BG

It all started on a Sunday. 

You came to your neighborhood church expecting a nice function and you exited knowing you were doomed. 

That Sunday you met the new parish priest.

From the first moment you felt like something in you was compromised. 

You couldn't even explain it to yourself and you had never felt like this, it was something so unfamiliar. 

A need you’ve never felt before.

Your eyes glued to his holy form, adoring his raven curly hair, his scruff, the curve of his neck, his strong nose, plump lips, broad shoulders, thick thighs, big hands.

Courteous and kind as he greeted parishioners leaving the church, he shook your hand and you felt a jolt.

You weren’t like this before, you did things to do good to others before. But now…

Volunteering for every event, clothing drive, bake sale, children's shows. You were always there for the ride. Making excuses to talk to him.

Wondering if he had any more freckles than the ones on his neck, how warm his skin would be, how manly and intoxicating his scent would be, what his kisses would taste like, what his fingers would have felt like inside your cunt, peeking at the outline of his cock under his black pants.

A perfect Christian girl who would have make your mother proud on the outside, a raging hell of arousal on the inside.

You couldn’t believe that he was him who had awakened this new person inside you, insanely hungry, wanting, needy to taste, lick, bite. 

His low gruff voice grueling from his chest echoed against your damp inner walls so much that you were almost afraid to get up after the mass and see a stain where you were seated.

It was more and more difficult every time to fight your urge, stay on the tracks of life that you were taught to live, no sex before marriage, no masturbation because it’s a sin, no impure thoughts because you were a good girl.

Yet now you could hear them, all those voices crowding your head, pushing you towards something you had been taught was wrong.

Entering the church you were trembling, guilt pulsing in your gut.

Everything was quiet and serene, your eyes wandered on the frescoed walls, the organ, the large altar and the wooden benches neatly lined up in rows in the central nave. 

Your steps sounded uncertain and timid on the marble floor.

You entered the confessional feeling your heart beating wildly in your chest, palms sweating and your mouth dry.

You could hear his breathing through the grate.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned” 

The following silence weighed like never before.

“Open your heart to the Lord so He can forgive your sins”

And you had confessed. 

The words slipped from your mouth like pearls from a broken necklace, finally rolling free between your lips revealing your every sordid thought.

The girl shaped by catholic parents to be a modest virgin, mother and maid, perfect smile and delicate manners was in reality a shameful bundle of filth.

You were a sinner.

A sinner eaten out from dirty thoughts.

You told him how you couldn't stop thinking about him, how you had questioned your feelings and who you were as a person, how you hadn't spent a night without touching yourself thinking about him in many months.

You told him about your desire to kiss him and more. So much more. Everything.

Every single time you lowered your hand in your panties, every single time you squeezed your breasts, driven by instinct and desire, every single time you thought of him as Joel. Just Joel, a man.

You just wanted to let go of the weight on your chest, coming clean. If you said it all out loud you would have realized how crazy it was.

You heard the door snapping, a few heavy steps close to where you were seated, the door opening to your side.  

Suddenly he was there, standing in front of you.

He said nothing, only grabbed your arm, dragging you to the rectory.

Dust in the air danced beneath the soft light that came in from two small windows high up.

There wasn't much in the room, a cupboard where liturgical objects were kept, a wooden table, a wardrobe where the clothes for the service were hung.

Nobody was there except the two of you, you could hear the rumble of his breathing and your heart drumming behind your rib cage.

He was staring at you. 

Your mouth sealed, a lump in your stomach.

You thought about the day he tried to teach you how to play guitar.

You were here, together, helping with the Christmas party. 

He was sitting strumming when you walked in.

You tried not to surprise him from behind by pretending to cough and he turned to you. He didn’t stop playing as he greeted you, you told him “I didn’t know you played” and he invited you to try. As you sat down your legs were shaking, he gave you the guitar and you just stared at it, fingers uncertain and mind empty. 

