so good.” He tries to hold back, hips growing just slightly rough as he fucks deep into you. 

Your body is trembling again, your heart sinking with every thrust and a single tear runs down your cheek. He was so big, hitting your cervix over and over again. 

That feeling was quick to creep back, your chest tightening as he pounded into you, cock pumping in and out faster and rougher. 

“Daddy, please,” You cried, your body fighting off the euphoria as Joel pressed his weight against you. 

“It’s okay. Cum on Daddy’s big dick,” Joel growled, no longer stopping himself from making a complete mess of you. He watched your eyes flutter close, your back arching off the bed and your hands digging into the blankets. He snapped his hips, a loud echo ringing out across the room and you clenched around him, thick white cream coating the base of his cock. 

Just like that, you were crying out his name and shaking uncontrollably. Your orgasm ripped through you, hard and undeniable. 

“Daddy! Fuck yes!” You screamed, your hips bucking into him as you bit into his shoulder. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” Joel ground against you, hips never faulting as you withered under him. “Like Daddy’s cock, huh?” He growled, his own high building as he watched you shudder at his touch.

“I love it, daddy. Love your dick so much,” You whined, forcing your walls to open up for him. 

“Yeah? Wish I was fucking you a long time ago baby. Wanted to since I met ya’.” Joel’s rhythm grew messy, hips slapping into you at an unprecedented pace. “Gonna let your daddy cum inside your little pussy?”

“Yes, please Daddy. Want your cum,” You stuttered, your voice all raspy and barely audible. 

Fuck. Joel couldn't stop himself and he was thrusting as deep as he could, sinking all the way inside you until his balls landed on your clit. You were so beautiful, so tight around him that his mind was all clouded and drunk. 

“Goddamn. That’s my good girl. Lettin’ her daddy get her pregnant. Want to carry my baby huh? Get all swollen while your mom’s out of town. Bet she wouldn’t even notice.” Before he could stop himself, he was painting your walls white, fucking every drop of his cum deep inside you with a painful need. 

“Yes, Daddy!” You whined, watching as Joel slowly pulled out, his cum dripping down your leg. He dragged himself off of you, hitting the mattress with deep panting breaths. 

“Love ya’, sweetheart. Always have.” Joel muttered, his words spread out and uneven as he pulled your back against his chest. His mind was racing, the reality of what he had just done weighing on him like a ton of bricks.

The duvet needs to be chucked outside.

You throw the blanket off of you with a quiet huff, your arms flopping forward onto the mattress once the duvet has flown nothing short of five centimeters off of you.

Joel Miller is a furnace, one who is insistent on holding you hostage - or cuddling, as he likes to call it - the whole night.

You may act like it’s the bane of your existence, shooting him glares in the middle of the night when your face feels like it’s on fire and you want to jump into a bucket of ice, but you still love it.

You turn over and snuggle into your man’s chest, deciding to forgo the annoyance at being warm, feeling the coarse hair tickle your cheek before you hear his deep, rumbling groan of sleepy approval. His arm clumsily wrapping around you and pulling you forward against him as he keeps sleeping soundly above you.

You can’t help but think of a big bear, deep in hibernation. It makes you smile to yourself before you’re falling asleep in Joel’s arms.

The sun decides to target your eyes the next time, and you glance over to see it’s now 10 am. Joel is still fast asleep above you, the arm that’s not cheekily resting on your ass is behind his head, making those biceps of his look even more delicious. You want to bite them, but your man needs his sleep. It’s his only day off after all.

You blink lazily, not really one for laying in bed once you’re awake, so you admire Joel sleeping next to you. That scruffy beard of his, unfairly long lashes, his full bottom lip, the trail of hair on his stomach that leads bellow the band of his boxers.

Your attention has been captured.

You lean your cheek against his chest - still nuzzling - as you stare at his underwear, eyeing the covered bulge of him that drives you feral every time.

You think back to last week, the day you had a very important meeting. The way he woke you up with his head between your legs, his hot mouth wrapped around your clit.

It’s only logical to return the favor, right?

Joel mumbles a sleepy protest as you escape from his arms, subconsciously grabbing your pillow and bringing it to his face, wrapping those big arms of his around it. Inhaling the scent of your shampoo and body cream and letting out a hum of approval as he promptly falls back asleep.

It makes you smile, momentarily losing focus as you slowly pull off his boxers.

His soft cock is a sight to behold. Ironically more enticing to you than when he’s burning bright red and dripping for you.

He was never embarrassed about it like your previous partners were. Whenever Joel got out the shower, with a towel wrapped around his waste, you could see the outline of him underneath, sometimes the towel would even slip, giving you a view of his tip.

You drool just thinking about it.

You shimmy his boxers down further, slowly lifting his package so his heavy, hairy balls sit above the fabric. Running a finger along his soft skin, humming at the sight of his tip leaking a small trail of sticky precum, twitching softly in your grip. You spend a few minutes just admiring him.

Stretched out on the bed like one of those Roman statues, his muscles on display under his hairy arms, tummy and chest. His thighs bent slightly, soft cock resting perfectly. His face, oh he’s so handsome. You love him, more than anything.

His hair has gotten fluffier, you suspect he’s been using your shampoo.

You lick a line up his cock, gathering that delicious pre on your tongue as he shifts in his sleep with a soft sigh. You still, waiting until he settles back into the cushions, you slowly take him into your mouth then, sucking down down down until he’s fully resting in your mouth, slowly twitching to hardness as your mouth warms him.

You stay like that for a few minutes, gently sucking on the warm weight of him until he’s dripping his precum down your throat, grunting in his sleep as his legs twitch up slightly - stomach clenching and relaxing again as his head turns to the side, a moan bubbling up in his throat.

You pull off as slow as you can, savoring the feel and taste of him against your tongue. The smooth, warm skin of the underside of his cock sliding out your throat. Moving your tongue so as to not graze the underside of his sticky tip - he’ll definitely wake up if you do that.

You let his cock fall gently from your lips, nuzzling your head lower, until you’re sucking one of his heavy balls into your mouth.

You feel a hand in your hair a moment later.

“Atta girl, keep doin’ that.” He groans with that sleepy, deep morning voice you love so much, his hips shifting up to guide more of him into your mouth. He keeps you pressed closer against him, inhaling that musk that's uniquely Joel. He spreads his hair-covered legs wider, stretching his back with the groan he always does as he lets you suck on his sac until he’s pulling you off him with a grunt and instead flipping you down on the sheets, climbing on top of you until his wet cock is nudging at your clit.

“You drive me crazy, Y’know that, angel?” He murmurs, his teeth nipping at your earlobe as he spreads your legs, humming in approval when he sees your wet pussy.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up.” You huff, your hands automatically going to his broad shoulders as he kisses your neck like he can’t stand to not kiss you as soon as he wakes up, you know he can’t : every morning you’re littered with kisses until you eventually open your eyes. It’s the best way to wake up you can think of, makes you feel warm and fuzzy and full of giggles. After, he usually spends ten minutes kissing whatever part of you he can until you either brush him off and he follows you into the shower, or you don’t even make it that far.

“Can’t stay sleepin’ when a woman like you ‘s between my legs.” He murmurs, his big palm groping your breast as he licks the sensitive space above your collar.

“Mmm come here, I miss you.” You whisper to him in your own sleepy voice you know he loves just as much as you love his, kissing his lips softly as he slides his hands under your shoulder blades, holding you up.

“I’m right here.” He says with a gentle smile, but you can see behind that softness he’s desperate from your teasing, that he wants to be inside you even more than you want to feel his cock stretch you, which seems impossible.

“I still miss you, I need you.” You whisper, and he brushes your hair back off your forehead with that big palm of his, placing a soft kiss on the skin he’s revealed before he’s pressing his drooling tip against your weeping entrance.

“Come here, my baby.” He whispers, lifting your hips so his tip can push past your entrance, making room for itself inside your wet walls until the rest of him joins in a hot, slow roll, stretching you open so deliciously you have no choice but to let your eyes roll back as you arch against him, peaked nipples almost brushing against his own strong chest. The weight of him inside you is warm and heavy, leaving your clit throbbing as you clench around him.

Your mouth pours out whimpers of his name, holding onto him tightly as he pushes forward until the coarse hairs at the base of him meet your twitching clit, and he’s kissing you softly while his hand cups the bowl of your skull - the other your lower back, his thumb and pointer finger finding your dimples.

“I love you.” He whispers, gazing at your face and admiring you even when your eyes are closed and your mouth hangs a bit open. He’s fighting to keep his own eyes open, to not let them flutter shut as yours have - he needs to see that face of yours he loves so much. Needs to watch the effect of him inside you.

