QueenOfSlowBurn

If anything, he moved with the same steady pace he had before when catching you in the woods - unbothered, unaffected - as if the weight of you and the noise you made were nothing more than background to his thoughts.

Shapes shifted around you as he passed through the settlement - figures pausing in their work, glancing up at the commotion. You caught glimpses of them in fragments.

But no one stepped in.

No one said a word.

They watched.

And then they looked away.

“Joel - Joel, listen -” Your voice cracked hard enough to hurt, the words tumbling over each other in your rush to get them out. You twisted against him as you tried to catch his attention, tried to make him hear you. “I won’t - I won’t do it again, I swear, I’ll behave, I’ll -”

Your breath hitched, then broke.

“Just tell me what you want me to do,” you forced out, desperation bleeding into every syllable. “I’ll do it. Anything. I’ll stay, I’ll work, I won’t try to run again - just -”

His hand tightened where it held you in place.

The rest of your plea dissolved into a choking inhale as he mounted the small set of steps to his cabin, his boot coming up hard against the door. The wood gave with a dull crack, swinging inward before slamming shut again behind you just as fast.

Inside, it suddenly felt too still.

“Told you already,” he said, voice low and even as he crossed the room. “Got a task for you.”

Your stomach dropped.

You knew this place - at least, the parts of it he’d allowed you to see. The front room was bare, almost stripped down to the bones. A worn couch that had seen better years, a rough wooden desk littered with maps and scraps, a stool with peeling paint that flaked under the slightest touch.

You’d been here twice.

Once when they’d brought you in, dirt-streaked and shaking, shoved forward for him to look over like something newly acquired.

And once after that - when you’d carried food in, careful and quiet, pretending your eyes weren’t cataloguing every detail they could reach.

That had felt like control, then.

It felt like a joke now.

You barely had time to register the shift in direction before he pushed into the back room, the door creaking faintly as it opened and shut behind you. The scent of old wood and something worn into the bed that sat against the far wall.

“I don’t -” Your voice broke completely now, the words collapsing under the weight of everything pressing in on you. “Please -”

“As I said,” he cut in, and then his hands were on you - firm at your hips as he pulled you down from his shoulder.

For a fraction of a second, there was weightlessness, then he dropped you. The mattress dipped beneath you with a creak, old springs protesting as you landed awkwardly, breath knocked out of you in a soft, startled sound.

The moment you hit, instinct took over.

You scrambled back - clumsy, unbalanced with your hands still bound - until your spine met the cold metal of the bedframe. As far away from him as you could get without falling off entirely.

Joel just stood there at the foot of the bed, arms crossing over his broad chest as he watched you. That same expression sitting easy on his face - something dark and faintly amused that made your skin crawl.

“Joel,” you tried again, your pulse hammering so hard it blurred the edges of your vision. “You don’t mean - you can’t -”

“Oh, I can,” he said, almost casually. A small nod, like he was agreeing with something simple and obvious. “Can do just about whatever I want.” A slight shrug lifted one shoulder. “Perks of the job.”

Another sob forced its way out of you, your balance slipping as you tried to wipe at your face - only to remember too late that your hands were still tied. You caught yourself awkwardly, breath stuttering.

“Look at you,” he murmured, something almost like a chuckle threading through it as he shifted his weight, leaning back against the door. One boot crossed over the other. “Already fallin’ apart.” His gaze dragged over you. “Haven’t even touched you yet.”

The air in the room tightened.

You felt it in your throat, your chest, the way your lungs refused to take in a full breath no matter how hard you tried.

For a second, you almost did it - almost broke completely, let yourself collapse into it, into the fear and the pleading and the uselessness of it all.

And then - 

You stopped.

Because something in his face told you it wouldn’t matter.

Worse - it might even be to his liking.

So you swallowed it down and forced your breathing to slow, even as it shook. Forced your shoulders back just a fraction, your spine straightening against the frame behind you.

“Joel…” Your voice trembled anyway. You couldn’t stop that. “I’m - I’m sorry.” The words tasted like ash. “I won’t try again.” A beat. “I’ll do what you say.”

Silence stretched for half a second too long.

“I bet you are.” The grin that followed wasn’t kind. “Thing is, you’re only sorry ‘cause I caught you,” he added, pushing off the door at last.

You moved without thinking - one leg sliding down off the bed, your weight shifting like maybe you could - 

“Ah -”

That was all it took. Just that low, warning sound.

You froze.

“Let’s not start that again,” he said, almost gently, as he stepped closer. “Wouldn’t be smart.”

You scrambled back instantly, your movement jerky and uncoordinated as you retreated fully onto the mattress again, making yourself smaller without meaning to.

His hand closed around your wrists before you could react.

The force of it dragged you backward with a sharp jolt, your breath caught as your body followed whether you wanted it to or not. Your shoulder hit his thigh, your head knocking lightly against him as he pulled your arms up higher behind your back.

