i‘m just a girl 🌸

Your hands are trembling slightly, just a faint tremor.

You've always been interested in that thin line between what's good for you right before a concert and what's going to harm your performance. The adrenaline is good for you, your first teacher used to tell you, encouraging you to keep on playing, which has brought you to this very moment.

Perhaps it is good for you, but that doesn't make it any more pleasant.

You absolutely hate the rough three hours before the start of a concert. The worst time period varies depending on how confident you are feeling on that specific day, but today, there is no doubt about the panic that has settled into your belly since dawn.

It's not just an important day, it also happens to be your first concert with your new orchestra. The stakes are high, and for someone like you who's always had such immense struggles to control your nervousness, the day couldn't have been more nerve-wracking and intense.

Fold your hands and pretend you're someplace else, your second teacher always said when the anxiety threatened to spill over.

Mrs. Jordans was an old, grey-haired woman with a lot of patience, the first person in your life to actually help you with your issues right before your performance.

Well, maybe her options were pretty scarce when she caught you throwing up in the bathroom five minutes prior to a concert, but at least she hugged you and didn't just drag you out there like other teachers throughout your life might have done.

Swallowing hard, you reach for your bag.

There's always the chance that the shaking of your hands is rooted in low blood sugar rather than your churning stomach, which is why you stored a couple of chocolate bars in there.

The moment you straighten up again, your heart jumps, sensing movement to your right. You purposefully withdrew to the corner of the practice room where people would understand your message clearly. There might be people whose most effective medicine against stage fright is distracting themselves, but it never worked for you. Therefore, you sank down on the floor half an hour ago, and you haven't lifted your gaze since.

Until now.

"You look lost."

Alex Serian, the star of the ensemble. If he weren't the most popular and best player of the orchestra, you would have assumed that he isn't playing tonight, given the way his eyes sparkle, his face missing the paleness of your face and that of the other members of the ensemble.

"Lost?" you ask weakly, slinging your arms around your knees while the chocolate bar starts melting in your hand.

"Yeah. Lost. What's your name?"

He does know that you're part of the orchestra too, doesn't he? Sure, the two of you haven't interacted before and you might be new, but your violin is right next to you and you're dressed in black like everyone else.

"Y/n," you speak shortly, taking a bite from the bar before it's a complete puddle in your palm. Alex repeats your name slowly as if to assess whether he likes it or not. Then, he pulls up a chair, plopping into it, which takes you by surprise.

"I – " you begin, but all it takes from the other man to cut you off is a raise of his brows.

"You're new. And you're nervous… I've come to believe that there is a correlation between the two things a lot of the time."

You're speechless, which is why you just stare up at him, feeling very uncertain and small all of a sudden.

"And you're young, of course. It makes an inconvenient combination."

You swallow the last bite quickly, forehead wrinkled as you try to come up with a response.

Alex seems… amused. Neither unsettled by the fact that he's about to get on stage and play principal cello, nor concerned about the state of your dilated pupils and trembling hands. Obviously, the chocolate bar has done nothing for you.

"Do you want any advice, sweetheart?"

With a sigh, he leans back in the chair, his hand casually resting on his thigh. Fuck, he looks much better than any person you have ever seen minutes before they hit the stage. You're more than familiar with tousled hair, running mascara, blotchy skin and glistening brows, but his hair looks angelic, his face is glowing and there is just the right shimmer sparkling on his pronounced cheekbones.

He must have some secret, because you refuse to believe that someone could be so confident in themselves that they don't carry an ounce of doubt in their heart. Which is why you nod slowly.

"Don't look at the crowd. When we walk in."

"What?" you chuckle humorlessly, tangling your fingers over your stomach.

"I'm being serious. I struggled with stage fright when I was younger. One of my mentors gave me the advice, and at first I laughed too. But it helps. You just ignore them. If you don't know who you have in front of you, there is no one you can disappoint. Except for the ensemble, of course. But… you're gonna have to live with that."

Alex's lips are still drawn as he looks you up and down, probably feeling pity for your pathetic sight. You probably precisely fit the prototype of a stressed out, overwhelmed maniac, your hair messy and your lips brittle from all the chewing.

"And where am I supposed to look? To the floor? And then fall on my nose?"

Taking a deep breath, the man across from you rises to his feet suddenly, leaning down to your level like he's talking to a child. His eyes are a dark brown, the transition of his irises to his pupils barely noticeable.

He's beautiful. You've already found that watching his marvelous performance on TV, but sitting in front of him, his face hovering above yours, you sense a whole different kind of grace and elegance he's capable of emitting.

"You could… look at me?"

With that, he's gone.

You only have to blink once, your heart skipping a beat at his raspy voice, and when your eyes scurry around the room, you notice that he has made his way to the other side of the room. All of that just in a matter of one flutter of your lashes.

Your hands are quivering even more now, your palms sweaty, but once the tightness in your throat dissolves, your mind is able to think of something else for the first time in many hours. Which you would consider a victory.

Fifteen minutes later, when it's time to go out on stage, the nervousness has returned and swallowed you like an inexorable wave. The kind that soaked you to your bones.

You're way beyond caring about what any of your new colleagues might think of your tense appearance and consider it your only goal to get through this night.

You're going to take care of the rest tomorrow or tonight after you've successfully walked off the stage without completely humiliating yourself.

When you're in line behind the others, you begin questioning your career choices, just like you always do right before a performance. You've always been good at math, and you didn't hate explaining easy calculations to your classmates growing up, so perhaps you should have just followed your dad's path and –

There is a hand on your naked shoulder.

You whirl around abruptly, nearly bumping into the person in front of you. That would be the final straw, not just ruining your own playing but one of your colleague's as well.

"Remember what I told you," Alex says calmly, rubbing a soothing circle over your arm, his head tilted to bring himself closer to your level. There are not many changes in his appearance except for the softness around his eyes that replaced the cockiness from earlier. For the first time, you're not certain that he's just mocking your anxiousness, which is why you allow him to hear your uneven panting.

"I'm – I don't know if I can do it. I really don't – "

You look down and shake your head rapidly, pinching the fabric of your dress between two fingers to make them stop shivering. You definitely can't play your violin like that. Normally, the trembling stops the second you sit down on stage, but tonight, you're not so sure about it.

"You can. And you will," Alex speaks, putting a finger under your chin to force you to meet his gaze.

"You will go out there and do a flawless job."

"But I don't know – "

"It doesn't matter if you know or not. You will, and that's all that matters."

"That's not – " you start again, but Alex just swipes over your shoulder one last time, lets go of your chin and then suddenly walks past you to take his place right in front of you.

"Look at me while we walk out. Not the audience. Just keep your eyes on me, remember to breathe, and no matter what happens, don't look at anyone else. Your hands are gonna know the rest."

He spoke those words quietly, not even bothering to turn toward you, but you understood him regardless.

"I really don't – " you whimper, but this time Alex doesn't have to cut you off for your voice to trail off.

What choice do you have? He's a seasoned, well-experienced concert cellist who has gone through stressful moments like this one far more often than you have, even though you can't picture him anxious, no matter how hard you try.

You're going to have to trust him.

Once the applause from the concert hall increases in volume and the door opens, Alex blindly reaches behind him to seize your wrist. His skin is warm and soft, but not so overheated that it would be uncomfortable.

You glare at the back of his head stubbornly, refusing to take in the impressively large crowd, hoping that Alex was right and it's going to save your performance.

He, on the other hand, keeps a tight grasp until he has to leave you to walk over to the cello section, but you're grateful for it. You don't wish to know what would have happened, how you would have collapsed or bumped into the person behind you on your way when your body refused to keep moving.

But that doesn't matter now. All that matters is right in front of you, or rather in your fingers that only shiver a little as they lower onto the strings of your violin.

You can feel the applause buzz in every vein, every fiber of your being, but in your prickling fingertips first and foremost.

For the very first time since you took your seat in the chair, you crane your neck to run your gaze over the audience, your stomach bubbling with excitement. The ranks are filled with what looks like countless heads and hands high up in the air. Clapping for you.

Obviously, not only for you but probably rather for Alex Serian, the star of the night, but it does kind of feel like it.

That is precisely the moment when you remember what you're doing all of this for, the purpose that you always tend to forget about in the hours leading up to a concert. The thrill, the heavy weight dropping off your heart the second you lower the bow and come to the realization that you played well without a single mistake.

You never consider your playing flawless and always find something to work on in the coming weeks, but the first relief still hits you like a tsunami, which you consider far more magnificent than any nervousness. Of course, it's easy to say right after the performance when your adrenaline and joy are running infinitely high, but you don't care. You're going to savor the happiness as long as it lasts because that's the kind of reward that only belongs to you.

As you stand up to bow for the cheering audience, your eyes catch Alex, who's seated to your left, in the center of the stage so he's visible to everyone in the crowd.

He gives you a smile that you surely surpass in intensity and brightness.

You did it. You mastered your first performance with your new orchestra, and it's all thanks to him and his advice. From this day forward, it's surely only going to get easier once you feel at home in this group of people.

You must have looked pretty silly wearing such a wide smile, your cheeks so naturally wrinkling at the corners of your mouth, but Alex just nods once and winks briefly.

It's not a clear, striking gesture, but pretending that it didn't happen would be naïve.

"Fucking hell…" he grunts against your cheekbone, backing you toward the wall until your head hits the hardness with a low thud.

He immediately reaches for you, cradling your face as if to silently apologize for being so rough with you. Not that you mind it. Everything is loud and itching, your toes, your fingers, your weak knees, your trembling hands, but first and foremost your brain.

It's a result of every event in the past few hours, but slowly but surely, you come to believe that it's mostly Alex's hands and hungry mouth taking control over your body.

He's taller than you realized earlier, his frame towering over you by many inches, and fuck, he smells good.

It was the first thing you noticed about half an hour ago when you hugged him, utterly swamped by relief and gratitude. Alex's massive hands rested on the small of your back, pressing you against his chest briefly before he made his tour to talk to the rest of the ensemble.

But then, a few minutes later, his palm returned to that very place again when you ran into him again backstage where everyone was chatting about the sensational night. He looked not nearly as exhausted and blissful as he did right after the curtains fell.

His eyes carried that sparkle again, lips cocked upward while he waited for you to answer him. He asked you if you were satisfied with yourself, and after you explained how you felt about your performance, where you lacked practice, there wasn't much else that was exchanged between the two of you before Alex guided you out of the room, through the corridor and to the staircase.

Everything was dark when he pulled you toward him by your wrist, catching your fall and putting his hands on your waist.

Submerged by adrenaline and jitteriness, you giggled against his lips at first, barely able to grasp what was happening, but when he first pushed you backward, your core clenched and your knees buckled. Alex shoved a leg between your thighs, pressed his hand to the side of your face, and that's how you ended up where you are right now.

Breathing heavily against his mouth, your fingers trail along the stitching of his jacket.

"You did well, sweetheart. Very well," he growls. His lips are parted, devouring your lips, your chin, your dimples and everything else that he can reach, but you're not any less eager. Everything about him is intoxicating. Starting with his addictive scent and ending with his whole magnetic charisma that pulls you into his orbit.

"I did?" you pant without being aware of what he actually just said.

"Yeah… You listened to my advice… And it helped, didn't it?" His hand clasps your chin tightly, holding you in place while his lips travel down your neck, sucking at your pulse point. After a brief hum, your fingers helplessly clawing at his broad shoulders, you nod a few times, bending your neck to watch him savor your flushed skin.

"I know it did… You almost seemed relaxed. But you rushed the entrance in the third movement. I didn't mind it. But Jenna unfortunately does…"

Your lips fall open, which gives Alex the opportunity to draw along the curve of your lip with his thumb.

"You noticed that?" you whisper reverently, eyes flitting up to his as he straightens up in front of you again.

"Of course I did, sweetheart. Let's say I felt… obliged to keep an eye on you. You were a mess."

Against your will, you blush at his words, which evokes deep laughter in Alex.

"Now, now… No reason to feel ashamed. It's a lot for someone new in the ensemble. You did well. Just keep in mind what I told you and slow down next time. Jenna's surely gonna mention it during the next practice." His lips are at the bone in your jaw, softly picking at your skin. "My advice? Mention it before she does. She's gonna like that."

"Huh," you moan, feeling his hand at your thigh, pushing up the fabric of your dress.

"Shhh… you're gonna have to stay quiet. You think you can do that? Keeping those pretty lips sealed?"

You don't even know what to focus on, his hand riding up your leg until it ghosts over the seam of your underwear, the tip of his thumb gently making its way past your lips, or his mouth on your neck. That's why your response is muffled.

"Please… Please, Alex," you whine and cringe as his thumb makes contact with your clit through your underwear.

"Oh Jesus… I didn't take you for the loud kind. Baby, you have to stay quiet or we're gonna have a second crowd for the evening in front of us. And you know… they don't really like this kind of partying. Especially if it includes one of the new lambs." He laughs deeply, the sound so appealing that you need a while to shift your attention to his words.

"So – So we shouldn't?" you murmur a lot more restrained now, spreading your legs wider to give his hand more room to explore your pussy.

"Of course we shouldn't, sweetheart. I thought that was clear. But that doesn't mean that we can't… mhm?"

He abruptly moves his mouth to the other side of your neck, pinning you into place. His thumb circles your bundle of nerves painfully slowly, which doesn't align at all with the content of his words. If the situation is as risky as he paints it to be, then he is supposed to hurry up, isn't he? There is not much time for extensive, exploratory touching, no matter how good it might feel.

"But – What if they're gonna find out? What's gonna happen?"

"Well, they're not gonna find out," Alex speaks like there's not a single thing in the world worrying him, pecking your collarbone with gentle kisses. "Don't worry about it. Everything's gonna work out…"

It's hard to say what you would have felt with the knowledge you gather in the following weeks after that moment. Sure, you would have been relieved knowing that Alex is beyond experienced when it comes to covering the things he does at the end of the night after having played a successful concert, but you might have felt sad and insignificant if you knew how many new musicians he fucked on their very first night. Perhaps you wouldn't have been that surprised considering he seemed so calm throughout it all, but you're positive that there would have been some disappointment.

Either way, in the moment, you moan against his thumb, rolling your hips to encourage him to touch your pulsing clit, but Alex has a mind of his own. He just trails his digit through your soaked slit, humming at the wetness he can feel through the thin layer, and brings his left hand to your throat.

"It's okay, darling. You're allowed to want this. You deserve it…" He skillfully tugs down your underwear until it dangles around your knees. The soft breeze wafting against your wet pussy lips makes your spine shiver, and you feel even more grateful for how close he's pressed against your body. Otherwise, you might have collapsed already, broken your wrist and been unable to play the violin again for a long time. And not seen Alex.

When you whimper, searching for his thumb that is still lightly resting against your mouth with your lips, it causes him to laugh out, clicking his tongue.

"Look at that… Not so nervous now. Go on, baby. Show me how you do it."

Fuck, his stance alone is enough to turn all of you into jelly.

"Good girl. Open wide."

You're melting under his dark eyes that look like coal in here. Your parted lips offer him more space to move his hand up and make his whole thumb disappear into your mouth. Meanwhile, he finally helps you relieve some of the pressure in your lower belly and rubs your clit in soothing patterns that don't feel so soothing considering that they make your hole clench.

"Nuh uh," Alex disapprovingly hums, throwing a glance down your body where you shift against the wall, searching for friction that's too far away to reach. "You're gonna have to relax, baby. Can you do that?"

"Mhm." You nod but refuse to let his thumb slip out of your mouth.

It's so thick and soft. Only the pad is rough and hard where calluses have formed over time from playing the cello.

He laughs condescendingly and pushes his finger a little deeper, carefully landing a slap on your pussy.

"I didn't think you would be so touch-starved, sweetheart… Go on, you're doing well. Exactly what my fingers need after such a long concert…"

Your lower body tensed at the sudden impact, but his thumb quickly makes up for it and presses into the underside of your clit with such precision that you writhe and wriggle against him, seeking something that you know you can only get with his blessing. He's the one capable of loosening the strain in your system. He's the one able to gift you the pleasure you need with a single snap of his fingers. The only question is whether he's willing to.

"Fuck… I'm enjoying this way too much, angel," Alex groans throatily, switching back to the other side of your neck that's probably sore and bruised by now. A problem for another day, you find.

"Suck my thumb, sweetheart. The harder you do it, the nicer I'll be to your pretty pussy."

You moan disapprovingly around his finger, arching off the wall with the little amount of freedom he grants you.

"I know, baby… I know it's not even her fault. But I never said I would be kind."

The next thing you know, two of his fingers, his middle and ring finger, are buried within you, filling you up so suddenly that you bite down on his thumb. For a moment, you're horrified, thinking you might have hurt him. The worst scenarios race through your head, him not being able to play the cello for weeks, losing his career, all because you couldn't control yourself. But no, Alex just chuckles condescendingly and glides his thumb over your front teeth.

"I didn't think you'd be such a nasty girl. Especially not after I found you in the corner like a terrified lamb. I was afraid I was gonna make you cry just stepping closer to you. Look at you now… Moaning around my thumb. What do you think happens when I pull it away?"

His thumb moves back a bit, and at the same time, he curls his fingers. You don't know if he's toying with you or not, but you do know that the noises you're going to let out if he removes his thumb are not meant to be bouncing off these high walls, carried toward the rest of the ensemble in the next room.

Therefore, you shake your head over and over while Alex's eyebrows are high up his face, lips pursed mischievously.

"No?"

"Mhmm," you mumble, hooking your little finger into the collar of his white button-up, trying to tug him closer, but you can't exert a lot of force with a single digit. Especially not while you're trying to move someone as massive as him.

"I want you to cum for me, baby. You can. I got my finger in your mouth, so you can just bite down on it. Look at me. It's okay, I'm gonna help you stay quiet."

A few drops of spit trickle down the corner of your mouth, dripping onto your cleavage, but that's a problem you're going to take care of later. For now, you just stare at him like he commanded you to, and to your great surprise, there's nothing awkward about it.

Before he puts in all his effort to make you reach your orgasm, Alex pulls back briefly to bring his hand to his mouth, sighing softly as he licks your juices off his finger. The view prompts you to whimper again, which makes heat rise in your cheeks.

"Good girl. You taste sweet. And now you're gonna let me take care of you. No holding back."

He straightens your posture, gently lifting your chin like your violin teacher used to do when you were slouching.

"Look at me and say it."

Alex withdraws his hand from your lips, a thread of drool connecting your mouth to his thumb, which he then smears all over your chin. It must be red with your lipstick by now, but you assume that if he wanted flawless, he wouldn't have led you in here in the first place.

"I won't hold back," you whisper, watching the smug satisfaction unfold in his features.

This time as Alex resumes his touch on your pussy, his other hand stays over your mouth, swallowing your small whines and wails. You can feel his hardness press against your thigh, and lord, he must be large, but for the moment, the only thing you can really perceive is the sensation against your sweet spot and the swift swipes over your nub.

You're a pliant mess in his arms. If he told you to sink to the floor right now, you would do it without hesitation. On the other hand, if he let go right now, you would beg him on your knees to continue.

"You're so warm, so wet, sweetheart... Making a goddamn mess on my hand."

Your lips are agape, spit gathering on his fingers.

"Don't let it get to your head... This doesn't mean you're not gonna have to earn your place here. But if you ask nicely, I might help you..."

His lips briefly connect with your hairline as he breathes in the scent of your hair, while his fingers grow more relentless and determined in what they're doing. Whereas he tried to tease you earlier, Alex has a goal now, and that is to get you over the edge.

It takes no more than a few more pumps in and out of your drenched cunt, the noises echoing off the walls like something straight out of a porno. It should have made your blood freeze with the fear of getting caught, but it doesn't, which is a fact you're scared of.

You've been working for this for months. You've put your whole heart into following your dream, and now you're pressed up against a wall by one of the most talented cellists - who's almost twice your age - which could end your career within seconds. You don't have to be a genius to figure out which one of you is more likely to be fired if it comes down to it.

You finally cum with a rather inelegant grunt, your blown, teary eyes fixed on him while your face grows hot. Knees trembling, you hold onto Alex's shirt, gripping the fabric until you're afraid it's going to tear.

"That's right... Cum for me, baby, let me see you. Yeah, there you go."

He tightens his hold around you, just in case you're actually going to collapse. Then he gently thrusts his fingers into you a few more times, his thumb still pressed against your clit.

When it starts aching, you squirm, toes wriggling in your heels. The heels that don't even make you reach his chin, which might be worth mentioning.

"Shh, darling, don't rush me. I'm just enjoying myself... And that happens rarely around here."

The way he's laughing confuses you, but Alex doesn't explain himself further. Instead, he keeps playing with your wetness, smearing it all over your cunt and inner thighs until you're scared you're ruining the floor beneath you.

"Alex..."

"There's that pout..." His hand clasps your jaw, tilting your head to the side as if to examine you from every angle. "That's not how you ask for something, is it?"

"Please."

"Please what? What do you want?"

"Aww, fuck..." you curse, your clit so overly sensitive that every small contact with his thumb feels like someone is setting your nerve endings on fire.

"I thought I told you to trust me earlier. I know how to handle a sweet little lamb like you... All eager to prove herself. So curious and ambitious. It's refreshing to see."

All of a sudden, his hand is gone, and the coldness engulfing your cunt is so abrupt that you can't help but regret flinching away from his touch.

But then Alex picks you up, one arm slung around your waist, the other under your butt. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist and comb through the baby hair at the back of his nape while he carries you toward the stairs.

He sits down with you on top of him, his back against the wall. It's so dark here in the back that you doubt anyone would see you even if they walked straight past you. Then again, it's your noises you're mostly worried about.

"So pretty... You're dressed nicely, but I get it. It's your first concert with this ensemble. You wanted to look beautiful, didn't you?"

His left hand shamelessly roams up your front, cupping your breast through your black dress and bra, while his right is busy somewhere below.

"Pull it down, sweetheart. That's a good girl, yeah... I want you to play with your pretty chest, alright? Do you know how?"

You nod, shifting a little closer to him to ensure that he can see you in the dark.

"Good..." Alex snarls.

There is more movement below him, and you hope it means that he's about to fuck you, but you wouldn't mind stroking his manhood too, if he wanted you to. When you hear plastic being ripped open, you glance down, your hair falling over your shoulders.

"My eyes are up here. I told you to play with your chest, baby... I don't see you doing that. Come on, don't make me ask you twice."

Reluctantly, you pinch your nipple, moaning softly while you knead your breasts. You feel a tad ridiculous since Alex doesn't even have his eyes on you most of the time and instead seems completely occupied with pulling a condom over his cock.

"There you go. Treat them nicely, baby. They open a lot of doors for you if you use them well."

Before you can reply, his mouth is on yours again, shoving you backward only to hold onto the small of your back so you don't fall off his lap. The next thing you feel is his cock tapping against your entrance as if to ask for permission to enter you.

"Deep breath for me, honey. You know how to do that. You did it so well for me earlier."

He rewards you with another "that's right" as you relax your walls and then feel a pressure spreading from your heat all the way up to your ribs.

You had no way to gauge how large he might be or how much sweat and strain it was going to take for you to open up to him, but from the feel of it, he can't be small. Your pussy stretches for him, but it takes a second to adjust to him, which is why you tense your thighs and restrain yourself from sinking onto him in one go.

"What a good little pussy... Fuck, baby. You're tight. Tight and sweet and pretty... Don't know what more I could ask for."

Alex reaches around to give your butt a soft smack, causing your insides to clench.

"Fuck. Fuck, it's - oh gosh..."

You throw your head back, but before you can remember what he told you, he already grabs a few strands of your hair and guides you back into place.

"Jesus Christ, you turn into a brainless brat faster than I can snap my fingers. You focus right here."

You start rolling your hips slowly, hissing through gritted teeth every time he hits deep inside you. It's not like he's impossibly long - rather, he's thick - but somehow, he has the talent of being everywhere all at once, which has to do with his thumb circling your clit like he has some unfinished business there and his other hand sliding along your upper body, mostly your breasts.

"Spit in my palm, angel," he rumbles after a while, his voice gravelly and deeper than before. He uses your drool to lubricate your chest and make his touch smoother. But as your eyes grow wide, your breath staggering at the obscenity of his actions, laughter boils in his lungs.

"Mhmm, filthy, isn't it? You're thinking just because you and I are wearing pretty clothes, this would be refined and neat. But look at your poor nipple. Already sore. We don't want you to hurt, though, mhm?"

Alex breaks your rhythm with a sharp thrust, and as the twirls of his thumb around your clit become faster as well, you lose all sense of time and place, and definitely can't keep up the steady grinds of your hips against his.

"I know, baby... Deep breaths for me. I know it's a lot, but you can take it. You're a tough girl, you can take deep breaths for me. Yeah... In and out. Fuck, you're pretty like that. Your sweet tits bouncing for me."

He cups one and kisses the other, circling the stiff bud with his rough tongue. It's soft and uneven at the same time, bordering on the exhilarating line between pain and pleasure.

"I'm gonna fuck you well, honey, don't worry. It's okay, I'm gonna take care of it, and you relax. You've been through too much already, isn't that right?"

From the content of his words, you would have presumed that he genuinely cares, but there is too much light playfulness in his tone to buy it.

"Yeah..." Alex continues nonetheless, fucking into you from below, his balls squeezed against your butt every time he pulls you all the way down his dick.

"You poor thing just wants to relax for a bit. And here I am dragging you out here..."

"No," you quickly protest, hands wandering down his chest and stomach. Fuck, you should have demanded that he undress as well, but you didn't find the time or the capacity to both hold yourself together and voice requests.

"I need it. I need it so much, Alex, please..."

"Yeah, I know you do. You can still relax with my cock inside you."

He reaches that special spot within you again, and fuck, you feel like you could go up in flames just from the stimulation alone.

"A-Alex - I - Fuck, I -"

"Yeah, you're gonna cum again, I know. I knew that's just what you need, cumming around my cock like a good girl."

His lips are twisted, and there is nothing hinting at the fact that he's anywhere close to emptying his balls. Then again, his cock is uncontrollably throbbing inside you, so that's either a normal reaction or he's just very good at concealing the pleasure he experiences.

For the next few minutes, Alex holds you down by your waist and is the only one choosing how fast his thick length fills you and how long he remains buried within you.

Even though it feels a bit strange to be on top while still being utterly motionless in the beginning, you appreciate being able to catch your breath and not being scared of messing up. It's a mystery to you how he manages to both keep a steady rhythm and circle your clit at the same time, but there is a reason why he's one of the most talented and acclaimed cellists in all of America. He's good with his hands, and apparently he's just as good with his cock.

"Cum for me, baby."

The hand on your waist lifts to rest on the side of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. Whatever you might have choked out gets stuck in your throat, your body slouching, and when you reach your peak, even Alex can't stop you from breaking eye contact to rest your forehead against his shoulder.

He tenderly fucks you through your high, shushing you whenever you squeal or whimper, but for the most part, he just hums to himself and moves you up and down his member like a ragdoll.

His hand rests at the back of your neck now, cradling you against his shoulder, but that only lasts until Alex starts chasing his high as well. In the beginning, your overstimulated pussy protests and quivers, but that only seems to spur him on even more, resulting in a loud grunt followed by many small groans.

Alex cums inside the condom, and although you should know better after two satisfying orgasms, you can't help but wish there was no rubber between your bodies. You can only guess how warm and sticky his seed might be, but you know for a fact that you would have loved to feel it against your walls. Well, maybe next time.

He holds onto the side of your head throughout his high, snarling inaudible things that might be curses or praises of your beauty, but when he lifts his head again, his thumb twitching against your cheekbone, the wrinkles around his eyes are softer.

"Holy shit... Who would've thought, mhm?"

"Who would've thought what?" You smile and place your hands at the base of his neck, wishing you had been wiser and taken off his shirt earlier. You hardly even saw anything, not even his cock.

"That you were hiding all of this underneath that dress. I can tell that I made a good decision taking you back here, mhm?" Alex smacks your butt again, then strokes up the back of your thigh. "Go on, sweetheart. Time to get back to the others, or else they're gonna find us here. And that wouldn't look too good on me... I made a promise after the last one."

The last one?

Your eyebrows draw together, your dry mouth gathering enough spit to ask him the meaning of his words, but Alex is faster and helps you rise from his lap. Your knees and thighs are so feeble that your legs almost instantly give out, which causes him to click his tongue.

"You better behave yourself, sweetheart. People are not gonna believe that your legs turned to jelly from playing the violin for two hours."

You silently pull at the straps of your black dress. The spit he smeared all over your chest has dried by now, but you can't say the same about your pussy. At least no one's going to see it now that your underwear safely covers your cunt again.

"And - And what now?" you whisper once you're dressed.

Alex's shoulders drop, his hand reaching out to bring some order to the mess on top of your head.

"Now we're going back to the others. And we're gonna act like nothing happened because we both don't have any interest in the others finding out about this. I can promise you that much."

It's not at all what you meant by your question, but you have no idea how to rephrase it so he understands.

"You think you can do that? Or do I have to get you to the bathroom so we can splash some cold water on your face?"

"No. It's fine."

He nods once, then turns toward the end of the staircase. Right before he leaves you alone in the dark, you collect all the courage inside your body and clear your throat.

"Alex?"

Alex Serian, the star cellist, one of the most talented people you've ever had the privilege of meeting, halts, his hand on the railing of the staircase.

"What?"

"Are you - I mean, we - What does it mean for... for us?"

"For us?" A smile creeps onto his lips, his forehead creased. "Honey, it means that I just found out that you have a very nice and very tight pussy and that we shouldn't get tricked by the clothes you usually wear to rehearsal."

He waits for you to answer, but since you don't, he sighs, walks back to you and cups your chin.

"You're not satisfied with that? You think because I fucked you on that staircase, it means I'm gonna take you out to dinner tomorrow? Oh sweetheart..."

He leans in to kiss your brow, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You're adorable. But unfortunately, I don't do dating. No matter how soft a pussy they have. You're gonna understand. I wouldn't recommend going on dates with people you work with anyway."

Alex's pupils scurry over your features a few more times, taking in the pucker of your lips and the sparkle in your eyes, indicating that you're not far from bursting into tears.