“I love you.” You whimper, and you smile to yourself before your thumb brushes over his nipple cheekily, wanting him to react in the way you know he will.

He lets out an irritated noise that’s the closest to a growl you’ve ever heard from him, and your mission has been accomplished . “Naughty girl, you’re playin’ with fire.” Watching your expression he seems to be looking for what you want. He gives a jerk of his hips, and hums as your eyes flutter.

“Why don’t you teach me a lesson ‘bout being naughty, then?” You say softly to him, biting your bottom lip in a way you know will drive him wild. Your hypothesis is proven when he flips you onto your stomach, raising your ass in the air for his viewing pleasure. You whine when his cock slips out of you, leaving you empty and dripping.

“Yeah? You want me t’be rough with you baby? Bruise those walls n’ this sweet ass if yours?” He emphasizes his words with a chomp to your ass cheek and a slap. Joel Miller loves ass and tits, but you know his neurons activate whenever he sees your backside jiggle. There’s a strict rule about what pants you can wear when he needs to focus, for his own sanity. He’s missed too many deadlines at work due to him being unable to resist you walking past his office. He knows the rule is futile as it became more of a prompt to do the exact opposite of what he asked for.

You both know he doesn’t mind.

“Yes, daddy.” You whimper, your legs kicking back and forth slightly as he spanks your ass again, spreading your cheeks to watch your puckered hole flex and pussy drip down on your clit. He presses a kiss over his bitemark before shimmying his hips up, his large hands finding place on your hips, thumbs digging into your dimples like grips. He spends a second admiring the sight of his cock between your cheeks, no matter how many times he’s seen it.

“That’s my pretty girl.” He coos, his heavy hand holding his cock as he moves it up and down teasingly through your slit, his tip catching on your entrance before he’s pushing into you again. The angle makes you gasp, his cock sliding so deliciously along your front wall, to that spot that makes you dumb, that you can’t help the way you cry for him.

It’s all ‘daddy, daddy, daddy.’ as he starts moving his hips, mixed in with the louder slaps of his hips meeting your ass - noticeably with his increased effort.

“Oh, baby, this pussy is so sweet.” He groans. You can’t see it, but his head falls back, his hands grip your hips harder. You can’t even register what he just said, your mind is nowhere. You can’t think about anything except the pounding of his cock into you - the hot drag of him as he slides through your wetness like you were made just for him, just for his fat cock. “Squeezin’ me so tight, gorgeous girl.”

He smacks your ass again, three times in a row, inhaling sharply through his teeth when you clench around him, feet kicking up from their position against the mattress and into the soft flesh of his own backside. He grunts out a small laugh before he’s spreading your previously closed legs with his thighs, driving back into you when he’s made space for himself.

“How m’I supposed to stay mad at you when this creamy cunt’s cryin’ for her daddy?” He whispers as he leans over you, his chest pressed to your back as his arms wrap around your front, holding the opposite breast in each hand. He’s right, your pussy is creamy, proven by the white ring around his cock you can’t see, and it’s certainly crying for him - it sobs, mourns, yearns, weeps for him. His fist curls around your hair before he’s tugging as gently as he can to make your head tilt back, holding you like that.

“Oh, daddy-“ you hiccup, your voice shaking with his thrusts, every crack of his hips makes your words and moans break. It’s too much, and it’s not enough. You need him like this always, buried inside and holding you in a way that fixes you and breaks you apart all over again.

“I love you- she loves you.” You cry just as your pussy clenches around him again, you don’t care that the sounds of his thrusts are becoming increasingly lewd with the wetness seeping from you. You know he loves it like this:

Warm, messy and wet wet wet.

“I know baby, I know- she’s makin’ such a mess of daddy’s cock, should see the way your slick’s stickin’ between us- fuck.” He growls the last part, no doubt watching the webs of your wetness stretch whenever his crotch pulls away from your ass, judging by the way he’s twitching inside of you - veins thrumming.

You’d probably appreciate the thought a lot more if you could actually think it.

Joel grunts again, and soon you’re being rolled ontop of his chest after he moved himself similarly, his back pressed to the sheets as yours feels the tickle of his chest hair and happy trail. He plants his feet on the mattress, and you bite your bottom lip with a smile before you know it’s going to fall away with a silent scream of a moan as he starts bucking up relentlessly into you.

Your cries are hardly heard over the sound of his heavy balls smacking wetly against you. His hands have grabbed onto the underside of your thighs, holding them against your body as he thrusts with an amount of energy that should be impossible for a man in his fifties that just woke up.

His hands slide from your thighs, over your stomach to your breasts - his gasps, moans and grunts right next to your ear, sending goosebumps down your neck that feel like electricity. Your whole body is tingling. Not even his delicious sounds are enough to distract you from the slick, sloppy thrusts of him inside you, his tip seeming to target just the right spot again and again until your eyes scrunch closed and your brows furrow.

You can feel his smile against you when you suddenly go quiet, the only sounds leaving your mouth being gasps for air.

Your fingers blindly reach back and thread through his hair, just as he parts with one of your breasts to rub your clit with the rough pads of his fingers in little circles - it makes you arch away from him in a manner that he wishes he caught on video, just to save the moment forever. He flips you around once more to pulll himself out to the top, pressing you into the mattress as he slams back down into you. You’re both jerking forward with every thrust, his hand releasing your bouncing tit to wrap around your neck, squeezing gently to make you float up to that space only he can take you. The sloppy ache of him ramming into you further takes your breath away

“That’s my girl -mmph,oh fuck, cum f’your old man, cum for daddy-“ his growl breaks off into a breathy moan that has your toes curling, your cunt clenching around the thick, warm length of him.

What choice do you have but to listen?

Your orgasm hits you like a train, fire lighting through your body and shooting down your spine. Your hips jerk, pussy fluttering around him so deliciously he rewards you with one of his lewdest moans yet. Just when you think you’ll fall into a blissful afterglow, he speeds up.

“God fuckin’ damn, baby.” The words are punched out of him, broken and rough - just like his thrusts. “Good girl, ‘m goin’ t’flood this perfect pussy, then I’ll fuckin’ eat me outta you jus’ to pump you full again.”

It’s the best thing you’ve ever heard in your life, your head rolls back in bliss at the mere thought, not even mentioning the feeling of his sticky balls slapping against you, so plump and full you know he’ll be able to make good on his promise to keep your cunt stuffed until the sun dips down once more.

You can’t even cry his name when you feel his cock twitch upwards, spurting his release deep inside you, filling you with his warmth in a way that makes you feel blissfully cozy, like you’re safe and snug - ready to settle under the blankets with your scented candles burning in the room while Joel occupies himself by cleaning your cream-pied pussy with his tongue.

He kisses down the back of your neck as he gently pulls himself out, turning you on your side so he can kiss your cheeks.

“You okay, baby?” He whispers, continuing to kiss over your face as you keep your eyes closed.

“Yes.” you sigh, finally in that little blissful afterglow. He hums in acknowledgment before he kisses your lips softly, his hands pressing between your shoulder blades from where they’re wrapped around you.

“‘M gonna make us coffee, then I’m eatin’ that pussy ‘till I can’t no more.” He ends his filthy statement with a sweet kiss on your forehead, and you smile at him from the bed as he gets up, stretching your back.

“I love you.” You hum with a sweet sigh as your back pops. He’s currently picking up some laundry on the floor, bare as the day he was born.

“I love you, honey bee.” He says softly.

You admire his muscled back, shoulders and ass as he leaves the room, snuggling into the warmth of the sheets - no longer overbearingly hot - until Joel comes back to keep you warm instead.

———————————————————————————————

"i know darlin', but it ain't happenin', not when you're like this alright?" he says softly yet firmly, letting it sink in your head and accept it. "but whyy?" you whine frustratedly, tugging his arm as he begins slowly leading you farther into the house.

"i said it ain't happenin'. we clear?" he repeats lowly, a hint of frustration and dominance in his voice. you say nothing, feeling upset at him for denying you something you are aching for. joel gives you a soft yet stern look, "c’mon let’s go to bed, tomorrow’s another day" he murmurs quietly. he holds you by your side as he guides you past the kitchen towards the living room. upset, you drop your hand from his arm, an irritated pout on your face.

joel knows you're disappointed. disappointed that he won’t give you what you need right now, especially when he's the one to give you everything you need, everything you crave. perhaps, he has simply spoiled you too much.

he glances at you again, your stubborness more apparent than ever. something about you is that your face, no matter how much you try, can never hide what you feel. joel is the one person who knows that more than anyone, its like he can read you like a book. you can’t tell if that's necessarily a good or bad thing, but after being with him and living together for the past 2 years in jackson, it’s not all that surprising.

once you both reach the living room, it's almost as if a lightbulb turns on in his head. "sit down” he mutters suddenly, leading you to the couch as he joins you. you look straight at the wall, trying to show him you’re upset. he glances at your moody face. "look at me" he murmurs softly, grazing his fingers on the side of your neck. you stubbornly glare at him from the side, the most you'll do for now.