Pain flared - sharp, stretching too far, too fast - and a broken sound tore from your throat.

And then - 

It stopped.

The restraint was gone.

For a second, your brain didn’t catch up. Didn’t understand why the tension was gone - why your wrists weren’t held tight together anymore. You yanked your hands forward on instinct anyway, staring down at them as you flexed your fingers, rubbing at the reddened skin where the binding had been.

Your gaze snapped up and confusion flickered in your eyes - because he was still right there, still too close.

And then you saw the knife, resting easy in his hand like it belonged there.

Your breath hitched as he reached out, cold metal kissing skin, the blade catching lightly against your jaw and tilting your face up with a touch that was almost - almost - careful.

You went still.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he said quietly. “This is only temporary.”

Swallowing felt like dragging glass down your throat, but you tried anyway, your body betraying you in the way it tensed, the way your pulse jumped beneath the edge of the blade.

“Turn around,” he then added. The knife traced a faint line beneath your chin before pulling away, the pressure gone but the threat lingering heavy in the air.

Do as I tell you or suffer the consequences.

You didn’t argue nor did you hesitate.

You shifted clumsily, moving onto your knees, turning until you faced him properly. Your hands came to rest in your lap - open, empty, visible as a silent surrender.

You hated how it felt. Hated the way it put you beneath him.

Joel stood over you, the knife flipping idly between his fingers now, his gaze slow as it moved over you. Taking you in with an amusement that made you sick to your stomach.

That same dark, quiet satisfaction settling into the lines of his face.

“See?” he murmured, satisfaction threading through the word as he took a step back. “You can listen. Just needed the right… motivation.”

The space he created should have felt like relief. Instead, it left you unsteady. Your lungs dragged in air too fast, too shallow, as if he’d taken all the oxygen with him when he moved.

For a fraction of a second, you thought - hoped - that maybe this was it. That he would stop here. That whatever line had been approaching would remain uncrossed.

Then - 

“Undress.”

The word didn’t land.

Not at first anyway.

It hung in the air between you, too flat, too casual, like you had misheard it - like your mind had twisted something else into something far worse.

You just stared at him and your vision blurred at the edges, tears gathering without your permission, your chest tightening around a breath that wouldn’t come.

“Joel…” It barely made it out, more whisper than anything else.

“Don’t ‘Joel’ me, sweetheart.” His voice stayed even, grounded in that authority he carried with him. “You heard me just fine.” A small tilt of his head toward the edge of the bed. “Up. Off. And get out of those clothes.”

Your body didn’t move.

It wasn’t defiance - not really. There was no strength behind it or resistance you could follow through on. It was more like a full-body refusal that locked every muscle in place and turned your limbs heavy and unresponsive.

You could only look at him and could only hope - irrationally, desperately - that he would see it. That he would read the fear sitting plain in your eyes and understand what he was asking of you.

That something in him would stop this.

It didn’t.

A tired breath left Joel instead, the faintest flicker of impatience crossing his face.

“Listen, darlin’,” he said, quieter now, but no less firm. “I don’t like repeatin’ myself.”

The knife flipped once in his hand with ease - until the blade pointed your way.

“So you got about a second,” he continued, almost conversational, “to get down here and start movin’… before I decide to help you along.”

Your pulse slammed hard against your ribs.

Still - nothing.

Your body refused you.

His shift was quick enough to steal the breath from your lungs before you could react. His hand closed around your arm, fingers digging in firm and unyielding as he yanked you forward off the bed.

Your feet hit the ground awkwardly, balance faltering as you stumbled, barely catching yourself before your knees gave out.

“No - please, I -”

Too late.

In one smooth motion, he turned you, your back colliding with his chest as he pulled you flush against him. The sudden contact knocked the air from your lungs again, your body going rigid as his arm slid across your upper chest, locking you in place.

Your hands came up instinctively, clawing at his forearm, your nails bit into his skin and the fabric of his flannel where it was rolled at the sleeves. But it didn’t even seem to reach him.

The panic that followed came instantly and broke through whatever control you’d tried to hold onto. Your breaths turned ragged, uneven, sobs spilling out without words as hysteria crept in at the edges.

And then - 

Cold metal pressed lightly against your throat again, making you freeze all over.

“There we go,” he murmured, his voice right against your ear. “That’s better.”

His cheek brushed your temple as he leaned in, his presence wrapping around you from behind.

“Easy,” he went on like he was talking you down from a atupidity. “Ain’t done nothin’ yet.” The contrast made it worse. That calm. That control. It make you shudder and break another whimper.

“Shhh…” The knife shifted, gliding from your throat down along the line of your collarbone. “Just gonna help you outta this,” he added absently, as the blade traced over the front of your tanktop, following the damp, dirt-streaked fabric. “Don’t want you catchin’ a cold now, do we?”