You just can't help it. The day has been exhausting and nerve-racking, you made a wonderful acquaintance with one of your greatest role models, and now that very man fucked you in the hallway only to tell you that he doesn't do dating. What are you supposed to make of this?

It felt so fucking good.

He must have felt that way too, or why else would you feel like the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces?

Your hands are trembling slightly, just a faint tremor.

You've always been interested in that thin line between what's good for you right before a concert and what's going to harm your performance. The adrenaline is good for you, your first teacher used to tell you, encouraging you to keep on playing, which has brought you to this very moment.

Perhaps it is good for you, but that doesn't make it any more pleasant.

You absolutely hate the rough three hours before the start of a concert. The worst time period varies depending on how confident you are feeling on that specific day, but today, there is no doubt about the panic that has settled into your belly since dawn.

It's not just an important day, it also happens to be your first concert with your new orchestra. The stakes are high, and for someone like you who's always had such immense struggles to control your nervousness, the day couldn't have been more nerve-wracking and intense.

Fold your hands and pretend you're someplace else, your second teacher always said when the anxiety threatened to spill over.

Mrs. Jordans was an old, grey-haired woman with a lot of patience, the first person in your life to actually help you with your issues right before your performance.

Well, maybe her options were pretty scarce when she caught you throwing up in the bathroom five minutes prior to a concert, but at least she hugged you and didn't just drag you out there like other teachers throughout your life might have done.

Swallowing hard, you reach for your bag.

There's always the chance that the shaking of your hands is rooted in low blood sugar rather than your churning stomach, which is why you stored a couple of chocolate bars in there.

The moment you straighten up again, your heart jumps, sensing movement to your right. You purposefully withdrew to the corner of the practice room where people would understand your message clearly. There might be people whose most effective medicine against stage fright is distracting themselves, but it never worked for you. Therefore, you sank down on the floor half an hour ago, and you haven't lifted your gaze since.

Until now.

"You look lost."

Alex Serian, the star of the ensemble. If he weren't the most popular and best player of the orchestra, you would have assumed that he isn't playing tonight, given the way his eyes sparkle, his face missing the paleness of your face and that of the other members of the ensemble.

"Lost?" you ask weakly, slinging your arms around your knees while the chocolate bar starts melting in your hand.

"Yeah. Lost. What's your name?"

He does know that you're part of the orchestra too, doesn't he? Sure, the two of you haven't interacted before and you might be new, but your violin is right next to you and you're dressed in black like everyone else.

"Y/n," you speak shortly, taking a bite from the bar before it's a complete puddle in your palm. Alex repeats your name slowly as if to assess whether he likes it or not. Then, he pulls up a chair, plopping into it, which takes you by surprise.

"I – " you begin, but all it takes from the other man to cut you off is a raise of his brows.

"You're new. And you're nervous… I've come to believe that there is a correlation between the two things a lot of the time."

You're speechless, which is why you just stare up at him, feeling very uncertain and small all of a sudden.

"And you're young, of course. It makes an inconvenient combination."

You swallow the last bite quickly, forehead wrinkled as you try to come up with a response.

Alex seems… amused. Neither unsettled by the fact that he's about to get on stage and play principal cello, nor concerned about the state of your dilated pupils and trembling hands. Obviously, the chocolate bar has done nothing for you.

"Do you want any advice, sweetheart?"

With a sigh, he leans back in the chair, his hand casually resting on his thigh. Fuck, he looks much better than any person you have ever seen minutes before they hit the stage. You're more than familiar with tousled hair, running mascara, blotchy skin and glistening brows, but his hair looks angelic, his face is glowing and there is just the right shimmer sparkling on his pronounced cheekbones.

He must have some secret, because you refuse to believe that someone could be so confident in themselves that they don't carry an ounce of doubt in their heart. Which is why you nod slowly.

"Don't look at the crowd. When we walk in."

"What?" you chuckle humorlessly, tangling your fingers over your stomach.

"I'm being serious. I struggled with stage fright when I was younger. One of my mentors gave me the advice, and at first I laughed too. But it helps. You just ignore them. If you don't know who you have in front of you, there is no one you can disappoint. Except for the ensemble, of course. But… you're gonna have to live with that."

Alex's lips are still drawn as he looks you up and down, probably feeling pity for your pathetic sight. You probably precisely fit the prototype of a stressed out, overwhelmed maniac, your hair messy and your lips brittle from all the chewing.

"And where am I supposed to look? To the floor? And then fall on my nose?"

Taking a deep breath, the man across from you rises to his feet suddenly, leaning down to your level like he's talking to a child. His eyes are a dark brown, the transition of his irises to his pupils barely noticeable.

He's beautiful. You've already found that watching his marvelous performance on TV, but sitting in front of him, his face hovering above yours, you sense a whole different kind of grace and elegance he's capable of emitting.

"You could… look at me?"

With that, he's gone.

You only have to blink once, your heart skipping a beat at his raspy voice, and when your eyes scurry around the room, you notice that he has made his way to the other side of the room. All of that just in a matter of one flutter of your lashes.

Your hands are quivering even more now, your palms sweaty, but once the tightness in your throat dissolves, your mind is able to think of something else for the first time in many hours. Which you would consider a victory.

Fifteen minutes later, when it's time to go out on stage, the nervousness has returned and swallowed you like an inexorable wave. The kind that soaked you to your bones.

You're way beyond caring about what any of your new colleagues might think of your tense appearance and consider it your only goal to get through this night.

You're going to take care of the rest tomorrow or tonight after you've successfully walked off the stage without completely humiliating yourself.

When you're in line behind the others, you begin questioning your career choices, just like you always do right before a performance. You've always been good at math, and you didn't hate explaining easy calculations to your classmates growing up, so perhaps you should have just followed your dad's path and –

There is a hand on your naked shoulder.

You whirl around abruptly, nearly bumping into the person in front of you. That would be the final straw, not just ruining your own playing but one of your colleague's as well.

"Remember what I told you," Alex says calmly, rubbing a soothing circle over your arm, his head tilted to bring himself closer to your level. There are not many changes in his appearance except for the softness around his eyes that replaced the cockiness from earlier. For the first time, you're not certain that he's just mocking your anxiousness, which is why you allow him to hear your uneven panting.

"I'm – I don't know if I can do it. I really don't – "

You look down and shake your head rapidly, pinching the fabric of your dress between two fingers to make them stop shivering. You definitely can't play your violin like that. Normally, the trembling stops the second you sit down on stage, but tonight, you're not so sure about it.

"You can. And you will," Alex speaks, putting a finger under your chin to force you to meet his gaze.

"You will go out there and do a flawless job."

"But I don't know – "

"It doesn't matter if you know or not. You will, and that's all that matters."

"That's not – " you start again, but Alex just swipes over your shoulder one last time, lets go of your chin and then suddenly walks past you to take his place right in front of you.

"Look at me while we walk out. Not the audience. Just keep your eyes on me, remember to breathe, and no matter what happens, don't look at anyone else. Your hands are gonna know the rest."

He spoke those words quietly, not even bothering to turn toward you, but you understood him regardless.

"I really don't – " you whimper, but this time Alex doesn't have to cut you off for your voice to trail off.

What choice do you have? He's a seasoned, well-experienced concert cellist who has gone through stressful moments like this one far more often than you have, even though you can't picture him anxious, no matter how hard you try.

You're going to have to trust him.

Once the applause from the concert hall increases in volume and the door opens, Alex blindly reaches behind him to seize your wrist. His skin is warm and soft, but not so overheated that it would be uncomfortable.

You glare at the back of his head stubbornly, refusing to take in the impressively large crowd, hoping that Alex was right and it's going to save your performance.

He, on the other hand, keeps a tight grasp until he has to leave you to walk over to the cello section, but you're grateful for it. You don't wish to know what would have happened, how you would have collapsed or bumped into the person behind you on your way when your body refused to keep moving.

But that doesn't matter now. All that matters is right in front of you, or rather in your fingers that only shiver a little as they lower onto the strings of your violin.

You can feel the applause buzz in every vein, every fiber of your being, but in your prickling fingertips first and foremost.

For the very first time since you took your seat in the chair, you crane your neck to run your gaze over the audience, your stomach bubbling with excitement. The ranks are filled with what looks like countless heads and hands high up in the air. Clapping for you.

Obviously, not only for you but probably rather for Alex Serian, the star of the night, but it does kind of feel like it.

That is precisely the moment when you remember what you're doing all of this for, the purpose that you always tend to forget about in the hours leading up to a concert. The thrill, the heavy weight dropping off your heart the second you lower the bow and come to the realization that you played well without a single mistake.

You never consider your playing flawless and always find something to work on in the coming weeks, but the first relief still hits you like a tsunami, which you consider far more magnificent than any nervousness. Of course, it's easy to say right after the performance when your adrenaline and joy are running infinitely high, but you don't care. You're going to savor the happiness as long as it lasts because that's the kind of reward that only belongs to you.

As you stand up to bow for the cheering audience, your eyes catch Alex, who's seated to your left, in the center of the stage so he's visible to everyone in the crowd.

He gives you a smile that you surely surpass in intensity and brightness.

You did it. You mastered your first performance with your new orchestra, and it's all thanks to him and his advice. From this day forward, it's surely only going to get easier once you feel at home in this group of people.

You must have looked pretty silly wearing such a wide smile, your cheeks so naturally wrinkling at the corners of your mouth, but Alex just nods once and winks briefly.

It's not a clear, striking gesture, but pretending that it didn't happen would be naïve.

"Fucking hell…" he grunts against your cheekbone, backing you toward the wall until your head hits the hardness with a low thud.

He immediately reaches for you, cradling your face as if to silently apologize for being so rough with you. Not that you mind it. Everything is loud and itching, your toes, your fingers, your weak knees, your trembling hands, but first and foremost your brain.

It's a result of every event in the past few hours, but slowly but surely, you come to believe that it's mostly Alex's hands and hungry mouth taking control over your body.

He's taller than you realized earlier, his frame towering over you by many inches, and fuck, he smells good.

It was the first thing you noticed about half an hour ago when you hugged him, utterly swamped by relief and gratitude. Alex's massive hands rested on the small of your back, pressing you against his chest briefly before he made his tour to talk to the rest of the ensemble.

But then, a few minutes later, his palm returned to that very place again when you ran into him again backstage where everyone was chatting about the sensational night. He looked not nearly as exhausted and blissful as he did right after the curtains fell.

His eyes carried that sparkle again, lips cocked upward while he waited for you to answer him. He asked you if you were satisfied with yourself, and after you explained how you felt about your performance, where you lacked practice, there wasn't much else that was exchanged between the two of you before Alex guided you out of the room, through the corridor and to the staircase.

Everything was dark when he pulled you toward him by your wrist, catching your fall and putting his hands on your waist.

Submerged by adrenaline and jitteriness, you giggled against his lips at first, barely able to grasp what was happening, but when he first pushed you backward, your core clenched and your knees buckled. Alex shoved a leg between your thighs, pressed his hand to the side of your face, and that's how you ended up where you are right now.

Breathing heavily against his mouth, your fingers trail along the stitching of his jacket.

"You did well, sweetheart. Very well," he growls. His lips are parted, devouring your lips, your chin, your dimples and everything else that he can reach, but you're not any less eager. Everything about him is intoxicating. Starting with his addictive scent and ending with his whole magnetic charisma that pulls you into his orbit.

"I did?" you pant without being aware of what he actually just said.

"Yeah… You listened to my advice… And it helped, didn't it?" His hand clasps your chin tightly, holding you in place while his lips travel down your neck, sucking at your pulse point. After a brief hum, your fingers helplessly clawing at his broad shoulders, you nod a few times, bending your neck to watch him savor your flushed skin.

"I know it did… You almost seemed relaxed. But you rushed the entrance in the third movement. I didn't mind it. But Jenna unfortunately does…"

Your lips fall open, which gives Alex the opportunity to draw along the curve of your lip with his thumb.

"You noticed that?" you whisper reverently, eyes flitting up to his as he straightens up in front of you again.

"Of course I did, sweetheart. Let's say I felt… obliged to keep an eye on you. You were a mess."

Against your will, you blush at his words, which evokes deep laughter in Alex.

"Now, now… No reason to feel ashamed. It's a lot for someone new in the ensemble. You did well. Just keep in mind what I told you and slow down next time. Jenna's surely gonna mention it during the next practice." His lips are at the bone in your jaw, softly picking at your skin. "My advice? Mention it before she does. She's gonna like that."

"Huh," you moan, feeling his hand at your thigh, pushing up the fabric of your dress.

"Shhh… you're gonna have to stay quiet. You think you can do that? Keeping those pretty lips sealed?"

You don't even know what to focus on, his hand riding up your leg until it ghosts over the seam of your underwear, the tip of his thumb gently making its way past your lips, or his mouth on your neck. That's why your response is muffled.

"Please… Please, Alex," you whine and cringe as his thumb makes contact with your clit through your underwear.

"Oh Jesus… I didn't take you for the loud kind. Baby, you have to stay quiet or we're gonna have a second crowd for the evening in front of us. And you know… they don't really like this kind of partying. Especially if it includes one of the new lambs." He laughs deeply, the sound so appealing that you need a while to shift your attention to his words.

"So – So we shouldn't?" you murmur a lot more restrained now, spreading your legs wider to give his hand more room to explore your pussy.

"Of course we shouldn't, sweetheart. I thought that was clear. But that doesn't mean that we can't… mhm?"

He abruptly moves his mouth to the other side of your neck, pinning you into place. His thumb circles your bundle of nerves painfully slowly, which doesn't align at all with the content of his words. If the situation is as risky as he paints it to be, then he is supposed to hurry up, isn't he? There is not much time for extensive, exploratory touching, no matter how good it might feel.

"But – What if they're gonna find out? What's gonna happen?"

"Well, they're not gonna find out," Alex speaks like there's not a single thing in the world worrying him, pecking your collarbone with gentle kisses. "Don't worry about it. Everything's gonna work out…"

It's hard to say what you would have felt with the knowledge you gather in the following weeks after that moment. Sure, you would have been relieved knowing that Alex is beyond experienced when it comes to covering the things he does at the end of the night after having played a successful concert, but you might have felt sad and insignificant if you knew how many new musicians he fucked on their very first night. Perhaps you wouldn't have been that surprised considering he seemed so calm throughout it all, but you're positive that there would have been some disappointment.

Either way, in the moment, you moan against his thumb, rolling your hips to encourage him to touch your pulsing clit, but Alex has a mind of his own. He just trails his digit through your soaked slit, humming at the wetness he can feel through the thin layer, and brings his left hand to your throat.

"It's okay, darling. You're allowed to want this. You deserve it…" He skillfully tugs down your underwear until it dangles around your knees. The soft breeze wafting against your wet pussy lips makes your spine shiver, and you feel even more grateful for how close he's pressed against your body. Otherwise, you might have collapsed already, broken your wrist and been unable to play the violin again for a long time. And not seen Alex.

When you whimper, searching for his thumb that is still lightly resting against your mouth with your lips, it causes him to laugh out, clicking his tongue.

"Look at that… Not so nervous now. Go on, baby. Show me how you do it."

Fuck, his stance alone is enough to turn all of you into jelly.

"Good girl. Open wide."

You're melting under his dark eyes that look like coal in here. Your parted lips offer him more space to move his hand up and make his whole thumb disappear into your mouth. Meanwhile, he finally helps you relieve some of the pressure in your lower belly and rubs your clit in soothing patterns that don't feel so soothing considering that they make your hole clench.

"Nuh uh," Alex disapprovingly hums, throwing a glance down your body where you shift against the wall, searching for friction that's too far away to reach. "You're gonna have to relax, baby. Can you do that?"

"Mhm." You nod but refuse to let his thumb slip out of your mouth.

It's so thick and soft. Only the pad is rough and hard where calluses have formed over time from playing the cello.

He laughs condescendingly and pushes his finger a little deeper, carefully landing a slap on your pussy.

"I didn't think you would be so touch-starved, sweetheart… Go on, you're doing well. Exactly what my fingers need after such a long concert…"

Your lower body tensed at the sudden impact, but his thumb quickly makes up for it and presses into the underside of your clit with such precision that you writhe and wriggle against him, seeking something that you know you can only get with his blessing. He's the one capable of loosening the strain in your system. He's the one able to gift you the pleasure you need with a single snap of his fingers. The only question is whether he's willing to.

"Fuck… I'm enjoying this way too much, angel," Alex groans throatily, switching back to the other side of your neck that's probably sore and bruised by now. A problem for another day, you find.

"Suck my thumb, sweetheart. The harder you do it, the nicer I'll be to your pretty pussy."

You moan disapprovingly around his finger, arching off the wall with the little amount of freedom he grants you.

"I know, baby… I know it's not even her fault. But I never said I would be kind."

The next thing you know, two of his fingers, his middle and ring finger, are buried within you, filling you up so suddenly that you bite down on his thumb. For a moment, you're horrified, thinking you might have hurt him. The worst scenarios race through your head, him not being able to play the cello for weeks, losing his career, all because you couldn't control yourself. But no, Alex just chuckles condescendingly and glides his thumb over your front teeth.

"I didn't think you'd be such a nasty girl. Especially not after I found you in the corner like a terrified lamb. I was afraid I was gonna make you cry just stepping closer to you. Look at you now… Moaning around my thumb. What do you think happens when I pull it away?"

His thumb moves back a bit, and at the same time, he curls his fingers. You don't know if he's toying with you or not, but you do know that the noises you're going to let out if he removes his thumb are not meant to be bouncing off these high walls, carried toward the rest of the ensemble in the next room.

Therefore, you shake your head over and over while Alex's eyebrows are high up his face, lips pursed mischievously.

"No?"

"Mhmm," you mumble, hooking your little finger into the collar of his white button-up, trying to tug him closer, but you can't exert a lot of force with a single digit. Especially not while you're trying to move someone as massive as him.

"I want you to cum for me, baby. You can. I got my finger in your mouth, so you can just bite down on it. Look at me. It's okay, I'm gonna help you stay quiet."

A few drops of spit trickle down the corner of your mouth, dripping onto your cleavage, but that's a problem you're going to take care of later. For now, you just stare at him like he commanded you to, and to your great surprise, there's nothing awkward about it.

Before he puts in all his effort to make you reach your orgasm, Alex pulls back briefly to bring his hand to his mouth, sighing softly as he licks your juices off his finger. The view prompts you to whimper again, which makes heat rise in your cheeks.

"Good girl. You taste sweet. And now you're gonna let me take care of you. No holding back."

He straightens your posture, gently lifting your chin like your violin teacher used to do when you were slouching.

"Look at me and say it."

Alex withdraws his hand from your lips, a thread of drool connecting your mouth to his thumb, which he then smears all over your chin. It must be red with your lipstick by now, but you assume that if he wanted flawless, he wouldn't have led you in here in the first place.

"I won't hold back," you whisper, watching the smug satisfaction unfold in his features.

This time as Alex resumes his touch on your pussy, his other hand stays over your mouth, swallowing your small whines and wails. You can feel his hardness press against your thigh, and lord, he must be large, but for the moment, the only thing you can really perceive is the sensation against your sweet spot and the swift swipes over your nub.

You're a pliant mess in his arms. If he told you to sink to the floor right now, you would do it without hesitation. On the other hand, if he let go right now, you would beg him on your knees to continue.

"You're so warm, so wet, sweetheart... Making a goddamn mess on my hand."

Your lips are agape, spit gathering on his fingers.

"Don't let it get to your head... This doesn't mean you're not gonna have to earn your place here. But if you ask nicely, I might help you..."

His lips briefly connect with your hairline as he breathes in the scent of your hair, while his fingers grow more relentless and determined in what they're doing. Whereas he tried to tease you earlier, Alex has a goal now, and that is to get you over the edge.

It takes no more than a few more pumps in and out of your drenched cunt, the noises echoing off the walls like something straight out of a porno. It should have made your blood freeze with the fear of getting caught, but it doesn't, which is a fact you're scared of.

You've been working for this for months. You've put your whole heart into following your dream, and now you're pressed up against a wall by one of the most talented cellists - who's almost twice your age - which could end your career within seconds. You don't have to be a genius to figure out which one of you is more likely to be fired if it comes down to it.

You finally cum with a rather inelegant grunt, your blown, teary eyes fixed on him while your face grows hot. Knees trembling, you hold onto Alex's shirt, gripping the fabric until you're afraid it's going to tear.

"That's right... Cum for me, baby, let me see you. Yeah, there you go."

He tightens his hold around you, just in case you're actually going to collapse. Then he gently thrusts his fingers into you a few more times, his thumb still pressed against your clit.

When it starts aching, you squirm, toes wriggling in your heels. The heels that don't even make you reach his chin, which might be worth mentioning.

"Shh, darling, don't rush me. I'm just enjoying myself... And that happens rarely around here."

The way he's laughing confuses you, but Alex doesn't explain himself further. Instead, he keeps playing with your wetness, smearing it all over your cunt and inner thighs until you're scared you're ruining the floor beneath you.

"Alex..."

"There's that pout..." His hand clasps your jaw, tilting your head to the side as if to examine you from every angle. "That's not how you ask for something, is it?"

"Please."

"Please what? What do you want?"

"Aww, fuck..." you curse, your clit so overly sensitive that every small contact with his thumb feels like someone is setting your nerve endings on fire.

"I thought I told you to trust me earlier. I know how to handle a sweet little lamb like you... All eager to prove herself. So curious and ambitious. It's refreshing to see."

All of a sudden, his hand is gone, and the coldness engulfing your cunt is so abrupt that you can't help but regret flinching away from his touch.

But then Alex picks you up, one arm slung around your waist, the other under your butt. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist and comb through the baby hair at the back of his nape while he carries you toward the stairs.

He sits down with you on top of him, his back against the wall. It's so dark here in the back that you doubt anyone would see you even if they walked straight past you. Then again, it's your noises you're mostly worried about.

"So pretty... You're dressed nicely, but I get it. It's your first concert with this ensemble. You wanted to look beautiful, didn't you?"

His left hand shamelessly roams up your front, cupping your breast through your black dress and bra, while his right is busy somewhere below.

"Pull it down, sweetheart. That's a good girl, yeah... I want you to play with your pretty chest, alright? Do you know how?"

You nod, shifting a little closer to him to ensure that he can see you in the dark.

"Good..." Alex snarls.

There is more movement below him, and you hope it means that he's about to fuck you, but you wouldn't mind stroking his manhood too, if he wanted you to. When you hear plastic being ripped open, you glance down, your hair falling over your shoulders.

"My eyes are up here. I told you to play with your chest, baby... I don't see you doing that. Come on, don't make me ask you twice."

Reluctantly, you pinch your nipple, moaning softly while you knead your breasts. You feel a tad ridiculous since Alex doesn't even have his eyes on you most of the time and instead seems completely occupied with pulling a condom over his cock.

"There you go. Treat them nicely, baby. They open a lot of doors for you if you use them well."

Before you can reply, his mouth is on yours again, shoving you backward only to hold onto the small of your back so you don't fall off his lap. The next thing you feel is his cock tapping against your entrance as if to ask for permission to enter you.

"Deep breath for me, honey. You know how to do that. You did it so well for me earlier."

He rewards you with another "that's right" as you relax your walls and then feel a pressure spreading from your heat all the way up to your ribs.

You had no way to gauge how large he might be or how much sweat and strain it was going to take for you to open up to him, but from the feel of it, he can't be small. Your pussy stretches for him, but it takes a second to adjust to him, which is why you tense your thighs and restrain yourself from sinking onto him in one go.

"What a good little pussy... Fuck, baby. You're tight. Tight and sweet and pretty... Don't know what more I could ask for."

Alex reaches around to give your butt a soft smack, causing your insides to clench.

"Fuck. Fuck, it's - oh gosh..."

You throw your head back, but before you can remember what he told you, he already grabs a few strands of your hair and guides you back into place.

"Jesus Christ, you turn into a brainless brat faster than I can snap my fingers. You focus right here."

You start rolling your hips slowly, hissing through gritted teeth every time he hits deep inside you. It's not like he's impossibly long - rather, he's thick - but somehow, he has the talent of being everywhere all at once, which has to do with his thumb circling your clit like he has some unfinished business there and his other hand sliding along your upper body, mostly your breasts.

"Spit in my palm, angel," he rumbles after a while, his voice gravelly and deeper than before. He uses your drool to lubricate your chest and make his touch smoother. But as your eyes grow wide, your breath staggering at the obscenity of his actions, laughter boils in his lungs.

"Mhmm, filthy, isn't it? You're thinking just because you and I are wearing pretty clothes, this would be refined and neat. But look at your poor nipple. Already sore. We don't want you to hurt, though, mhm?"

Alex breaks your rhythm with a sharp thrust, and as the twirls of his thumb around your clit become faster as well, you lose all sense of time and place, and definitely can't keep up the steady grinds of your hips against his.

"I know, baby... Deep breaths for me. I know it's a lot, but you can take it. You're a tough girl, you can take deep breaths for me. Yeah... In and out. Fuck, you're pretty like that. Your sweet tits bouncing for me."

He cups one and kisses the other, circling the stiff bud with his rough tongue. It's soft and uneven at the same time, bordering on the exhilarating line between pain and pleasure.

"I'm gonna fuck you well, honey, don't worry. It's okay, I'm gonna take care of it, and you relax. You've been through too much already, isn't that right?"

From the content of his words, you would have presumed that he genuinely cares, but there is too much light playfulness in his tone to buy it.

"Yeah..." Alex continues nonetheless, fucking into you from below, his balls squeezed against your butt every time he pulls you all the way down his dick.

"You poor thing just wants to relax for a bit. And here I am dragging you out here..."

"No," you quickly protest, hands wandering down his chest and stomach. Fuck, you should have demanded that he undress as well, but you didn't find the time or the capacity to both hold yourself together and voice requests.

"I need it. I need it so much, Alex, please..."

"Yeah, I know you do. You can still relax with my cock inside you."

He reaches that special spot within you again, and fuck, you feel like you could go up in flames just from the stimulation alone.

"A-Alex - I - Fuck, I -"

"Yeah, you're gonna cum again, I know. I knew that's just what you need, cumming around my cock like a good girl."

His lips are twisted, and there is nothing hinting at the fact that he's anywhere close to emptying his balls. Then again, his cock is uncontrollably throbbing inside you, so that's either a normal reaction or he's just very good at concealing the pleasure he experiences.

For the next few minutes, Alex holds you down by your waist and is the only one choosing how fast his thick length fills you and how long he remains buried within you.

Even though it feels a bit strange to be on top while still being utterly motionless in the beginning, you appreciate being able to catch your breath and not being scared of messing up. It's a mystery to you how he manages to both keep a steady rhythm and circle your clit at the same time, but there is a reason why he's one of the most talented and acclaimed cellists in all of America. He's good with his hands, and apparently he's just as good with his cock.

"Cum for me, baby."

The hand on your waist lifts to rest on the side of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. Whatever you might have choked out gets stuck in your throat, your body slouching, and when you reach your peak, even Alex can't stop you from breaking eye contact to rest your forehead against his shoulder.

He tenderly fucks you through your high, shushing you whenever you squeal or whimper, but for the most part, he just hums to himself and moves you up and down his member like a ragdoll.

His hand rests at the back of your neck now, cradling you against his shoulder, but that only lasts until Alex starts chasing his high as well. In the beginning, your overstimulated pussy protests and quivers, but that only seems to spur him on even more, resulting in a loud grunt followed by many small groans.

Alex cums inside the condom, and although you should know better after two satisfying orgasms, you can't help but wish there was no rubber between your bodies. You can only guess how warm and sticky his seed might be, but you know for a fact that you would have loved to feel it against your walls. Well, maybe next time.

He holds onto the side of your head throughout his high, snarling inaudible things that might be curses or praises of your beauty, but when he lifts his head again, his thumb twitching against your cheekbone, the wrinkles around his eyes are softer.

"Holy shit... Who would've thought, mhm?"

"Who would've thought what?" You smile and place your hands at the base of his neck, wishing you had been wiser and taken off his shirt earlier. You hardly even saw anything, not even his cock.

"That you were hiding all of this underneath that dress. I can tell that I made a good decision taking you back here, mhm?" Alex smacks your butt again, then strokes up the back of your thigh. "Go on, sweetheart. Time to get back to the others, or else they're gonna find us here. And that wouldn't look too good on me... I made a promise after the last one."

The last one?

Your eyebrows draw together, your dry mouth gathering enough spit to ask him the meaning of his words, but Alex is faster and helps you rise from his lap. Your knees and thighs are so feeble that your legs almost instantly give out, which causes him to click his tongue.

"You better behave yourself, sweetheart. People are not gonna believe that your legs turned to jelly from playing the violin for two hours."

You silently pull at the straps of your black dress. The spit he smeared all over your chest has dried by now, but you can't say the same about your pussy. At least no one's going to see it now that your underwear safely covers your cunt again.

"And - And what now?" you whisper once you're dressed.

Alex's shoulders drop, his hand reaching out to bring some order to the mess on top of your head.

"Now we're going back to the others. And we're gonna act like nothing happened because we both don't have any interest in the others finding out about this. I can promise you that much."

It's not at all what you meant by your question, but you have no idea how to rephrase it so he understands.

"You think you can do that? Or do I have to get you to the bathroom so we can splash some cold water on your face?"

"No. It's fine."

He nods once, then turns toward the end of the staircase. Right before he leaves you alone in the dark, you collect all the courage inside your body and clear your throat.

"Alex?"

Alex Serian, the star cellist, one of the most talented people you've ever had the privilege of meeting, halts, his hand on the railing of the staircase.

"What?"

"Are you - I mean, we - What does it mean for... for us?"

"For us?" A smile creeps onto his lips, his forehead creased. "Honey, it means that I just found out that you have a very nice and very tight pussy and that we shouldn't get tricked by the clothes you usually wear to rehearsal."

He waits for you to answer, but since you don't, he sighs, walks back to you and cups your chin.

"You're not satisfied with that? You think because I fucked you on that staircase, it means I'm gonna take you out to dinner tomorrow? Oh sweetheart..."

He leans in to kiss your brow, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You're adorable. But unfortunately, I don't do dating. No matter how soft a pussy they have. You're gonna understand. I wouldn't recommend going on dates with people you work with anyway."