"darlin' look, i'm not gonna fuck ya tonight, i know that’s what ya want but, it just ain’t right to me okay?" he raises his brow at you, getting you to understand him. you look away, just before joel continues. "but....." he says before pausing. he swallows, "if ya really need me right now.... there's somethin' else we can do".

you look at him again, a twinkle of hope and excitement in your eye. joel leans back against the couch and pats his thigh, "c'mere". without hesitation, you situate yourself on his thigh, instantly feeling the ache between your legs worsen as you press against him. joel lets out a soft sigh, admiring your body as you're sat right on him. god you're beautiful.

he puts his hands behind his head against the headboard of the couch, his gaze piercing through you with need. "show me how much ya want me baby"

"but joel" you murmur shyly tilting your head to the side. he knows what you want: you want him to do the job for you. his hands on your ass, guiding you back and forth on him, but he wants to see you. see how desperately you crave him, how much you need him to feel good, he wants you to prove it.

"c'mon sweetheart, show y’ur old man" he mutters with a smirk, his voice thick and rough. by his demands, you begin to rock your hips back and forth on his thigh, placing your hands on his chest for stability. joel looks up at your blissful expression, your soft hands pressing against him for support as he lets out a deep breath. "s' right baby, just like that" he praises, his eyes not leaving your face.

you pathetically hump him for relief, your needy pussy aching against his meaty thigh. as good as this feels right now, all you want is his big hands all over your body manhandling you up and down his leg. its just not the same when you're the one doing all the work without his guidance. you bite your lip, brows furrowed as you endlessly grind on him. after a while, you grow more and more impatient; this just isn’t the same without his help.

"daddy" you whimper, moving your hands from his chest to his shoulders. the sound of your sweet voice makes his cock twitch in his jeans, the torture of not having his hands on you getting to him. "good girl, doin' so good baby, keep goin'" he huffs under his breath, his eyes full of lust. "fuck— touch me, please" you blurt out shamelessly, needing more.

to your surprise, he obeys and firmly puts his hands on your hips. "like this?" he asks, gently guiding you against him. the friction feels even better now, causing a moan to escape your lips, making him grin.

you’re so wet, soaking through the fabric and onto his light wash denim leaving a dark patch, turning him on more than you can imagine.

"thaat's it, feel good don't it sweetie?" he says clenching his teeth, looking straight into your eyes. "yes daddy" you croon, your glassy eyes on him as you savour the bliss running up your body. "keep goin' then baby, show daddy how good ya feel. make yourself feel good on me" he rambles, his voice straining as his hands stay on your hips, helping you out a bit more.

"mmm" you hum, whimpers and moans escaping your lips like a soft song. joel watches you as you close your eyes in pleasure, his jeans feeling tighter and tighter by the second. "look so beautiful honey, grindin' my thigh like that. christ girl" he grunts, his fingers now digging the soft flesh of your ass.

you start to slow down more and more, your movements becoming more sloppy and tired against him. without you saying a word, joel takes note and grips your hips, shifting your body up and down just like you need it. "oh my g─ joel pleasee" you whimper against his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his neck. "'s what she needed hm? c'mon baby come for me, i got ya" he murmurs gruffily in your ear. your soft and passionate noises against his ear make him shiver; nothing turns him on more than bringing you pleasure, that's the way he's always been.

"daddyy i'mm─" you moan as joel starts bouncing you on his thigh, his grip on you tighter than ever, determined to bring you to your climax. "let go f’ me baby, come on" he grunts, his hot breath hitting the shell of your ear. from the combination of his strong hold to his sweet words of encouragement, your body finally collapses against him, buzzing in pure euphoria from your climax. joel lets out a low groan, only then realizing he’s cumming in his pants. you both breathe against each other, bodies intertwined with one another.

"shhh, there you go" he whispers, holding you against his warm chest as you come down from your high. he strokes your head and plants a kiss on your cheek, reassuring you that he's there, that he isn't going anywhere.

he holds you silently for a couple more moments before glancing down at you, watching the way your eyes struggle to stay open. poor thing. your tipsy state plus the pleasure has almost knocked you out already, your body going limp against his. "you sleepy, darlin'?" he whispers as he strokes your cheek, watching your lashes flutter beneath him. "mhm" you mumble, tugging onto his shirt a little tighter. he chuckles softly, gazing down at you lovingly. he sits up slightly, still holding you as he lets out a low groan in exhaustion.

“Was he real?”

You slowly tore your attention away from the case file in front of you. “What?”

“Your husband.”

For a moment you forgot all about how you’d first come to interact with Peña. He had asked you out. Well, flirted heavily then asked you out. 

“What husband?”

Javi stood as he talked, walking towards your desk and sitting down on the edge of it closest to you. “One day you’re wearing a wedding ring telling me you’re married, the next it’s gone.”

You looked at your hand. “Oh. Yeah.” You decided to admit the truth. “I made him up.”

Despite his constant theories, he was still shocked. “What?”

“I made him up.”

You said it as if you were asking him how his day was. Like it was nothing new. 

“You made him up?”

“You try and be a single woman in this office who doesn’t like getting hit on by every guy who thinks with his dick,” you told him. “See how quickly you make up a fake family.”

He had to laugh. “But I hit on you.”

You looked at him, suppressing an already knowing smirk on your face. “My point exactly.”

“Think I got something.” From the door, Steve came sweeping inside and threw a couple of files down on Javi’s desk. The previous topic was dropped for now but you took a moment to revel in the shock graced on Peña’s face. 

However, a few hours later, it was brought back up again. 

You’d been standing in the evidence locker, looking for yet another misplaced case file. Could people not read in this office? Had they lost all sense of the alphabet? You sighed heavily. 

“How long have you been doing it?”

You jumped and found Peña standing behind you. “Jesus, Peña. Make a noise or something. Fuck.” You turned back to the messy shelf in front of you. 

“So?”

You sighed. “Doing what? This? Feels like hours.”

He shook his head and rounded you before leaning against the side of the shelves. “Not the files. You being married.”

“Oh, uh…” You pulled a few hefty files and handed them over to him before reaching down onto the lower shelf and pulling those files up. “Couple years, I guess. Since before the Academy.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t you hear me earlier, or do I need to repeat myself, Peña?”

He shook his head again and put the files down. “No, I heard you. But that’s here. Why did it start?”

You sighed and stopped what you were doing to look at him. “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”

He let out a small chuckle. “What? Come on, you’re one of the first Agents here to reject me not once, but three different times.”

You raised a subtle eyebrow. “I was married when you did that.”

“The first time, yes.” Javi corrected. “But that was an honest mistake. The second and third time, there was no ring on your finger. And, after this morning, you technically weren’t married at all. Look, just answer my questions and then I’ll drop it forever.”

“You promise?”

He held up his hand. “Scouts honour.”

You gave a questioned hum. “It’s difficult to imagine you as a Scout.”

“Y/l/n.”

You groaned. “Fine. It started because I got asked out a couple of times by this guy. He seemed nice and all but I wasn’t interested. So, when he asked why I kept saying no, I told him I was married. Swapped my rings over under the bar top before showing it to him. He took it well, apologised and said my husband was a lucky fella.”

Peña continued to listen. 

“Then I moved away. The second time I was with someone but this guy just kept hitting on my friend. She went to the bathroom and then he started on me. Told him I was with someone. He didn’t believe me. So, I showed him my wedding band. Said my friend was married, too. He,” you sighed. “Eventually backed-off. After that it just kinda became my go-to. People I interviewed preferred to see a married woman than a single woman being a cop. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t start out my job as married. But the minute the compliments, and the touching and the dates being pre-arranged because they expected me to say yes…once they all started, I started wearing my wedding ring.”

“So why take it off?”

You shrugged. “Guess I must have forgotten. Besides, nobody has tried anything in the last couple of years. We’ve all been too busy.”

For a moment, Peña’s demeanour seemed to shift. “But I’ve flirted with you.”

You smiled a tired smile and stepped back from the files for a moment. “I work with you, Peña. I like you but I think I’m immune.”

“That hurts.” He deadpanned before placing a hand over his heart. “That…wow.”

You laughed. “I think you’ll bounce back.”