His beard brushed faintly against your skin. The scent of him pressed in inescapably.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you tried to block everything out. The proximity. The strength behind you. The way his chest rose and fell steady against your back, like none of this was anything out of the ordinary.

“Now,” he said, the edge in his voice returning just enough to cut through the haze, “be a good fuckin’ girl...” The knife lingered, hovering just enough to remind you it was there. “... and take it off, before I slip.”

Your grip on him faltered just a fraction. Your fingers, which had been digging into his arm hard enough to leave marks, loosened as something in you shifted - not giving in, not accepting, but… adjusting. Surviving.

At the same time, his hold eased just enough to allow movement.

Your hands trembled as you lowered them, your breath still coming in uneven pulls as you forced yourself to focus.

Slowly, carefully, you reached for the hem of your top.

Your fingers fumbled at first, uncoordinated, numb from the rush of everything flooding through you. It took effort - more than it should have - to get a proper hold.

The fabric dragged upward, catching briefly before sliding over your ribs, your chest, your shoulders - until it came free, leaving your skin exposed to the cold air of the room.

Your arms dropped again, the shirt clutched loosely in your hands.

And for a moment - 

Everything went very, very still.

“There we go.” His voice came low behind you, threaded with sick satisfaction. “Not so hard, was it?”

Your arms came up instinctively, folding across your chest and bra, a poor attempt at shielding yourself.

Joel didn’t seem to care. You felt the shift of him behind you, close enough that the heat of his body still lingered, and then the faint brush of his hand as he took the discarded top from your grip. It slipped from his fingers a moment later, landing somewhere on the floor with a soft, final sound.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Because you already knew what would follow.

“Those jeans next, darlin’,” he said, tone easy, like he was giving instructions for something mundane. “Don’t need more mud in my bed.”

Something in you wanted to hesitate again. To stall. To cling to what little control you had left. But that had already been taken from you the moment he decided it would be.

So this time, you didn’t fight it.

Your shoes came off first, kicked away clumsily, landing somewhere in front of you. Then your fingers found the button of your jeans - fumbling at first, shaking too much to get a proper grip.

The zipper followed, the sound unnervingly loud in the quiet room, and you pushed the damp fabric down your legs, shifting awkwardly to step out of it. The cold hit harder without it, your thighs pressing together as if that could make any difference.

“I’ll be damned.” The low huff behind you made your stomach twist, followed by a soft whistle that carried just enough weight to make your skin crawl. “Didn’t figure you’d get cooperative this quick.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your gaze fixed somewhere ahead - anywhere but on him.

“Want me to fight back again?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharp-edged and brittle, your voice carrying more bite than you had any right to show.

You regretted it instantly.

A short laugh left him and he stepped closer again.

“Now that,” he murmured, “sounds like a fun way to spend the evenin’.”

You flinched before you could stop yourself as the tip of the knife found your back and dragged slowly along the line of your spine. 

“Wouldn’t mind puttin’ you back in your place just now,” he went on, voice dipping lower. “Wipe that attitude clean until there’s nothin’ left but sense.”

The blade shifted, catching lightly at the back of your bra, and your breath hitched, a sob threatening to break free before you forced it down.

You felt him lean in, the rough brush of his beard against the back of your head, his breath warm where it ghosted over your hair as he inhaled.

Your eyes squeezed shut tighter.

“But,” he added after a moment, and the word alone carried enough weight to still you, “that ain’t what this is.” The knife lifted and the pressure vanished. “This here’s about patience.” His voice softened for a torturous fraction. “Need you to understand somethin’. Not fear, it’s about realizin’ what your new life will be.”

Before you could make sense of it, he stepped away.

The loss of him - of the heat, the presence - felt just as abrupt as when he’d first created distance, leaving you standing there, exposed and unsteady.

And then his hands were on you again.

He pushed you forward without warning, and you stumbled, catching yourself only barely as your knees hit the mattress, your hands coming down hard against the worn fabric of the bed.

“Just -” The words tore out of you, sharp with something that felt dangerously close to anger now, rising where only panic had been before. “Just get it over with.”

You turned slightly, enough to look at him over your shoulder, your jaw tight, your eyes burning.

Joel didn’t answer right away.

His gaze moved over your body instead - taking in every detail you wished he wouldn’t see. The way your shoulders tensed, the way your body tried to fold in on itself despite your attempt to hold steady.

“Oh,” he clicked his tongue. “So impatient now? Don’t get me wrong, costin’ me a lot not to fuck you right away. But… When that time comes, you will want it just as much as I do, I promise.”

A faint tilt of his head.

“For now -”

His hand moved fast.

It caught your ankle before you could pull away, his grip locking around it with an ease that sent a jolt of panic straight through you.