Alex's pupils scurry over your features a few more times, taking in the pucker of your lips and the sparkle in your eyes, indicating that you're not far from bursting into tears.

You just can't help it. The day has been exhausting and nerve-racking, you made a wonderful acquaintance with one of your greatest role models, and now that very man fucked you in the hallway only to tell you that he doesn't do dating. What are you supposed to make of this?

It felt so fucking good.

He must have felt that way too, or why else would you feel like the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces?

You sat silently by the table, your spoon stirring the porridge Joel had prepared for you.

Five times clockwise, five times against the clock… The food looked nice and it tasted good as well, but you couldn't quite get over the fact that Joel and you had run out of maple syrup as you usually added a tablespoon on top.

"That's a lot of stirring."

You looked up at the sound of his voice.

"Is everything okay?"

"No. There is no maple syrup," you answered and tilted your bowl to show him proof.

"I know. I prepared it, sweetheart."

Your jaw locked, teeth grinding, which made a muscle next to your mouth feather.

"Breathe, darlin'… Breathe for me, c'mon."

You followed his advice and had to admit that it felt good to fill your lungs with that much oxygen whereas your panting had felt shallow and flat just a moment ago.

"Are you nervous?"

"About what?"

Joel leaned back in his chair, sipping on his coffee, which caused a delicious nutty scent to spread through the living room. You loved the smell of that inky liquid, but you detested the taste, which was why your mug was filled with cinnamon tea.

"About patrol."

"No, I'm not. I'm prepared. I talked to Tommy about everything, I know what route we're gonna take, I have all my stuff packed. Why should I be?"

You scooped up a spoonful of porridge and brought it to your lips.

"I know. You're prepared, darling, and there's nothin' you have to worry about. But I was askin' about how you're feelin'. About how fast your heart's beatin'… If there's any pricklin' or tinglin'."

"Oh," you made, taking a beat to go within yourself and analyze your emotions like Joel and you had practiced together many times before.

"I think I am a little," you replied in the end and ate another generous spoonful of porridge. It did taste better over time once you stopped thinking about what you could have had if there had been any maple syrup left.

"That's okay. Can you tell me how bad it is?"

"Mhmm… a six maybe?"

Joel nodded in understanding, then reached for your free hand, which you allowed him to grab. He drew soft circles over your wrist, which always made you smile gently as the sensation bordered between a tickle and pure tenderness.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to. No one's gonna be disappointed if you don't do it."

"I know," you said, shrugging. Joel had repeated it many times, and so had Tommy and Maria and quite literally every person you had spoken to about it. And you had talked to many people. Obviously to every single person accompanying you today during your first patrol, as well as other seasoned members of the community who you had hoped could give you some advice. So yes, you knew that you could just stay home if that was what you wanted.

"But I wanna do it, Joel. I need to do this on my own."

Something about his stance irritated you. He looked at you like he felt sorry for you, like you were heading right to your personal downfall but just didn't know it the way he did.

"I know, sweetheart… I'm just concerned about you, you know?"

"There's no reason to be concerned, Joel," you answered, looking at your bowl, which you scraped out in order not to let a single oat flake go to waste. You needed the strength for the long day.

"You know that I'm well-prepared, I spoke to Tommy, Maria, Arthur, Jane, Lily, Ny and George. And I had a lot of training."

"I know all that, baby," Joel whispered and squeezed your hand, which made you look at him at last. "I'm not concerned about you not having the skills to do this. 'Cause I know you do. But what if you get overwhelmed? Or if it's too much and you – you won't have me around to help ya."

Your upper lip twitched while you avoided his dark eyes. Sometimes, you liked looking back at him, when there was something deeply grounding and comforting about the color of his eyes. It was somewhere between a dark brown, but there were also green particles. Other times, it was too much, too intense to feel them on your face, like you were staring straight at the sun without any sunglasses. Exactly like right now.

"There is a chance that this is gonna happen. But I – I wanna do it. I wanna be brave and we – talked about taking risks. Breaking routines sometimes. And this is why I need to do it. Without you. Just on my own."

"I'm proud of you, darling."

Your gaze flew back to him, but it settled on the space between his eyebrows, as it was easier for you to focus on, you had learned.

"I'm so incredibly proud of you."

"Thank you," you whispered, squeezing his hand back firmly.

"Just promise me you're gonna take care of yourself. And talk to Tommy when something's triggerin' you. He'll know what to do. Not as well as I would, but it's better than nothin'."

"I know what to do too," you immediately claimed, causing Joel's smile to widen.

"I know you do, sweetheart. I know you're tougher than any of us, which is why these feelings that I have are so irrational and stupid. But do you know what they mean?"

Your brain worked hard, trying to figure out what the answer to his question might be, but when you had ruled out the option of him being unaware of how good you were able to take care of yourself, you shook your head.

"They mean that I love you. A lot."

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, your mouth curling automatically and your stomach fluttering like it always did when Joel said things like that.

Phrases that normally had a similar effect on your body were You look beautiful as well as You're the most important person to me. He had said the latter only twice to you so far in your relationship, but you had kept it in the back of your mind after your toes had so relentlessly curled and you hadn't quite been able to breathe steadily.

"I love you too," you whispered and bit down on your bottom lip while Joel lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it.

"I like when you do this," you then admitted and excitedly tapped your feet on the ground.

"Yes?" Joel murmured and touched your hand again and again, on your knuckles, your wrist, your fingertips until you felt like you were about to explode from all that happiness bubbling in your stomach. You laughed and grinned at him, watched him spoil your hand until your cheeks hurt, and then Joel dropped it again carefully.

"I hate that you're gonna leave," your boyfriend spoke while he stood up and carried his and your bowl to the kitchen sink.

"I'm not leaving," you scoffed and grabbed your cup that you always drank from after your breakfast. You hated it when different flavors mixed, which was why you also always ate one type of vegetable and one side dish after the other.

"I'm coming back at 5 o'clock. Maybe even 4, but Tommy said he can't always plan the time exactly because it depends on if everyone's gonna be on time and if there's gonna be any trouble on the route."

"I know," Joel uttered while he started cleaning the dishes. "I just hate that you're not gonna spend the day with me here. I'm gonna miss ya, sweetheart."

You blushed again. Right, you always reacted to that phrase as well, but it wasn't as profound as the other ones. There was just a little bit of warmth surging into your face, maybe some tingles in your fingertips.

"I'm gonna miss you too… Do you think it was a mistake?" You sat up straight at once, curiously looking at the back of his head.

"Goin' on patrol?"

"No." You shook your head.

"Well, what do you mean then?" Joel asked.

"I meant going without you."

He sighed heavily, putting down the sponge and leaning over the kitchen sink to look at you.

"Of course I would've liked to come with you… Selfishly. But objectively, I think it's the best thing to do."

"Why?"

"'Cause you told me that you wanted to do this on your own. That you wanted to go on patrol without any assistance, without anyone treatin' you differently. And I think it's a good idea to try new things and take on that challenge."

"Yes…" you murmured, scrunching up your nose. "I did."

"You wanna give me a kiss, sweetheart?"

Your lips contorted as you processed his words, hands impatiently drumming on the table.

"Yes."

He tasted like coffee, which you enjoyed. Sure, you didn't like drinking coffee for the taste, but somehow it was a different case when you could sense the hint of that nuttiness on his lips.

When Joel pulled back, he put a hand on your face, cradling you gently.

"I love you so much. And I know you're gonna do amazing."

Joel stirred his coffee, the second one today. He had wanted to wait for you, so that the two of you could sit together while you told him all about patrol, but he had begun feeling tired in the afternoon.

He peeked at his watch again, taking in the slowly moving minute hand. It moved too slowly for his taste.

Joel had planned on fully trusting you, sitting back and calmly waiting for you to come back, but at this point, he couldn't deny feeling nervous. Not that he wasn't convinced you were doing a good job. But goddamnit, he knew you, and there was always something unexpected that could happen on a patrol. And since you weren't always able to handle surprises so well, he found his anxiousness to be justified.

By the time the clock struck 4, Joel tensed up visibly. From now on, he might hear the door any second. He poured himself a second cup of coffee to distract himself, then stood up to circle the table.

4:12. Shit, what if it took until 5? How could he possibly wait until then?

By 4:28 Joel started setting the table and heated some water to prepare you a cup of tea upon your arrival.

Just when he had filled the mug with boiling water, he heard something. Finally. Joel quickly put the cup on the table, placed the box of cookies Maria had brought over the other day next to it and sat back down on his chair, the tip of his foot tapping on the floor nervously.

Then, he finally saw you, opening the door to the living room. Your hair was messy and a little wet at the crown. You took heavy, labored breaths that at first made him think that you were just exhausted. Because you had been calm at first, at least that was how Joel remembered it later.

You sniffled once, eyes nearly completely shut, and tugged at the straps of your backpack. That was the moment he realized that something was off.

"Baby? Are you okay?" he whispered and stood up slowly.

Your breathing became more shallow, sucking in large portions of air while your fingers fumbled with your bag. It seemed like the straps had caught on your hair that had been put up in a ponytail when you had left the house. But now it was falling down your shoulders, which caused Joel to hurry.

He was by your side immediately, his hands flying up to the thin strands that were wrapped around the buckles of your rucksack. By the time his fingers were touching your hair, you were trembling badly, a few first tears streaming down your face while your eyes unfocusedly scurried across his frame and your other surroundings.

"I'm right here, sweetpea. I'm here, I'm just gonna help your hair get loose."

He made sure to fully be in your view so that you wouldn't get startled by any sudden contact. He also avoided touching you anywhere else aside from the hair he intended to free from your straps, as the key during a moment like that was to reduce sensory load and shut down any noises or scents. But before he could take care of the open door, he had to get this goddamn backpack off you.

You were crying hysterically now, shivering like a leaf in the wind, which made a lump appear in his throat. He tried to swallow it quietly, turn down his own panicked breathing as well so there wouldn't be any more noise disturbing you. Everything had to be silent for you to be able to calm from the meltdown.

Finally, he was finished. Joel quickly slid the rucksack off your shoulders and let it drop next to the door, closing it in the same motion. Then, after switching off the lights in the house, he appeared in your sight again, careful not to be too close but showing you that he was there for you.

"I-I can't – Joel, I – I couldn't – " His heart broke at your frail, stammering voice, though he was glad that you were at least speaking. He could tell that a panic attack was particularly bad when you couldn't even get out a single word. And the fact that you were addressing him by his name was a good sign too, as it indicated that you weren't too far away from him mentally.

"It's okay. I'm right here, baby, it's okay. Do you want to sit down? On the floor?" His voice was quiet and measured, without many highs and lows in his volume. Stability and steadiness… that was what you needed right now.

You nodded frantically and sank to the parquet floor beneath you, pulling your knees to your chest and planting your hands flat on the ground. In moments like this, Joel knew better than to guide you to the couch as the fabric tended to overstimulate you during a bad meltdown. And then there were all the pillows, the carpet in front of the couch, the sun shining through the window that occasionally tickled your skin in an upsetting way. The parquet, on the other hand, was hard, even and sleek.

You were always quite sensitive to different materials. There were textures that you couldn't stand in general, no matter if you were feeling well or panicky like in that moment. For example, velvet and fleece.

Now that you were sitting on the floor, Joel knelt down in front of you, keeping his voice down as he spoke to you.

"Do you need to take more clothes off? Is this bothering you?"

He looked down at the tight lacing of your boots, then at your jacket that you had pulled up all the way to your chin to protect yourself from the cold.

"I – I don't – " you panted, bringing a hand to your neck.

"It's okay, it's okay. I'm here, you see? I'm right here, darling. Whatever you need, I'm gonna help you. Look at me."

Finally, your erratic gaze settled on him for an instant, though your chest was still heaving rapidly.

"Sh-Shoes, Joel," you stuttered, your fingers curled into tight fists while your eyes pinched shut again.

Shit… He had to keep your attention on him, make you look back at him. Joel's skilled fingers unknotted the shoelace effortlessly, although it took him a minute as you always tied two double knots that wouldn't accidentally come off even if you walked through deep snow.

Then, he quickly pulled them off your feet, planted them underneath the coatrack in a neat line and took care of your jacket next. You hadn't explicitly asked him to help you take it off, but given the way you tugged at the collar around your throat, he assumed that it was part of the reason for your meltdown.

Your body was still shivering uncontrollably once the fabric was off, little breathy sobs leaving your throat while your toes were rapidly curling and uncurling like you were fighting an invisible danger. Now that you weren't struggling with the jacket any longer, you put your hands over your ears, quietening any noise that might drift in from the open window, such as children's laughter and birds' singing. Joel quickly rushed toward it and closed it, additionally drawing the curtains so that the bright light wouldn't trigger you.

"It's okay," he uttered as soon as he sat in front of you again, offering you his hands like it was the most natural thing in the world. And you grabbed them immediately, holding onto his wrists to ground yourself the way you liked to do during a panic attack. You dug your nails into his flesh with light force, enough to leave a sting, but he could handle it. Of course he could handle it if it meant it helped you in any way.

"J-Joel, I – I can't – I – should've – "

"Darlin', it's okay," he hushed you while scanning the room to see if there was anything else that might overwhelm you that he hadn't noticed yet.

No… all windows were closed, there weren't any more noise sources, he had switched off the lights and you were sitting on the parquet floor with most of your restraining clothing off your body. You hit your foot on the floor, which Joel let happen without a word. Sometimes your body moved without warning during a meltdown, and as long as there was no reason to think that you were about to hurt yourself, he didn't interfere as it normally was the worst thing he could do.

"I'm here. It's okay," he spoke again, sensing that you were reacting to his words, given the way your eyes flickered toward him. "You're okay. It's just me, you see?"

He gave you a gentle, reassuring smile even though his stomach cramped seeing your parted lips that desperately tried to catch more air than was needed. It seemed like your breathing was still unsteady, something within your chest blocking you from inhaling normally.

"Breathe with me?"

You squeezed his hands firmly, but then, after a couple more minutes, Joel noticed how you were starting to take on his breathing patterns. Everything happened slowly like it usually did, but you were making progress, which was all that mattered to him. He would gladly spend hours on the ground with you if it meant he was helping you deal with your distress.

Your breathing became more regular gradually, and after a while, even your crying stopped. It took a lot longer for your body's shaking to stop, and the same went for the way you bit down on your bottom lip, but even that motion became better soon.

"You're doing so good, sweetheart… It's okay. Everything's okay."

You gasped and briefly let go of his hand to press yours over your chest.

"I messed up," you whimpered, shaking your head frantically while the muscles next to your eyes twitched relentlessly, lids fluttering.

"You didn't mess up. You're doing so well, baby."

"No, I did," you hissed, cheeks turning red with anger. You were rocking yourself back and forth like the panic was still so overwhelming you needed to move in order to let it run free and release yourself from it.

"I – I messed up everything, I couldn't eat the food that I brought with me, I – I shouted at Tommy when he told me I could only continue the patrol if I e-eat something, I couldn't go through the little forest by the river with Lucas and – and in the end, I snapped at Tommy again because he was riding too slowly, and I told him to go faster, but he didn't and so I got angry."

Joel took a deep breath.

He knew that you needed and that you deserved to talk to him about all these things, but he was also positive that for now, his job was to calm you. Assure you that for the moment, everything was fine. That every problem that you felt the need to discuss could be postponed to a later time.

"I understand that," Joel whispered and squeezed your hand once. It was a method the two of you had come up with, it had a soothing and grounding effect on you, but it was also a way to communicate during a panic attack. He squeezed your hand as a silent question, just asking you to do it back so he knew your body was responding to him. Fortunately, he felt a light pressure around his knuckles and took it as his sign to continue talking to you.

"I understand you. How about we talk about all that later? Just the two of us. Would that be okay with you?" Making you feel seen, reminding you that you were in charge, giving you options, making you feel like you were in control of everything that was happening around you such asthe lights, the noises and every other sensory input rather than being at their mercy.

"Later? How late?" you asked, pressing your toes against the parquet.

"Whenever you want. You decide."

"At 7?" you muttered, finally settling your eyes on him again without looking away every few seconds.

"Yes."

"Where?" you asked next.

"On the couch?"

"No." You shook your head, furrowing your brow.

"Where would you like to talk about it?" Joel asked calmly, letting you tighten your grasp around his hands.

"Kitchen table."

"Alright. We're gonna do it at the kitchen table."

"And now I want to take a shower," you breathed, dropping his hands at once.

"Of course. Do you want me to help you with anything?" Joel watched as you rose to your feet, still a little weak on your knees, but the sudden switch in your behavior wasn't something rare for you. He was just glad he had managed to pull you out of your stress relatively quickly, even though he knew that before he had discussed what had happened today with you, there was still a chance the emotions might overwhelm you again.

At his words, you stopped, considering his question for a moment before heading for the staircase. "No."

At 7 o'clock, Joel and you sat next to each other at the table, your elbows planted on the surface. You were clearly feeling better now, which he had noticed the moment you had left the bathroom, seeing that your steps weren't as hurried as before.

The shower had given you the opportunity to clean your skin, wipe off the dirt that might have splashed onto your ankles and successfully fight the coldness clinging to your body like a second skin.

Now, you were sitting next to him in fresh clothes, your hair still a little damp.

Joel waited. He always wanted you to initiate conversations like this, reestablishing the idea that everything was in your hands, and that nothing was going to happen or be said that you weren't comfortable with.

"I brought chaos into the group, I slowed everyone down and I wasn't a help at all. I should never go on patrols again, Joel. And the others probably think so as well. This was a terrible idea."

You took a sip of your tea, giving him the time to think about a reply.

"You're still learning," he said at last, causing your brow to wrinkle.

"I was learning over the past weeks while I was training to go on patrol. I was wrong when I said that I was ready. I shouldn't be learning while I'm on patrol. It's about trusting the people you're out there with, having each other's backs and supporting each other."

Joel knew exactly where you had gotten those words from. Tommy. He gave every person that exact speech and it seemed like you had etched it into your brain, word by word.

"You did an amazing job going out there. It was the bravest thing I've ever seen in my life. You were nervous about it, you were scared, but you did it. Just look at you, sweetheart. Look at where we were six months ago. Do you think you would've believed it if someone had told you back then that you would go on patrol six months later?"

"I shouldn't have gone on patrol," you insisted through clenched teeth, taking a deep breath. "I slowed everyone down, I wasn't any help at all and I screamed at everyone, but most importantly at Tommy. And he said once that he doesn't like loud noises, just like I do, and back then I told him that I didn't like loud noises either, and today I just ignored it and didn't think about it, and now I've caused him pain because I screamed at him."

Joel let you talk patiently, and only when you were done did he offer you his hand, which you took.

"Tommy is gonna be alright, sweetheart. You were so brave today. And the fact that you stayed until the end of patrol, that you got out there beyond the walls of this city is something I'm so proud of you for. I'm so fuckin' proud of you. I understand that you're upset about these things, but all of this takes time. Progress needs time. Today you went out there, which is such a big step. And if you wanna keep tryin', if you wanna go on patrol again, you're gonna take more steps, you're gonna keep makin' progress. We talked about all this before… You're doin' so well, baby. You're doin' so much, you're putting in so much effort. But stuff like that can't be changed overnight. I promise you, you did so wonderful. I'm proud of you and I love you."

Joel noticed your shoulders tense at the last three words, though it indicated joy rather than distress.

"But how am I gonna make progress if I just get scared straight away? I couldn't eat my food, Joel. I wanted to, but my stomach was so tight and I felt sick."

"It's gonna get better, sweetheart, I promise. Next time, you might be able to eat a little bit. And the time after that, you might notice a few trees that look familiar. And after that, you might associate a song with the landscape, which you can hum in your head. And that will make you calmer and you might enjoy the view. And after that, maybe your body doesn't feel tight anymore and you can eat. These are all slow steps, but they count, and they're important. Just please believe me when I say that today was an incredible step. Do you believe it? Do you believe me when I say that I'm proud of you?"

"Yes…" you mumbled, resting your chin on your palm. "I would like to apologize to Tommy tomorrow and then try it again. But I wanna do it with the same group hopefully. I think it's gonna be easier."

Joel nodded encouragingly while still holding your hand. "I think so too."

"Can I have a hug now?" you asked next and smiled when Joel shifted his chair back.

"Of course, baby."

After closing the distance between the two of you, you slung your arms around his neck and pressed your face against the crook of it, keeping it buried there for a minute. Joel threaded his fingers through your hair soothingly, allowing you to tighten your grip whenever you liked until you pulled away, wearing a broad smile that reached your eyes and made them appear all shiny and glossy.

"I love you too, by the way. I didn't say that earlier."

He grinned, crossing his legs while you sat back down. "I'm glad, baby."

"Can you say it again?"

You folded your hands in front of you on the table, looking at him expectantly. Joel cleared his throat, thinking that there was nothing in the world easier than what you had just asked for.

"I love you."

The smile that your features drew was genuine, your shoulders at ease now and your expression calmer than it had been at any point since your arrival.

You sat silently by the table, your spoon stirring the porridge Joel had prepared for you.

Five times clockwise, five times against the clock… The food looked nice and it tasted good as well, but you couldn't quite get over the fact that Joel and you had run out of maple syrup as you usually added a tablespoon on top.

"That's a lot of stirring."

You looked up at the sound of his voice.

"Is everything okay?"

"No. There is no maple syrup," you answered and tilted your bowl to show him proof.

"I know. I prepared it, sweetheart."

Your jaw locked, teeth grinding, which made a muscle next to your mouth feather.

"Breathe, darlin'… Breathe for me, c'mon."

You followed his advice and had to admit that it felt good to fill your lungs with that much oxygen whereas your panting had felt shallow and flat just a moment ago.

"Are you nervous?"

"About what?"

Joel leaned back in his chair, sipping on his coffee, which caused a delicious nutty scent to spread through the living room. You loved the smell of that inky liquid, but you detested the taste, which was why your mug was filled with cinnamon tea.

"About patrol."

"No, I'm not. I'm prepared. I talked to Tommy about everything, I know what route we're gonna take, I have all my stuff packed. Why should I be?"

You scooped up a spoonful of porridge and brought it to your lips.

"I know. You're prepared, darling, and there's nothin' you have to worry about. But I was askin' about how you're feelin'. About how fast your heart's beatin'… If there's any pricklin' or tinglin'."

"Oh," you made, taking a beat to go within yourself and analyze your emotions like Joel and you had practiced together many times before.

"I think I am a little," you replied in the end and ate another generous spoonful of porridge. It did taste better over time once you stopped thinking about what you could have had if there had been any maple syrup left.

"That's okay. Can you tell me how bad it is?"

"Mhmm… a six maybe?"

Joel nodded in understanding, then reached for your free hand, which you allowed him to grab. He drew soft circles over your wrist, which always made you smile gently as the sensation bordered between a tickle and pure tenderness.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to. No one's gonna be disappointed if you don't do it."

"I know," you said, shrugging. Joel had repeated it many times, and so had Tommy and Maria and quite literally every person you had spoken to about it. And you had talked to many people. Obviously to every single person accompanying you today during your first patrol, as well as other seasoned members of the community who you had hoped could give you some advice. So yes, you knew that you could just stay home if that was what you wanted.

"But I wanna do it, Joel. I need to do this on my own."

Something about his stance irritated you. He looked at you like he felt sorry for you, like you were heading right to your personal downfall but just didn't know it the way he did.

"I know, sweetheart… I'm just concerned about you, you know?"

"There's no reason to be concerned, Joel," you answered, looking at your bowl, which you scraped out in order not to let a single oat flake go to waste. You needed the strength for the long day.

"You know that I'm well-prepared, I spoke to Tommy, Maria, Arthur, Jane, Lily, Ny and George. And I had a lot of training."

"I know all that, baby," Joel whispered and squeezed your hand, which made you look at him at last. "I'm not concerned about you not having the skills to do this. 'Cause I know you do. But what if you get overwhelmed? Or if it's too much and you – you won't have me around to help ya."

Your upper lip twitched while you avoided his dark eyes. Sometimes, you liked looking back at him, when there was something deeply grounding and comforting about the color of his eyes. It was somewhere between a dark brown, but there were also green particles. Other times, it was too much, too intense to feel them on your face, like you were staring straight at the sun without any sunglasses. Exactly like right now.

"There is a chance that this is gonna happen. But I – I wanna do it. I wanna be brave and we – talked about taking risks. Breaking routines sometimes. And this is why I need to do it. Without you. Just on my own."

"I'm proud of you, darling."

Your gaze flew back to him, but it settled on the space between his eyebrows, as it was easier for you to focus on, you had learned.

"I'm so incredibly proud of you."

"Thank you," you whispered, squeezing his hand back firmly.

"Just promise me you're gonna take care of yourself. And talk to Tommy when something's triggerin' you. He'll know what to do. Not as well as I would, but it's better than nothin'."

"I know what to do too," you immediately claimed, causing Joel's smile to widen.

"I know you do, sweetheart. I know you're tougher than any of us, which is why these feelings that I have are so irrational and stupid. But do you know what they mean?"

Your brain worked hard, trying to figure out what the answer to his question might be, but when you had ruled out the option of him being unaware of how good you were able to take care of yourself, you shook your head.

"They mean that I love you. A lot."

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, your mouth curling automatically and your stomach fluttering like it always did when Joel said things like that.

Phrases that normally had a similar effect on your body were You look beautiful as well as You're the most important person to me. He had said the latter only twice to you so far in your relationship, but you had kept it in the back of your mind after your toes had so relentlessly curled and you hadn't quite been able to breathe steadily.

"I love you too," you whispered and bit down on your bottom lip while Joel lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it.

"I like when you do this," you then admitted and excitedly tapped your feet on the ground.

"Yes?" Joel murmured and touched your hand again and again, on your knuckles, your wrist, your fingertips until you felt like you were about to explode from all that happiness bubbling in your stomach. You laughed and grinned at him, watched him spoil your hand until your cheeks hurt, and then Joel dropped it again carefully.

"I hate that you're gonna leave," your boyfriend spoke while he stood up and carried his and your bowl to the kitchen sink.

"I'm not leaving," you scoffed and grabbed your cup that you always drank from after your breakfast. You hated it when different flavors mixed, which was why you also always ate one type of vegetable and one side dish after the other.

"I'm coming back at 5 o'clock. Maybe even 4, but Tommy said he can't always plan the time exactly because it depends on if everyone's gonna be on time and if there's gonna be any trouble on the route."

"I know," Joel uttered while he started cleaning the dishes. "I just hate that you're not gonna spend the day with me here. I'm gonna miss ya, sweetheart."

You blushed again. Right, you always reacted to that phrase as well, but it wasn't as profound as the other ones. There was just a little bit of warmth surging into your face, maybe some tingles in your fingertips.

"I'm gonna miss you too… Do you think it was a mistake?" You sat up straight at once, curiously looking at the back of his head.

"Goin' on patrol?"

"No." You shook your head.

"Well, what do you mean then?" Joel asked.

"I meant going without you."

He sighed heavily, putting down the sponge and leaning over the kitchen sink to look at you.

"Of course I would've liked to come with you… Selfishly. But objectively, I think it's the best thing to do."

"Why?"

"'Cause you told me that you wanted to do this on your own. That you wanted to go on patrol without any assistance, without anyone treatin' you differently. And I think it's a good idea to try new things and take on that challenge."

"Yes…" you murmured, scrunching up your nose. "I did."

"You wanna give me a kiss, sweetheart?"

Your lips contorted as you processed his words, hands impatiently drumming on the table.

"Yes."

He tasted like coffee, which you enjoyed. Sure, you didn't like drinking coffee for the taste, but somehow it was a different case when you could sense the hint of that nuttiness on his lips.

When Joel pulled back, he put a hand on your face, cradling you gently.

"I love you so much. And I know you're gonna do amazing."

Joel stirred his coffee, the second one today. He had wanted to wait for you, so that the two of you could sit together while you told him all about patrol, but he had begun feeling tired in the afternoon.

He peeked at his watch again, taking in the slowly moving minute hand. It moved too slowly for his taste.

Joel had planned on fully trusting you, sitting back and calmly waiting for you to come back, but at this point, he couldn't deny feeling nervous. Not that he wasn't convinced you were doing a good job. But goddamnit, he knew you, and there was always something unexpected that could happen on a patrol. And since you weren't always able to handle surprises so well, he found his anxiousness to be justified.

By the time the clock struck 4, Joel tensed up visibly. From now on, he might hear the door any second. He poured himself a second cup of coffee to distract himself, then stood up to circle the table.

4:12. Shit, what if it took until 5? How could he possibly wait until then?

By 4:28 Joel started setting the table and heated some water to prepare you a cup of tea upon your arrival.

Just when he had filled the mug with boiling water, he heard something. Finally. Joel quickly put the cup on the table, placed the box of cookies Maria had brought over the other day next to it and sat back down on his chair, the tip of his foot tapping on the floor nervously.

Then, he finally saw you, opening the door to the living room. Your hair was messy and a little wet at the crown. You took heavy, labored breaths that at first made him think that you were just exhausted. Because you had been calm at first, at least that was how Joel remembered it later.

You sniffled once, eyes nearly completely shut, and tugged at the straps of your backpack. That was the moment he realized that something was off.

"Baby? Are you okay?" he whispered and stood up slowly.

Your breathing became more shallow, sucking in large portions of air while your fingers fumbled with your bag. It seemed like the straps had caught on your hair that had been put up in a ponytail when you had left the house. But now it was falling down your shoulders, which caused Joel to hurry.

He was by your side immediately, his hands flying up to the thin strands that were wrapped around the buckles of your rucksack. By the time his fingers were touching your hair, you were trembling badly, a few first tears streaming down your face while your eyes unfocusedly scurried across his frame and your other surroundings.

"I'm right here, sweetpea. I'm here, I'm just gonna help your hair get loose."

He made sure to fully be in your view so that you wouldn't get startled by any sudden contact. He also avoided touching you anywhere else aside from the hair he intended to free from your straps, as the key during a moment like that was to reduce sensory load and shut down any noises or scents. But before he could take care of the open door, he had to get this goddamn backpack off you.