And he did. That night he walked out telling Murphy he had a date with the stall girl he’d met a few days ago. 

The following weeks were hectic as different cases made their way across your desk, all with connections to Peña and Murphy’s biggest case; Pablo Escobar. 

From interviewing victim’s families, to interrogations, to the crappy coffee in the break room. Your days and nights were spent looking over files and dealing with your case loads. Until one afternoon in the breakroom led to something you never had expected. 

There was another Agent working at the Embassy. You’d seen him around a few times, shared a conversation or two. But most importantly, he had seen your wedding ring. You hadn’t missed his behaviour over the last couple of days. It started with smiles in the hallway – innocent enough. Then you found him in your breakroom more. Apparently the coffee was better. Then he was sitting at your table during lunch – apparently his partner was out for the day and he felt like some company. You didn’t miss his eyes clocking your hand. 

“Your wedding band. It’s gone.”

You didn’t know why at the time, but the lie fell from your lips. “Oh, yeah, It’s in for a cleaning. It had a couple dark patches and scuffs on it.”

More things started creeping up. Like how he always stood just that little bit closer and not in a comforting way, when you were both talking. Or how his eyes looked you up and down before you got to speaking distance from each other. 

Then in the breakroom, the ‘compliments’ started. How your hair looked – how it always looked. How you always made ‘women’s clothes look so much better’. How he enjoyed spending time with you because you actually talked to him. 

“You know,” he trailed a finger up your arm and you were three seconds away from breaking it and running to take a scalding hot shower. “I was thinking we could get away for a while. After all, we both deserve a break. Maybe take these lunches outside of the office.”

You stepped back. “I’m married.”

“Oh, come on, we both know that’s a sham.” He told you, taking a step closer as you took another one back. “You never bring him to office parties, there’s no pictures on your desk-”

“I don’t need to prove to you or to anyone else that I’m married.”

He laughed. He actually laughed. “You’re not about to tell me he lives in Canada are you?”

“No. He-”

“He’s right here.”

It was safe to say you were shocked, but the agent didn’t seem to notice as he turned round and found Javi standing in the hallway. 

“Peña. I was just-”

“Scaring my wife?”

The guy was turning paler by the second and yet somehow his ego carried him through. “You mean work-wife, because I have to say Javi, that doesn’t really count.”

“How about a marriage certificate? Does that count for you?” Peña finally found you by his side before he whispered to you.

“You okay, cariño?” All you could do was nod, the shock of him pretending to be your husband still settling over you. 

He looked back to the agent who had been hitting on you. “I’m gonna tell you this once and only once. Hit on my wife or scare her again, and I’ll kill you.”

“Javi-”

“I don’t think Messina would be happy to learn one of her best Agents was being sexually harassed.”

He nodded, backing away. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Javi shook his head. “Not to me. To her.”

Awkwardly, the guy looked from Javi, around the room, back to Javi and then to you. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. Peña’s your husband?

“You can go.” 

Taking Javi’s instructions, he left. Peña then waited a minute before turning towards you. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded. “I’m fine. Thank you, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“But you shouldn’t have done that.”

“What?” He asked, holding the coffee pot in one hand and your mug in the other. 

“Javi…” You looked around the room before looking back at him. “This is gonna spread around the office. You and I -- married.”

He shrugged. “What’s the big deal? Now you’ve got a physical person to pretend to be your husband.”

“Javi.” He handed you your cup of coffee before pouring his own. “Please tell me you are aware of your own reputation? And the fact that we are colleagues? And the fact that I have been making a husband up for god knows how long? People are going to know this is fake and then I’ll be judged – heavily – for it.”

“Why would you be judged?”

You rested a hand on your hip. “This is gonna look like I’ve used you to be my pretend husband and everyone will just feel sorry for me and make a big joke about it with you.”

“Except I’m the one that told him.” Peña pointed out. “If anything, that’s what’s going to spread around the office.”

“Ah yes, I can see the headlines now; ‘Agent Javier ‘slut’ Peña finally ties himself down with a female colleague.’.”

He shrugged. “We don’t have to be tied down if you don’t want to.”

You hit him on the arm. “Be serious.”

“Look,” he set his coffee cup down and took you by the shoulders. “If it becomes anything then we just fake it. We already spend most of our time together anyway, and who hasn’t had an office romance once in their life?”

“I haven’t.”

Peña paused for a second before nodding. “Congratulations. You’ve just lost your office romance virginity.”

“Peña.”

He shook it off. “All I’m saying is, if it becomes a thing, we just…roll with it.”

“Roll with it?”

He nodded. “Roll with it.”

“There’s a chance our careers hang in the balance because I’m pretty sure this breaks at least three rules in HR. And your grand solution is to…’roll…with it.’.”

Javi nodded once more. “We’ll be fine. I promise.”

It was not fine. Neither of you were fine. Especially considering two days later you were both forced into Messina’s office where, before you could spit out the truth, Messina interrupted and said she didn’t want to know. Just that you both had to remain completely professional and that if someone ever caught either of you, you’d both be suspended. 

So, things remained somewhat neutral. You both received a couple of looks from other co-workers. Murphy teased both of you relentlessly, despite being the only one to know the truth since you stopped the elevator when all three of you were inside to tell him as much. 

But then the loud rumours started and people didn’t even try to hide them. 

Whilst pouring you and Peña a cup of coffee each – something you had done almost everyday for three years, you could hear people gossiping. 

“Maybe he knocked her up. Shotgun wedding, you know?”

“I don’t think they’re even a couple. I mean, they never show any kind of affection to each other.”

One disagreed with that statement. “No, I’ve seen him with her a few times. Little touches here and there. Must be their love language. Small touches and simple gestures.”

“That’s cute, I guess. But I kinda expected more from Javi. He was always so…you know.”

The woman beside her sighed, “Yeah.”

You walked away more confused about life than you had been since before you started highschool. 

It was clear the rest of the office ‘knew’ about ‘you and Javi’. And that they each had a different opinion on the matter. And some of them you didn’t even know about, but Javi did. 

He’d heard everything from your marriage to him being a sham because he got you pregnant, to both male and female staff asking him “why y/n?”. Except, it was never in a friendly manner. To the men, it was either because they thought “Javi could have any choice he wanted, and he went for her?”, or because he’d gone for one of the women they had wanted “a shot at” themselves. And to the women it was…much of the same thing, with an added jealous streak wondering why he went for “the one woman who didn’t want” him, when most of the other women who’d worked with him “actually wanted” him. 

Javi’s eyes trailed your every move from the coffee station, back to your desk and then towards him. “You okay?”

You zoned back into reality and handed him his coffee. “Yeah. Fine. What have you got?”

Turning the case file around, he told you. 

Around a month or so later, not much had changed. People were still gossiping about your marriage to Peña, the case was gathering little evidence so the constant reviewing of previous case loads was underway. Between keeping up the lie of your marriage to Javi – despite neither of you having to do much out of your normal routine – and the case work and the constant heart attack you got when Messina would stop walking when stood directly between your desk and Peña’s before humming and moving along, you were running out of energy. 

“Come to mine after work.”

You looked around. People were looking but they were too far out of earshot to hear. 

You took the paper from Javi. 

“Why?”

“You’re tired, and I’m tired watching you eat that shitty stuff from the cafeteria. I’m cooking dinner.”

You looked up at him, shocked. “You can cook?”

He smiled. “Yeah, yeah. After work. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

Javi tapped your desk twice before walking away and looking around the office. Everyone who had been looking quickly looked away before looking back at you. Once they found you looking, they turned back to their work. 

For a moment, you looked at the half stale coffee on your desk. It would be nice to have a decent meal considering you’d been eating left-overs for about a week and half. 

And he kept his promise. 

Javi had left work an hour before you were supposed to. He’d grabbed his jacked off the hook behind your desk, bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, your body too tired to fight off leaning into him when he did so. You had meant to clock out of work an hour later but staring at words, losing concentration and trying to focus back in meant when you finally looked at the clock, you were getting close to being forty minutes late. 

“Shit.”

Not bothering to drop your stuff off in your apartment two floors up, you found Javi’s door unlocked like he’d said and you walked inside. 

It smelt like heaven. Good, hot food. And Javi. 

It was quiet as you walked down his hallway and eventually found him relaxing on the sofa, his legs thrown across the rest of it. He was watching reruns. 

“Relax,” you could hear the smile in his voice despite not being able to see his face. “Figured you’d be late. Food’ll be ready soon.”

With a relieved sigh, you dropped your bag by the steps and walked around. He moved his legs for you to sit down and he watched you for a moment as you pushed the heels of your hands into your eyes and leaned back. 

“Tired?”