For a split second, your mind went somewhere worse - anticipating him spreading your legs, forcing himself over you and pining you down with his body.

But that wasn’t what he did.

Instead, he pulled you - just enough to shift you closer to the foot of the bed, toward the iron frame.

And then you saw it.

The metal glint caught your eye too late.

“No -” The word barely formed before the cold bite of a handcuff closed around your ankle with a sharp, final click.

You jerked instinctively, pulling back, trying to wrench yourself free - but the chain held fast, short enough to keep you close, strong enough to make resistance pointless.

“No more runnin’, sweetheart.”

Your hands scrambled at it, fingers fumbling over the cuff, searching for anything that might give.

But it didn’t budge.

Your gaze snapped back up to him, panic surging all over again.

“What are you - what will you -”

“As I said.” He cut you off with a shrug. “Patience.” There was something unsettling in the way he said it. “You’ll see,” he added, giving you one last look over. “Soon you’ll beg for very different things.”

His expression shifted again, that same dark edge curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Gotta admit,” he went on, almost idly, “takes some patience on my end too. But I want you to understand,” he said as he reached the door, his back half-turned to you now. “Where you are. What this is.” His hand rested briefly on the frame. “This is your place now.” The door creaked open. “And you’ll learn how to be fuckin’ grateful for it.” Joel clicked his tongue, lips splitting into a darker grin. “And next time you’re beggin’, you’re beggin’ that I take you, ‘cause it’s the only thing that’ll make you feel safe.” 

Then he stepped out.

The door shut behind him with a dull, solid thud.

And just like that - 

He was gone.

For a second, you didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Then it all rushed back in at once.

You lunged for the chain, pulling hard enough to rattle the frame, the metal biting against your skin as you tried - again and again - to force it loose.

“Joel?”

Your voice cracked, louder now, sharper.

Nothing.

“Joel!” The name tore out of you, echoing off the walls. “JOEL!”

Silence answered.

And no matter how hard you pulled - 

Nothing gave.

Time lost its edges somewhere along the way.

At first, you had tried to keep track of it - counting the hours by the thin sliver of light that crept through the small, covered window, marking the slow crawl from dim gray to daylight, then back again to night. You had clung to it like it mattered, like knowing how long you had been here could somehow anchor you to something real.

But it slipped.

Blurred.

Days bled into nights into something in between, until the difference stopped meaning anything at all. The rhythm of it dissolved, replaced by a dull endlessness that stretched on without shape or structure.

You barely moved anymore.

Your body had learned quickly what it could and couldn’t afford, and movement had become something costly. The chain at your ankle dictated most of it anyway - its short length forcing you into a small radius that had long since become your entire world. The bed beneath you had molded itself around that limitation, the only position that didn’t pull or strain or send a sharp reminder through your leg being the one you’d settled into days ago.

Curled. Small. Still.

You remembered being different.

At the beginning, there had been anger. Sharp and biting, it had cut through the fear like a drive that could keep you standing. You had argued - God, you had argued. Thrown words at the walls, at the silence, at him whenever he had stepped through that door. You had tried to bargain, to reason, to push back in whatever ways you could manage.

And you had listened, too.

Every sound outside that room had mattered. Voices drifting in from the camp, footsteps passing by, the occasional shift in routine that you tried to piece together into useful information.

An opening.

A mistake.

Anything.

Now - 

Now all of it felt far away. Like something that had belonged to someone else in another life.

Your body lay curled on its side, knees drawn in just enough to ease the pull on the cuff around your ankle, your arms tucked close in a weak attempt to preserve warmth that never quite came. The blanket beneath your fingers was rough, worn thin in places, but it was the only constant you had left.

Your tears had stopped days ago.

Not because you didn’t want to cry - God, you did - but because your body had simply… run out. There was nothing left to give. No moisture to spare, no energy to waste on something that didn’t change anything.

Everything felt dulled.

The hunger had faded first, gnawing and sharp until it wasn’t, until it slipped into the background like a distant.

The thirst stayed though.

Relentless and consuming it turned your throat dry, every swallow a small, painful effort that gave you nothing in return. Your lips felt cracked, your tongue heavy in your mouth, your head pounding with a dull, persistent ache that never quite lifted.

When had he last come in?

You couldn’t remember.

The thought drifted through your mind without finding anything solid to hold onto. His visits had become… brief and infrequent. A presence that came and went so quickly it almost felt imagined, if not for the small, undeniable traces he left behind.

A shift in the air. A sound at the door. Proof that you hadn’t been abandoned entirely.

Because that - somehow - felt worse.

The idea of being left here, alone, with nothing but the forest outside and whatever might wander through it… that still sent a flicker of panic through you, even now. Even in this dulled, distant state. Raiders. Strangers. Infected. You had nothing left to fight them with. No strength, no weapon, no chance.

At least here - at least with him - 

There was… something.

A boundary.