You were crying hysterically now, shivering like a leaf in the wind, which made a lump appear in his throat. He tried to swallow it quietly, turn down his own panicked breathing as well so there wouldn't be any more noise disturbing you. Everything had to be silent for you to be able to calm from the meltdown.

Finally, he was finished. Joel quickly slid the rucksack off your shoulders and let it drop next to the door, closing it in the same motion. Then, after switching off the lights in the house, he appeared in your sight again, careful not to be too close but showing you that he was there for you.

"I-I can't – Joel, I – I couldn't – " His heart broke at your frail, stammering voice, though he was glad that you were at least speaking. He could tell that a panic attack was particularly bad when you couldn't even get out a single word. And the fact that you were addressing him by his name was a good sign too, as it indicated that you weren't too far away from him mentally.

"It's okay. I'm right here, baby, it's okay. Do you want to sit down? On the floor?" His voice was quiet and measured, without many highs and lows in his volume. Stability and steadiness… that was what you needed right now.

You nodded frantically and sank to the parquet floor beneath you, pulling your knees to your chest and planting your hands flat on the ground. In moments like this, Joel knew better than to guide you to the couch as the fabric tended to overstimulate you during a bad meltdown. And then there were all the pillows, the carpet in front of the couch, the sun shining through the window that occasionally tickled your skin in an upsetting way. The parquet, on the other hand, was hard, even and sleek.

You were always quite sensitive to different materials. There were textures that you couldn't stand in general, no matter if you were feeling well or panicky like in that moment. For example, velvet and fleece.

Now that you were sitting on the floor, Joel knelt down in front of you, keeping his voice down as he spoke to you.

"Do you need to take more clothes off? Is this bothering you?"

He looked down at the tight lacing of your boots, then at your jacket that you had pulled up all the way to your chin to protect yourself from the cold.

"I – I don't – " you panted, bringing a hand to your neck.

"It's okay, it's okay. I'm here, you see? I'm right here, darling. Whatever you need, I'm gonna help you. Look at me."

Finally, your erratic gaze settled on him for an instant, though your chest was still heaving rapidly.

"Sh-Shoes, Joel," you stuttered, your fingers curled into tight fists while your eyes pinched shut again.

Shit… He had to keep your attention on him, make you look back at him. Joel's skilled fingers unknotted the shoelace effortlessly, although it took him a minute as you always tied two double knots that wouldn't accidentally come off even if you walked through deep snow.

Then, he quickly pulled them off your feet, planted them underneath the coatrack in a neat line and took care of your jacket next. You hadn't explicitly asked him to help you take it off, but given the way you tugged at the collar around your throat, he assumed that it was part of the reason for your meltdown.

Your body was still shivering uncontrollably once the fabric was off, little breathy sobs leaving your throat while your toes were rapidly curling and uncurling like you were fighting an invisible danger. Now that you weren't struggling with the jacket any longer, you put your hands over your ears, quietening any noise that might drift in from the open window, such as children's laughter and birds' singing. Joel quickly rushed toward it and closed it, additionally drawing the curtains so that the bright light wouldn't trigger you.

"It's okay," he uttered as soon as he sat in front of you again, offering you his hands like it was the most natural thing in the world. And you grabbed them immediately, holding onto his wrists to ground yourself the way you liked to do during a panic attack. You dug your nails into his flesh with light force, enough to leave a sting, but he could handle it. Of course he could handle it if it meant it helped you in any way.

"J-Joel, I – I can't – I – should've – "

"Darlin', it's okay," he hushed you while scanning the room to see if there was anything else that might overwhelm you that he hadn't noticed yet.

No… all windows were closed, there weren't any more noise sources, he had switched off the lights and you were sitting on the parquet floor with most of your restraining clothing off your body. You hit your foot on the floor, which Joel let happen without a word. Sometimes your body moved without warning during a meltdown, and as long as there was no reason to think that you were about to hurt yourself, he didn't interfere as it normally was the worst thing he could do.

"I'm here. It's okay," he spoke again, sensing that you were reacting to his words, given the way your eyes flickered toward him. "You're okay. It's just me, you see?"

He gave you a gentle, reassuring smile even though his stomach cramped seeing your parted lips that desperately tried to catch more air than was needed. It seemed like your breathing was still unsteady, something within your chest blocking you from inhaling normally.

"Breathe with me?"

You squeezed his hands firmly, but then, after a couple more minutes, Joel noticed how you were starting to take on his breathing patterns. Everything happened slowly like it usually did, but you were making progress, which was all that mattered to him. He would gladly spend hours on the ground with you if it meant he was helping you deal with your distress.

Your breathing became more regular gradually, and after a while, even your crying stopped. It took a lot longer for your body's shaking to stop, and the same went for the way you bit down on your bottom lip, but even that motion became better soon.

"You're doing so good, sweetheart… It's okay. Everything's okay."

You gasped and briefly let go of his hand to press yours over your chest.

"I messed up," you whimpered, shaking your head frantically while the muscles next to your eyes twitched relentlessly, lids fluttering.

"You didn't mess up. You're doing so well, baby."

"No, I did," you hissed, cheeks turning red with anger. You were rocking yourself back and forth like the panic was still so overwhelming you needed to move in order to let it run free and release yourself from it.

"I – I messed up everything, I couldn't eat the food that I brought with me, I – I shouted at Tommy when he told me I could only continue the patrol if I e-eat something, I couldn't go through the little forest by the river with Lucas and – and in the end, I snapped at Tommy again because he was riding too slowly, and I told him to go faster, but he didn't and so I got angry."

Joel took a deep breath.

He knew that you needed and that you deserved to talk to him about all these things, but he was also positive that for now, his job was to calm you. Assure you that for the moment, everything was fine. That every problem that you felt the need to discuss could be postponed to a later time.

"I understand that," Joel whispered and squeezed your hand once. It was a method the two of you had come up with, it had a soothing and grounding effect on you, but it was also a way to communicate during a panic attack. He squeezed your hand as a silent question, just asking you to do it back so he knew your body was responding to him. Fortunately, he felt a light pressure around his knuckles and took it as his sign to continue talking to you.

"I understand you. How about we talk about all that later? Just the two of us. Would that be okay with you?" Making you feel seen, reminding you that you were in charge, giving you options, making you feel like you were in control of everything that was happening around you such asthe lights, the noises and every other sensory input rather than being at their mercy.

"Later? How late?" you asked, pressing your toes against the parquet.

"Whenever you want. You decide."

"At 7?" you muttered, finally settling your eyes on him again without looking away every few seconds.

"Yes."

"Where?" you asked next.

"On the couch?"

"No." You shook your head, furrowing your brow.

"Where would you like to talk about it?" Joel asked calmly, letting you tighten your grasp around his hands.

"Kitchen table."

"Alright. We're gonna do it at the kitchen table."

"And now I want to take a shower," you breathed, dropping his hands at once.

"Of course. Do you want me to help you with anything?" Joel watched as you rose to your feet, still a little weak on your knees, but the sudden switch in your behavior wasn't something rare for you. He was just glad he had managed to pull you out of your stress relatively quickly, even though he knew that before he had discussed what had happened today with you, there was still a chance the emotions might overwhelm you again.

At his words, you stopped, considering his question for a moment before heading for the staircase. "No."

At 7 o'clock, Joel and you sat next to each other at the table, your elbows planted on the surface. You were clearly feeling better now, which he had noticed the moment you had left the bathroom, seeing that your steps weren't as hurried as before.

The shower had given you the opportunity to clean your skin, wipe off the dirt that might have splashed onto your ankles and successfully fight the coldness clinging to your body like a second skin.

Now, you were sitting next to him in fresh clothes, your hair still a little damp.

Joel waited. He always wanted you to initiate conversations like this, reestablishing the idea that everything was in your hands, and that nothing was going to happen or be said that you weren't comfortable with.

"I brought chaos into the group, I slowed everyone down and I wasn't a help at all. I should never go on patrols again, Joel. And the others probably think so as well. This was a terrible idea."

You took a sip of your tea, giving him the time to think about a reply.

"You're still learning," he said at last, causing your brow to wrinkle.

"I was learning over the past weeks while I was training to go on patrol. I was wrong when I said that I was ready. I shouldn't be learning while I'm on patrol. It's about trusting the people you're out there with, having each other's backs and supporting each other."

Joel knew exactly where you had gotten those words from. Tommy. He gave every person that exact speech and it seemed like you had etched it into your brain, word by word.

"You did an amazing job going out there. It was the bravest thing I've ever seen in my life. You were nervous about it, you were scared, but you did it. Just look at you, sweetheart. Look at where we were six months ago. Do you think you would've believed it if someone had told you back then that you would go on patrol six months later?"

"I shouldn't have gone on patrol," you insisted through clenched teeth, taking a deep breath. "I slowed everyone down, I wasn't any help at all and I screamed at everyone, but most importantly at Tommy. And he said once that he doesn't like loud noises, just like I do, and back then I told him that I didn't like loud noises either, and today I just ignored it and didn't think about it, and now I've caused him pain because I screamed at him."

Joel let you talk patiently, and only when you were done did he offer you his hand, which you took.

"Tommy is gonna be alright, sweetheart. You were so brave today. And the fact that you stayed until the end of patrol, that you got out there beyond the walls of this city is something I'm so proud of you for. I'm so fuckin' proud of you. I understand that you're upset about these things, but all of this takes time. Progress needs time. Today you went out there, which is such a big step. And if you wanna keep tryin', if you wanna go on patrol again, you're gonna take more steps, you're gonna keep makin' progress. We talked about all this before… You're doin' so well, baby. You're doin' so much, you're putting in so much effort. But stuff like that can't be changed overnight. I promise you, you did so wonderful. I'm proud of you and I love you."

Joel noticed your shoulders tense at the last three words, though it indicated joy rather than distress.

"But how am I gonna make progress if I just get scared straight away? I couldn't eat my food, Joel. I wanted to, but my stomach was so tight and I felt sick."

"It's gonna get better, sweetheart, I promise. Next time, you might be able to eat a little bit. And the time after that, you might notice a few trees that look familiar. And after that, you might associate a song with the landscape, which you can hum in your head. And that will make you calmer and you might enjoy the view. And after that, maybe your body doesn't feel tight anymore and you can eat. These are all slow steps, but they count, and they're important. Just please believe me when I say that today was an incredible step. Do you believe it? Do you believe me when I say that I'm proud of you?"

"Yes…" you mumbled, resting your chin on your palm. "I would like to apologize to Tommy tomorrow and then try it again. But I wanna do it with the same group hopefully. I think it's gonna be easier."

Joel nodded encouragingly while still holding your hand. "I think so too."

"Can I have a hug now?" you asked next and smiled when Joel shifted his chair back.

"Of course, baby."

After closing the distance between the two of you, you slung your arms around his neck and pressed your face against the crook of it, keeping it buried there for a minute. Joel threaded his fingers through your hair soothingly, allowing you to tighten your grip whenever you liked until you pulled away, wearing a broad smile that reached your eyes and made them appear all shiny and glossy.

"I love you too, by the way. I didn't say that earlier."

He grinned, crossing his legs while you sat back down. "I'm glad, baby."

"Can you say it again?"

You folded your hands in front of you on the table, looking at him expectantly. Joel cleared his throat, thinking that there was nothing in the world easier than what you had just asked for.

"I love you."

The smile that your features drew was genuine, your shoulders at ease now and your expression calmer than it had been at any point since your arrival.

Joel

Reaching for a fresh deodorant he had found in the top drawer underneath the sink, Joel nearly knocked over the soap with his elbow.

"Fuck," he cursed, quickly applied it under his arms and put it in his bag with a quiet sigh. The mirror was fogged, the air warm and steamy after the long shower he had taken, but he felt cleaner than he had in weeks, maybe even months.

Hair still damp, Joel grabbed his belongings and left the bathroom, only to nearly bump into Amy, who was just stuffing a few long-sleeved shirts into her bag. She had already taken a shower, her hair curling at the nape of her neck.

As she straightened up, startled by the sound of his footsteps, he caught a glimpse of her face, which looked a little different now that she was clean and fresh. Pretty, Joel thought, before internally shaking his head at such nonsense. Jesus Christ, this was a twenty-four-year-old woman. Barely even a woman, to be exact. Joel had been a father by the time she was born. He wasn't supposed to feel anything toward her except the hostility that was still deeply rooted in his bones. Most certainly no admiration for her beauty.

But as Amy gave him a gentle smile, Joel's stomach fluttered and he couldn't help but let his gaze roam up her neck, streaking over her lips and then the curve of her nose. Now that she had washed her hair and worn it down, her whole appearance was a little unfamiliar, which made him take in her face from a new angle.

Thick, long lashes framed her eyes, which were all soft and relaxed for once. Perhaps the private time in the bathroom, the opportunity to extensively scrub her body clean, had brightened her mood in exactly the same way it had his. The smile looked good on her face, Joel found.

He felt a light sting beneath his chest, which spread through his whole body a moment later. He should bury these thoughts in the darkest corner of his mind and never return to them. Amy was the last person he should ever take a second look at, let alone deem pretty. The next time a similar thought would cross his mind, he would shut it down at once and numb his brain, he promised himself as he shifted his gaze toward his own bag, which was still waiting for him to shove a few clothes inside.

"Are we gonna leave now?" she asked and pulled at the sleeves of her new shirt, covering her hands with the fabric.

"Soon. But first we're gonna go to the basement."

He led the way again, feeling Amy's presence closely behind him. The stairs creaked under their weight as though they hadn't been disturbed by humans in quite some time, which might well be the truth. As far as Joel was aware, Bill and Frank had been occupied with much more pressing matters than cleaning the guns stored down here. Such as caring for Frank's declining health.

"Wow…" Amy hummed as she took in the countless rifles and guns hanging on the walls, a sight that could have been straight out of an action thriller.

"That's insane. What did they need all that for?"

"Well, most of it is from before the outbreak. Back when Bill was rottin' away in his basement and assumed the fascist government was tryin' to control and spy on people." Joel turned around slowly, hands tucked in his pockets. "But I'd guess they had a lot to fight off over the years. There're always raiders who find this town and wonder why it's so well intact."

"Can I have one?" It took him a moment to comprehend what she was talking about.

"What, a gun?"

"Yeah."

Gaze drifting across the heavily loaded wall, he let out a slow breath, realizing she was probably right to want to carry a weapon as well. Joel was a man of control, someone who liked being in charge of as much as he could possibly supervise, and that included matters of safety. But Amy was an adult who definitely wasn't as capable as he or Tess had been, but he could teach her. And two armed people were better than one.

Reluctantly, Joel reached for a small gun, easy to handle and not too heavy to overwhelm her. There was a sour taste in his mouth as he handed it to her, furrowing his brow at her bright eyes.

"Have you ever carried a gun before?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. Of course."

"And have you shot one before?"

"Yes."

Joel didn't let go of the weapon yet, which made her raise her gaze, some of the excitement falling off her face.

"Tell me about it."

"It was just once… It's – It doesn't matter, does it? Why do you wanna know?"

"'Cause I wanna know how much you know about guns, you little brat."

Amy's lips puckered, her hand loosening its grip as she gently traced the handle. "Not a lot, I guess… You can start with the basics."

"Oh, thank you very much, princess. How very generous of you." Joel roughly yanked the gun away, grabbing a few other things that might be useful, such as ammunition, before heading upstairs again.

"What, am I not gonna get a gun?" Amy asked loudly and quickly followed him up to the ground floor.

"You will," Joel grunted, huffing in annoyance. "But do I look like I wanna get shot in the shoulder when you try to aim without knowing how? Ain't no way I'm lettin' you walk around with this before you know how to use it. I'm gonna teach ya. And if you do a good job, you're gonna carry it."

She looked up at him with wide eyes, teeth grating as she nodded. "Okay."

"Good," Joel uttered, surprised and quite frankly relieved that his earlier rules seemed to be sticking for once. At least she was accepting his instructions without talking back.

"How do you shoot with a rifle?" Amy asked while Joel stuffed a few last things into his backpack, throwing her a suspicious glance.

"Why, do you also wanna learn how to use a rifle? We should start with a handgun before we move to this heavy thing."

"I know… I know, I just – how did you learn it?"

Joel sighed, feeling no desire to give her extensive insight into his history and how he had come to own his first rifle.

"Experience. Time. And some luck. Now move. Have you packed everythin'?"

The two of them had already brought most of their things to the car, so all that was left were their bags, which Joel carelessly threw onto the backseat.

"Go on. Ain't nobody comin' to hold the door open for ya," he scoffed, walking around the car to get into the driver's seat. She released a soft breath, climbing into the vehicle, which made Joel realize something he hadn't considered before.

"S'your first time in a fuckin' car?"

"No. I've been in a car before. I just… can't remember it, you know?" Amy let her gaze wander curiously around the interior, from the wheel to the mirror and the windshield, ending at the gear shift.

"I would really like to learn how to drive."

"No fuckin' way," Joel stated, starting the car, which fortunately rolled on with no problems.

"Why not?"

"'Cause I spent weeks practicin' with my father, I drove around a lot and I had a driver's test. You think I'm just gonna let you drive without any of that? You think I wanna crash into a fuckin' tree?" Joel rolled his eyes, navigating the car through the abandoned town and then out through the gate.

"Alright. Fine. But you're gonna change your mind once you get tired and you have no one to take the wheel."

"Watch me…" Joel grunted, narrowed eyes fixed on the road ahead as he picked up speed.

Two hours later, Amy was sound asleep.

Once Joel noticed her steady breathing, he turned his attention to his surroundings and realized for the first time that it must have gotten late, the moon casting a silvery gleam across her face.

"Alright," he growled, but when she didn't stir, Joel waited until he had parked the car off to the left of the road in the forest and then shook her by the shoulder.

"Time to wake up."

"What?" Amy asked in confusion, darting around only to realize that she didn't know where she was. It seemed like she was still too sleepy to recognize the car either.

"I parked the car. S'time to get some rest for the night."

"Where are we? I swear to god, if you kidnapped me –"

"Kidnapped you?" Joel snorted, opening the driver's door. "Why would I kidnap you? What would I do with you, huh? I'm already gettin' you to the one person who's gonna give me anythin' I want in exchange for you. Now get out."

He left the car, waiting for Amy to do the same, then pointed to a small clearing that was beautifully lit by the moon.

"Same rules as last night. No loud noises, no talkin', no light, and we're gonna be fine."

"Aren't we gonna eat something first?"

"'Course we are. Why do you think we packed all that stuff?" Joel opened the back door and grabbed one of the large backpacks he had found in a closet in Bill's basement, filled with all sorts of canned goods such as beans, meat, whole meals.

Fifteen minutes later, after Joel had lit a small fire to cook some ready-made pasta, Amy chuckled softly, pulling the sweatshirt tighter around her shoulders.

"What?" Joel asked, unable to guess what was amusing her.

"I had a dream. During our drive."

"Congratulations." He didn't spare her a glance, determinedly staring at the little steaming pot.

"You don't wanna know what it was about?"

"No. I don't."

Silence settled over the scene until Amy cleared her throat and started talking regardless.

"Well, I'm gonna tell you anyway. I dreamt that I was still inside the QZ. But there were no humans, just infected. Who could suddenly talk to me, so I was confused at first, but then I treated them like any other people."

Joel's brows lifted, lips pursed faintly. "That's it?"

"That's it," Amy confirmed.

"Interesting."

Her mouth twisted as though she knew exactly that Joel couldn't have been less interested in her dreams. "What about you?"

"What about me?" he growled.

"Do you dream?"

"I dream every night."

Her eyes rolled, then followed his hands as he scooped some of the noodles into a bowl. "No, I mean how often can you remember?"

I wish I never remembered, was the thought that raced through his mind, but he just replied with a shrug.

"Sometimes. Occasionally."

"And do you –"

"Eat," Joel cut her off, expression stiff. His lids were heavy and his sore limbs were urging him to lie down after that long, draining day. No wonder Amy was in a talkative mood after her extensive nap.

He should be grateful, Joel thought, taking a spoonful of hot pasta. Every second he could spend without Amy's voice ringing in his ear was precious to him. Just like the day before, Joel told her to go to sleep as soon as the two of them were done with their meals.

"I'm not even tired yet," Amy hummed as she lay down, but Joel ignored it. Of course he wasn't either, but resting on his side, eyes open and mouth shut, was better than sitting here with her. Perhaps Amy would get ideas and assume that he was interested in a conversation.

He suppressed the urge to curse as he slipped into his sleeping bag, pulling it up all the way to his chin as if it would protect him from his own thoughts.

From this angle, he had the perfect view of the back of her head, her silky hair that looked so soft and light he believed a single breeze would make it flutter in the wind like leaves. He wished he could turn onto his other side and peer at the dark, slim stems of the trees instead, but in that case it would be his weak, nearly deaf ear listening for any approaching danger. Sure, Joel could ask Amy to switch sides, but he felt too worn-out to make the effort.

"Joel?"

He scoffed through his nose, closing his eyes the moment the woman shifted to face him. He couldn't look at her. Everything was too much; he felt overwhelmed and scared of the thoughts that might course through his mind at the sight of her. Joel was able to handle his mood during the day when he was focused on more important things such as driving or raiding Bill's home, but right now he didn't want to risk it. Especially not when Amy gave him those big, doe eyes that always made his bones go slack. What a good thing he was already lying down.

"What?" he barked.

"Are you cold?"

"No," he hissed, though he tucked his sweatshirt under his chin.

"Me neither."

"Then why are you askin' me, goddamnit. Go to sleep."

He didn't receive an answer, which made him cautiously open his left eye. Amy looked small, vulnerable beneath a pile of clothes. Just like the night before, she was wearing an extra layer to keep her warm, which was probably a good thing.

"I'm not tired," she almost apologetically whispered, meeting his gaze with a gentle smile playing at her lips. Shit. His heart was pounding in his chest, so he quickly forced himself to think of something else. The next day. The ten-hour drive in a stuffy car, the scarce meal that would await him in the morning, the horrible sun glaring through the windshield —

"How do you know Marlene?"

Well, at least that was a question he could answer with closed eyes and that would lead his thoughts elsewhere.

"My brother was with the Fireflies. S'how I met Marlene."

"Your brother was a Firefly?"

"I said he was with the Fireflies."

"Where's the difference?"

Joel sighed, chewing on his bottom lip. "Sleep."

For roughly five minutes, he believed there was a chance his travel companion was taking his words to heart at last, which was why he finally relaxed as well, doing his hardest to keep his mind from wandering off to her pretty hair, her beautiful hands, her gorgeous smile.

He knew how wrong it was, but he found that it wasn't that simple to banish certain feelings from his heart. He could distract himself by consciously concentrating on other things, but the more tired he became, the less control he had over his own mind. Which was why he always found himself dwelling on Amy's beauty.

When he turned onto his back, huffing out his frustration, he tried to change his angle on this. Yes, he found her pretty. Because she was. Objectively. And Joel was a man who liked pretty women, it was simple. He hadn't been with a woman in years, so it was only natural to have these thoughts. It didn't mean he had any intention of acting on them. Perhaps it was even healthier to accept that he felt attracted to Amy. These feelings would probably disappear on their own once he stopped trapping them and hiding them in the back of his mind. He might suffer for a few days, head swirling and his eyes lingering on her a little longer than was appropriate, but then they would fade on their own and he could live in peace.

Jesus, she was twenty-four. Could be his fuckin' kid.

Yeah, everything would be fine. No one, and especially not Amy, could read his mind and find out about his rotten brain. As long as he kept his desires to himself, they could inhabit his head for a while until this strange phase was over.

"Joel?"

Damn, he had assumed she had dozed off by now.

"What." It didn't even sound like a question, his voice laced with hostility.

"Are we safe here?"

"Didn't you ask the same fuckin' question yesterday?"

"Maybe," she admitted quietly.

"And did somethin' happen?"

"No."

"There ya go."

He turned onto his other side, thinking that he better trusted his gut over what he had told Amy instead of torturing himself by lying on his right side just so that his good ear was free. What he had said to her was the truth. There was no one out here, and even if there were, they wouldn't see the two of them in the dark.

"But there could be infected, right?"

"Yes," Joel grudgingly groaned. "Theoretically. But the chances are low."

"And… raiders."

"Yes," he whispered, and didn't soften his words this time. Not that he deemed it very likely to meet raiders out here in the middle of the woods, but claiming there were none would be a lie Joel wasn't comfortable telling her, despite all the trouble between them.

"Okay," Amy replied, but she couldn't fool him with her neutral, steady voice.

For the most part, Joel wished she would just go to sleep without bothering him again with more pointless questions, but there was also a part of him that understood her fear and pitied her genuinely. Of course she was scared. Was there any way around it? She was so young, so incapable of defending herself if it came down to it. Someone who had never been outside the QZ. Probably. At least, that was what Joel assumed about her past.

Sure, he was here to protect her, but Joel had to admit that it was a frightening thing to just close one's eyes, let oneself fall, and trust that nothing would happen to one's exposed and vulnerable body in the night.

Without saying anything, Joel sat up.

He didn't even know if Amy was still awake as he reached for his rifle, rubbing his swollen eyes with his knuckles. He was so tired he felt light-headed, craved sleep so much that it ate at him from within like an insatiable hunger.

And yet, Joel kicked off his sleeping bag a while later and rose to his feet.

He did it mostly so Amy would sleep at last without disturbing him with any more questions about their safety. And maybe because he felt for her, just a trifle. Just enough to make his eyes drift over her form, curled in a ball, while a quiet warmth spread through his lower belly.

Joel must have fallen asleep at around 5 a.m.

That was what he guessed, at least.

When he woke up the next morning, his lids still felt heavy, as though little stones were attached to the skin, pressing down onto his eyes with a relentless force that only vanished when he closed them. But to finally do that, he had to endure another day and pray that this time, Amy and he would find another place to sleep, one where she would feel safer than out here.

He was just brewing some coffee when his travel companion blinked awake, yawning and shifting on the ground.

"What time is it?" she breathed, rolling her head as though her body was still fighting off sleep. Surely this little brat was about to complain about being tired after he had spent a whole night on his feet just to make her feel a little safer and make sure nothing happened to her.

"8."

"You made coffee?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, traveling mistrustfully over the friendly look on her face.

"Yes?"

"Can I have some?"

"No fuckin' way."

Amy sat up, holding her head, which was probably spinning from the sudden motion. "Why not?"

"'Cause you're already a pain in my ass. No way I'm givin' you caffeine so you're gonna be even more annoyin'."

She folded her arms in front of her chest, greedily eyeing the steaming liquid that, Joel had to admit, emitted a delicious, nutty scent.

"Please. Otherwise I'm surely gonna fall asleep again."

"I don't care if you fall asleep. Actually, please do. S'gonna make all of this a lot easier for me if I don't have to listen to you talkin'."

With that, Joel closed the lid of the coffee pot, throwing her one last irritated glance, which Amy returned by jutting her chin out. God, she really did look beautiful in the morning, and that was despite the pronounced crease on her brow. When other people's skin was sallow, eyes hooded and hair standing out in all directions, Amy just looked… adorable. Sure, she wore dark circles underneath her eyes and looked a little drowsy herself, but somehow all of those little details only added to his feelings.

He quickly averted his gaze from her, hoping that his thoughts would disappear the moment his attention lay elsewhere, but of course nothing helped. Her features, her pretty pout were still stuck in his head like a song he couldn't get out of his mind. She was like a curse haunting him in two different ways, he realized, though both were very bad. Like problems he wished he could be rid of. She vexed the shit out of him, and every time he found peace for a single moment, it wasn't her obnoxious behavior burdening him but her appearance. It was unfair, really. It wasn't like she had done anything to deserve her looks, or the way she appeared to the outside world.

"Okay, just a sip," Amy stated. His head began throbbing, and he wished he could bury it beneath a pile of clothes just to drown out the noise. Or get another hour of sleep.

"What, are you addicted to coffee? You shouldn't be. Not at your age."

"At my age? What's that supposed to mean?" she indignantly spat.

"How long you been drinkin' coffee?" Joel asked suspiciously, but poured a little of the dark liquid into a cup. If there was one thing he had learned about addicts, it was that they became insufferable when they didn't get their fix. And since Amy was already intolerable, he didn't want to make it worse by dealing with her withdrawal symptoms all day.

"Since I was… 15, I think. And I'm not addicted. I just need it to wake up."

"That's the fuckin' definition of bein' addicted," Joel grunted.

"Then you're addicted too. We all are, it's just not an unhealthy addiction."

"This ain't about me." He handed her the cup roughly, the liquid nearly spilling over the rim. "Drink up. But you ain't gonna have this privilege every day, so enjoy it. No way I'm wastin' my coffee on a brat like you."

Amy savored the coffee silently and far more slowly than Joel would have liked.

"C'mon. We're leavin' in ten, so you better hurry up."

"So you grew up in Austin… How did you get to Boston?"

"None of your business," Joel barked, keeping his eyes glued to the road ahead of him. It was his new tactic to prevent his thoughts from wandering off to places they weren't supposed to be. Not looking at her. Avoiding her. He stood by his mantra to let his feelings in rather than forcefully packing them away, but he didn't have to provoke them by admiring her profile, beautifully lit by the rising sun.

"Really?" Amy scoffed, getting comfortable in her seat. "I'm starting to feel like you're the child here."

"I'm just not interested in sharing my history with you. And I'm not interested in learning about yours either."

Joel tightened his grip around the steering wheel, silently cursing at how his eyes flicked over to her every now and then. He had to get a grip on himself, goddamnit.

"Why? We're on a ten-hour drive and you just wanna sit here in silence? Jesus… Besides, I can promise you, you're gonna fall asleep if you don't talk."

Had Amy witnessed him keeping guard that night? The thought crossed his mind briefly, but watching her turn her head to look up at him with that victorious expression, he let the idea go.

"I'm not gonna fall asleep," Joel ground out through his clenched teeth, blinking against the bright sunlight warming his skin.

"You're saying that now. Come on. Just tell me a little something. Okay, I'm gonna give you a choice: either you're gonna talk, or I will."

"Talk about what?" Joel asked, not feeling particularly enthusiastic about either option, but he feared that if he ignored her, Amy would simply start talking his ear off without his permission.

"About our lives after the outbreak."

He had to suppress a chuckle, which quickly turned into a sour taste on his tongue. She was talking about the outbreak like it had been a groundbreaking shift in her life, even though she barely knew what the world had been like before that day twenty years ago.