“Exhausted,” you admitted. 

“Come ‘ere.” His voice was soft and quiet as he reached out for you by the shoulder. Looking at him for a moment before silently agreeing, you let him pull you down until eventually you were laying beside him, your head on his chest, his legs tangled with yours. 

It took him a moment, but Javi removed your hair-tie letting your hair loose before running his fingers through it. You relaxed almost immediately, feeling the once growing headache slowly melt away with each touch of his hand. 

You could have fallen asleep but he didn’t let you. “You’ve gotta eat. I didn’t slave over a hot stove for nothing.”

You groaned a little and buried yourself deeper into his side. “How are you this calming?”

“It’s my natural touch.” Javi told you before kissing the top of your head and sitting up. “Come on. Dinner’s ready. Then I promise, you can fall asleep.”

“Hallelujah.” 

It took you a moment but your head eventually stopped spinning long enough for you to sit up and walk over to the table where Javi had set down both of your meals. And it was one of the best you’d ever had; either because he was a great cook, or you were starving enough that any food that wasn’t cafeteria left-overs would taste like heaven at that moment. Though, you had a feeling it was the first one. 

In silence, you both washed and dried. Until you spoke out the pressing question on your mind. 

“What happens if we meet ‘the one’?”

“What ‘one’?” Javi handed you another freshly washed plate. 

“I mean,” you spun it through the dish towel. “To everyone else, we’re married. But what if we end up meeting the person we actually want to date and marry? What do we do then?”

Javi shrugged. “Guess we get divorced.”

“But we’re not actually married.”

“Then we play it by ear. They say when you know you know…maybe when we know, we just…tell them the truth. But I doubt that’s gonna happen.” Javi nearly crapped himself. “For me, not you. I doubt that’ll happen for me.”

You looked at him. “Why?”

For a moment, he was quiet. Thinking. Deliberating. “Back in Texas, I was gonna get married. Lorraine. She was a wonderful woman but…I don't know. I was driving to the church and I just stopped.”

“You left her at the altar?”

“I never made it to the church,” he admitted. “I don’t know. I suppose at some point I’d settle down but…” Javi shrugged. “I can see it happening for you though, so, whenever you do meet him, I can be there to help explain this whole…situation we’ve got going on.”

You laughed a little at that. “Thanks.”

Twenty minutes later, you were half asleep before Javi pulled you over to him once more. The last thing you could remember was you taking a deep breath in, the scent of him, his home and his cooking fill your senses. 

When you woke up, you found yourself still on the sofa, the news playing on the TV and Javi cooking in the kitchen. It took you a while before your brain registered you weren’t still dreaming and you’d fallen asleep not only at Peña’s, but also on him. 

“Hey,” Peña shook you back awake. “Breakfast is ready.”

You placed your hand over his and nodded. “Okay.”

Neither of you said anything when you ate, just listened to the news that passed over the speakers of the TV. 

“Who taught you to cook?” You asked, turning to look at him as he drove you both to work. 

“My dad. My mom helped, but dad was the one who burnt less stuff.”

After eating, you’d run to your apartment to get a fresh change of clothes and run a brush through your hair, only to be greeted by your husband at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll drive us to work.”

So, now you were driving to work with Javi before hopping out of his car and being led with a warm hand at the bottom of your back through the hallways of work before you both finally reached your desks. 

And for the first time in weeks, you finally had the energy to get through your work day. And so did Javi. 

Although things started to change when you got a surprise visit from your mother.

You’d been working for weeks on the same case and in between all of the case work, the fake marriage and the few months that followed, you’d forgotten to write to your mother. 

It was her one agreement with you moving to Columbia. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop you – it was your job and you were good at it, plus, despite all of the gear grinding you had to do every now and again, you loved it. But knowing she didn’t accept your decision to work as DEA in Columbia would have slowly killed you – and her, too. 

Any time she called, you’d either been dead asleep – either at yours or Javi’s – or at work. So, she took the notion to come and see you. 

So when you walked down the hall towards your office and heard your mother’s voice ask you a question, you felt your entire body crash to a screaming halt before realising what and why she was asking. 

“You’re married?” 

“Mom.”

Your mom called your full name and walked towards you. “What this lovely woman just told me better not be true, or else that means I’ve missed my daughter’s wedding.”

You tried your best to remain calm and relaxed. Two emotions you were desperately clinging onto for dear life. “She tells me his name is Javier Pen…”

For a moment, she looked back to the secretary who nodded and whispered his name again for your mother to repeat with full confidence to you. “Javier Peña.”

“Mom, maybe it’s best we-”

Then the secretary spoke up in excitement. “Oh, there he is. Javi!”

Looking up from his own case file, about to turn down the hallway, he found who was calling him before seeing who was standing in front of them. You and, from what he could guess, your mother. 

Shit. Your mother? No. She was back in the States. Maybe he’d remembered her face wrong from the picture behind your desk. 

Walking over, Javi’s hand came to your lower back before he quickly brushed a kiss against your cheek. “Cariño, you okay?”

You tried to remain calm as you said the next sentence. “Javi, this is my mother. Mom, this is my..husband..Javi.”

Then something you hadn’t expected to happen, happened. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs Y/l/n. Y/n’s told me a lot about you.”

“I wish I could say the same.” But she still shook his hand and allowed him to press a light kiss to the back of it. 

Carefully, Javi stepped back and pulled you closer towards him, your mother’s eyes never once stopping to not examine the couple that stood in front of her. 

Javi nodded. “We are sorry about that. But, maybe we can make it up to you.”

You looked at Javi a little panicked. But your mother was already interested. “Oh?”

“I’m guessing you’re staying here for a few days? Come and stay with us. I can make us dinner and we can all get to know each other.”

Then your mom smiled. Apparently Javi already had her approval. “Well…I think that would be lovely. But don’t think either of you are getting off lightly. I missed my daughter’s wedding that I didn’t even know about.”

“Honey, give your mother our address, I’ll ask-”

She shook her head. “No, no. You all seem busy. I can take myself there. And I’d like to see what’s around the market stalls. Is there anything I can bring for dinner?”

Javi shook his head. “No, not at all.”

You smiled. “He’s got it covered, mom. Just bring yourself.”

“Alright then. Well, I look forward to seeing you both for dinner.”

In the space of five minutes you’d all said your goodbye’s and you had ever so sweetly pulled your husband towards your office before closing the door and blinds and turning back to your partner. 

“What the hell are you thinking?”

Javi shrugged. “She’s come down here to see you. We might as well make the effort.”

“We? Javi. We don’t live together. She’s gonna take one look around my apartment and realise I still live there. She’s gonna take one more look at my face and realise everything that’s happened is a complete sham and then she’s gonna parade it around town that I’m still single. She won’t mean it harshly, but she will.”

“So, we don’t tell her and just say we haven’t had a chance to move things since getting married. We’ll be okay.”

You let out a panicked laugh before you started pacing. “I knew this was a bad idea. It’s bad enough we’re lying to people here.”

“You’re the one that started it before I got roped in.”

“Hey! You roped yourself into this. You were the one that said you were my husband.”

“Would you have preferred for Agent Dickbag to keep pushing?!”

You took a breath. “Javi…I don’t know if I can lie to her. What…what do I tell my family when they find out? This was just meant to keep people like Agent Dickbag away…”

Reading the panic all over your body, Javi stood and walked towards you until you were wrapped in his arms. “Hey, it’ll be okay. We’ll keep the secret up long enough to make sure nobody else finds out the truth, and then you can just say we rushed into things. We got a quick divorce and moved on, civilly.”

“I think you missed your calling in Acting.” You told him. “I think my mom already has your seal of approval.”

“Really?” He pulled back a little and smiled. “That’s a first.”

“We’ll be okay?”

He nodded. “We’ll be okay.”

And you believed him. 

Because it was true. 

In the space of about fifteen minutes, you and Javi managed to move some things from your apartment, into his to make it seem more…homely. Like two people actually lived there. Especially since your mom would be living in your apartment for the next couple of days until she flew back home to the rest of your family. 

“Will she really check the bedroom?” Javi called from the kitchen. 

You’d moved some things to the second bedside table. One or two books, a couple of hair-ties, plasters, “stray” pens. You tried your best to make it look believable as possible. 

“You don’t know her like I do. This woman is Jessica Fletcher. Unsuspecting to the world, but in fact sees everything. Trust me, you do not want to end up in interrogation with my mother. Happened to a perp once. She came in to visit my dad but he was wrangling a couple of the officers so she walked around, found the perp sitting in holding and she actually got a confession out of him. Cops had been trying all day and nothing. A five minute conversation with my mother and they got a full written confession out of him.”