A cruel kind of safety.

Sometimes, in the long stretches of night, when the dark pressed in too close and the silence grew too loud, your thoughts drifted somewhere you didn’t want them to go. To places that whispered of an easier end.

But a stubborn force in you refused to let that thought settle. Refused to let go completely.

It kept you here, kept you breathing.

Even when every part of you felt like it was slipping further and further away.

You hovered there now, on the edge of sleep - not true rest, just the empty kind that came when your body had nothing left to give - when the sound reached you.

The click of the door.

You didn’t move or lift your head, didn’t even open your eyes. It took too much.

It was always him anyway.

The slow, measured sound of Joel’s boots crossing the room followed, each step unhurried. You could track him without looking, could feel the shift in the air as he moved closer, closer - 

Until the broad shadow fell over you.

“Not lookin’ too energetic, sweetheart.”

The words settled over you, carrying that same steady calm that had never once faltered. Not at the beginning. Not now.

You tried to swallow.

Your throat protested immediately, the motion dry and painful, leaving you with nothing but the faintest rasp when you attempted to answer. No words came. Only a weak shift of your fingers against the blanket, a reflex more than anything.

The mattress dipped beside you.

Your eyes fluttered open and for a second the world didn’t quite come into focus. Shapes blurred together, light and shadow bleeding into each other until they settled enough for you to see Joel’s broad figure.

And the glass in his hand.

Your entire focus snapped to it, your head lifting just slightly, barely enough to track the way the light caught against the surface.

Joel let out a quiet, humorless huff.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Figured as much.” His gaze flicked back to you, something unreadable sitting behind it. “You thirsty, darlin’?”

You managed the smallest nod and a faint, broken sound escaped your throat with it, barely there.

“Shh.” His voice softened even though it lacked real gentleness.

His hand came up, sliding beneath your head, lifting you with surprising care until you were more upright, your body swaying slightly with the movement.

“C’mon,” he murmured. “Stay with me.”

The glass hovered close enough now that you could almost feel the coolness of it against your skin. Your eyes tracked it, slipping in and out of focus, your entire body leaning toward it without thinking.

“You want some?” he asked, like it wasn’t already obvious.

You nodded again.

Weak.

Desperate.

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

The calm in his voice made something twist in your chest.

“P-please…” The word scraped out of you, so thinned out…

His mouth curved faintly.

“That’s my girl.” His hand shifted, cupping your cheek to steady you, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. “Open up for me.”

You did.

Instantly.

The moment the glass tipped and the water touched your lips, everything else disappeared. The restraint you’d been clinging to - what little of it remained - shattered under the sheer need of it. You drank greedily, swallowing too fast, too much, the liquid spilling at the corners of your mouth as you tried to take in as much as you could.

A small cough broke through, choking you briefly, forcing you to pull back just enough to catch your breath.

Joel let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing away the water that had run down your cheek.

“Easy,” he said. “Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

He gave you a moment, then brought the glass back.

“That better?” he asked, watching you as you drank again, slower this time, your body still trembling slightly with the effort.

You nodded faintly against his hand.

“Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Thought so.”

When the glass finally emptied, he set it aside, his hand still steady at your jaw as he adjusted you, lifting you just a little more.

Your gaze followed the glass as far as it could.

Then snapped back to him.

“M-more…” The word came easier this time, but only just. “Please.”

It was instinct now. Need overriding everything else.

He watched you for a moment.

Long enough to make your stomach tighten.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, like he was considering it.

His fingers tilted your chin slightly, guiding your face up toward him, while his other hand brushed through your hair, pushing the tangled strands back from your face. You knew how it must look - greasy, unkempt, clinging in uneven pieces - but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Not when the dryness in your throat screamed louder than anything else.

“Tell you what,” he went on, his tone shifting again into something almost casual. “We’ll get you a bit more.”

A pause.

“But first -” His thumb dragged lightly along your jaw. “We clean you up some.”

How you were supposed to manage that, you had no idea.

Holding your own weight upright for more than a few seconds already felt like too much, your head swimming with the effort, your body barely responding the way it should. The thought of moving - of doing anything beyond the small, careful shifts you’d limited yourself to - felt almost impossible.

Luckily, Joel didn’t leave it to you.

His hands steadied you first, lowering you back against the mattress with a care that felt almost out of place after everything else. Then you felt him at your ankle - fingers brushing over the cold metal there - and a second later, the distinct click of it releasing.

For a moment, your mind didn’t catch up.

Didn’t process what that meant.

Because before you could, he was already moving again, one arm sliding beneath your knees, the other bracing your back as he lifted you up with ease.

Your body reacted before your thoughts could catch up, your head lolling against his chest as your arms curled in close, instinctively seeking stability.

You hated the way it felt. Because it was good somehow.

The steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek, the solid warmth of him holding you close - it pulled at something deep and desperate inside you, something that had been starved of contact, of anything resembling care.

You curled in without meaning to.

You didn’t need to see his face to know that he noticed it - the slight shift in his hold, the way his grip settled more comfortably around you, like he was exactly where he wanted to be.

“When was the last time you had a real bath, hm?”

His voice was close to thoughtful as he carried you out of the room, the place that had become your entire world fading behind you with each step he took.

The room he brought you to was small.

A bathroom that had long since lost whatever comfort it once held, but the sight of the tub - actual water filling it, faintly steaming in the low, flickering light of a worn out camping lamp - felt almost surreal.

Joel crouched slightly as he approached it, adjusting his hold on you.

“Gonna get you outta the rest of this, alright?”

The question wasn’t really one.

You both knew that.

Still - your head shifted faintly against his chest.

A weak nod.

“Yes.”

The word came easier now and with a quiet compliance.

He set you down on the edge of the tub, the cold porcelain biting into your skin as your body slumped forward slightly before you forced yourself upright again, your balance wavering but holding - for now.

Joel crouched in front of you but even like this, he felt larger than you by far.

“Gonna have you feelin’ brand new,” he murmured, his hand brushing slowly along your arm.

Your body reacted immediately. A small shift toward him before you could stop it. The need for contact overriding your better judgment for just a second too long.

It vanished though the moment his fingers moved higher, finding the clasp at your back, undoing it with practiced ease before sliding the straps of your bra from you.

Your shoulders pulled inward automatically, a weak attempt at covering yourself that you didn’t have the strength to fully follow through on.

“Now, now,” he muttered amused. “No need for that. Nothin’ I haven’t seen somewhere already.”

His grin wasn’t kind.

“Now help me out here.”

His hand moved lower, fingers grazing your side before hooking lightly at the edge of your panties, tugging just enough to guide you.

And again - 

You followed.

Your body shifting with his touch, hips lifting just slightly as he pulled the fabric down, over your skin, over your thighs, your knees - until it caught briefly at your ankles.

He took his time then.

Lifting one foot free.

Then the other.

His fingers brushing lightly over your skin in a way that lingered just a second longer than necessary.

“You’re doin’ real good,” he praised and it washed over you. “See? Ain’t so hard.”

You nodded again in automation. You weren’t even sure what you were agreeing to anymore - only that going along with it seemed to make things… easier.

“C’mon.” His hands guided you gently, lifting your legs over the edge of the tub and lowering you into the water.

The warmth hit instantly.

A shock at first - then relief.

Your body sank into it and tension unraveled in a way you hadn’t realized it could, every muscle loosening as the heat seeped in, easing the stiffness, the ache, the constant strain you had been carrying for days. The water bit only at the skin where the cuffs had scraped over the past few days.

“There you go,” he murmured, watching you as you settled, his voice carrying that same quiet approval. “That better?”

You nodded again, slower this time.

His hand hovered in the water near you - not touching, but close enough that you were aware of it.

“Yeah,” he said, almost to himself. “Figured. C’mon,” he added after a moment. “Lean back.”

His hand slid beneath your neck, supporting you as he guided you down, your head tilting back into his palm as your hair sank beneath the surface. The water closed around you and muffled everything for a bit.

His other hand moved then, scooping water, letting it run slowly over your scalp, careful and controlled, keeping it from your eyes.

You let them close.

Let yourself drift in it.

For a moment, it felt like actual safety. Like care or something you could almost trust.

That was because you didn’t see the way his gaze shifted.

Didn’t catch the way it moved over your naked body - taking in every detail with a quiet intensity that bordered on predatory.

Instead, you only felt his hand again, moving from your hair to your arm, fingers tracing slowly along your skin.

Up.

Down.

Your breath caught faintly, your body tensing just a fraction before it eased again, caught between instinct and the overwhelming relief of the warmth around you.

His hand moved further.

Your side this time, following the curve there, slow and unhurried.

Your eyes only snapped open when his fingers suddenly found your nipple, softly tweezing it as if testing.

“J-Joel…” You searched his eyes but he only looked at you with the same unraveling calm. His fingers retreated slightly, the pressure easing as if nothing had happened, as if it had meant nothing at all.

“Easy,” he said, that same quiet tone slipping back into place. “Just helpin’ you out.”

Your pulse picked up.

But you didn’t pull away.

Instead, you let your head fall back into his hand again, your body sinking deeper into the water, your mind too tired, too worn down to hold onto a sane reaction.

“See?” Joel’s voice dropped low next to you. “Whole lot better when you just let go, darlin’.”

The words drifted over you, wrapping around the warmth of the water, around the heaviness in your limbs that made it easier to sink into it. His touch followed soon after, returning without hesitation nor rush. His fingers brushed along your collarbone, traced the line of your neck before moving over your shoulder like he had all the time in the world.