At the same time, though, it made him aware of their massive age gap once more. He had lived a whole life, had gone through all possible stages before the outbreak, while Amy had been four goddamn years old. Younger than his daughter. The fact that he had ever glanced at her and felt drawn to her pretty face was downright disgusting. He was supposed to view her as a child, not a beautiful, attractive woman. But then again, she was that. It was a pretty accurate description of her, and no matter how hard Joel tried, he wasn't capable of bringing himself to see her as that.

"C'mon. You choose," Amy demanded again, challengingly drawing her eyebrows up.

"Fine… I'll tell ya." He chose that way first and foremost because if she started speaking, he might be more tempted to peer at her from the corner of his eye. That way, he could just stare ahead and ignore her presence, acting like he was talking to himself.

"My brother 'n' I –"

"The one we're traveling to?"

"Yes, goddamnit," Joel rumbled, exhaling in annoyance. "You asked me and now you're cuttin' me off after the first fuckin' word."

"Sorry." Amy leaned back, or at least that was what he could sense happening beside him.

"Anyways. We traveled east. Just 'cause it was horrible in Austin and we thought it must be better somewhere else. The first years after the outbreak were a mess. Everyone was just movin' around, tryna get somewhere better only to realize that it was shitty everywhere. Then the QZs came and many people went back."

"You and Tommy too?"

"No," he stated, lips a thin line. "We traveled further northeast, just tryin' to survive. We met – Tess. On the way. And some others. Just made our way around the country… lived day to day and then ended up in Boston. That was six years ago."

Amy let out a quiet breath. "Six years? You spent six years in the Boston QZ? Wow, no wonder you're so fucking grumpy."

Joel chose not to reply to that, just rolled his eyes. "I wasn't there all the time. Tommy 'n' I, we started smugglin' stuff in and out of the city. Traded with people, mostly desperate FEDRA soldiers, and had our little business runnin'."

"And why did Tommy leave? Did he have enough of you 'cause you suck?" She chuckled quietly, twisting her fingers together on her stomach.

"You think you're increasin' your chances of me tellin' you anythin' else about my past by bein' a fuckin' brat? Do you ever use your brain and figure out when to talk and when to shut your goddamn mouth? Mostly the second one, of course." Joel's jaw tightened, gritting his teeth so firmly he thought he might crack a tooth.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Go on."

Although he didn't feel like being told by Amy of all people to speak, just like he didn't want her ordering him to do anything, he did. Without being certain why he even bothered and didn't just keep silent, hoping she would soon fall asleep.

"He joined the fuckin' Fireflies."

"Oh right… You mentioned that. That's how you met Marlene."

"Correct," Joel muttered, chewing on his bottom lip as the memories bubbled to the surface.

"So he ditched you for the Fireflies? Or how am I supposed to picture that?"

"You're not supposed to picture anythin'…" Joel growled, but then took a deep breath. "He joined 'em. 'Cause he's an optimistic dreamer who thought he could make the world a better place. And I didn't 'cause I see those idiots for what they are."

"If you wanna gossip about the Fireflies, you've come to the wrong person. You know that, don't you?"

Joel narrowed his eyes slightly, casting her a quick look. "Why? 'Cause they wanna cut your arm open and steal your blood to do something that won't work? Are you sayin' you're grateful for that?"

"How do you know it won't work?" Amy asked, sounding more serious than she had in many hours.

"'Cause I've heard those tales before, kiddo," he explained, using the nickname on purpose to reestablish himself as someone with a lot more life experience and knowledge than her. "I've heard people talk about the genius vaccine that's gonna save us all, and we just gotta wait a few months while FEDRA develops it and hands it out. I don't care if they just didn't work or if those motherfuckers didn't hand out the vaccines 'cause they wanna continue oppressin' their people, but it doesn't matter. I haven't seen it yet. And we never will."

Joel paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in while Amy brought her thumb to her teeth, nibbling softly.

"It's not FEDRA, though. It's the Fireflies."

"Oh, and you think they can perform magic tricks just 'cause they're not fascists? There's no vaccine, kiddo. They can cut your arm open all they want, take your blood and do god knows what, but it ain't gonna work."

"How can you be so certain? You have no idea what –" Joel let out a long breath, shaking his head slowly.

"'Cause it's happened too many times. People gettin' their hopes up 'cause they thought some savior was about to come. I learned my lesson. Which is why I don't believe in this shit anymore."

"So you once had hope," Amy whispered.

Joel waited, expecting her to add something to that, but she didn't. And Joel didn't feel like it either.

Amy

When the sun hit the edge of her seat, Amy started counting the power poles by the road.

When it climbed so high in the sky that it burned directly onto her thighs, she moved on to the road signs, figuring it would take longer until that activity bored her too. But when, after an hour or two, she grew tired of observing the bleak landscape as well, her gaze landed on Joel instead.

"Joel?"

She liked saying his name. There was something grounding about the sound, how she could stretch the vowels or clip it short, depending on what she felt like at that moment.

"What?" he said without shifting his gaze to her.

That, she didn't like. Of course, Amy understood that he had to keep an eye on the road and make sure he wasn't driving into one of those power poles she had so intently watched that morning, but she secretly wished he would let his gaze wander to her more often. Not just because she liked looking at more of his face than just his profile, but also because Amy guessed she simply enjoyed having his undivided attention.

"What?" he repeated, hissing the word out like it was a disease.

"Can we stop for a moment? I have to pee."

"Oh, the 'lil princess has to pee again," he snarled, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in irritation.

She bit her bottom lip to hold back a smile, and for a moment she felt relieved that Joel had his eyes on the road. Otherwise, he might have noticed the faint warm shudder that rippled down her spine whenever he called her that. Amy definitely preferred that nickname over kiddo. Princess made her feel… special.

She wasn't an idiot and was well aware that Joel used it in a sarcastic, almost mocking way, but the effect was the same. Just the sound alone, the way his lips twisted every time he was about to pour it over her like warm honey… Jesus, maybe she really had stared at that man a little too long today, Amy thought, feeling warmth creep up her face.

Hopefully she would come up with other distractions tomorrow and spend her time doing things that wouldn't require focusing on Joel so much. It was just hard not to let her gaze drift to him at times, especially when he called her princess.

"It won't take long, I promise," Amy said and looked out of the window, searching for an abandoned gas station or repair shop.

"Wasn't I the one who told you not to drink so much?"

"Do you want me to die of fuckin' thirst?" she shot back, impatiently throwing her hands up.

"No, but I told you to drink a lot at once so you don't have to pee so often. You've been sippin' on that water bottle for hours without a fuckin' break. Not surprised you gotta pee so often…"

Despite his complaints, Joel pulled off at the next gas station, parking next to the small building and climbing out after grabbing his gun.

"I really don't think this is necessary," Amy muttered and slammed the door shut behind her.

When they had stopped for her first pee break, Joel had insisted on standing outside the bathroom, armed with his gun like a guard dog. Of course she had found it ridiculous back then too, but she couldn't deny the effect his protectiveness had on her. It was the same when she had noticed Joel keeping watch the night before.

His reasons for doing it were utterly insignificant, but feeling taken care of, protected by a man as capable of violence as Joel, made her stomach flutter and sometimes even her lips curve, even though she tried to hide it from him whenever that happened. The stomach fluttering, at least, he couldn't see.

So when Amy complained about his thorough safety measures, she only meant it to some extent. Mostly, she felt flustered, delighted and shy about Joel following her inside, standing so close to the door that she could nearly hear his breathing.

No one had ever cared for her in such a way, and it didn't even matter that he did it solely for the reward Marlene had promised him. She was a broken woman, and had once been a scared little child who had never received the love, shelter and warmth she would have needed after her parents died so early. So it was no surprise that she soaked up Joel's feeble gestures like a dry sponge, no matter how coldly he delivered them. Protection was protection.

"It is," Joel barked, resembling that dog now more than ever. "C'mon. You said you were gonna do it quickly. I wanna drive a few more hours before we make camp."

Joel practically pushed her inside, even holding the door open while Amy slipped under his arm.

"How am I supposed to relieve myself with you lurking around like a fuckin' shadow?" she complained before Joel closed the door with a rough bang.

"You're supposed to pee. Not write down the theory of relativity."

"Joel?" Amy asked, absent-mindedly tracing her finger over the window beside her.

"What?" he barked, casting her a brief glance. "Don't do that. You're gonna get the window dirty. Then I can't see, and I'm gonna crash the fucking car."

"How am I gonna get the window dirty?" she sneered and examined her own fingertip as if looking for the filth he was talking about.

"Just – don't. What's your question?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me more about your brother. How are we gonna find him? Do you know where exactly he lives?"

"I know that he's in Wyoming."

"That's it?" Amy asked, tilting her eyebrows upward.

"No, you little brat. Would you mind letting me finish? I know roughly where he is."

Of course, he had no fucking clue. Great. So she wouldn't just have to endure his horrible temper for the next few weeks — she would also have to wander around Wyoming looking for a man who had left no traces whatsoever. How big was Wyoming even? What did it look like? Was it cold up there? And should she ask Joel these questions or would he taunt her?

"So you have no idea, asshole," Amy said, sounding a lot bolder than she felt.

"What's wrong with you?" Joel hissed, his grip tightening around the steering wheel. Good. At least her words had gotten a reaction out of him. "I know where he is. I'm gonna find him 'cause there ain't no other option."

"And what about me?" Damn, she hadn't meant for it to sound so pathetic, so needy. But after ten hours in this car with nothing to do but stare out of the window, Amy was stuck with her own thoughts and slowly started losing her mind. Her future was more uncertain than it had ever felt before, and all she wanted was to know what was going to happen to her, whether Joel was just as uninformed about where he was going to drop her off as he was about finding his brother, his own flesh and blood.

What if he didn't know anything at all and she ended up on the side of an abandoned road? Amy could already see it clearly in her mind, Joel's triumphant scoff, his features relaxed for once in his life as he left her in the dust. But then again, he wanted that reward Marlene had promised him, right? Goddamnit, she had no idea, but she wanted a little stability. That was all.

"What about you?" Joel snapped, causing her to chew on her bottom lip.

"What – where are we gonna find the Fireflies? What if they're gone? And – I mean, after we find your brother – if we find him – is he… will he come with us?"

"You got a whole lotta questions, kiddo…" Joel groaned, grinding his teeth.

"What do you expect? You think I'm gonna be satisfied driving around with some old grump like you?"

"You can be glad you're drivin' around with me, brat. Others would've killed you already. Would've sold your fuckin' organs for a bit of food."

"But then you wouldn't get Marlene's reward."

Yeah, that worked. Maybe Amy should feel a little more confident about the fact that Joel needed her as much as she needed him. Okay, maybe not just as much, but if something happened to her, he had no purpose going west. Except for his brother, of course.

"Don't worry about that… I'm gonna get Marlene her little prize. And I bet your ass you can't imagine how badly I wish we were there already…"

"Oh, believe me, I can," Amy muttered and rested her chin on her knee, which she hadn't done before. She had thought Joel might not appreciate seeing her put her shoe on the leather seat. Whatever. If he acted like an asshole, he didn't get to be mad at her for disrespecting his rules.

When Joel and Amy stopped at another gas station an hour later, she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from making a snarky comment. Something like I told you not to drink so much at once was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't say it, thinking that the fact that the two of them hadn't torn into each other during the past few minutes was a win.

"C'mon. Get out of the car," Joel commanded after pulling to a stop, making her sigh in annoyance.

"I can wait in here."

"No, you won't. I'm not gonna say it twice."

Shoulders dropping in defeat, Amy unfastened her seat belt and climbed out of the car, doing so begrudgingly enough that she hoped he felt it.

"Can you stop huffing like a fucking steam locomotive?" Joel grunted on their way inside.

"Oh, excuse me. Now I'm breathing too loudly? What else? You want me to walk differently?"

The store was just as run-down and grimy as the previous station. Some of the food and other merchandise had been knocked off the shelves and was scattered all over the floor. Amy kicked a can aside as she followed Joel toward the bathroom, provoking him to dart a look at her from the corner of his eye, though he restrained himself from commenting.

"You wait here. I swear to god, don't move around, don't do anything stupid. Don't search the store. Just stay by the door. Am I clear?"

"Yes," she said sharply, barely able to stop herself from saluting.

"Alright."

He gave her one last quick, suspicious look before pushing through the bathroom door, rifle in his hand. Amy almost wanted to laugh. What kind of danger was he expecting to lurk inside a bathroom except for mildew on the ceiling and some rusty pipes. Well, whatever made Joel feel safe.

She whistled through her pursed lips, taking in the store more carefully. All those cans and packages spread across the floor…

Why hadn't Joel told her to take a look around and find them some useful snacks for the drive? It would be in both their best interests, right? Maybe that was just what he needed, Amy thought, grinning to herself. A few snacks, a chocolate bar or a handful of salted almonds. Would he consider it a peace offering if she handed him one, or would he be mad at her for ignoring his rules?

In the end, she was too curious to just stand by the door, which was why she started to wander through the shop. It turned out to be a lot larger than she had initially thought. There was another large room connected to this one, with even more magazine stands and empty refrigerated shelves. The latter were obviously not intact anymore, though Amy still took pleasure in finding out what had once been stored in there. The magazines caught her interest as well. Perhaps she could take a stack of them to keep herself entertained during the drive, so she wouldn't have to force conversation with Joel.

Screw him for telling her to wait by the door… If she had obeyed, she wouldn't have found any of this, and would probably bore herself to death after more endless hours of sitting next to him in the car with nothing but the movement of the sun to hold her attention.

Suddenly, she paused. There had been a noise, right? She was just about to call Joel's name, already readying herself to explain what she was doing at the back of the shop, when it happened again.

No, that wasn't Joel…

Amy's brow furrowed, her feet quietly carrying her toward the source of the sound. She passed the checkout counter, the rack with the postcards - she froze.

Without even seeing what was inside the room behind the door that stood just a crack open, she knew at once. The quiet groan that was almost a yelp.

"Oh fuck me," she whispered, feeling so startled by the sudden appearance of the infected that she had yet to move.

Jesus, she should run in the opposite direction, find Joel and get the hell out of here, but something drew her closer to the door. It was dark in there, which was why she couldn't quite make out the creature, but a thin strip of light illuminated its right cheekbone.

This was it… Her worst enemy, which had simultaneously given her her superpower. Amy despised the term, but Marlene had sometimes called her immunity that, which had made her feel like a small child who couldn't understand what any of this was about without that kind of language.

She took another step forward, her hand hovering an inch from the door. She just couldn't stop. The sight was fascinating, the yellow eyes sending a shudder brushing against the back of her neck, her hair standing on end. It was excitement and fear in equal measure, but above all she felt that the thrill of it had an addictive effect on her.

Shit. She had taken another careful step forward without knowing why, and suddenly the creature stirred. At first it was just its face twisting, the milky pupils, which didn't look so milky and distant now, settling on her.

"Shit," she breathed, stepping back slowly. No, no, no, she hadn't been prepared for this. Was she supposed to run or sneak away, hoping the infected wouldn't find her? Joel had said something about Clickers not being able to see. Was this a Clicker? How could she tell if it — The infected lurched forward abruptly, jerking as though possessed by some demonic force, and crawled toward her.

"Oh fuck," Amy gasped, jumping backward and kicking out wildly, when something, or rather someone, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back.

Joel.

She had never felt so relieved to catch the leather scent that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.

He pulled her behind his massive frame, shielding her from the infected, and fired a few shots at it. Amy couldn't see any blood, but she could only imagine it was an ugly sight. The smell of gunpowder spread rapidly through the air, and suddenly the only sound she could hear was her own heavy panting, whereas the room had just felt so loud and chaotic.

Joel yanked her along without a word. He didn't even allow her a glimpse of the scene, deliberately walking to her left so that his body blocked the view. And Amy let him guide her without question or protest, her head swimming and her fingertips prickling as the adrenaline gradually began to ebb.

She felt stable at his side for once, as though she could let all her emotions run free, allow herself to be afraid, sad, or overwhelmed, because Joel was there to protect her. And there was something incredibly grounding about his solid presence.

By the time they reached the door that led outside, she was trembling, which prompted Joel to place a hand on her back. It was a wise move. Why did she feel so weak in the knees all of a sudden? Was she going to faint? Her breathing came out shallow, her chest rising faster than usual as her body worked to fill her lungs with oxygen that seemed to nourish them but not yet her brain.

Joel directed her back to the car, but instead of walking around to the passenger side, he opened the driver's door and helped Amy onto his seat. Her vision was still a little blurry, and she twisted her trembling hands together to hide her body's struggle, but the fact that she could stretch out her legs and didn't have to support her own weight anymore made her racing heart begin to slow.

"Eat this." Joel's deep voice cut through the fog in her head, making Amy's eyes flicker toward him. He was standing in front of her, one hand on the hood, the other holding a small package.

"What… what is that?" she breathed, unnerved by the thinness of her own voice.

"Glucose. You know what that is?"

She shook her head but allowed Joel to place the item in her open palm.

"Well, it's some sort of sugar. I don't know exactly, but it's gonna help ya."

Amy swallowed hard, then tried to rip the plastic open. Unsuccessfully, of course. Her trembling fingers slipped immediately, which made her exhale in frustration.

"C'mon. Give it to me."

She obeyed, though she couldn't deny feeling a little helpless, sulky, even, for not being able to do it herself. At the same time, she was taken aback by his sudden show of kindness, something Amy hadn't known him to be capable of.

"What is that… Why am I feeling –"

Joel handed her the white tablet, which almost looked like compressed flour.

"Adrenaline. Something about… blood sugar. The point is, you had a lot of energy from the shock, and now that energy is leaving your body all at once, so you're feeling extra weak. Eat it. Why would I poison ya? I would've gotten rid of you already if I wanted to."

Amy paused for a moment, looking at the tiny tablet that was supposed to save her from her own body betraying her. Then she put it in her mouth, chewed gently, and tasted sweetness on her tongue a moment later.

"How long until it kicks in?" Amy asked, glancing up at Joel, who was still watching her as though afraid she might drop dead the moment he looked away. A tremor unfurled along her spine, warm and pleasant, like the graze of a soft feather drawn slowly across her back with the sole purpose of making her feel good. Maybe it was just the angle, but from this perspective Joel's eyes seemed a little kinder than usual. Well, maybe it was just the lighting, but right now they appeared to lack the darkness that usually shone through his irises.

"Not long. Just give it a few minutes," he replied, but Amy barely listened.

Heat rose in her cheeks as she reflected on the thoughts coursing through her mind. Goddamnit. She had come this close to getting ripped apart by an infected, then almost collapsed, and she was thinking about Joel being nice to her for once? About how she felt safe with him and how that fact had somehow gotten through to her? She must have gone insane. Maybe she had just hit her head, couldn't remember it, and that was why she had paid such close attention to the color of his eyes.

"Amy."

Her head shot up, her blown pupils tracking the wrinkles on his brow.

"I asked you if we can keep driving."

"Yes. Yes, of course," she stammered, avoiding his eyes as she rose somewhat unsteadily to her feet.

"Good. Get in then. If you need more sugar, tell me. I got some in my bag."

Finally, Amy regained her ability to think and found her voice again.

"You've been storing those in your bag and didn't think to mention it?"

"Why would I have told you?"

Since Amy had no real response to that, she just shrugged and climbed back into her seat, releasing a deep breath and letting her head fall backwards.

She enjoyed exactly five minutes of that while Joel pulled the car back onto the road before he opened his mouth again and let his shrewd eyes wander across her pale face.

"Well, I ain't gotta tell ya why that was bad, right?"

Amy remained silent, feeling both deflated and furious all at once. God, she was supposed to feel grateful, but for some strange reason she couldn't find that emotion anywhere in her swirling mind right now. At least not on the surface.

"Amy."

Her head turned at the sound of her name slipping past his lips, but she still said nothing.

"I told you to stay by the door. Exactly 'cause of situations like this. And if I recall correctly, I told you a day ago that I was only gonna take you with me if you did what I told you when I told you. You disobeyed me and look where it got ya."

The blood beneath her skin was burning, the world around her tilting. Amy felt strange and unsteady again, though she had been better just a moment ago.

"Yes, and if you had let me stay in the car, none of this shit would have happened!" She detested how emotional, how rattled she sounded, but her feelings were getting the better of her and she was fully at their mercy. All she could do was watch the show as though she were an observer from the outside.

"If you had stayed in the car, worse things could have happened! Do you ever think that I might know what's best for you? That I have a little more life experience than you? Just 'cause you happen to have a big mouth doesn't mean everything coming out of it is good or smart. In fact, most of it is bullshit. You think you're safe in the car? You think you're safe when there's another car passing by with someone inside who sees a young, helpless girl who's unarmed? Someone who might not have good intentions?"

Amy's head began to throb. God, she didn't think she had ever heard Joel talk so much all at once. Why was she even so angry? Why did she feel like she would spit fire if she parted her lips? Why did she want to hit Joel on the arm and maybe kick him in the shin? Those arms that had just killed the infected for her, and those legs that had guided her out of the gas station.

"You could've given me a gun…" Amy murmured after a few minutes, only a shadow of that confident, stubborn girl left that Joel had been talking to a moment ago.

"I told you, you're only allowed to use it when I know that you know how."

"And when is that gonna be?" she asked, pressing her right cheek against the cold glass to cool her hot temper. It was working to some extent, her senses slowly sharpening.

"Tonight, if you want."

"What?" she breathed and carefully tilted her head in his direction.

"If we make camp early and you do as I say for the rest of the ride, I'm gonna show you how to use a gun. I'm not promising anything 'cause I don't know how well you're gonna do, but I'm gonna show ya how to hold it. How to aim right."

Amy sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, blinking a few times. There were tears collecting on her waterline, which didn't make any sense at all given that Joel was just making her a peace offering, but she couldn't help feeling so incredibly worn down by all of this. Always having to come up with a quick-witted reply, staying tough in front of Joel, resenting herself for feeling safe in his presence, feeling ashamed when she had to admit to being comforted by his role as her protector.

It was all too much. Amy had no idea if he noticed any of her emotions and how she was holding back tears, but at least he didn't speak to her for the next few hours, which could mean many things.

Joel just drove in silence, and as far as Amy could tell, he didn't even toss her a quick look. Amy spent most of the time with her head turned away from him, cheek pressed against the cool surface of the window, and the rest of the time she dozed. Because of those quick shifts between being awake and being fast asleep, she had no sense of the time, so when Joel steered the car off the road without a word, Amy could only guess the hour by the height of the sun in the sky. Late afternoon, maybe early evening. Maybe he was really holding true to his promise to give her a shooting lesson. The day before, he had made camp later.

"You okay?" Joel grunted the second the engine cut off.

"Yes," Amy answered mechanically.

"Did you eat the glucose?"

"No."

The next thing she perceived was the click of his seatbelt.

"Get out. Ain't gonna help ya, sinkin' into self-pity."

Amy wanted to grab him by the arm and ask what the hell he meant by self-pity, but he was already out of the car, stomping through the tall grass toward the trunk where the two of them had stuffed their sleeping bags, camping stove and all sorts of other things.

Self-pity, she thought, scoffing to herself. Why would she feel pity for herself? It was quite the opposite, actually. If there was something bothering her it was the rage she felt toward herself, not pity.

"Are you gonna teach me now?" Amy called in his direction, trying to mask her irritation by putting an extra measure of coolness in her tone.

"Give me a minute, alright? Jesus… I'm gonna start the campfire, then I'm gonna teach ya. Just – stay put."

Joel

Reaching for a fresh deodorant he had found in the top drawer underneath the sink, Joel nearly knocked over the soap with his elbow.

"Fuck," he cursed, quickly applied it under his arms and put it in his bag with a quiet sigh. The mirror was fogged, the air warm and steamy after the long shower he had taken, but he felt cleaner than he had in weeks, maybe even months.

Hair still damp, Joel grabbed his belongings and left the bathroom, only to nearly bump into Amy, who was just stuffing a few long-sleeved shirts into her bag. She had already taken a shower, her hair curling at the nape of her neck.

As she straightened up, startled by the sound of his footsteps, he caught a glimpse of her face, which looked a little different now that she was clean and fresh. Pretty, Joel thought, before internally shaking his head at such nonsense. Jesus Christ, this was a twenty-four-year-old woman. Barely even a woman, to be exact. Joel had been a father by the time she was born. He wasn't supposed to feel anything toward her except the hostility that was still deeply rooted in his bones. Most certainly no admiration for her beauty.

But as Amy gave him a gentle smile, Joel's stomach fluttered and he couldn't help but let his gaze roam up her neck, streaking over her lips and then the curve of her nose. Now that she had washed her hair and worn it down, her whole appearance was a little unfamiliar, which made him take in her face from a new angle.

Thick, long lashes framed her eyes, which were all soft and relaxed for once. Perhaps the private time in the bathroom, the opportunity to extensively scrub her body clean, had brightened her mood in exactly the same way it had his. The smile looked good on her face, Joel found.

He felt a light sting beneath his chest, which spread through his whole body a moment later. He should bury these thoughts in the darkest corner of his mind and never return to them. Amy was the last person he should ever take a second look at, let alone deem pretty. The next time a similar thought would cross his mind, he would shut it down at once and numb his brain, he promised himself as he shifted his gaze toward his own bag, which was still waiting for him to shove a few clothes inside.

"Are we gonna leave now?" she asked and pulled at the sleeves of her new shirt, covering her hands with the fabric.

"Soon. But first we're gonna go to the basement."

He led the way again, feeling Amy's presence closely behind him. The stairs creaked under their weight as though they hadn't been disturbed by humans in quite some time, which might well be the truth. As far as Joel was aware, Bill and Frank had been occupied with much more pressing matters than cleaning the guns stored down here. Such as caring for Frank's declining health.

"Wow…" Amy hummed as she took in the countless rifles and guns hanging on the walls, a sight that could have been straight out of an action thriller.

"That's insane. What did they need all that for?"

"Well, most of it is from before the outbreak. Back when Bill was rottin' away in his basement and assumed the fascist government was tryin' to control and spy on people." Joel turned around slowly, hands tucked in his pockets. "But I'd guess they had a lot to fight off over the years. There're always raiders who find this town and wonder why it's so well intact."

"Can I have one?" It took him a moment to comprehend what she was talking about.

"What, a gun?"

"Yeah."

Gaze drifting across the heavily loaded wall, he let out a slow breath, realizing she was probably right to want to carry a weapon as well. Joel was a man of control, someone who liked being in charge of as much as he could possibly supervise, and that included matters of safety. But Amy was an adult who definitely wasn't as capable as he or Tess had been, but he could teach her. And two armed people were better than one.

Reluctantly, Joel reached for a small gun, easy to handle and not too heavy to overwhelm her. There was a sour taste in his mouth as he handed it to her, furrowing his brow at her bright eyes.

"Have you ever carried a gun before?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. Of course."

"And have you shot one before?"

"Yes."

Joel didn't let go of the weapon yet, which made her raise her gaze, some of the excitement falling off her face.

"Tell me about it."

"It was just once… It's – It doesn't matter, does it? Why do you wanna know?"

"'Cause I wanna know how much you know about guns, you little brat."

Amy's lips puckered, her hand loosening its grip as she gently traced the handle. "Not a lot, I guess… You can start with the basics."

"Oh, thank you very much, princess. How very generous of you." Joel roughly yanked the gun away, grabbing a few other things that might be useful, such as ammunition, before heading upstairs again.

"What, am I not gonna get a gun?" Amy asked loudly and quickly followed him up to the ground floor.

"You will," Joel grunted, huffing in annoyance. "But do I look like I wanna get shot in the shoulder when you try to aim without knowing how? Ain't no way I'm lettin' you walk around with this before you know how to use it. I'm gonna teach ya. And if you do a good job, you're gonna carry it."

She looked up at him with wide eyes, teeth grating as she nodded. "Okay."

"Good," Joel uttered, surprised and quite frankly relieved that his earlier rules seemed to be sticking for once. At least she was accepting his instructions without talking back.

"How do you shoot with a rifle?" Amy asked while Joel stuffed a few last things into his backpack, throwing her a suspicious glance.

"Why, do you also wanna learn how to use a rifle? We should start with a handgun before we move to this heavy thing."

"I know… I know, I just – how did you learn it?"

Joel sighed, feeling no desire to give her extensive insight into his history and how he had come to own his first rifle.

"Experience. Time. And some luck. Now move. Have you packed everythin'?"

The two of them had already brought most of their things to the car, so all that was left were their bags, which Joel carelessly threw onto the backseat.

"Go on. Ain't nobody comin' to hold the door open for ya," he scoffed, walking around the car to get into the driver's seat. She released a soft breath, climbing into the vehicle, which made Joel realize something he hadn't considered before.

"S'your first time in a fuckin' car?"

"No. I've been in a car before. I just… can't remember it, you know?" Amy let her gaze wander curiously around the interior, from the wheel to the mirror and the windshield, ending at the gear shift.

"I would really like to learn how to drive."

"No fuckin' way," Joel stated, starting the car, which fortunately rolled on with no problems.

"Why not?"

"'Cause I spent weeks practicin' with my father, I drove around a lot and I had a driver's test. You think I'm just gonna let you drive without any of that? You think I wanna crash into a fuckin' tree?" Joel rolled his eyes, navigating the car through the abandoned town and then out through the gate.

"Alright. Fine. But you're gonna change your mind once you get tired and you have no one to take the wheel."

"Watch me…" Joel grunted, narrowed eyes fixed on the road ahead as he picked up speed.

Two hours later, Amy was sound asleep.

Once Joel noticed her steady breathing, he turned his attention to his surroundings and realized for the first time that it must have gotten late, the moon casting a silvery gleam across her face.

"Alright," he growled, but when she didn't stir, Joel waited until he had parked the car off to the left of the road in the forest and then shook her by the shoulder.

"Time to wake up."

"What?" Amy asked in confusion, darting around only to realize that she didn't know where she was. It seemed like she was still too sleepy to recognize the car either.

"I parked the car. S'time to get some rest for the night."