Javi gave a low whistle. “Wow.”

“Yeah. So, trust me, what I’m doing? It’s gonna, hopefully, save us some grief.”

Javi was still cooking by the time your mom knocked on his door and you brought her inside. Immediately her eyes scanned the place picking up on the pictures, books and music. 

“It smells delicious.”

“He’s a good cook.”

And for the first couple of minutes everything ran smoothly. Your mother did everything you’d expected her to do. She even passed Javi in the kitchen to look into your bedroom. 

“She really did it.” Javi mouthed. 

“Told you so,” you mouthed back. 

“Mom, do you wanna come and sit down? I can get you a drink.”

“I’ll have a soda if you have it, please.”

You got your mom a soda and poured it into a glass with ice, handing it to her as she stood still examining your home. 

“So, how is he in bed?” She whispered a little too loud to you. 

You felt yourself go bright red. Redder still when you heard Javi chuckle from the kitchen. “Mom!”

“What? I’m allowed to ask my daughter these questions. I need to know you’re being satisfied in every aspect of your marriage.”

You groaned and covered your eyes. “Mom.”

“You’re being careful? Using condoms? You know pulling out doesn’t work as birth control.”

You could have died. “Mom, please. Stop.”

Javi let out a small laugh as he walked from the kitchen and handed you a drink. “Mrs Y/l/n, if you really want to know-”

“Oh no. No, Javi, please. Please don’t encourage her.”

“We’re being safe. Having a family right now probably wouldn’t be the best move for either of us.”

Your mother just graced him with a soft smile. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’m not,” you groaned a little. “Can we please change the conversation?”

“You know, she’s always been like this.” Your mom told Javi who only seemed to revel in your terror. 

“Really? This isn’t a new thing?”

“No,” you mom told him. “She went just as red when I gave her the birds and the bees talk.”

“That’s because you decided to tell me in the middle of my middle school hallway during a Parent’s Evening.”

“And when I took her to the doctors to get her on the pill.”

You covered your face. “I’m in hell.”

Javi’s hand reached for your shoulder and shook you lightly as he sat on the arm of the chair beside you. You leaned into him. 

“I’d finally got it out of her that she’d had sex and next-”

“And next thing I’m being wrangled into an office chair with the doctor having my mother shout from the rooftops her daughter was no longer a virgin.”

Your mom gasped. “It wasn’t like that,”

You leaned into your husband who’d just let out a small laugh. “Please make it stop.”

“Okay, I’ll drop it.”

“Thank you.”

“But I’m glad to know you’re being satisfied. Your face tells me more than you think.”

“Okay!” You stood up quickly and tried to run away, only to feel Javi’s hand reach out and pull you back, spinning you to stand by him. From the light red in his cheeks, he felt a little embarrassed, too, but he seemed to handle it a lot better than you. 

He was chuckling. “Don’t think you’re able to run from this. I wanna know more about you from your mom.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to be here for it.” You tried to make a break for it again, but Javi caught you and for a moment, the rest of the room seemed to slowly disappear from sight as you found yourself trapped in his hands and arms, and his gaze on you, just as yours was on his. And for a moment, you wondered what it would be like if you kissed him. 

Little did you know, he’d been thinking the exact same thing. 

Then a timer went off. 

“That’ll be the food.” Javi kissed a quick peck to your temple before standing and walking towards the kitchen, leaving your gaze to trail after him. 

“You really do love each other,” your mom pointed out from her spot on the sofa. “I can see why you got married. You both need to tell me what your wedding was like!”

And so you did over dinner. With the added linger of whatever had happened when he’d pulled you closer to him. 

You caught Javi looking at you a few times, and subsequently, he’d caught you, too. And, without rehearsal, you’d both managed to bullshit your way through explaining why you’d both decided to get married so quickly. 

From you and Javi, your mother had learned you’d both met when you started in Columbia and you were both ‘friends’ for a while. Not much had to be lied about in that department. Javi’s reputation. Your “ability” to make every man that asked you out believe you were taken. How you’d worked together for a long time before becoming actual friends. Then the lies started…right?

About how you and Javi made a true friendship of sorts over the late nights working, swapping smaller stories until something changed. 

“It was like…my heart had stopped and rebooted itself. Suddenly, everything felt like it had shifted and changed somehow.” Peña explained to your mom. “Nothing had ever been more…clearer and more daunting than ever.”

Then Javi looked at you, and you found a mirrored expression. Sadness? Confusion? Desperation? Fear? Realisation? You didn’t know what to call it, but whatever it was, you felt it. For some unknown reason, everything he’d just said rang true in your ears, your head and even your heart. 

Nothing had ever been more clearer and more daunting than ever.

By the time your mom decided she was ready for bed, you were already fast asleep against Javi. At some point in the evening when he’d sat beside you, he’d slung his arm behind you and between the warmth and familiarity of him, you’d let yourself truly relax. 

“I’ll walk you up.”

Your mom shook her head as Javi led her towards the door. “I know my way and you’re both tired. I’ll be okay. Get her to bed.”

Javi looked back at you for a moment and smiled.

“You really do love her.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Your mom smiled at her supposed son-in-law. “I understand why she fell for you, but I hope you know, just because you’re the first one of her boyfriends, well, husband now. But just because you’re the first I approve of, doesn’t mean I won’t be judging you. You look after her, and you look after her well. Love her everyday. It’s not every day someone gets to spend the rest of their lives with my daughter. I hope you see that as a privilege.”

Javi nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

Javi was telling the truth and your mom nodded. “Good. And thank you for dinner. Sleep well.”

“You, too, Mrs Y/l/n.”

Javi waited until he heard your apartment door lock before he shut his own, locked it and kicked off his shoes.

His socks padding his footsteps as he walked back to you, he was careful to pick you up before carrying you to bed and covering you up. You were still fast asleep by the time he climbed into bed beside you, but either way, you naturally rolled towards the slight dip in the bed before reaching out for him like you did almost every time he’d carried you to his bed because you’d fallen asleep in his apartment. 

The only times he didn’t was when he fell asleep with you and woke up as the sun peeked through his blinds in his living room. 

With a contented sigh, you slipped into a dreamless sleep beside him and for a few minutes, he laid awake, listening to your breathing. Then he let his mind slip back through the evening. If the funny feeling in his stomach and chest wasn’t what he hoped it was, but rather was what he suspected it to be, then he would have to soak up your actions as a married couple over the next couple of days before everything went back to semi-normal. 

Because if he was right, and he was growing feelings for you, then these days would have to be enough. Your marriage with him and his marriage to you was meant to be for appearances, only. Nothing real was meant to come out of it, was it? 

Because the feeling in his chest as he looked down at you, asleep by his side and in his arms…that feeling sure felt real. 

Waking up in the morning, you felt more comfortable than usual. No creaky mattress spring giving you a sneak attack from beneath your sofa and into your back, no blinding light coming through curtains you’d forgotten to shut, no cold side to your bed as you turned over. 

Instead, you felt warm. You found warmth. 

Asleep on his front but his arm still across you, you found Javi. Fast asleep, seeming as though not even a gunshot would wake him. 

And rather than jump out of bed or rollaway like you usually would when you found yourself in this position with any man, or even him going off the last couple of months. 

You’d found yourself falling asleep countless times at Javi’s and the majority of the time, you woke up in his bed. 

But waking that morning, especially after the night before, had something feeling different. So you took your time. 

For the first time you…studied him. 

You’d found yourself doing it more and more in recent months. How he sat in a chair, the look on his face when he was annoyed, amused, sometimes even scared. 

And for the first time, maybe ever. He looked…

Peaceful. 

As if it was a Sunday morning and neither of you had to get up for work. Like when he’d wake, you’d both spend the morning in bed before relaxing in your home. 

And for a moment, you let yourself dream about that life. A life where there was no fear of maybe never coming home. A life where you could both…be peaceful. Happy. 

Together, maybe?

After a few moments, you felt a gentle touch against your cheek, and slowly opening your eyes, you found Javi’s hand cupping your cheek, his fingers brushing soft patterns into your skin. 

“Cariño…”

You smiled, finding comfort in the common nickname. “Hey.”

“You been awake long?”

You shook your head, softly. “Not long.”

“Good.” Javi then leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Come here.”

Granting yourself permission to do as he said, Javi rolled over onto his back and pulled you into his side before he decided to ultimately face you. 

Down your back, he traced a singular line back and forth as you both synced calming breaths and listened to the comfortable silence of the room. 

“We could call in sick.” Javi said after ten minutes. “We’ve built up enough time to take the day off. You could show your mom ‘round.”

“We can’t,” you pointed out. “What about the case?”