The path of his hand as it cupped your breast, slid further, over the softened curve of your stomach beneath the water. A faint, involuntary flinch slipped through you when the touch tickled just slightly, your breath catching on it.

A low chuckle answered it.

“That feelin’ alright?” he murmured, close enough that you could feel the vibration of it through the water. “Me takin’ care of you?”

Your head tilted back just slightly in his hold.

You nodded.

Because somewhere beneath the exhaustion, beneath the haze of everything you had been through, there was a pull - a need - that reached for exactly this. For steadiness. For something that felt like being held together instead of pulled apart.

Joel’s voice shifted again, something deeper threading through it now.

“Want me to take real good care of ya?”

There was something in it.

An edge you should have caught.

But your mind… lagged. Sluggish, dulled by days of deprivation, by the overwhelming relief of warmth and water and touch that didn’t hurt.

So you nodded again.

“Yes, Joel.”

Your eyes had already slipped closed again, your body settling further into the water, into him - so you didn’t see the change in his expression. Didn’t see the way a darkness settled behind his gaze, paired with that faint, unsettling curve of his mouth.

His hand moved further from your stomach until he dipped between your legs, cupping your mound. He kept still then, letting you feel the warmth of his hand in contrast to the warmth of the water. It blurred together, your body too slow to react the way your mind tried to. There was a disconnect there, you should scream, object, push away. 

Instead your hips shifted against him - just slightly, barely there - but enough for him to notice.

“Look at you,” Joel murmured, shifting beside the tub as he sat at the edge, his focus fully on you. “Real pretty like this.”

His voice dropped lower.

“Soft… open…”

His middle finger traced lazily along your slit and your mouth opened without meaning to, a faint, unsteady breath slipping free.

“...vulnerable.”

He shifted closer as he applied more pressure with his finger, parting you and sliding once up and down before giving your clit a small, testing flick. There was a subtle increase in pressure and your body answered before your mind could catch up.

Joel made a low, almost soothing sound, meant to calm, to steady, as if he could feel that split inside you.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Ain’t nothin’ to fight here.” His touch slowed, drawing rhythmic circles around your sensitive spot. “That’s what you needed?” he went on. “Someone takin’ proper care of you?”

Part of you recoiled.

The contradiction sat heavy in your chest, tightening your breath, even as your hand moved on its own accord, finding his arm beneath the water. Your fingers curled there, seeking something to hold onto as the surface shifted in soft ripples around you, each small movement of his hand sending them outward in quiet, overlapping waves.

“That’s it,” Joel murmured and the approval in his voice was coaxing. “Sweet girl… I got ya.”

His finger pressed at your entrance, and when it nudged at you more firmly, your body reacted instantly. A sharp inhale broke from you, uncontained, your back arching just slightly before the strength left you again, leaving only that trembling, uncertain tension behind.

“Shhh… shh…” he soothed, the sound close to your ear, his hand at your neck tightening just enough to steady you when you wavered, his thumb brushing slow, grounding strokes along the sensitive line there. “Easy now. Just relax.”

It shouldn’t have worked.

And yet -

Somehow, it did.

The tension softened at the edges as you let out a long, shaky breath. Your body followed it, sinking just a fraction deeper into the warmth, into his hold.

He didn’t hesitate.

The moment you gave him that inch, he took it.

His finger moved and pressed in, and the sensation made you jolt weakly, a broken sound catching in your throat as your grip on his arm tightened without strength behind it.

“There we go,” he smiled, satisfaction threading through the words. “That’s it, baby girl… gonna do you some good.”

His movements stayed steady, controlled in a way that gave you no choice but to adjust and to follow along, your body slowly giving way to the rhythm he set with his finger pumping in and out of you even though it felt too much already.

Your eyes stayed shut though.

Like that alone could block it out, could distance you from the reality of Joel fingerfucking you in a state of haze and hallucination.

Because if you had opened them - if you had forced yourself to look - you would have seen it. The way his gaze lingered on you, tracking every reaction you couldn’t hide. The slight shifts in your expression, the way your lips parted without sound, the way your brows pulled together when he hit deeper than before, burying his finger to the last knuckle.

You would have seen how closely he watched.

How much he noticed.

And you would have caught the way something darker settled into his expression. The quiet satisfaction. The intent behind it. Maybe even how his body responded in turn, the bulge in his jeans growing.

But you didn’t.

You stayed in the dark.

And in that darkness, everything blurred together - the warmth of the water, the weight of his touch, the exhaustion that dulled your thoughts and softened your edges until all that remained was sensation.

Because all there was with Joel was darkness, sweet, coating, everlasting.

His movements shifted - firmer now, more insistent - though they never lost that same controlled rhythm. It pulled small sounds from you before you could stop them, caught somewhere between resistance and a plea for more.