"Where are we? I swear to god, if you kidnapped me –"

"Kidnapped you?" Joel snorted, opening the driver's door. "Why would I kidnap you? What would I do with you, huh? I'm already gettin' you to the one person who's gonna give me anythin' I want in exchange for you. Now get out."

He left the car, waiting for Amy to do the same, then pointed to a small clearing that was beautifully lit by the moon.

"Same rules as last night. No loud noises, no talkin', no light, and we're gonna be fine."

"Aren't we gonna eat something first?"

"'Course we are. Why do you think we packed all that stuff?" Joel opened the back door and grabbed one of the large backpacks he had found in a closet in Bill's basement, filled with all sorts of canned goods such as beans, meat, whole meals.

Fifteen minutes later, after Joel had lit a small fire to cook some ready-made pasta, Amy chuckled softly, pulling the sweatshirt tighter around her shoulders.

"What?" Joel asked, unable to guess what was amusing her.

"I had a dream. During our drive."

"Congratulations." He didn't spare her a glance, determinedly staring at the little steaming pot.

"You don't wanna know what it was about?"

"No. I don't."

Silence settled over the scene until Amy cleared her throat and started talking regardless.

"Well, I'm gonna tell you anyway. I dreamt that I was still inside the QZ. But there were no humans, just infected. Who could suddenly talk to me, so I was confused at first, but then I treated them like any other people."

Joel's brows lifted, lips pursed faintly. "That's it?"

"That's it," Amy confirmed.

"Interesting."

Her mouth twisted as though she knew exactly that Joel couldn't have been less interested in her dreams. "What about you?"

"What about me?" he growled.

"Do you dream?"

"I dream every night."

Her eyes rolled, then followed his hands as he scooped some of the noodles into a bowl. "No, I mean how often can you remember?"

I wish I never remembered, was the thought that raced through his mind, but he just replied with a shrug.

"Sometimes. Occasionally."

"And do you –"

"Eat," Joel cut her off, expression stiff. His lids were heavy and his sore limbs were urging him to lie down after that long, draining day. No wonder Amy was in a talkative mood after her extensive nap.

He should be grateful, Joel thought, taking a spoonful of hot pasta. Every second he could spend without Amy's voice ringing in his ear was precious to him. Just like the day before, Joel told her to go to sleep as soon as the two of them were done with their meals.

"I'm not even tired yet," Amy hummed as she lay down, but Joel ignored it. Of course he wasn't either, but resting on his side, eyes open and mouth shut, was better than sitting here with her. Perhaps Amy would get ideas and assume that he was interested in a conversation.

He suppressed the urge to curse as he slipped into his sleeping bag, pulling it up all the way to his chin as if it would protect him from his own thoughts.

From this angle, he had the perfect view of the back of her head, her silky hair that looked so soft and light he believed a single breeze would make it flutter in the wind like leaves. He wished he could turn onto his other side and peer at the dark, slim stems of the trees instead, but in that case it would be his weak, nearly deaf ear listening for any approaching danger. Sure, Joel could ask Amy to switch sides, but he felt too worn-out to make the effort.

"Joel?"

He scoffed through his nose, closing his eyes the moment the woman shifted to face him. He couldn't look at her. Everything was too much; he felt overwhelmed and scared of the thoughts that might course through his mind at the sight of her. Joel was able to handle his mood during the day when he was focused on more important things such as driving or raiding Bill's home, but right now he didn't want to risk it. Especially not when Amy gave him those big, doe eyes that always made his bones go slack. What a good thing he was already lying down.

"What?" he barked.

"Are you cold?"

"No," he hissed, though he tucked his sweatshirt under his chin.

"Me neither."

"Then why are you askin' me, goddamnit. Go to sleep."

He didn't receive an answer, which made him cautiously open his left eye. Amy looked small, vulnerable beneath a pile of clothes. Just like the night before, she was wearing an extra layer to keep her warm, which was probably a good thing.

"I'm not tired," she almost apologetically whispered, meeting his gaze with a gentle smile playing at her lips. Shit. His heart was pounding in his chest, so he quickly forced himself to think of something else. The next day. The ten-hour drive in a stuffy car, the scarce meal that would await him in the morning, the horrible sun glaring through the windshield —

"How do you know Marlene?"

Well, at least that was a question he could answer with closed eyes and that would lead his thoughts elsewhere.

"My brother was with the Fireflies. S'how I met Marlene."

"Your brother was a Firefly?"

"I said he was with the Fireflies."

"Where's the difference?"

Joel sighed, chewing on his bottom lip. "Sleep."

For roughly five minutes, he believed there was a chance his travel companion was taking his words to heart at last, which was why he finally relaxed as well, doing his hardest to keep his mind from wandering off to her pretty hair, her beautiful hands, her gorgeous smile.

He knew how wrong it was, but he found that it wasn't that simple to banish certain feelings from his heart. He could distract himself by consciously concentrating on other things, but the more tired he became, the less control he had over his own mind. Which was why he always found himself dwelling on Amy's beauty.

When he turned onto his back, huffing out his frustration, he tried to change his angle on this. Yes, he found her pretty. Because she was. Objectively. And Joel was a man who liked pretty women, it was simple. He hadn't been with a woman in years, so it was only natural to have these thoughts. It didn't mean he had any intention of acting on them. Perhaps it was even healthier to accept that he felt attracted to Amy. These feelings would probably disappear on their own once he stopped trapping them and hiding them in the back of his mind. He might suffer for a few days, head swirling and his eyes lingering on her a little longer than was appropriate, but then they would fade on their own and he could live in peace.

Jesus, she was twenty-four. Could be his fuckin' kid.

Yeah, everything would be fine. No one, and especially not Amy, could read his mind and find out about his rotten brain. As long as he kept his desires to himself, they could inhabit his head for a while until this strange phase was over.

"Joel?"

Damn, he had assumed she had dozed off by now.

"What." It didn't even sound like a question, his voice laced with hostility.

"Are we safe here?"

"Didn't you ask the same fuckin' question yesterday?"

"Maybe," she admitted quietly.

"And did somethin' happen?"

"No."

"There ya go."

He turned onto his other side, thinking that he better trusted his gut over what he had told Amy instead of torturing himself by lying on his right side just so that his good ear was free. What he had said to her was the truth. There was no one out here, and even if there were, they wouldn't see the two of them in the dark.

"But there could be infected, right?"

"Yes," Joel grudgingly groaned. "Theoretically. But the chances are low."

"And… raiders."

"Yes," he whispered, and didn't soften his words this time. Not that he deemed it very likely to meet raiders out here in the middle of the woods, but claiming there were none would be a lie Joel wasn't comfortable telling her, despite all the trouble between them.

"Okay," Amy replied, but she couldn't fool him with her neutral, steady voice.

For the most part, Joel wished she would just go to sleep without bothering him again with more pointless questions, but there was also a part of him that understood her fear and pitied her genuinely. Of course she was scared. Was there any way around it? She was so young, so incapable of defending herself if it came down to it. Someone who had never been outside the QZ. Probably. At least, that was what Joel assumed about her past.

Sure, he was here to protect her, but Joel had to admit that it was a frightening thing to just close one's eyes, let oneself fall, and trust that nothing would happen to one's exposed and vulnerable body in the night.

Without saying anything, Joel sat up.

He didn't even know if Amy was still awake as he reached for his rifle, rubbing his swollen eyes with his knuckles. He was so tired he felt light-headed, craved sleep so much that it ate at him from within like an insatiable hunger.

And yet, Joel kicked off his sleeping bag a while later and rose to his feet.

He did it mostly so Amy would sleep at last without disturbing him with any more questions about their safety. And maybe because he felt for her, just a trifle. Just enough to make his eyes drift over her form, curled in a ball, while a quiet warmth spread through his lower belly.

Joel must have fallen asleep at around 5 a.m.

That was what he guessed, at least.

When he woke up the next morning, his lids still felt heavy, as though little stones were attached to the skin, pressing down onto his eyes with a relentless force that only vanished when he closed them. But to finally do that, he had to endure another day and pray that this time, Amy and he would find another place to sleep, one where she would feel safer than out here.

He was just brewing some coffee when his travel companion blinked awake, yawning and shifting on the ground.

"What time is it?" she breathed, rolling her head as though her body was still fighting off sleep. Surely this little brat was about to complain about being tired after he had spent a whole night on his feet just to make her feel a little safer and make sure nothing happened to her.

"8."

"You made coffee?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, traveling mistrustfully over the friendly look on her face.

"Yes?"

"Can I have some?"

"No fuckin' way."

Amy sat up, holding her head, which was probably spinning from the sudden motion. "Why not?"

"'Cause you're already a pain in my ass. No way I'm givin' you caffeine so you're gonna be even more annoyin'."

She folded her arms in front of her chest, greedily eyeing the steaming liquid that, Joel had to admit, emitted a delicious, nutty scent.

"Please. Otherwise I'm surely gonna fall asleep again."

"I don't care if you fall asleep. Actually, please do. S'gonna make all of this a lot easier for me if I don't have to listen to you talkin'."

With that, Joel closed the lid of the coffee pot, throwing her one last irritated glance, which Amy returned by jutting her chin out. God, she really did look beautiful in the morning, and that was despite the pronounced crease on her brow. When other people's skin was sallow, eyes hooded and hair standing out in all directions, Amy just looked… adorable. Sure, she wore dark circles underneath her eyes and looked a little drowsy herself, but somehow all of those little details only added to his feelings.

He quickly averted his gaze from her, hoping that his thoughts would disappear the moment his attention lay elsewhere, but of course nothing helped. Her features, her pretty pout were still stuck in his head like a song he couldn't get out of his mind. She was like a curse haunting him in two different ways, he realized, though both were very bad. Like problems he wished he could be rid of. She vexed the shit out of him, and every time he found peace for a single moment, it wasn't her obnoxious behavior burdening him but her appearance. It was unfair, really. It wasn't like she had done anything to deserve her looks, or the way she appeared to the outside world.

"Okay, just a sip," Amy stated. His head began throbbing, and he wished he could bury it beneath a pile of clothes just to drown out the noise. Or get another hour of sleep.

"What, are you addicted to coffee? You shouldn't be. Not at your age."

"At my age? What's that supposed to mean?" she indignantly spat.

"How long you been drinkin' coffee?" Joel asked suspiciously, but poured a little of the dark liquid into a cup. If there was one thing he had learned about addicts, it was that they became insufferable when they didn't get their fix. And since Amy was already intolerable, he didn't want to make it worse by dealing with her withdrawal symptoms all day.

"Since I was… 15, I think. And I'm not addicted. I just need it to wake up."

"That's the fuckin' definition of bein' addicted," Joel grunted.

"Then you're addicted too. We all are, it's just not an unhealthy addiction."

"This ain't about me." He handed her the cup roughly, the liquid nearly spilling over the rim. "Drink up. But you ain't gonna have this privilege every day, so enjoy it. No way I'm wastin' my coffee on a brat like you."

Amy savored the coffee silently and far more slowly than Joel would have liked.

"C'mon. We're leavin' in ten, so you better hurry up."

"So you grew up in Austin… How did you get to Boston?"

"None of your business," Joel barked, keeping his eyes glued to the road ahead of him. It was his new tactic to prevent his thoughts from wandering off to places they weren't supposed to be. Not looking at her. Avoiding her. He stood by his mantra to let his feelings in rather than forcefully packing them away, but he didn't have to provoke them by admiring her profile, beautifully lit by the rising sun.

"Really?" Amy scoffed, getting comfortable in her seat. "I'm starting to feel like you're the child here."

"I'm just not interested in sharing my history with you. And I'm not interested in learning about yours either."

Joel tightened his grip around the steering wheel, silently cursing at how his eyes flicked over to her every now and then. He had to get a grip on himself, goddamnit.

"Why? We're on a ten-hour drive and you just wanna sit here in silence? Jesus… Besides, I can promise you, you're gonna fall asleep if you don't talk."

Had Amy witnessed him keeping guard that night? The thought crossed his mind briefly, but watching her turn her head to look up at him with that victorious expression, he let the idea go.

"I'm not gonna fall asleep," Joel ground out through his clenched teeth, blinking against the bright sunlight warming his skin.

"You're saying that now. Come on. Just tell me a little something. Okay, I'm gonna give you a choice: either you're gonna talk, or I will."

"Talk about what?" Joel asked, not feeling particularly enthusiastic about either option, but he feared that if he ignored her, Amy would simply start talking his ear off without his permission.

"About our lives after the outbreak."

He had to suppress a chuckle, which quickly turned into a sour taste on his tongue. She was talking about the outbreak like it had been a groundbreaking shift in her life, even though she barely knew what the world had been like before that day twenty years ago.

At the same time, though, it made him aware of their massive age gap once more. He had lived a whole life, had gone through all possible stages before the outbreak, while Amy had been four goddamn years old. Younger than his daughter. The fact that he had ever glanced at her and felt drawn to her pretty face was downright disgusting. He was supposed to view her as a child, not a beautiful, attractive woman. But then again, she was that. It was a pretty accurate description of her, and no matter how hard Joel tried, he wasn't capable of bringing himself to see her as that.

"C'mon. You choose," Amy demanded again, challengingly drawing her eyebrows up.

"Fine… I'll tell ya." He chose that way first and foremost because if she started speaking, he might be more tempted to peer at her from the corner of his eye. That way, he could just stare ahead and ignore her presence, acting like he was talking to himself.

"My brother 'n' I –"

"The one we're traveling to?"

"Yes, goddamnit," Joel rumbled, exhaling in annoyance. "You asked me and now you're cuttin' me off after the first fuckin' word."

"Sorry." Amy leaned back, or at least that was what he could sense happening beside him.

"Anyways. We traveled east. Just 'cause it was horrible in Austin and we thought it must be better somewhere else. The first years after the outbreak were a mess. Everyone was just movin' around, tryna get somewhere better only to realize that it was shitty everywhere. Then the QZs came and many people went back."

"You and Tommy too?"

"No," he stated, lips a thin line. "We traveled further northeast, just tryin' to survive. We met – Tess. On the way. And some others. Just made our way around the country… lived day to day and then ended up in Boston. That was six years ago."

Amy let out a quiet breath. "Six years? You spent six years in the Boston QZ? Wow, no wonder you're so fucking grumpy."

Joel chose not to reply to that, just rolled his eyes. "I wasn't there all the time. Tommy 'n' I, we started smugglin' stuff in and out of the city. Traded with people, mostly desperate FEDRA soldiers, and had our little business runnin'."

"And why did Tommy leave? Did he have enough of you 'cause you suck?" She chuckled quietly, twisting her fingers together on her stomach.

"You think you're increasin' your chances of me tellin' you anythin' else about my past by bein' a fuckin' brat? Do you ever use your brain and figure out when to talk and when to shut your goddamn mouth? Mostly the second one, of course." Joel's jaw tightened, gritting his teeth so firmly he thought he might crack a tooth.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Go on."

Although he didn't feel like being told by Amy of all people to speak, just like he didn't want her ordering him to do anything, he did. Without being certain why he even bothered and didn't just keep silent, hoping she would soon fall asleep.

"He joined the fuckin' Fireflies."

"Oh right… You mentioned that. That's how you met Marlene."

"Correct," Joel muttered, chewing on his bottom lip as the memories bubbled to the surface.

"So he ditched you for the Fireflies? Or how am I supposed to picture that?"

"You're not supposed to picture anythin'…" Joel growled, but then took a deep breath. "He joined 'em. 'Cause he's an optimistic dreamer who thought he could make the world a better place. And I didn't 'cause I see those idiots for what they are."

"If you wanna gossip about the Fireflies, you've come to the wrong person. You know that, don't you?"

Joel narrowed his eyes slightly, casting her a quick look. "Why? 'Cause they wanna cut your arm open and steal your blood to do something that won't work? Are you sayin' you're grateful for that?"

"How do you know it won't work?" Amy asked, sounding more serious than she had in many hours.

"'Cause I've heard those tales before, kiddo," he explained, using the nickname on purpose to reestablish himself as someone with a lot more life experience and knowledge than her. "I've heard people talk about the genius vaccine that's gonna save us all, and we just gotta wait a few months while FEDRA develops it and hands it out. I don't care if they just didn't work or if those motherfuckers didn't hand out the vaccines 'cause they wanna continue oppressin' their people, but it doesn't matter. I haven't seen it yet. And we never will."

Joel paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in while Amy brought her thumb to her teeth, nibbling softly.

"It's not FEDRA, though. It's the Fireflies."

"Oh, and you think they can perform magic tricks just 'cause they're not fascists? There's no vaccine, kiddo. They can cut your arm open all they want, take your blood and do god knows what, but it ain't gonna work."

"How can you be so certain? You have no idea what –" Joel let out a long breath, shaking his head slowly.

"'Cause it's happened too many times. People gettin' their hopes up 'cause they thought some savior was about to come. I learned my lesson. Which is why I don't believe in this shit anymore."

"So you once had hope," Amy whispered.

Joel waited, expecting her to add something to that, but she didn't. And Joel didn't feel like it either.

Amy

When the sun hit the edge of her seat, Amy started counting the power poles by the road.

When it climbed so high in the sky that it burned directly onto her thighs, she moved on to the road signs, figuring it would take longer until that activity bored her too. But when, after an hour or two, she grew tired of observing the bleak landscape as well, her gaze landed on Joel instead.

"Joel?"

She liked saying his name. There was something grounding about the sound, how she could stretch the vowels or clip it short, depending on what she felt like at that moment.

"What?" he said without shifting his gaze to her.

That, she didn't like. Of course, Amy understood that he had to keep an eye on the road and make sure he wasn't driving into one of those power poles she had so intently watched that morning, but she secretly wished he would let his gaze wander to her more often. Not just because she liked looking at more of his face than just his profile, but also because Amy guessed she simply enjoyed having his undivided attention.

"What?" he repeated, hissing the word out like it was a disease.

"Can we stop for a moment? I have to pee."

"Oh, the 'lil princess has to pee again," he snarled, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in irritation.

She bit her bottom lip to hold back a smile, and for a moment she felt relieved that Joel had his eyes on the road. Otherwise, he might have noticed the faint warm shudder that rippled down her spine whenever he called her that. Amy definitely preferred that nickname over kiddo. Princess made her feel… special.

She wasn't an idiot and was well aware that Joel used it in a sarcastic, almost mocking way, but the effect was the same. Just the sound alone, the way his lips twisted every time he was about to pour it over her like warm honey… Jesus, maybe she really had stared at that man a little too long today, Amy thought, feeling warmth creep up her face.

Hopefully she would come up with other distractions tomorrow and spend her time doing things that wouldn't require focusing on Joel so much. It was just hard not to let her gaze drift to him at times, especially when he called her princess.

"It won't take long, I promise," Amy said and looked out of the window, searching for an abandoned gas station or repair shop.

"Wasn't I the one who told you not to drink so much?"

"Do you want me to die of fuckin' thirst?" she shot back, impatiently throwing her hands up.

"No, but I told you to drink a lot at once so you don't have to pee so often. You've been sippin' on that water bottle for hours without a fuckin' break. Not surprised you gotta pee so often…"

Despite his complaints, Joel pulled off at the next gas station, parking next to the small building and climbing out after grabbing his gun.

"I really don't think this is necessary," Amy muttered and slammed the door shut behind her.

When they had stopped for her first pee break, Joel had insisted on standing outside the bathroom, armed with his gun like a guard dog. Of course she had found it ridiculous back then too, but she couldn't deny the effect his protectiveness had on her. It was the same when she had noticed Joel keeping watch the night before.

His reasons for doing it were utterly insignificant, but feeling taken care of, protected by a man as capable of violence as Joel, made her stomach flutter and sometimes even her lips curve, even though she tried to hide it from him whenever that happened. The stomach fluttering, at least, he couldn't see.

So when Amy complained about his thorough safety measures, she only meant it to some extent. Mostly, she felt flustered, delighted and shy about Joel following her inside, standing so close to the door that she could nearly hear his breathing.

No one had ever cared for her in such a way, and it didn't even matter that he did it solely for the reward Marlene had promised him. She was a broken woman, and had once been a scared little child who had never received the love, shelter and warmth she would have needed after her parents died so early. So it was no surprise that she soaked up Joel's feeble gestures like a dry sponge, no matter how coldly he delivered them. Protection was protection.

"It is," Joel barked, resembling that dog now more than ever. "C'mon. You said you were gonna do it quickly. I wanna drive a few more hours before we make camp."

Joel practically pushed her inside, even holding the door open while Amy slipped under his arm.

"How am I supposed to relieve myself with you lurking around like a fuckin' shadow?" she complained before Joel closed the door with a rough bang.

"You're supposed to pee. Not write down the theory of relativity."

"Joel?" Amy asked, absent-mindedly tracing her finger over the window beside her.

"What?" he barked, casting her a brief glance. "Don't do that. You're gonna get the window dirty. Then I can't see, and I'm gonna crash the fucking car."

"How am I gonna get the window dirty?" she sneered and examined her own fingertip as if looking for the filth he was talking about.

"Just – don't. What's your question?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me more about your brother. How are we gonna find him? Do you know where exactly he lives?"

"I know that he's in Wyoming."

"That's it?" Amy asked, tilting her eyebrows upward.

"No, you little brat. Would you mind letting me finish? I know roughly where he is."

Of course, he had no fucking clue. Great. So she wouldn't just have to endure his horrible temper for the next few weeks — she would also have to wander around Wyoming looking for a man who had left no traces whatsoever. How big was Wyoming even? What did it look like? Was it cold up there? And should she ask Joel these questions or would he taunt her?

"So you have no idea, asshole," Amy said, sounding a lot bolder than she felt.

"What's wrong with you?" Joel hissed, his grip tightening around the steering wheel. Good. At least her words had gotten a reaction out of him. "I know where he is. I'm gonna find him 'cause there ain't no other option."

"And what about me?" Damn, she hadn't meant for it to sound so pathetic, so needy. But after ten hours in this car with nothing to do but stare out of the window, Amy was stuck with her own thoughts and slowly started losing her mind. Her future was more uncertain than it had ever felt before, and all she wanted was to know what was going to happen to her, whether Joel was just as uninformed about where he was going to drop her off as he was about finding his brother, his own flesh and blood.

What if he didn't know anything at all and she ended up on the side of an abandoned road? Amy could already see it clearly in her mind, Joel's triumphant scoff, his features relaxed for once in his life as he left her in the dust. But then again, he wanted that reward Marlene had promised him, right? Goddamnit, she had no idea, but she wanted a little stability. That was all.

"What about you?" Joel snapped, causing her to chew on her bottom lip.

"What – where are we gonna find the Fireflies? What if they're gone? And – I mean, after we find your brother – if we find him – is he… will he come with us?"

"You got a whole lotta questions, kiddo…" Joel groaned, grinding his teeth.

"What do you expect? You think I'm gonna be satisfied driving around with some old grump like you?"

"You can be glad you're drivin' around with me, brat. Others would've killed you already. Would've sold your fuckin' organs for a bit of food."

"But then you wouldn't get Marlene's reward."

Yeah, that worked. Maybe Amy should feel a little more confident about the fact that Joel needed her as much as she needed him. Okay, maybe not just as much, but if something happened to her, he had no purpose going west. Except for his brother, of course.

"Don't worry about that… I'm gonna get Marlene her little prize. And I bet your ass you can't imagine how badly I wish we were there already…"

"Oh, believe me, I can," Amy muttered and rested her chin on her knee, which she hadn't done before. She had thought Joel might not appreciate seeing her put her shoe on the leather seat. Whatever. If he acted like an asshole, he didn't get to be mad at her for disrespecting his rules.

When Joel and Amy stopped at another gas station an hour later, she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from making a snarky comment. Something like I told you not to drink so much at once was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't say it, thinking that the fact that the two of them hadn't torn into each other during the past few minutes was a win.

"C'mon. Get out of the car," Joel commanded after pulling to a stop, making her sigh in annoyance.

"I can wait in here."

"No, you won't. I'm not gonna say it twice."

Shoulders dropping in defeat, Amy unfastened her seat belt and climbed out of the car, doing so begrudgingly enough that she hoped he felt it.

"Can you stop huffing like a fucking steam locomotive?" Joel grunted on their way inside.

"Oh, excuse me. Now I'm breathing too loudly? What else? You want me to walk differently?"

The store was just as run-down and grimy as the previous station. Some of the food and other merchandise had been knocked off the shelves and was scattered all over the floor. Amy kicked a can aside as she followed Joel toward the bathroom, provoking him to dart a look at her from the corner of his eye, though he restrained himself from commenting.

"You wait here. I swear to god, don't move around, don't do anything stupid. Don't search the store. Just stay by the door. Am I clear?"

"Yes," she said sharply, barely able to stop herself from saluting.

"Alright."

He gave her one last quick, suspicious look before pushing through the bathroom door, rifle in his hand. Amy almost wanted to laugh. What kind of danger was he expecting to lurk inside a bathroom except for mildew on the ceiling and some rusty pipes. Well, whatever made Joel feel safe.

She whistled through her pursed lips, taking in the store more carefully. All those cans and packages spread across the floor…

Why hadn't Joel told her to take a look around and find them some useful snacks for the drive? It would be in both their best interests, right? Maybe that was just what he needed, Amy thought, grinning to herself. A few snacks, a chocolate bar or a handful of salted almonds. Would he consider it a peace offering if she handed him one, or would he be mad at her for ignoring his rules?

In the end, she was too curious to just stand by the door, which was why she started to wander through the shop. It turned out to be a lot larger than she had initially thought. There was another large room connected to this one, with even more magazine stands and empty refrigerated shelves. The latter were obviously not intact anymore, though Amy still took pleasure in finding out what had once been stored in there. The magazines caught her interest as well. Perhaps she could take a stack of them to keep herself entertained during the drive, so she wouldn't have to force conversation with Joel.

Screw him for telling her to wait by the door… If she had obeyed, she wouldn't have found any of this, and would probably bore herself to death after more endless hours of sitting next to him in the car with nothing but the movement of the sun to hold her attention.

Suddenly, she paused. There had been a noise, right? She was just about to call Joel's name, already readying herself to explain what she was doing at the back of the shop, when it happened again.

No, that wasn't Joel…

Amy's brow furrowed, her feet quietly carrying her toward the source of the sound. She passed the checkout counter, the rack with the postcards - she froze.

Without even seeing what was inside the room behind the door that stood just a crack open, she knew at once. The quiet groan that was almost a yelp.

"Oh fuck me," she whispered, feeling so startled by the sudden appearance of the infected that she had yet to move.

Jesus, she should run in the opposite direction, find Joel and get the hell out of here, but something drew her closer to the door. It was dark in there, which was why she couldn't quite make out the creature, but a thin strip of light illuminated its right cheekbone.

This was it… Her worst enemy, which had simultaneously given her her superpower. Amy despised the term, but Marlene had sometimes called her immunity that, which had made her feel like a small child who couldn't understand what any of this was about without that kind of language.

She took another step forward, her hand hovering an inch from the door. She just couldn't stop. The sight was fascinating, the yellow eyes sending a shudder brushing against the back of her neck, her hair standing on end. It was excitement and fear in equal measure, but above all she felt that the thrill of it had an addictive effect on her.

Shit. She had taken another careful step forward without knowing why, and suddenly the creature stirred. At first it was just its face twisting, the milky pupils, which didn't look so milky and distant now, settling on her.

"Shit," she breathed, stepping back slowly. No, no, no, she hadn't been prepared for this. Was she supposed to run or sneak away, hoping the infected wouldn't find her? Joel had said something about Clickers not being able to see. Was this a Clicker? How could she tell if it — The infected lurched forward abruptly, jerking as though possessed by some demonic force, and crawled toward her.

"Oh fuck," Amy gasped, jumping backward and kicking out wildly, when something, or rather someone, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back.

Joel.

She had never felt so relieved to catch the leather scent that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.

He pulled her behind his massive frame, shielding her from the infected, and fired a few shots at it. Amy couldn't see any blood, but she could only imagine it was an ugly sight. The smell of gunpowder spread rapidly through the air, and suddenly the only sound she could hear was her own heavy panting, whereas the room had just felt so loud and chaotic.

Joel yanked her along without a word. He didn't even allow her a glimpse of the scene, deliberately walking to her left so that his body blocked the view. And Amy let him guide her without question or protest, her head swimming and her fingertips prickling as the adrenaline gradually began to ebb.

She felt stable at his side for once, as though she could let all her emotions run free, allow herself to be afraid, sad, or overwhelmed, because Joel was there to protect her. And there was something incredibly grounding about his solid presence.

By the time they reached the door that led outside, she was trembling, which prompted Joel to place a hand on her back. It was a wise move. Why did she feel so weak in the knees all of a sudden? Was she going to faint? Her breathing came out shallow, her chest rising faster than usual as her body worked to fill her lungs with oxygen that seemed to nourish them but not yet her brain.

Joel directed her back to the car, but instead of walking around to the passenger side, he opened the driver's door and helped Amy onto his seat. Her vision was still a little blurry, and she twisted her trembling hands together to hide her body's struggle, but the fact that she could stretch out her legs and didn't have to support her own weight anymore made her racing heart begin to slow.

"Eat this." Joel's deep voice cut through the fog in her head, making Amy's eyes flicker toward him. He was standing in front of her, one hand on the hood, the other holding a small package.

"What… what is that?" she breathed, unnerved by the thinness of her own voice.

"Glucose. You know what that is?"

She shook her head but allowed Joel to place the item in her open palm.

"Well, it's some sort of sugar. I don't know exactly, but it's gonna help ya."

Amy swallowed hard, then tried to rip the plastic open. Unsuccessfully, of course. Her trembling fingers slipped immediately, which made her exhale in frustration.

"C'mon. Give it to me."

She obeyed, though she couldn't deny feeling a little helpless, sulky, even, for not being able to do it herself. At the same time, she was taken aback by his sudden show of kindness, something Amy hadn't known him to be capable of.

"What is that… Why am I feeling –"

Joel handed her the white tablet, which almost looked like compressed flour.

"Adrenaline. Something about… blood sugar. The point is, you had a lot of energy from the shock, and now that energy is leaving your body all at once, so you're feeling extra weak. Eat it. Why would I poison ya? I would've gotten rid of you already if I wanted to."