“It’s not that hard” he told you and he leaned over you taking one of your hands in his and placing it on the neck of the guitar, moving your fingers over the strings “like this. Now play”

You strummed on the guitar and an unpleasant sound came out, you both laughed softly at your clumsiness and a flood of pleasure slicked your panties.

His breath on you was like a caress, you felt the minty scent grazing at your nostrils.

For a moment, just for a moment you thought, “I could turn around right now and kiss him. A few inches and my lips would be on his.”

Your desire flowed before your eyes, leaving you with nothing else to look at.

“But I can’t. I can’t.” 

You've tried to swat away that sinful thought with another strum on the guitar but nothing disappeared, it burned in your core even strongly than before instead.

You thought about that day when the rain caught you on your way to set up the bake sale, how you walked into the rectory soaked from head to toe, how he looked at your shirt stuck to your skin that left little to the imagination, how you instinctively covered yourself when you just wanted to let your arms hang at your sides and let him look at you. You saw a reaction in his eyes as he mumbled that he was going to get you a towel, just a moment before he regained his composure, and it was enough. You knew that he was not indifferent to you. That night you touched yourself imagining what it would be like if he took your shirt off, if he placed his lips on your neck, his tongue on your breast, his cock inside you.

You started to navigate on porn sites daily, out of curiosity at first and then because you needed to see, you needed to imagine, you needed to visualize something so unfamiliar and strange to you. 

You were ashamed, but at the same time you couldn't help it, it was the only resource you could think of looking for and it was there, on your phone, private, no one would have known. You didn't even imagine you would find so many options, a whole catalog of big dicks, huge tits, positions that your brain couldn't conceive.

Seeing those women pleasuring themselves scared you but at the same time attracted you.

You wanted to be like them, you wanted to reach that pleasure, you wanted to try their way of using their hands, you wanted to refine your clumsy way of reaching that heat between your legs.

You sinked into it.

If your parents had known, if your community had known, you would have been branded an unworthy woman, a pervert, a slut.

But your parents were far away now, your whole life was somewhere else and you were proud to have freed yourself from the golden cage they had locked you in. You were an adult now, it was the moment to choose for yourself. If they hadn’t always denied you any other vision of the world, if they hadn’t forbidden you to have the experiences that everyone has in their youth, maybe it wouldn’t have happened this way.

His mouth was a thin line, tensed, you looked into his eyes and you saw nothing than dark.

So much different from the gentle detachment he had always shown to everyone, his look was a mixture of concern, agitation, maybe a hint of fear, but most of all - to your great surprise - sexual arousal.

You could see him cracking behind those eyes, you could feel his mind filling with all sorts of questions.

His voice was barely a whisper but sharp as a blade when he finally spoke “Are you even honest with that ‘I am a good christian’ thing? Say the truth”

You hesitated, the uneasiest bitter taste in your mouth.

“I-” your throat was like atrophied “yes” you tried to say.

“No, you’re not. The least you could do is being fucking honest with Him” he raised his finger pointing it at the ceiling.

You’ve never heard him cursing before.

You looked down feeling the weight of your stomach turn to lead and then concrete and if you thought you were free now you felt even more guilty. 

You said the only thing your brain could think of at that moment and you knew what you were asking for, you knew what it would do to him and you knew you would drag him down with you. And yet you did it anyway, because desire was stronger than faith, than lies, than truth.

“I need-I need to repent. Teach me” you pleaded “teach me how to be good”

Something lit up in his gaze, like a spark of hell, a glow of lust that was never there before.

He turned around and you hungrily followed his every move.

His hands moving expertly, the cupboard opening, him taking out the mass wine and pouring it into a chalice.

You saw him down the entire glass, without hesitation, without a shred of tremor.

You felt like you were watching a hurricane approaching, just waiting for the wind to suck you in without being able to do anything else.

You wanted it. You wanted it to sweep you away, to make you someone else, braver, indomitable, someone who wasn’t afraid to say what she wanted because of a belief that had been instilled in her, someone who was simply herself. 