“What’s that, sweetie?” Joel’s voice carried that low, knowing edge again. “You need a little more?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t give you the space to form one. Instead, he added his index finger, splitting you further open and giving you little to no time to adjust as his palm pressed against your clit.

A broken sound slipped out of you and your body betrayed you once more - leaning into him, seeking the steadiness of his arm, your hips shifting just enough to meet the motion rather than escape it.

Joel huffed a quiet laugh at that.

“So eager, darlin’,” he smirked. “Can’t wait to get that sweet release, do you?”

The water moved around you in uneven ripples, echoing every subtle shift, every reaction you couldn’t fully control. Your legs tried to draw in, instinctively, but his arm kept you where he wanted you - open and surrendered.

His fingers pushed harder and it forced another breath from you - sharper this time, breaking unevenly as your head dipped slightly, the water brushing higher along your skin.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he muttered, though there was no real softness in it - only control. “Want me to give it to you, sweetheart?”

Your body tried to keep up, tried to ground itself, but everything felt blurred - too much and not enough all at once. The warmth, the exhaustion, the constant pull between pushing away and leaning in - it tangled together until it was impossible to separate one from the other.

“C’mon,” Joel pressed, his voice dropping lower and his hand pumping unrelenting. “Use your words.”

His grip at your neck tightened just slightly, to keep you from slipping further under the surface when your balance wavered.

“Speak.”

Your eyes fluttered open then, barely, your gaze catching on his through the haze - unsteady, unfocused, something pleading sitting behind it without form or clarity.

“P-please…”

The word came out thin.

He tilted his head slightly.

“Please what, darlin’?”

You didn’t know.

Part of you wanted it to stop - to end, to pull away, to reclaim something of yourself that felt like it was slipping too far out of reach. But another part clung to it instead. To the way it filled the silence, the emptiness.

A tear slipped free, tracing down your temple.

A faint smile touched Joel’s mouth.

“‘Please continue’?,” he murmured, almost to himself. “‘Please go harder’? ‘Please more’? Want me to fill you up real good?”

That made you shake your head immediately. You were more than certain that your body would not be in a state to take him fully. Not now. Not ever.

Joel answered with a condescending laugh. “Yeah, no, that time will come. But we have to prepare you for it, don’t we? For now”, he pulled from you nearly completely only to drive in even deeper than before, making you gasp and your insides twist, “for now, I just need you to come for me, baby girl.” 

Your breath stuttered, your grip tightening weakly against him as your body tensed, that unfamiliar pressure coiling tighter and tighter beneath your ribs.

“Almost there,” he guided you through it. “Just let it happen.”

You didn’t fight it.

Not anymore.

There wasn’t anything left in you to hold it back.

The tension snapped suddenly, pulling you under in a way that stole what little breath you had left. The water rose around you, covering your ears and dulling everything for a moment - your own moans, his voice - the world narrowing to that single, overwhelming sensation that ran through you in sharp, unsteady waves.

Joel stayed buried deep in you, feeling your spasms pulling his digits deeper.

“Oh, darlin,” he cooed, “I can only imagine what you must feel like around my cock. Can’t wait for you to be ready for me.” His muffled words carried you through it, stars bursting before your inner eye and the sensation rippling through your weakened body. 

You barely registered the way he shifted, the low sound he made under his breath as your body tightened and then slowly, slowly began to ease again.

It took time.

Your breathing came back first - shallow, uneven - your body following in slow increments, the tension draining out of your limbs until you felt heavy again, spent in a way that left no room for anything else.

“Well done,” he spoke after a moment. “That must have cost you.”

He curled his fingers once more and made sure to collect every spasm and after effect his touch had on you before he slipped his fingers from you and gave your pussy a last affirmative pat.

Then his hand moved upward through the water, cupping your face this time, steadying you as he leaned in just enough to press a hard long kiss to the top of your head.

“Did so good for me,” he said softly. “Ain’t so bad when you listen, is it?”

You shook your head slightly, the movement weak, your eyes already drifting shut again as the exhaustion settled back in fully.

He adjusted his hold, his arms sliding beneath you once more as he lifted you from the tub, water splashing everywhere. The warmth left you too quickly this time, replaced by the cooler air that made you shiver faintly.

So, again, your body leaned into him, seeking what little warmth remained, what little steadiness he provided.

“Let’s get you back,” he muttered, already moving. “You’ve had enough for tonight. Think you owned a real blanket now, right?”

The thought alone nearly made you beg for it even though you knew deep down this was exactly what he intended with this. Making you compliant. Docile. 

It didn’t matter though as he set you down on the bed because when he returned shortly with the blanket, wrapping you up, that was all that you could ask or really.

Because humiliation was a small price to pay for safety.

You did not even register him leaving. But you knew he’d return. And he would continue to mold to into his world of darkness.

Part 2

Series Masterpost

My Masterlist

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