“The case will still be there tomorrow. And besides, if something changes, they’ll call us in-”

Then you both heard the front door lock open. 

“Javi-”

Pressing a finger to his lips, he sat up and so did you. Quietly, he moved over towards his bedside table and pulled out his gun before checking the bullets. 

You both heard the door open and just as Javi was about to leap out of bed, you both heard your mother’s voice. 

“Y/n? Javier? You two sleepy heads awake yet?!”

You let out a huge sigh of relief and sat back against Javi’s headboard. “Jesus Christ.”

“Your mom has a key?” Javi put his gun back and closed the draw as he looked back at you. 

“I told you. Jessica Fletcher.” Then you called out to her. “Mom! We’re in here.”

Letting out a breath, Javi sat himself back beside you just as your mom walked into your bedroom. “Mom, you can’t just break in,” you told her, tiredly. 

“I didn’t break in. I had a key.”

“Both of us could have shot you.”

Your mom looked over both of you and gave a coy smile. “Then it’s a good thing I called out then. You both look…well rested.”

It was too early to even pretend what she thought had happened, had happened. So, tearing your eyes from Javi, you looked to your mom. “Why are you here?”

“Because I have made breakfast for both of you since Javi cooked us such a wonderful dinner last night.”

“Mrs Y/l/n, you really didn’t-”

“Hush now. I was happy to do it. Now, chop chop.” Your mom clapped her hands. “There’s plenty of time for this,” she gestured to you, Javi and the bed, “later. Come on. Before the day is gone.”

And as she walked out, you felt yourself collapse into Javi’s sheets, already feeling your face go hot. 

“She really doesn’t hold back, does she?”

“No.” Your voice was muffled through the sheets. 

Ultimately, Javi convinced you to take the day off with him and after a homemade breakfast, yet another awkward conversation surrounding love-making in the shower – to which Javi nearly choked on his toast. Both you and Javi had showered (separately) before getting changed and deciding to show your mom around the different places in town. 

And despite the stories shared by your mother; thankfully not all of them made you want a hole in the ground to open up the floor. 

You also found spending the day with Javi, outside of work talk, to be more than pleasurable. With his hand in yours, or his arm around you, holding your own across your stomach, you’d both walked side by side for most of the day. He told your mom some things about Columbia even you didn’t know before, easily sharing some stories of his own childhood when your mom asked. 

And you felt…glad, maybe? Like for the first time since moving to Columbia you were home. And it wasn’t just because your mom was there, but rather because of the person who stuck by your side all day, letting you see behind the personal walls he had up at work. The ones that, if you didn’t look closely, you wouldn’t know were even there. 

Yet, despite the entire day feeling like one giant butterfly in your stomach at every touch, look  and graze you felt from Javi, nothing made it feel like the tornado it was when your mom asked if she could film your ‘first dance’. 

Dinner had been long over and the TV had shut down. In the background, a few different records played until one came on and your mother gasped. 

“Oh, please. Please let me see your first dance. I love this song, and I’ve always imagined seeing you dance to it the way me and your dad do.”

From your side, Javi lifted his hand. It was up to you. 

Looking at your mom’s face, you couldn’t say no. So, you nodded and both stood. Javi started the song from the beginning and turned back to face you. In a matter of moments, you were in his arms, your hand in his whilst your other lay on his arm. You could feel his firm hand at the bottom of your back, holding you up steadily. 

Finally, leaning into each other, you could feel his moustache at the shell of your ear. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

That was when you found out Javi could dance. At the very least, much better than you could. He led you around the small section of the floor, your temple’s still touching and for a small moment, you closed your eyes. 

You’d also both forgotten anybody else was in the room other than you two. Breathing, heartbeats, pulse, chemistry. It all became one. 

And just as the song slowed, Javi lifted his head to look at you. It was like there was a new light to you in the fading sunlight. New features he’d never noticed before. The small freckles dotted across your face, probably having surfaced after a day in the sun. The soft streaks of baby hairs framing your face. The arch and bow of your cupid’s bow and lips. The light flush in your cheeks as for a moment, he caught your eyes doing the same thing he was. 

Looking. Gazing. Studying. All to commit it to memory. 

Javier Peña, for as best as he’d known, he’d never been so scared in all of his life. But there was one final thing he wanted to commit to memory, whether it be good or bad. And if he didn’t do it then, he was afraid he never would. So, for the first time with you, he did what he wanted to do because, and he hoped, by the look on your face, you wanted it, too. 

With the final few notes of the song, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was firm, steady, strong and then softer. The kind of kiss that you feel long after it’s over. Silence washed over the room as the record came to an end and you and Javi found yourselves looking at each other, only realising you weren’t alone when your mom gasped. 

“Oh, that was just beautiful.” She stopped the recording. “Thank you so much for doing that for me.”

You and Javi seemed to step away from each other despite it being the last thing either of you wanted to do in that moment. It wasn’t long after that your mom decided to go upstairs to bed. And once Javi heard the door lock upstairs, he locked his own and took a moment before turning back around to find you. 

But you were already trying to avoid the conversation that came next. 

Javi took his time. You both needed a moment to find clarity. After the faucet had been running for a few minutes, only to be switched off by you as you washed the plates in the bowl of soapy water, Javi stood at the kitchen door. 

He watched you for a moment, wondering what to say. What just happened? I’m sorry? He didn’t mean for it to…be that way? Did you feel it, too? Did you want it, too? Did he cross a line?

Then he realised he didn’t have to say anything at all. 

You felt him before you heard him walk slowly across the kitchen floor and stand by your side. With a gentle hand guiding your arm, he spun you to face him and in the silence, your faces shared a thousand words between each other. 

Javi brushed your hair from your face before gently cupping your face. It took enough time between each of his movements to let you object if you wanted to. You stepped closer into him. 

Then he kissed you. 

Having dropped the sponge into the sink, you felt yourself tumble against him as your own hands came to pull him closer towards you. Things seemed to move slightly quicker than before. His hands moving down your body to eventually lift you up and move you onto the counter top, his fingers pushing their way through your hair as your own pulled him in by his collar to kiss you once more. 

With your legs wrapping around his waist, securing him against you, you let out a small sigh behind your kiss. Javi only chased those small noises more after you made your first one. 

“J-Javi.” You managed to find your voice in between his kisses. “Wait.”

He stopped, forcing himself to pull his lips from yours. And for a moment, all you could hear was his breathing and your heartbeat. Both rapid. Both unsteady. 

“We…we shouldn’t…”

His hands still tangled in your hair and his forehead against yours, he shook his head in agreement. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

All either of you could do was breathe. Slowly. Trying to catch some form of air that was at least a close equivalent to the others. 

Kissing you was like a lifeline, and without you he was dying. 

His eyes finally gazing into yours, he found your own tracing his face, already reminiscing on the kiss, wanting more. 

Kissing him was like life was finally being pushed back into your lungs, letting you breathe clearly for the first time and without him, nothing was in focus. 

“Fuck it.”

His lips on yours again, he began to devour you and your taste. He could feel your hands pulling him closer to you, like if you’d let go of him, you’d drown. 

He needed you more than he wanted to admit. 

But you didn’t want him to hold back. So leaning away from his kiss for a moment, you made sure he focused on you. 

“Bedroom.”

He was still drunk on your kiss. “Javi, I’m not fucking you on the kitchen counter. Bedroom.”

His lips curved onto a smirk as he pulled you towards the edge and lifted you up. 

“Didn’t anyone tell you we’re married? Cariño, it’s called making love.”

You laughed and so did he before it was muffled out by another kiss. 

By the time morning rolled around, you found yourself wrapped in Javi’s arms, his scent swirling around your senses, locking it into a memory you’d never forget. Even if you wanted to move, you couldn’t. From the arms wrapped around you, to the soreness in your legs, your body was too happily exhausted to move. 

For the next few moments, you watched as he slept peacefully. His mouth parted slightly, simply looking at his mustache made you blush at the memories from barely a few hours previous. Tracing the curves of his face, you leaned over and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. 

His arms twitched around you. “Javi, I need to use the bathroom.”

Still half asleep, he returned the next kiss you pressed to his lips before mumbling; “Come back.”

“I will,” you kissed him once more before climbing out of bed and heading towards the bathroom. 

Whilst in the bathroom, you picked up the long forgotten towels on the floor and picked up the tossed body washes and shampoo bottles from Javi and your haphazard entry into the bathroom after the first two orgasms before the third. 

However, you must have taken too long because as you stood at the bathroom skin, a newly familiar pair of arms made their way from holding your hips, to cradling around your waist. 