We are all born with guilt, you told yourself. I am tired, tired of dealing with mine so much.

You just wanted to feel alive, to feel something authentic and fierce, no half measures. 

You wanted to be desired in a way that felt relentless and desperate, like air that is necessary to keep humans alive, something unique and undeniable.

Could Joel read it in your eyes? 

He was so good at reading people, you could tell right away. 

He had guessed a lot about you.

He had noticed how coffee was a weakness of yours - and his - and he offered you a cup first thing at every meeting.

He had noticed how nervous Danny, a parishioner who liked to play the fool with any woman present, most often in front of his wife, got you and made sure to never leave you alone with him.

He had noticed how much you enjoyed sewing and had assigned you the costumes for the play and praised your work. 

And he did the same with the guitar that day when he saw how enthusiast and curious you were about it. He didn't say it openly, but his gestures spoke for him.

He came closer to you again, bending the chalice to your mouth and said “drink”. An order, sharp and cold.

At that point you didn’t care it was something you were not supposed to do, forbidden, maybe unholy even, you just drank. 

You were dealing with a part of yourself that always existed but you had put that in a box.

Joel looked into your eyes sternly and said: “Show me the good Christian that you think you are. Pray.”

“What?”

“Pray. Right now” 

“What prayer?” You asked, confused.

“You're not starting off well, you should know that.” He smirked, caught you in fail.

“Act of contrition” you whispered and he nodded “yes. That’s right.”

He was just inches away from you, his crucifix hanging between your bodies, grazing at your stomach. 

You began to recite in a low voice, stumbling over your words, your brain couldn’t think straight:

“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest… all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offended Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving all my love.”

You said it dozen of times before and yet it seemed totally different in that moment. 

Joel took off his rosary, letting it dangle from his hand and swing across your chest. Beads brushed against the cotton bra you wore under your blouse, making your nipples harden, you could feel them pushing against the fabric.

“Go on”

“I- I firmly resolve with the help of Thy grace to sin no more and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen”

“Take off your shirt,” he told you in a whisper.

Something shifted inside him “and your bra”

His voice was no longer the same, it came from deep within him, frighteningly authoritarian. 

It seemed like a magic instrument that was hypnotizing you.

You did what he told you. 

You were naked in front of a man for the first time. It could have happened before, much before, but of course you couldn’t because you never got married. No one was supposed to see your body except the man you were going to take to the altar. 

That’s what they taught you.

Joel looked at you, entranced, almost in disbelief. 

You wondered how long it had been since he’d seen someone else’s naked body, what effect it had on him. 

You were more alike than you seemed, both of you denied something because of religion. 

You were both more needy and frustrated than you were allowed to admit. 

Tension hung in the air like a fog that clouded both of your gazes.

Every time you had noticed the way he looked at you, you felt like it was all in your head, like you were a poor naive girl who was building castles in the air, but now you knew that wasn't the case.

You prayed deep down that he wouldn’t decide to stop.

He raised his arm, clutching his rosary. You felt a slash through the air and then a sharp smack on your nipple.

You looked down shocked as the pain quickly turned into a dull pleasure rising from the pit of your tummy, slowly fading, becoming a tingling sensation.

You liked it.

You wanted more.

He did the same at your other breast and all the breath you had left in your body had slipped past your lips in a lustful sob.

He took one of your nipples between his fingers, twisting and pinching it and you couldn’t help but moan. A sound you never made for no one and you made it first for a priest.

His body pushed you against the wall, his breath on your neck, his fingers didn't stop torturing your nipple. 

Everything you saw was red. Red like the passion you had never felt before, red like the blood that pulsed in your veins, red like sin.

“Kneel” he said firmly.

You were equal parts scared of making a fool of yourself and eager to try.

You knelt down, feeling the cold of the floor touch your shins. 

His eyes were as uncertain as yours, it was new territory for both of you but you saw a flame burning in him and you felt it inside you. 