Amy paused for a moment, looking at the tiny tablet that was supposed to save her from her own body betraying her. Then she put it in her mouth, chewed gently, and tasted sweetness on her tongue a moment later.

"How long until it kicks in?" Amy asked, glancing up at Joel, who was still watching her as though afraid she might drop dead the moment he looked away. A tremor unfurled along her spine, warm and pleasant, like the graze of a soft feather drawn slowly across her back with the sole purpose of making her feel good. Maybe it was just the angle, but from this perspective Joel's eyes seemed a little kinder than usual. Well, maybe it was just the lighting, but right now they appeared to lack the darkness that usually shone through his irises.

"Not long. Just give it a few minutes," he replied, but Amy barely listened.

Heat rose in her cheeks as she reflected on the thoughts coursing through her mind. Goddamnit. She had come this close to getting ripped apart by an infected, then almost collapsed, and she was thinking about Joel being nice to her for once? About how she felt safe with him and how that fact had somehow gotten through to her? She must have gone insane. Maybe she had just hit her head, couldn't remember it, and that was why she had paid such close attention to the color of his eyes.

"Amy."

Her head shot up, her blown pupils tracking the wrinkles on his brow.

"I asked you if we can keep driving."

"Yes. Yes, of course," she stammered, avoiding his eyes as she rose somewhat unsteadily to her feet.

"Good. Get in then. If you need more sugar, tell me. I got some in my bag."

Finally, Amy regained her ability to think and found her voice again.

"You've been storing those in your bag and didn't think to mention it?"

"Why would I have told you?"

Since Amy had no real response to that, she just shrugged and climbed back into her seat, releasing a deep breath and letting her head fall backwards.

She enjoyed exactly five minutes of that while Joel pulled the car back onto the road before he opened his mouth again and let his shrewd eyes wander across her pale face.

"Well, I ain't gotta tell ya why that was bad, right?"

Amy remained silent, feeling both deflated and furious all at once. God, she was supposed to feel grateful, but for some strange reason she couldn't find that emotion anywhere in her swirling mind right now. At least not on the surface.

"Amy."

Her head turned at the sound of her name slipping past his lips, but she still said nothing.

"I told you to stay by the door. Exactly 'cause of situations like this. And if I recall correctly, I told you a day ago that I was only gonna take you with me if you did what I told you when I told you. You disobeyed me and look where it got ya."

The blood beneath her skin was burning, the world around her tilting. Amy felt strange and unsteady again, though she had been better just a moment ago.

"Yes, and if you had let me stay in the car, none of this shit would have happened!" She detested how emotional, how rattled she sounded, but her feelings were getting the better of her and she was fully at their mercy. All she could do was watch the show as though she were an observer from the outside.

"If you had stayed in the car, worse things could have happened! Do you ever think that I might know what's best for you? That I have a little more life experience than you? Just 'cause you happen to have a big mouth doesn't mean everything coming out of it is good or smart. In fact, most of it is bullshit. You think you're safe in the car? You think you're safe when there's another car passing by with someone inside who sees a young, helpless girl who's unarmed? Someone who might not have good intentions?"

Amy's head began to throb. God, she didn't think she had ever heard Joel talk so much all at once. Why was she even so angry? Why did she feel like she would spit fire if she parted her lips? Why did she want to hit Joel on the arm and maybe kick him in the shin? Those arms that had just killed the infected for her, and those legs that had guided her out of the gas station.

"You could've given me a gun…" Amy murmured after a few minutes, only a shadow of that confident, stubborn girl left that Joel had been talking to a moment ago.

"I told you, you're only allowed to use it when I know that you know how."

"And when is that gonna be?" she asked, pressing her right cheek against the cold glass to cool her hot temper. It was working to some extent, her senses slowly sharpening.

"Tonight, if you want."

"What?" she breathed and carefully tilted her head in his direction.

"If we make camp early and you do as I say for the rest of the ride, I'm gonna show you how to use a gun. I'm not promising anything 'cause I don't know how well you're gonna do, but I'm gonna show ya how to hold it. How to aim right."

Amy sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, blinking a few times. There were tears collecting on her waterline, which didn't make any sense at all given that Joel was just making her a peace offering, but she couldn't help feeling so incredibly worn down by all of this. Always having to come up with a quick-witted reply, staying tough in front of Joel, resenting herself for feeling safe in his presence, feeling ashamed when she had to admit to being comforted by his role as her protector.

It was all too much. Amy had no idea if he noticed any of her emotions and how she was holding back tears, but at least he didn't speak to her for the next few hours, which could mean many things.

Joel just drove in silence, and as far as Amy could tell, he didn't even toss her a quick look. Amy spent most of the time with her head turned away from him, cheek pressed against the cool surface of the window, and the rest of the time she dozed. Because of those quick shifts between being awake and being fast asleep, she had no sense of the time, so when Joel steered the car off the road without a word, Amy could only guess the hour by the height of the sun in the sky. Late afternoon, maybe early evening. Maybe he was really holding true to his promise to give her a shooting lesson. The day before, he had made camp later.

"You okay?" Joel grunted the second the engine cut off.

"Yes," Amy answered mechanically.

"Did you eat the glucose?"

"No."

The next thing she perceived was the click of his seatbelt.

"Get out. Ain't gonna help ya, sinkin' into self-pity."

Amy wanted to grab him by the arm and ask what the hell he meant by self-pity, but he was already out of the car, stomping through the tall grass toward the trunk where the two of them had stuffed their sleeping bags, camping stove and all sorts of other things.

Self-pity, she thought, scoffing to herself. Why would she feel pity for herself? It was quite the opposite, actually. If there was something bothering her it was the rage she felt toward herself, not pity.

"Are you gonna teach me now?" Amy called in his direction, trying to mask her irritation by putting an extra measure of coolness in her tone.

"Give me a minute, alright? Jesus… I'm gonna start the campfire, then I'm gonna teach ya. Just – stay put."

Joel gritted his teeth, pushing you forward with a little more force than necessary to signal you to approach the wall. You understood the message either way, stumbling forward rather than walking that single step.

The shower was narrow and tight, leaving barely enough room for two people to stand comfortably while soaping their bodies, but that was only more reason to minimize the space between the two of you, Joel found. Besides, he could always justify their feral behavior in the shower by claiming that he wanted to save water.

And then there was the fact that both of you, having traveled through the country for months without any running water aside from the currents the two of you had stumbled upon, definitely had a lot to catch up on. The experience of warm, clear water trickling down one's neck was something Joel had never appreciated enough before the outbreak. Now, twenty years later, living in Jackson, he had discovered it again, and he couldn't get enough of it. Especially when you joined him in the shower.

"Fuck… Joel, fuck," you whimpered, feeling his hand stall along your slit with just enough friction to kindle a small fire within you.

"I know, baby… You like that, don't you?" His nose scrunched against the back of your wet scalp, smelling your hair, which his calloused hands had already kneaded clean a few minutes prior. Well, perhaps the two of you would have to wash your bodies again after you were done here. At least, Joel could already feel sweat pooling on his brow, although it was quickly swept away by the water crackling down on your heads.

As he didn't receive an answer, he slapped your butt harshly, the noise even louder as it echoed off the high tiles of the bathroom.

"Answer me. Or I'm gonna stop right here, right now… Use your mouth. Or do I have to remind you that you got one that works pretty well." His strong arms stirred when you still hesitated to open your mouth, too focused on not losing your mind over his thumb flicking your clit to the side.

Truthfully, you were feeling a bit anxious. Not because of Joel's lingering touch, of course, but rather because you had been marked by the many times the two of you had made use of what you had during your travels across the continent.

The days had been rough, and so had the places you had slept. Tents, rancid beds in abandoned cabins, and the steel-hard floors of buildings that had once been offices and now emitted a cold dullness. Still, Joel and you were two human beings who felt attracted to each other, which was why you had often ended up trapped between your partner's broad body and the ground while his cock and fingers had driven you to your high within minutes. Those were the times when you had had to stay quiet. Not only because your moans would have bounced off the ceiling and circulated throughout the whole building like a disease, but especially because neither of you knew what creatures were strolling in the basement.

You hadn't just gotten used to keeping your voice down while Joel's hard cock was pounding your pussy, no, you had quite literally been drilled to feel your heart skip a beat whenever a noise spilled out of your throat. Most of the time, it had been Joel pressing a hand over your mouth, his grip tightening around your throat, or whatever body part of yours he could grab first. In your opinion, it wasn't surprising that you were still trained to keep your mouth shut.

Perhaps you would learn to properly enjoy yourself again after a few months in Jackson, but for now, anxiety instinctively rose in your belly every time Joel asked you to speak up or stop holding back on him.

Consequently, you didn't reply to him even after his repeated question, resulting in his large hand pulling you down by your wrist.

"Alright, you wanted it that way," he growled between clenched teeth, eyes spitting fire while your knees uncomfortably scraped the floor beneath you. "So I gotta remind ya, mhm? That you got a fuckin' mouth, and a fuckin' tongue that's supposed to move when I tell ya so. Open your mouth."

You had to tilt your head a little and flinched when you felt water drops fall right into your eyes. It definitely wasn't a suitable position to give someone a blow job, but you didn't consider rejecting your boyfriend for an instant. In fact, that thought didn't even race through your mind. Maybe this was another effect of the past months spent far out in the country. When you traveled alone with a man, saw that same face night and day, and simultaneously felt your personal need to be intimate with someone increase, there were not a lot of options.

Joel and you had made it five whole days before the two of you had shared a sleeping bag for the first time. To prevent freezing to death, of course. After that, it had become routine, letting off steam at the end of the day, finding something similar to solace.

The way you touched each other varied day to day, you figured. At times, there had been nothing soft or gentle about the way his cock had impaled your cunt, whereas other times, you had felt like what you were doing could be called making love. It hadn't just been about Joel emptying his balls inside you or releasing some endorphins, but about appreciating a close emotional proximity that didn't just serve the purpose of satisfying each other like two feral animals. Sometimes, Joel had stayed inside you longer than necessary and had even bothered to help you get dressed afterward.

But at the end of the day, despite traveling alone and without a larger group, there had always been complications, such as exhaustion, tiredness, an unsuitable sleeping place, or the stress that just wasn't wearing off no matter how much effort you put into relaxing. On some days, Joel couldn't get hard, and on other days you were too cramped to let him in. You assumed that there was some correlation to the events that had happened throughout the day, but since there was nothing you had been able to do about it, you had just accepted the way your bodies functioned and instead went to bed.

Therefore, the two of you had a lot of yearning to make up for. All those times, you had lain on your side, head full of worries and concerns you wished you could turn off like a light switch. There was the question of what to eat tomorrow, where to sleep, whether the two of you would make it out of the QZ, and which road to take without a map to guide you. The only way, at least the only way accessible to you, was to be with Joel, his cock or hands shutting your brain off for at least fifteen minutes. But when the circumstances wouldn't allow it, all you could do was think about it and wish you were someplace else.

Exactly like you were now.

Now, living in Jackson, Joel and you could fuck all day, and nobody cared. You could use every piece of furniture, spend hours touching each other's bodies without rush, and repeat it as many times as you liked in comfortable places that didn't involve wet forest soil seeping through your clothes. You were hungry for each other, it was that simple.

"Good girl," Joel now praised, eyes skimming over your widely parted lips. "Now I want ya to go slowly, babygirl. Can ya do that?"

You nodded slowly, gaze traveling along his immense manhood, which always slapped against his soft belly so seductively when the two of you had been making out for some time.

You didn't know what you craved more, kissing the faint bulge of his tummy or licking across the tip of his cock, which looked so red and plump. But since Joel made the choice for you, you shifted a little closer to him, eyes wide and glued to his cock like you were hypnotized by the beauty of his impressive length.

"Slowly. Trace the veins, baby. Like I taught you."

It wasn't like you had needed a teacher to show you how to give a blowjob, goddamnit. You had been with guys before Joel had come into your life, yet it really did feel like he had opened your world to utterly new ways of pleasing a man. Joel had a very particular idea of how you were supposed to take him into your mouth and how to stimulate his member, which you had been quick to adapt to.

He didn't do the work. This was one of the first lessons you had learned. He was more than happy to be the active one when he had you pinned on the floor beneath him, rapidly snapping his hips into yours as he fucked your brains out, but while he was receiving pleasure from you, he leaned back. Watched you, enjoyed you, relaxed.

He still told you how he wanted it and radiated a certain dominance even while doing nothing, but he mostly kept his hands to himself aside from occasionally threading them through your hair.

Joel hummed tenderly when you darted your tongue out, but apart from that, you didn't receive much affirmation that you were doing well. Which wasn't new or unfamiliar to you. At this point, it didn't unsettle you anymore, so you didn't let his silence distract you, and you licked along his bulging veins just the way he liked it. You were careful to capture all of it, every centimeter from his base up to his tip, then made your way back down.

Your knees hurt terribly, but it wasn't worse than the knife of a raider shoved into your shinbone, so you managed. The water dripping onto your face stung your eyes, but it wasn't worse than wandering through the woods in the rain with your body soaked to the bone. At least the water was warm and felt nice the moment it left your eyes to run down your face.

"Good girl. Show me your tongue," Joel commanded, placing his heavy palm on top of your head as if to pet his favorite dog. Once you had obeyed, you felt him shift his weight to his other foot in order to have a better view of your flat tongue.

"Good. Go on now. Every single vein."

He didn't have to ask you again. Licking his massive dick, showing your admiration and awe for him in such a primal and filthy way was one of your favorite things in the world. You really did feel like worshipping his manhood by affectionately trailing along every single bulging vein and the curve of him, and it was precisely how you were feeling. Besides, you had done this so many times before that it felt as though your muscles had memorized the exact shape and texture of him, his form engraved in your tongue and surely in your pussy walls as well, given the many times he had scraped his cock along your insides.

"You look really good down there, baby… Should do this in the shower more often. Makes it less dirty."

Once again, a side effect of your long journey through the wild.

After having had no choice but to watch your face get coated in his precum, your drool, and eventually even his seed, Joel liked it clean and neat nowadays. He owned towels and tissues, so why not make use of them?

"Yeah," you agreed, licking a generous stripe from his balls up his length while carefully circling the tip with your thumb.

"Okay, enough," Joel then said after a few minutes, tapping his fingers on your scalp. "Suck on it. Slowly 'n' just the tip. You're not gonna do more than I tell you, are we clear?"

"Yes, Joel," you breathed, exactly like you knew he enjoyed it.

Joel wanted order and compliance, a clear and unambiguous hierarchy and someone who listened to him without any second thoughts. He hated chaos and spontaneous choices but loved it when you did precisely what he told you. When you waited to touch his cock until he had given you permission to bring your hand closer.

The tip of his dick disappeared between your soft lips, your lashes fluttering while you gazed up at him. The problem definitely wasn't how deep he pressed against your throat walls but the water filling your eyes.

"Suck it, babygirl," Joel repeated, his lips parting just a little further as you obeyed. He was rock hard against your mouth, so you doubted that this was anything but a punishment for being unable to use your voice while you were with him, but it didn't really feel like it. Every second you got to spend with your face pressed against his center was a blessing to you, and you liked to believe that the events of the past weeks were not the only reason for your emotions regarding this. Joel was a handsome man, so anyone would be lucky to have him all to themselves.

You suckled on his tip gently, hoping that you were doing well, but you couldn't think of anything you might be failing to pay attention to right now. You didn't shift too much — Joel didn't like that — and you focused on his tip without using your tongue too extensively.

"Gosh… sweetheart. You're really good at this. I taught you well. S'almost a 'lil boring, ain't it?"

Your eyes widened, taking in his narrow, dark gaze roaming your body as if to assess what to do with you next.

"Ain't got no reason to punish you. Except for not respondin' of course. But apart from that… All I can do is tell you that you're doin' well."

Even though you wanted to tell him that you were convinced that was a good thing, you didn't dare pull away from him without his explicit command.

Instead you hollowed your cheeks, heart stumbling at the way Joel's head rested against the wall behind him, his neck flexed like his body was under high pressure. You were doing well. He liked it.

"Use your tongue. And go deeper, sweetheart. Just a 'lil bit… Halfway."

You nodded lightly, just enough to show Joel that you had understood and knew what to do, and then allowed more of him to slide down your throat. By now, you had a very good idea of how many inches you were taking based on how he felt against your throat, and stopped when his tip was about to nudge against your palate. Yes, that was how big he was.

In the beginning, he had simply been too big for both your throat and pussy, but he had made it work. That was what he had whispered in your ear while you had trembled and whimpered, your blood running cold with the fear of forever being incapable of adjusting to his size.

I'm gonna make it fit. It's gonna be okay, he had murmured, which had soothed you surprisingly well and led you to discover a new side of him. A softer, more caring one, although you had to admit that that side of him was revealed most of the time when Joel wanted something. Such as your throat and your pussy.

But now, you were skilled and your throat was trained to take more of him.

You exhaled heavily through your nose, closing your eyes as you covered your teeth with your lips.

"You're a good 'lil pet, baby… Listenin' so well… That's how I can tell that this is exactly what you're supposed to do. Where you're supposed to be."

You knew that Joel wasn't making you suck his cock to cum down your throat. He liked blowjobs, no matter if they were messy, lazy, or passionate, but this man liked to fuck. Sliding his dick past your lips was almost always just a preparation for what was to come or one of his twisted games that were supposed to teach you a lesson.

Still, you put everything into it, bobbing your head around the upper part of his cock while your tongue played with his veins and the precum gathering at his tip. You switched quickly between forceful sucks, teasing swipes across his length, and steady stimulation in the form of your stretched lips brushing against him. And Joel seemed satisfied. He had yet to say much and limited himself to occasionally grunting under his breath or cursing quietly, but you knew that if you were doing a poor job, he would have stopped you by now.

"All the way now, kitten," he suddenly said, the few words hanging in the moist air a little longer than usual because of the empty space of the shower. "I want you to gag on it. Let's make it… three times. I'm feelin' nice today."

You granted yourself a few seconds to catch your breath, knees shifting across the cold floor to find a position that was just a little bit more comfortable for your raw skin.

"Yes, Joel."

"And you know the rules. Don't push yourself too far, alright?"

Nodding again, you straightened up, trying to hide the pain shooting through your kneecaps. Perhaps Joel would have cared if you told him, but perhaps not. In any case, what did it matter? You wanted to finish what you had started in the shower with him, not on some stupid carpet or the bed.

"Three times, babygirl. If you're gonna be good, I'll let you stand, 'n' I'm gonna fuck this pussy nicely. Do you want that?"

"Yes, Joel," you whined, feeling surprised by how vocal he was being with you. Well, maybe he was just in a good mood. Or today wasn't all about getting rid of accumulated tension or anger but rather actually relishing some time shared with you.

His promise gave you the motivation to get it over with quickly so that you could have his massive, broad frame pressed against your back. You were a little cold on the ground and you really wanted to stretch out your legs before they grew even more numb.

"Go on… Show me how good you can be. How well I taught you. The water's no problem for you, is it?"

"No, Joel," you assured him, pressing his tip against your lips. "I can do it."

"I knew you would say that, sweetheart… C'mon now. Ain't got all day, mhm?"

Actually, the two of you had all day, but you presumed that Joel just used that phrasing to emphasize the fact that he was growing impatient.

"Ohh fuck… baby. That's it. All the way inside there where it belongs. Yes."

You swallowed hard, your heart thumping in your chest like it always did when you were about to consciously make yourself gag on his cock. The way your body reacted to your nervousness just didn't change, no matter how many times Joel had asked that of you.

You went deeper, deeper than your body was supposed to go. Deeper than your throat could take, but that was the plan after all. That was what Joel wanted from you.

Around three quarters of his length were snug within you when you had to close your eyes. A low growl escaped Joel's lips, which gave you the ambition to continue, and then, there it was. You choked, your body recoiling as you immediately pulled back. He was okay with that, the rules only said that you had to make yourself gag. Joel didn't care how fast you slipped him out of your mouth after that.

Cheeks burning with searing heat, you coughed a couple of times, your body losing its upright posture as you writhed and squirmed below him.

"Good… Good, baby. That was the first. You think you can give me two more?"

Of course you could. You just needed a little bit of time between each one.

"Yes," you whispered, voice raspy and coarse already after the first.

"Alright. Look at me. I don't care how deep you go, just wanna see your pretty eyes and hear ya gag. That's all."

"Yes, Joel." You brushed the wet strands hanging in your face back and tucked them behind your ears to make everything a little tidier.

Then you repeated what you had just done, all while keeping your eyes open and glued to his face. It wasn't a very unpleasant task since his features looked like they were carved by God himself and you tended to get lost in his handsome face pretty often, but your eyes still teared up. The secret to it was letting them go and accepting that your tears were running down your skin until they hit Joel's cock. But since he didn't seem to mind, you fully ignored the wetness and kept peering up at him.

That second gag was harder due to the fact that you had to concentrate on more things than just his manhood kissing the back of your throat, but you proudly managed. After your body had calmed down, the ripples and uneven coughs slowly abating, Joel reached out to snatch your chin.

"Gosh… I don't even know what to do with ya. If I should feel proud of you for listenin' so well or be disgusted by you actin' like a cheap whore."

His words sent tingles down your spine, the good and the bad ones alike. You sniffled gently, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

"I guess I can make my peace with you bein' a cheap whore. The only thing I'm concerned about really is you bein' a slut for other men here in Jackson."

Joel absent-mindedly toyed with your hair, watching it give way to his fingers, then pulled you up by your arm all of a sudden. As you hadn't expected it at all and had just braced yourself for the last round, you squeaked and nearly lost your balance on the slippery floor. But Joel had you securely in his hold, spun you around so quickly your head throbbed, and pressed you face first against the wall.

"Joel," you whimpered, feeling so overwhelmed and maybe even a little disappointed. You would have liked to properly finish the task that you had been given, but it seemed like Joel had other plans for you.

"I didn't care about you bein' a cheap whore while we were out there…" he rambled on while nudging the tip of his cock against your tight entrance, his other hand draped around your middle to grope your tits.

"T'wasn't important 'cause we were the only ones out there. But here… they're all touch-starved, you know? You think any of these guys would reject you, baby? Fuck, even Tommy wouldn't push ya away."

You highly doubted that since his brother was happily married to Maria, but you were too distracted by his cock gathering your wetness to correct him. Joel pushed inside slowly, savoring how your walls welcomed him sluggishly, as though they weren't sure yet whether your boyfriend was a welcome guest.

"They would all fuck ya if they had the chance, babygirl. And that's okay… As long as they keep their hands to themselves and remember that you're mine. But I need you to know something for that. Do you know what?"

"W-What?" you asked breathlessly, your right cheek pressed against the wet tiles while Joel pinned both your wrists to your lower back.

All of this was so fucking obscene, so shameless and bad, but you just couldn't help but love every second. The way he was talking about you, like you were some valuable prize, nothing more than an object that anybody who owned it could be lucky to possess. And the way he had your body under control… how he was caging you in, using his body weight to pin you in place and his large hands to trap both your wrists in one of his. The other was free to guide his manhood deeper inside you, splitting you open on his cock, which was so thick that you were completely aware of every part of your body, your pussy first and foremost.

"I need you to know that you're mine alone. 'Cause I fuckin' dragged you through those woods, I kept you safe and I took care of ya. You're mine. So you're not gonna act like a cheap whore around them, is that clear? Not on Saturday at Tommy's birthday party, not on New Year's Eve and not at any event in the future."

He was all the way inside you now, and you felt his hips grind against yours, giving you a taste of him without thrusting yet.

"You can be a cheap whore around me, but not around them. I want every man to know that this pussy's mine. I don't care what I gotta do to achieve that, princess."

Joel started moving so abruptly that you choked on your spit and coughed a few times while his pelvis crashed into yours.

"Owww…" you howled, your hands wriggling under his grasp, but he only tightened it in response. You were a little frightened of slipping on the wet floor with your hands unable to support your fall, but at the same time, you trusted Joel enough to know that he would catch you before your head hit the wall.

"That's it, baby. Scream louder and they're all gonna hear… I don't care what it takes. I need them to stay the hell away from ya. Do you know why?"

As he no longer needed his hand to push his cock inside you, Joel brought it back to your breasts, pinching your sore nipples a few times before reaching for your throat, which looked much too delicate for him to ignore.

"N-No," you whimpered and arched away from the tiles a little to offer him a better angle as he slammed his fat dick inside you.

"'Cause you're pretty, sweetheart. You're too pretty for your own good. You don't even know what effect you have on all those old fuckers. They probably haven't felt a thing down there for years… And now they see someone like you walk through the gates and suddenly they remember that they got a cock and how much they used to like a woman's tits."

"Joel," you yelped, not so much in reaction to his words but rather to his balls smacking your core. They were heavy and hot, ready to spill the seed they carried between your snug walls and pump you full of it.

"I know, pretty girl… It's okay. I'm gonna take care of ya. You don't need to worry your pretty little head about 'em. As long as you do as I say and behave. I'm gonna keep 'em away, protect you from them. So that we can go home every night and I can rail your tight cunt like that… That's what you like, mhm? Bein' mine… Bein' taken care of and getting fucked in your perfect pussy every day."

It was almost embarrassing how flushed with blood your cheeks were, how much adrenaline was coursing through your veins just because he had used the words mine and protect a few times. It was just that Joel couldn't have been more right, which was why you nodded and let out a desperate "Yes… Yes, please."

Joel smacked your butt harshly, interrupting his rapid thrusts for a few seconds. His fingers gripped your neck firmly, swaying your head to the side just because he could. At least, that was what it felt like to you. Like Joel wanted to put his power on display, showing you that he wasn't just in control of your body but also your feelings and who you belonged to.

"I need you, Joel," you whispered, your tone carrying so much emotional weight and meaning that your breath hitched in your throat, fresh tears welling on your waterline.

"I know you do. You depend on me. Ever since I saved ya from those raiders in Kansas City. So you're gonna stay mine. No matter how many men I gotta scare away. I'll be happy to do that, princess."

Joel nudged his nose against the back of your head, your scent somehow different than before when he had fucked you against a tree or a stained mattress, but through the smell of the soap it was still you. Through every fiber.

Joel liked to think of the two of you as linked souls. After all those times he had put his hands on you, left his mark on you in the form of filling you up with his cum or driving his teeth into your neck, you were clearly carrying his scent in such a profound manner that you would never be able to scrub it off your body. The way he had claimed you seeped through all those layers, through your skin and bones right into the depths of your heart.

"Joel, s-so much," you stuttered, finally a little more unrestrained in how you talked to him. "So much, Joel, fuck…"

He gently squeezed your throat, his rough skin feeling obscenely hard against your much softer one. That was just another perk of being with him, Joel found. He kept you safe, threw himself between you and a raging infected to drive his knife into its throat before it could attack you.

Consequently, his skin became raw and coarse from gripping the handle of his gun or the handle of his knife tightly, whereas yours remained smooth like silk. It was your beauty against your safety, and you were happy to let him touch your flawless skin if it meant being protected by that man who sometimes resembled a large bear more than a man. At least you thought that way while watching him fight off infected or raiders.

"It's okay, baby… Let it happen, alright? Let daddy in… just like that, yeah."

He felt you loosen up underneath his grasp, your neck stopping its flexing and your body hunching forward. Joel immediately seized that little space, just like he wanted to occupy every part of your life, and stepped closer, your whole front pressed against the cold wall. With his hot, muscular body right behind you, it was endurable, though. It was more than endurable. The sensation was incredible, the contrast so sharp that you forgot everything about time and space, who you were and where up and down were. His hand constricting your airflow only made it more intense.

"That's it, sweetheart… Just like that. S'what it's supposed to feel like, you understand that? Just like this. And no one else can give you that. None of these men eyein' you up and down like you're some piece of fresh meat. They wouldn't make it feel like that. Only I can. Only I know your body like that."

The hand around your wrists relaxed its tight grasp, allowing you to dangle them at your sides. When you felt his hand at your pussy, you understood why he had released you. The quick, pointed swipes over your clit made your knees buckle at once, your hands slamming against the wall for support.

"Shh… I know. Look at you… So beautifully responsive. Just like a 'lil slut's supposed to be. S'how I know that you're only supposed to be my slut. 'Cause I hear how your pretty pussy cries for me."

He was probably referring to the primal noises his dick inside you produced, or maybe to his finger circling your clit. You didn't know, and you didn't care. All you cared about was getting him to go even deeper, no matter if it was physically possible or not.

As his hand tightened around your throat, you desperately pawed at his hairy thighs behind you, both pushing him away and pulling him closer. Your mind was somewhere else, body and brain separated in a way that made your words, your actions and your thoughts fail to align. There was chaos everywhere, which was why you could count yourself lucky that the man behind you hated chaos. He was there to fix it and bring order to the mess that you were.

"J-Joel," you cried against the firm hold he had on your neck, mouth falling open when he began to synchronize the touch of his thumb with the thrusts of his cock. Sometimes he waited for a beat, just watching you quiver and whimper with an evil grin on his lips, then delivered a few borderline painful thrusts inside you and set off a firework of pleasure across your clit. That was when your muscles slackened and you would have fallen to the ground had Joel not pushed you into the wall with his whole weight.

"Perfect princess… Almost like a 'lil fucktoy, jesus… I really just wanna wrap ya up when I'm done with you and throw you onto the bed. Fuck your brains out 'til my cock's gonna be drained for days. I know you'd take it all. I know your weak 'lil body would pass out on me but you'd still be cryin' my name in your sleep. Your pussy would still suck me in like the greedy 'lil thing she is. Ain't that right, sugarplum?"

By now, you were letting the tears flow as they mixed with the water streaming down the wall. You couldn't perceive any of it. Not the temperature of the water, not the color of the tiles, not even his words. It was probably for the better since they would have made you spiral even harder than you already were and you might have fallen into some sort of pleasure coma. If something like that existed.

"Your body was fuckin' made for me, baby… And I don't like sharin' ya with anyone. S'why I don't like this very much…" Joel yanked you back by your neck, pinning your head against his collarbone to get a look at the tears relentlessly trickling down your cheeks.

"I like havin' this shower and getting to fuck ya as many times as I want to. But I don't like these people here… I don't even want 'em to see ya. It'll only get their minds goin'. I can see in their faces what they're thinkin' about but I can't do anything about it. 'Cause unfortunately, they're allowed to watch… they can think about all the positions they'd like to fuck you in… And it drives me really fuckin' mad, babygirl. I wish I could just lock you in the house like a good 'lil pet that waits for me when I come home."