You could feel the hair from his moustache as he kissed your bare shoulder, making his way towards your neck where you leaned back against his chest and placed a hand behind his own neck to hold you steady. 

“Javi.”

One of his hands slowly made its way under your top before running his fingers from the top of your chest, across your breast and down below the waistband of your shorts. 

“I missed you.” His tongue dampened the graze of his teeth against your neck. 

“Javi.”

“Is this okay, baby?”

You bit your lip, your hips bucking against his fingers, chasing the pressure he was beginning to swirl around your clit. You hummed a response. 

“I need your words, baby. Is this okay? Do you want this? Because I can stop.”

You shook your head quickly and wrapped your hand around his wrist before he pulled away any further. “No. Don’t stop.”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

With his fingers circling your clit and his mouth having free range of your neck, you felt your knees grow weak. “Want me to stop?”

Again, you shook your head. “I need…I need more, Javi.”

“How many, baby?”

“Two, ohh…” Your mouth opened and you threw your head back against his shoulder, reveling in his fingers slipping inside your cunt and his thumb applied pressure to your clit. Then you heard him chuckle. 

“Asshole.”

“You fucking love it, baby.”

You did. You really did. It wasn’t long before Javi could feel your walls pulsing against his fingers, growing tighter for him. And his dick hadn’t even left his pants yet. 

“You’re so fucking wet, cariño. This for me?”

You found the strength to nod. “Just for you, Javi baby.”

But whatever strength or control you had left disappeared as the wave began to crash over you and you chased Javi’s fingers as they pumped deeper and faster inside of you. “Ride ‘em, baby. Take what you want.”

You moaned his name, almost chanting it as you came over his fingers. “Fuck,” Javi growled. “You’re so fucking hot when you come.”

Letting out a breathy laugh, you felt the ache in your legs, still leaning against Javi. 

“Then maybe you should do it again.”

Sharing a look with Javi, he smirked before biting down on your bottom lip, then kissing it better. Pulling his fingers from inside of you, he slowly spun you around by your hips until you faced him. Once he’d tasted everything he could from your mouth, he teasingly made his way across your jaw, down the length of your neck, under your clothing before pulling your soaked shorts down your legs, leaving your glistening and sensitive cunt for him to see. 

Then he tasted the rest of you. 

Pushing you onto the edge of the sink counter, you white-knuckled the edges in fear of gripping his hair too tight to pull him closer to where you needed him. 

You could feel the burn of his moustache against your inner thighs, panty-line before finally his tongue circled your already sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, Javi.”

“You like that, baby?”

You nodded, “Fuck. Yeah.”

“Want more?”

“Y…yes. Javi, please.” Your hips bucked as you chased the feeling of his tongue licking your pussy. “Fuck, Javi.” You let out a gasp as his tongue dipped inside of you for a moment. “Fuck, right…right there.” With one of your hands tangled in his hair, you pushed him closer in order to taste all of you. 

And just as you leaned back to grant him more access, he pulled back. You whimpered, wanting him back. “Touch yourself.” 

“Javi-”

“I want to see how long you can hold it before I fuck you. Touch yourself.”

So you did. All the while watching him take his sweet time watching you as he pulled down his own underwear and pulled a condom on, pumping himself a couple of times before finally settling closer to you. 

“I want to watch you cum again.” And so he did. 

Filling you with his dick, inch by inch, he felt you stretch around him, swearing as you took him in. And then he took his time with you. Reveling in every needy buck of your hips, chasing his dick before he couldn’t hold back anymore. He needed you just as much as you were begging for him. 

Moaning his name over and over as your orgasm hit you, Javi watched as you came over his dick, him finishing not long after you did. 

Sweaty and covered in sex, Javi pushed the fallen hair from your face and kissed your lips after the silence had settled away from heavy breathing and racing hearts. “We should get cleaned up.”

Pulling his cock from inside of you, he disposed of the condom before walking towards the shower and turning it on. And over the next forty minutes, Javi’s hands were all over your naked body before his fingers tugged at your hair as the tiles of the floor made indents in your knees. By the time you’d both finished, gotten washed and finally dressed, Javi was changing the sheets as you placed the ones from the night before inside his washer. 

For the rest of the day, Javi rarely left your side.

Going back out to the markets with your mom, his hands were constantly finding ways to touch you. His hand pinching onto the skirt of your summer dress, his fingers grazing against your hip and lower back as he changed from standing on one side of you to the other. Holding your hand around you, his arm across your shoulders, his lips in your hair, on the shell of your ear as he talked to you. And when you’d stopped inside a cafe, he sat next to you, his arm across the back of your chair which practically was sitting in between his legs as his body was constantly turned towards you. 

And when you’d both finally gotten home, your mom saying she was going for a nap, the moment Javi’s door shut, the bags were dropped and your back was against the wall of his hallway, his lips on yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

“So have I.”

Then a question fell from your lips. “How are we going to keep this up? At work, I mean.”

“They already think we’re married.” He kissed your neck. 

“I’m being serious, Javi.”

“So am I.”

“Javi, Messina already warned us what would happen if she ever caught us. And that was before we were even…”  A couple? Fucking? Dating? Married?

Javi smiled. “So we keep it a secret.”

“Says the guy who can’t keep his hands off me for more than two seconds. You’ll never be able to keep it a secret.”

“Says the woman whose been eye-fucking me all day. Are you sure you can keep a secret?”

“I can keep a secret.” Then Javi noticed your coy smile. “In fact, I’ve been keeping one all day.”

Taking his hand in yours, you pressed his hand to the dip of your hips. He couldn’t feel anything but fabric. Then it hit him. With his chest flaring and his dick hardening, he stepped closer towards you. 

“Mrs Peña…have you been naked under that dress all day?”

You bit your lip. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

His eyes flicking to the hem of your dress, he looked back up at you before slowly dragging the fabric of its skirt up and bunching it in his hand until he could slip his hand under it. And when he was met with bare skin, he swore. 

“Fuck.”

“I’ve been hoping you’d fuck me all day,” you admitted. “I wanted to be ready.”

“Since you walked out of that fucking bedroom in this dress…I’ve wanted to fuck you in it.”

Pulling him closer to you, your voice turned into a low whisper. “Then you better get on with it, Agent Peña. Before I do it myself.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Capturing your lips on his, his finger coaxed at your pussy, already feeling your wetness build for him. As his fingers began to curl inside of you, you let out a moan before your fingers deftly unbuckled his belt and jeans. Javi let out a small whimper as your fingers stroked down his cock, wiping the pre-cum away with your thumb before finally pumping him a few times. 

“Take it easy, baby. Otherwise I’m not gonna- fuck.”

With one hand, Javi picked you up where you stood, his fingers digging into your ass before he guided his tip in. Letting out a moan by his ear, you told him to start moving. 

“Fill me up, baby.” 

And he did. 

Fucking you against the wall in his hallway, Javi pulled the top of your summer dress down and began leaving his mark across your collarbone and down the bow of your breast, all the while his cock pumped in and out of you before filling you up with him cum. 

“That’s it baby,” Javi told you as you screamed his name as you rode his dick. Then he watched you come. He’d never get sick of that sight. It seemed to get hotter each time. You begging him for more, your moans, his name falling from your lips as he makes you unravel completely. 

But he wasn’t done with you yet. Pulling out from you, he moved you both down the hallway and towards the sofa where he made you come again before moving into the kitchen where he finally fucked you senseless on the kitchen counter. 

Both of you wished it could have continued like that forever, but sadly after your shower, both you and Javi were interrupted by the jingle of keys in the door as your mom let herself in before you and Javi could continue your heavy make-out session on the sofa. 

But that was something you both had to get used to. 

Interruptions. 

From people banging on the copier room door thinking it was jammed, to people walking back into the office after their lunch breaks. But despite the ever growing need to constantly be touching him, or him touching you, you’d both found subtler ways to show how much you not only wanted each other, but also needed each other. 

From the smaller touches when he always found an excuse to stand beside you, to the ever longing looks you both gave to each other as the other one walked away from the desks. There were crappy cups of coffee always being poured, lunches being made and shared, blankets being used to cover up the one that fell asleep first, the knowing looks when a case load became too much, the soft moments spent after a long day of work just laying together on the sofa watching crappy TV and falling asleep, dancing to slower records on down-days, quick kisses goodbye during lunch or during a stakeout for cases, jealous and warning glares being given to those who tried to flirt with the other, and finally slow Sunday mornings that were spent inside the apartment, neither of you leaving unless for a dire emergency. 

And somewhere between all of that, you and Javi had taken a flight to your home where your family and his watched as you both swore actual wedding vows to each other; your wedding party not realising it was the first time for both of you.