You howled as his hand gently swatted your throbbing clit before you finally came with a weak sob. In response, Joel pressed his hand over your mouth, not to conceal what the two of you were doing in the shower the way he had been forced to during your time in the woods. He just did it… because he could. Because he liked to hear your broken weeping muffled by his heavy palm that swallowed most of your face.

"That's it, princess. Like that, you 'lil slut. Soak my cock, fuck… squeezin' me so fuckin' good."

His grip grew narrower as Joel approached his orgasm. His nails dug into your flesh, surely leaving a mark or two, but since you were still floating on a cloud, you barely felt the pain.

He brutally forced his cock between your fluttering walls, which always clamped during your high. But Joel showed no mercy. He wanted his cum to reach every last corner of your insides, paint your cervix and preferably shoot so deeply inside you that none of it would leak out after he had pulled out. Therefore, he used a bit of his strength and drove his hips into yours even as you were whimpering in pain, fighting your body's urge to cramp up.

"Sh, baby. Shh, relax for daddy. Holy shit… Your pussy's such a naughty 'lil thing, ain't she?" Joel seized your hands once more, holding them behind your back to stop you from pushing against his hips. "First, she's beggin' me to destroy 'er and now that daddy's pumpin' 'er full, she's clenchin' so hard, barely lettin' me in… Or maybe she likes it that way, mhm? Likes when it hurts a little."

"Owww," you yelped, toes curling at the sting that spread through your lower tummy as Joel went way past your limits over and over, opening you up with no regard for the sensitivity and soreness diffusing in your core after your orgasm.

At some point, you found yourself wondering how much longer it was going to take until he finished, but it seemed like Joel was drawing out the moment as long as he physically could.

Then, it was over all of a sudden, and for a split second, you wished nothing more than for him to slip back inside. Not only did you feel cold, but your cunt was also clenching desperately, searching for something to hold onto.

"Joel," you whispered. Something was still rolling down your face, but at this point, it could be either your tears or the shower water.

"Goddamnit," he cursed, smacking your backside again. "Shit, baby… I don't know what to do with ya… you got any suggestions?"

He laughed, brushing your hair back to slide his big hand down your arm.

"Need you," you pressed and gasped softly when he turned you around.

"I know you do, kitten. And that's all that matters. You don't need anything but me. That pretty head doesn't have to think of anyone but me. And I'm gonna prove it to ya as many times as it takes."

Joel's thoughts were already running fast, like the little drops coming from the shower head.

He had all the time in the world. It wasn't long past six o'clock, so he had plenty of hours before he would go to bed…

He would show it all to you.

The things he had planned in his head while traveling through the country with you, all those times he had pictured you in new positions, dressed in his favorite outfits, doing things that had technically been impossible out there.

Joel gritted his teeth, pushing you forward with a little more force than necessary to signal you to approach the wall. You understood the message either way, stumbling forward rather than walking that single step.

The shower was narrow and tight, leaving barely enough room for two people to stand comfortably while soaping their bodies, but that was only more reason to minimize the space between the two of you, Joel found. Besides, he could always justify their feral behavior in the shower by claiming that he wanted to save water.

And then there was the fact that both of you, having traveled through the country for months without any running water aside from the currents the two of you had stumbled upon, definitely had a lot to catch up on. The experience of warm, clear water trickling down one's neck was something Joel had never appreciated enough before the outbreak. Now, twenty years later, living in Jackson, he had discovered it again, and he couldn't get enough of it. Especially when you joined him in the shower.

"Fuck… Joel, fuck," you whimpered, feeling his hand stall along your slit with just enough friction to kindle a small fire within you.

"I know, baby… You like that, don't you?" His nose scrunched against the back of your wet scalp, smelling your hair, which his calloused hands had already kneaded clean a few minutes prior. Well, perhaps the two of you would have to wash your bodies again after you were done here. At least, Joel could already feel sweat pooling on his brow, although it was quickly swept away by the water crackling down on your heads.

As he didn't receive an answer, he slapped your butt harshly, the noise even louder as it echoed off the high tiles of the bathroom.

"Answer me. Or I'm gonna stop right here, right now… Use your mouth. Or do I have to remind you that you got one that works pretty well." His strong arms stirred when you still hesitated to open your mouth, too focused on not losing your mind over his thumb flicking your clit to the side.

Truthfully, you were feeling a bit anxious. Not because of Joel's lingering touch, of course, but rather because you had been marked by the many times the two of you had made use of what you had during your travels across the continent.

The days had been rough, and so had the places you had slept. Tents, rancid beds in abandoned cabins, and the steel-hard floors of buildings that had once been offices and now emitted a cold dullness. Still, Joel and you were two human beings who felt attracted to each other, which was why you had often ended up trapped between your partner's broad body and the ground while his cock and fingers had driven you to your high within minutes. Those were the times when you had had to stay quiet. Not only because your moans would have bounced off the ceiling and circulated throughout the whole building like a disease, but especially because neither of you knew what creatures were strolling in the basement.

You hadn't just gotten used to keeping your voice down while Joel's hard cock was pounding your pussy, no, you had quite literally been drilled to feel your heart skip a beat whenever a noise spilled out of your throat. Most of the time, it had been Joel pressing a hand over your mouth, his grip tightening around your throat, or whatever body part of yours he could grab first. In your opinion, it wasn't surprising that you were still trained to keep your mouth shut.

Perhaps you would learn to properly enjoy yourself again after a few months in Jackson, but for now, anxiety instinctively rose in your belly every time Joel asked you to speak up or stop holding back on him.

Consequently, you didn't reply to him even after his repeated question, resulting in his large hand pulling you down by your wrist.

"Alright, you wanted it that way," he growled between clenched teeth, eyes spitting fire while your knees uncomfortably scraped the floor beneath you. "So I gotta remind ya, mhm? That you got a fuckin' mouth, and a fuckin' tongue that's supposed to move when I tell ya so. Open your mouth."

You had to tilt your head a little and flinched when you felt water drops fall right into your eyes. It definitely wasn't a suitable position to give someone a blow job, but you didn't consider rejecting your boyfriend for an instant. In fact, that thought didn't even race through your mind. Maybe this was another effect of the past months spent far out in the country. When you traveled alone with a man, saw that same face night and day, and simultaneously felt your personal need to be intimate with someone increase, there were not a lot of options.

Joel and you had made it five whole days before the two of you had shared a sleeping bag for the first time. To prevent freezing to death, of course. After that, it had become routine, letting off steam at the end of the day, finding something similar to solace.

The way you touched each other varied day to day, you figured. At times, there had been nothing soft or gentle about the way his cock had impaled your cunt, whereas other times, you had felt like what you were doing could be called making love. It hadn't just been about Joel emptying his balls inside you or releasing some endorphins, but about appreciating a close emotional proximity that didn't just serve the purpose of satisfying each other like two feral animals. Sometimes, Joel had stayed inside you longer than necessary and had even bothered to help you get dressed afterward.

But at the end of the day, despite traveling alone and without a larger group, there had always been complications, such as exhaustion, tiredness, an unsuitable sleeping place, or the stress that just wasn't wearing off no matter how much effort you put into relaxing. On some days, Joel couldn't get hard, and on other days you were too cramped to let him in. You assumed that there was some correlation to the events that had happened throughout the day, but since there was nothing you had been able to do about it, you had just accepted the way your bodies functioned and instead went to bed.

Therefore, the two of you had a lot of yearning to make up for. All those times, you had lain on your side, head full of worries and concerns you wished you could turn off like a light switch. There was the question of what to eat tomorrow, where to sleep, whether the two of you would make it out of the QZ, and which road to take without a map to guide you. The only way, at least the only way accessible to you, was to be with Joel, his cock or hands shutting your brain off for at least fifteen minutes. But when the circumstances wouldn't allow it, all you could do was think about it and wish you were someplace else.

Exactly like you were now.

Now, living in Jackson, Joel and you could fuck all day, and nobody cared. You could use every piece of furniture, spend hours touching each other's bodies without rush, and repeat it as many times as you liked in comfortable places that didn't involve wet forest soil seeping through your clothes. You were hungry for each other, it was that simple.

"Good girl," Joel now praised, eyes skimming over your widely parted lips. "Now I want ya to go slowly, babygirl. Can ya do that?"

You nodded slowly, gaze traveling along his immense manhood, which always slapped against his soft belly so seductively when the two of you had been making out for some time.

You didn't know what you craved more, kissing the faint bulge of his tummy or licking across the tip of his cock, which looked so red and plump. But since Joel made the choice for you, you shifted a little closer to him, eyes wide and glued to his cock like you were hypnotized by the beauty of his impressive length.

"Slowly. Trace the veins, baby. Like I taught you."

It wasn't like you had needed a teacher to show you how to give a blowjob, goddamnit. You had been with guys before Joel had come into your life, yet it really did feel like he had opened your world to utterly new ways of pleasing a man. Joel had a very particular idea of how you were supposed to take him into your mouth and how to stimulate his member, which you had been quick to adapt to.

He didn't do the work. This was one of the first lessons you had learned. He was more than happy to be the active one when he had you pinned on the floor beneath him, rapidly snapping his hips into yours as he fucked your brains out, but while he was receiving pleasure from you, he leaned back. Watched you, enjoyed you, relaxed.

He still told you how he wanted it and radiated a certain dominance even while doing nothing, but he mostly kept his hands to himself aside from occasionally threading them through your hair.

Joel hummed tenderly when you darted your tongue out, but apart from that, you didn't receive much affirmation that you were doing well. Which wasn't new or unfamiliar to you. At this point, it didn't unsettle you anymore, so you didn't let his silence distract you, and you licked along his bulging veins just the way he liked it. You were careful to capture all of it, every centimeter from his base up to his tip, then made your way back down.

Your knees hurt terribly, but it wasn't worse than the knife of a raider shoved into your shinbone, so you managed. The water dripping onto your face stung your eyes, but it wasn't worse than wandering through the woods in the rain with your body soaked to the bone. At least the water was warm and felt nice the moment it left your eyes to run down your face.

"Good girl. Show me your tongue," Joel commanded, placing his heavy palm on top of your head as if to pet his favorite dog. Once you had obeyed, you felt him shift his weight to his other foot in order to have a better view of your flat tongue.

"Good. Go on now. Every single vein."

He didn't have to ask you again. Licking his massive dick, showing your admiration and awe for him in such a primal and filthy way was one of your favorite things in the world. You really did feel like worshipping his manhood by affectionately trailing along every single bulging vein and the curve of him, and it was precisely how you were feeling. Besides, you had done this so many times before that it felt as though your muscles had memorized the exact shape and texture of him, his form engraved in your tongue and surely in your pussy walls as well, given the many times he had scraped his cock along your insides.

"You look really good down there, baby… Should do this in the shower more often. Makes it less dirty."

Once again, a side effect of your long journey through the wild.

After having had no choice but to watch your face get coated in his precum, your drool, and eventually even his seed, Joel liked it clean and neat nowadays. He owned towels and tissues, so why not make use of them?

"Yeah," you agreed, licking a generous stripe from his balls up his length while carefully circling the tip with your thumb.

"Okay, enough," Joel then said after a few minutes, tapping his fingers on your scalp. "Suck on it. Slowly 'n' just the tip. You're not gonna do more than I tell you, are we clear?"

"Yes, Joel," you breathed, exactly like you knew he enjoyed it.

Joel wanted order and compliance, a clear and unambiguous hierarchy and someone who listened to him without any second thoughts. He hated chaos and spontaneous choices but loved it when you did precisely what he told you. When you waited to touch his cock until he had given you permission to bring your hand closer.

The tip of his dick disappeared between your soft lips, your lashes fluttering while you gazed up at him. The problem definitely wasn't how deep he pressed against your throat walls but the water filling your eyes.

"Suck it, babygirl," Joel repeated, his lips parting just a little further as you obeyed. He was rock hard against your mouth, so you doubted that this was anything but a punishment for being unable to use your voice while you were with him, but it didn't really feel like it. Every second you got to spend with your face pressed against his center was a blessing to you, and you liked to believe that the events of the past weeks were not the only reason for your emotions regarding this. Joel was a handsome man, so anyone would be lucky to have him all to themselves.

You suckled on his tip gently, hoping that you were doing well, but you couldn't think of anything you might be failing to pay attention to right now. You didn't shift too much — Joel didn't like that — and you focused on his tip without using your tongue too extensively.

"Gosh… sweetheart. You're really good at this. I taught you well. S'almost a 'lil boring, ain't it?"

Your eyes widened, taking in his narrow, dark gaze roaming your body as if to assess what to do with you next.

"Ain't got no reason to punish you. Except for not respondin' of course. But apart from that… All I can do is tell you that you're doin' well."

Even though you wanted to tell him that you were convinced that was a good thing, you didn't dare pull away from him without his explicit command.

Instead you hollowed your cheeks, heart stumbling at the way Joel's head rested against the wall behind him, his neck flexed like his body was under high pressure. You were doing well. He liked it.

"Use your tongue. And go deeper, sweetheart. Just a 'lil bit… Halfway."

You nodded lightly, just enough to show Joel that you had understood and knew what to do, and then allowed more of him to slide down your throat. By now, you had a very good idea of how many inches you were taking based on how he felt against your throat, and stopped when his tip was about to nudge against your palate. Yes, that was how big he was.

In the beginning, he had simply been too big for both your throat and pussy, but he had made it work. That was what he had whispered in your ear while you had trembled and whimpered, your blood running cold with the fear of forever being incapable of adjusting to his size.

I'm gonna make it fit. It's gonna be okay, he had murmured, which had soothed you surprisingly well and led you to discover a new side of him. A softer, more caring one, although you had to admit that that side of him was revealed most of the time when Joel wanted something. Such as your throat and your pussy.

But now, you were skilled and your throat was trained to take more of him.

You exhaled heavily through your nose, closing your eyes as you covered your teeth with your lips.

"You're a good 'lil pet, baby… Listenin' so well… That's how I can tell that this is exactly what you're supposed to do. Where you're supposed to be."

You knew that Joel wasn't making you suck his cock to cum down your throat. He liked blowjobs, no matter if they were messy, lazy, or passionate, but this man liked to fuck. Sliding his dick past your lips was almost always just a preparation for what was to come or one of his twisted games that were supposed to teach you a lesson.

Still, you put everything into it, bobbing your head around the upper part of his cock while your tongue played with his veins and the precum gathering at his tip. You switched quickly between forceful sucks, teasing swipes across his length, and steady stimulation in the form of your stretched lips brushing against him. And Joel seemed satisfied. He had yet to say much and limited himself to occasionally grunting under his breath or cursing quietly, but you knew that if you were doing a poor job, he would have stopped you by now.

"All the way now, kitten," he suddenly said, the few words hanging in the moist air a little longer than usual because of the empty space of the shower. "I want you to gag on it. Let's make it… three times. I'm feelin' nice today."

You granted yourself a few seconds to catch your breath, knees shifting across the cold floor to find a position that was just a little bit more comfortable for your raw skin.

"Yes, Joel."

"And you know the rules. Don't push yourself too far, alright?"

Nodding again, you straightened up, trying to hide the pain shooting through your kneecaps. Perhaps Joel would have cared if you told him, but perhaps not. In any case, what did it matter? You wanted to finish what you had started in the shower with him, not on some stupid carpet or the bed.

"Three times, babygirl. If you're gonna be good, I'll let you stand, 'n' I'm gonna fuck this pussy nicely. Do you want that?"

"Yes, Joel," you whined, feeling surprised by how vocal he was being with you. Well, maybe he was just in a good mood. Or today wasn't all about getting rid of accumulated tension or anger but rather actually relishing some time shared with you.

His promise gave you the motivation to get it over with quickly so that you could have his massive, broad frame pressed against your back. You were a little cold on the ground and you really wanted to stretch out your legs before they grew even more numb.

"Go on… Show me how good you can be. How well I taught you. The water's no problem for you, is it?"

"No, Joel," you assured him, pressing his tip against your lips. "I can do it."

"I knew you would say that, sweetheart… C'mon now. Ain't got all day, mhm?"

Actually, the two of you had all day, but you presumed that Joel just used that phrasing to emphasize the fact that he was growing impatient.

"Ohh fuck… baby. That's it. All the way inside there where it belongs. Yes."

You swallowed hard, your heart thumping in your chest like it always did when you were about to consciously make yourself gag on his cock. The way your body reacted to your nervousness just didn't change, no matter how many times Joel had asked that of you.

You went deeper, deeper than your body was supposed to go. Deeper than your throat could take, but that was the plan after all. That was what Joel wanted from you.

Around three quarters of his length were snug within you when you had to close your eyes. A low growl escaped Joel's lips, which gave you the ambition to continue, and then, there it was. You choked, your body recoiling as you immediately pulled back. He was okay with that, the rules only said that you had to make yourself gag. Joel didn't care how fast you slipped him out of your mouth after that.

Cheeks burning with searing heat, you coughed a couple of times, your body losing its upright posture as you writhed and squirmed below him.

"Good… Good, baby. That was the first. You think you can give me two more?"

Of course you could. You just needed a little bit of time between each one.

"Yes," you whispered, voice raspy and coarse already after the first.

"Alright. Look at me. I don't care how deep you go, just wanna see your pretty eyes and hear ya gag. That's all."

"Yes, Joel." You brushed the wet strands hanging in your face back and tucked them behind your ears to make everything a little tidier.

Then you repeated what you had just done, all while keeping your eyes open and glued to his face. It wasn't a very unpleasant task since his features looked like they were carved by God himself and you tended to get lost in his handsome face pretty often, but your eyes still teared up. The secret to it was letting them go and accepting that your tears were running down your skin until they hit Joel's cock. But since he didn't seem to mind, you fully ignored the wetness and kept peering up at him.

That second gag was harder due to the fact that you had to concentrate on more things than just his manhood kissing the back of your throat, but you proudly managed. After your body had calmed down, the ripples and uneven coughs slowly abating, Joel reached out to snatch your chin.

"Gosh… I don't even know what to do with ya. If I should feel proud of you for listenin' so well or be disgusted by you actin' like a cheap whore."

His words sent tingles down your spine, the good and the bad ones alike. You sniffled gently, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

"I guess I can make my peace with you bein' a cheap whore. The only thing I'm concerned about really is you bein' a slut for other men here in Jackson."

Joel absent-mindedly toyed with your hair, watching it give way to his fingers, then pulled you up by your arm all of a sudden. As you hadn't expected it at all and had just braced yourself for the last round, you squeaked and nearly lost your balance on the slippery floor. But Joel had you securely in his hold, spun you around so quickly your head throbbed, and pressed you face first against the wall.

"Joel," you whimpered, feeling so overwhelmed and maybe even a little disappointed. You would have liked to properly finish the task that you had been given, but it seemed like Joel had other plans for you.

"I didn't care about you bein' a cheap whore while we were out there…" he rambled on while nudging the tip of his cock against your tight entrance, his other hand draped around your middle to grope your tits.

"T'wasn't important 'cause we were the only ones out there. But here… they're all touch-starved, you know? You think any of these guys would reject you, baby? Fuck, even Tommy wouldn't push ya away."

You highly doubted that since his brother was happily married to Maria, but you were too distracted by his cock gathering your wetness to correct him. Joel pushed inside slowly, savoring how your walls welcomed him sluggishly, as though they weren't sure yet whether your boyfriend was a welcome guest.

"They would all fuck ya if they had the chance, babygirl. And that's okay… As long as they keep their hands to themselves and remember that you're mine. But I need you to know something for that. Do you know what?"

"W-What?" you asked breathlessly, your right cheek pressed against the wet tiles while Joel pinned both your wrists to your lower back.

All of this was so fucking obscene, so shameless and bad, but you just couldn't help but love every second. The way he was talking about you, like you were some valuable prize, nothing more than an object that anybody who owned it could be lucky to possess. And the way he had your body under control… how he was caging you in, using his body weight to pin you in place and his large hands to trap both your wrists in one of his. The other was free to guide his manhood deeper inside you, splitting you open on his cock, which was so thick that you were completely aware of every part of your body, your pussy first and foremost.

"I need you to know that you're mine alone. 'Cause I fuckin' dragged you through those woods, I kept you safe and I took care of ya. You're mine. So you're not gonna act like a cheap whore around them, is that clear? Not on Saturday at Tommy's birthday party, not on New Year's Eve and not at any event in the future."

He was all the way inside you now, and you felt his hips grind against yours, giving you a taste of him without thrusting yet.

"You can be a cheap whore around me, but not around them. I want every man to know that this pussy's mine. I don't care what I gotta do to achieve that, princess."

Joel started moving so abruptly that you choked on your spit and coughed a few times while his pelvis crashed into yours.

"Owww…" you howled, your hands wriggling under his grasp, but he only tightened it in response. You were a little frightened of slipping on the wet floor with your hands unable to support your fall, but at the same time, you trusted Joel enough to know that he would catch you before your head hit the wall.

"That's it, baby. Scream louder and they're all gonna hear… I don't care what it takes. I need them to stay the hell away from ya. Do you know why?"

As he no longer needed his hand to push his cock inside you, Joel brought it back to your breasts, pinching your sore nipples a few times before reaching for your throat, which looked much too delicate for him to ignore.

"N-No," you whimpered and arched away from the tiles a little to offer him a better angle as he slammed his fat dick inside you.

"'Cause you're pretty, sweetheart. You're too pretty for your own good. You don't even know what effect you have on all those old fuckers. They probably haven't felt a thing down there for years… And now they see someone like you walk through the gates and suddenly they remember that they got a cock and how much they used to like a woman's tits."

"Joel," you yelped, not so much in reaction to his words but rather to his balls smacking your core. They were heavy and hot, ready to spill the seed they carried between your snug walls and pump you full of it.

"I know, pretty girl… It's okay. I'm gonna take care of ya. You don't need to worry your pretty little head about 'em. As long as you do as I say and behave. I'm gonna keep 'em away, protect you from them. So that we can go home every night and I can rail your tight cunt like that… That's what you like, mhm? Bein' mine… Bein' taken care of and getting fucked in your perfect pussy every day."

It was almost embarrassing how flushed with blood your cheeks were, how much adrenaline was coursing through your veins just because he had used the words mine and protect a few times. It was just that Joel couldn't have been more right, which was why you nodded and let out a desperate "Yes… Yes, please."

Joel smacked your butt harshly, interrupting his rapid thrusts for a few seconds. His fingers gripped your neck firmly, swaying your head to the side just because he could. At least, that was what it felt like to you. Like Joel wanted to put his power on display, showing you that he wasn't just in control of your body but also your feelings and who you belonged to.

"I need you, Joel," you whispered, your tone carrying so much emotional weight and meaning that your breath hitched in your throat, fresh tears welling on your waterline.

"I know you do. You depend on me. Ever since I saved ya from those raiders in Kansas City. So you're gonna stay mine. No matter how many men I gotta scare away. I'll be happy to do that, princess."

Joel nudged his nose against the back of your head, your scent somehow different than before when he had fucked you against a tree or a stained mattress, but through the smell of the soap it was still you. Through every fiber.

Joel liked to think of the two of you as linked souls. After all those times he had put his hands on you, left his mark on you in the form of filling you up with his cum or driving his teeth into your neck, you were clearly carrying his scent in such a profound manner that you would never be able to scrub it off your body. The way he had claimed you seeped through all those layers, through your skin and bones right into the depths of your heart.

"Joel, s-so much," you stuttered, finally a little more unrestrained in how you talked to him. "So much, Joel, fuck…"

He gently squeezed your throat, his rough skin feeling obscenely hard against your much softer one. That was just another perk of being with him, Joel found. He kept you safe, threw himself between you and a raging infected to drive his knife into its throat before it could attack you.

Consequently, his skin became raw and coarse from gripping the handle of his gun or the handle of his knife tightly, whereas yours remained smooth like silk. It was your beauty against your safety, and you were happy to let him touch your flawless skin if it meant being protected by that man who sometimes resembled a large bear more than a man. At least you thought that way while watching him fight off infected or raiders.

"It's okay, baby… Let it happen, alright? Let daddy in… just like that, yeah."

He felt you loosen up underneath his grasp, your neck stopping its flexing and your body hunching forward. Joel immediately seized that little space, just like he wanted to occupy every part of your life, and stepped closer, your whole front pressed against the cold wall. With his hot, muscular body right behind you, it was endurable, though. It was more than endurable. The sensation was incredible, the contrast so sharp that you forgot everything about time and space, who you were and where up and down were. His hand constricting your airflow only made it more intense.

"That's it, sweetheart… Just like that. S'what it's supposed to feel like, you understand that? Just like this. And no one else can give you that. None of these men eyein' you up and down like you're some piece of fresh meat. They wouldn't make it feel like that. Only I can. Only I know your body like that."

The hand around your wrists relaxed its tight grasp, allowing you to dangle them at your sides. When you felt his hand at your pussy, you understood why he had released you. The quick, pointed swipes over your clit made your knees buckle at once, your hands slamming against the wall for support.

"Shh… I know. Look at you… So beautifully responsive. Just like a 'lil slut's supposed to be. S'how I know that you're only supposed to be my slut. 'Cause I hear how your pretty pussy cries for me."

He was probably referring to the primal noises his dick inside you produced, or maybe to his finger circling your clit. You didn't know, and you didn't care. All you cared about was getting him to go even deeper, no matter if it was physically possible or not.

As his hand tightened around your throat, you desperately pawed at his hairy thighs behind you, both pushing him away and pulling him closer. Your mind was somewhere else, body and brain separated in a way that made your words, your actions and your thoughts fail to align. There was chaos everywhere, which was why you could count yourself lucky that the man behind you hated chaos. He was there to fix it and bring order to the mess that you were.

"J-Joel," you cried against the firm hold he had on your neck, mouth falling open when he began to synchronize the touch of his thumb with the thrusts of his cock. Sometimes he waited for a beat, just watching you quiver and whimper with an evil grin on his lips, then delivered a few borderline painful thrusts inside you and set off a firework of pleasure across your clit. That was when your muscles slackened and you would have fallen to the ground had Joel not pushed you into the wall with his whole weight.

"Perfect princess… Almost like a 'lil fucktoy, jesus… I really just wanna wrap ya up when I'm done with you and throw you onto the bed. Fuck your brains out 'til my cock's gonna be drained for days. I know you'd take it all. I know your weak 'lil body would pass out on me but you'd still be cryin' my name in your sleep. Your pussy would still suck me in like the greedy 'lil thing she is. Ain't that right, sugarplum?"

By now, you were letting the tears flow as they mixed with the water streaming down the wall. You couldn't perceive any of it. Not the temperature of the water, not the color of the tiles, not even his words. It was probably for the better since they would have made you spiral even harder than you already were and you might have fallen into some sort of pleasure coma. If something like that existed.

"Your body was fuckin' made for me, baby… And I don't like sharin' ya with anyone. S'why I don't like this very much…" Joel yanked you back by your neck, pinning your head against his collarbone to get a look at the tears relentlessly trickling down your cheeks.

"I like havin' this shower and getting to fuck ya as many times as I want to. But I don't like these people here… I don't even want 'em to see ya. It'll only get their minds goin'. I can see in their faces what they're thinkin' about but I can't do anything about it. 'Cause unfortunately, they're allowed to watch… they can think about all the positions they'd like to fuck you in… And it drives me really fuckin' mad, babygirl. I wish I could just lock you in the house like a good 'lil pet that waits for me when I come home."

You howled as his hand gently swatted your throbbing clit before you finally came with a weak sob. In response, Joel pressed his hand over your mouth, not to conceal what the two of you were doing in the shower the way he had been forced to during your time in the woods. He just did it… because he could. Because he liked to hear your broken weeping muffled by his heavy palm that swallowed most of your face.

"That's it, princess. Like that, you 'lil slut. Soak my cock, fuck… squeezin' me so fuckin' good."

His grip grew narrower as Joel approached his orgasm. His nails dug into your flesh, surely leaving a mark or two, but since you were still floating on a cloud, you barely felt the pain.

He brutally forced his cock between your fluttering walls, which always clamped during your high. But Joel showed no mercy. He wanted his cum to reach every last corner of your insides, paint your cervix and preferably shoot so deeply inside you that none of it would leak out after he had pulled out. Therefore, he used a bit of his strength and drove his hips into yours even as you were whimpering in pain, fighting your body's urge to cramp up.

"Sh, baby. Shh, relax for daddy. Holy shit… Your pussy's such a naughty 'lil thing, ain't she?" Joel seized your hands once more, holding them behind your back to stop you from pushing against his hips. "First, she's beggin' me to destroy 'er and now that daddy's pumpin' 'er full, she's clenchin' so hard, barely lettin' me in… Or maybe she likes it that way, mhm? Likes when it hurts a little."

"Owww," you yelped, toes curling at the sting that spread through your lower tummy as Joel went way past your limits over and over, opening you up with no regard for the sensitivity and soreness diffusing in your core after your orgasm.

At some point, you found yourself wondering how much longer it was going to take until he finished, but it seemed like Joel was drawing out the moment as long as he physically could.

Then, it was over all of a sudden, and for a split second, you wished nothing more than for him to slip back inside. Not only did you feel cold, but your cunt was also clenching desperately, searching for something to hold onto.

"Joel," you whispered. Something was still rolling down your face, but at this point, it could be either your tears or the shower water.

"Goddamnit," he cursed, smacking your backside again. "Shit, baby… I don't know what to do with ya… you got any suggestions?"

He laughed, brushing your hair back to slide his big hand down your arm.

"Need you," you pressed and gasped softly when he turned you around.

"I know you do, kitten. And that's all that matters. You don't need anything but me. That pretty head doesn't have to think of anyone but me. And I'm gonna prove it to ya as many times as it takes."

Joel's thoughts were already running fast, like the little drops coming from the shower head.

He had all the time in the world. It wasn't long past six o'clock, so he had plenty of hours before he would go to bed…

He would show it all to you.

The things he had planned in his head while traveling through the country with you, all those times he had pictured you in new positions, dressed in his favorite outfits, doing things that had technically been impossible out there.