His face was serious, tense, as if he was ashamed of what he was doing but couldn't contain. 

He was punishing you and punishing himself at the same time.

You weren’t afraid though, you were ready to face what was eating you up and you trusted Joel for some reason. You could see in him that he wouldn’t hurt you more than you wanted.

Your tentative fingers undid his pants, letting them sag around his ankles. A pronounced erection protruded from his boxers as his eyes almost begged you to do what he asked, they weren’t cruel and ruthless eyes, but rather needy and guilty.

You moved your hand closer to his crotch, hesitating for a moment before placing it there, testing the sensation, opening your fingers around it to realize how thick it was. You could feel the heat through the fabric. You caressed it, feeling the tremor that shook Joel's body. 

Your eyes couldn't tear themselves away, it was the first time you had seen a cock in person, you were amazed and attracted. You continued to caress him until you heard a grunt leave Joel’s lips and a stain wet the front of his boxers. You were struck by how much he was growing under your hand and by the smell of him, like musk, pungent but not unpleasant.

You remembered the videos you had seen, how women did it, looking into the men's eyes lustfully, with a confidence you had never acquired. 

You wanted to be like them, but you were afraid of being ridiculous or grotesque.

You slowly pulled down his boxers, gasping at the sight of his cock springing free. 

Joel had his eyes fixed on you, they were encouraging somehow, he made you feel safe but the trembling of your fingers didn’t stop. 

You took his shaft in your hand again and were surprised at how soft his skin was there, velvety. You watched that thin layer of skin retract as you moved your hand up and down like you had seen in the videos.

It felt incredible. It was heavy, hot and throbbing. It was uncut. His big balls hanging right under. You ran your thumb over the tip of it, collecting the pre-cum that was leaking, spreading it around.

Joel was quiet, he let you do it, probably it was all too much at that moment, even for him.

He was touch starved, just like you.

You lowered your head and licked him, just with the tip of your tongue. A timid lick, like a kitten.

His taste, matching the musky scent you could smell, invaded your mouth in an instant. 

You had never tasted anything like it. You wanted more. You braced yourself, while Joel waited, and licked once more, this time starting at the base and working your way up.

Joel groaned.

You pulled away, looking into his eyes, he brought a hand to your cheek and then to your chin and took it in his palm. 

“You are so beautiful” he whispered.

You felt beautiful, you felt like someone was really seeing you for the first time. And you loved that that someone was him.

You took a deep breath and lowered your head onto his cock, starting to take it into your mouth.

You knew you couldn't fit it all in your mouth, but you wanted to take as much as you could.

“Don’t force yourself” Joel murmured as your lips touched his skin, causing another whine from him.

“I want to do it” you replied resolutely, you were loving hearing him whimper beneath you.

His length slid across your tongue, wet and salty, your lips closing around it.

You shut your eyes and focused on that feeling, just holding it there, nestled inside.

“Suck it,” Joel commanded gently, bringing a hand into your hair and twining his fingers there.

You were unsure how to do it, you tried to suck it in as if you were using a large straw, with all the breath you had.

Joel flinched, almost losing his balance “Easy, babe” he muttered

You pulled away again, eyes widened “oh my god, I’m sorry” almost afraid of having hurt him but he immediately reassured you "no it's okay, just... go slower, go slower if you don't want me to come right away”

“Uh- okay” responding timidly to the smile that was spreading across his face.

You began to suck again more calmly, holding the base tightly with your hand, feeling it pulsate between your fingers and on your tongue.

It was an addictive sensation, spreading through your synapses like a drug.

Well, you never tried drugs, but you imagined that feeling was something like what you were experiencing.

Joel still held your head, his grip tightening as you continued, you could feel his body tense and respond, and you liked it. You liked it more than you ever liked putting on your Sunday best and going to say prayers with your parents like you always had.

There was actually a prayer that was ringing in your head and it was Joel's, who softly repeated "just like that, you're being so good to me”

It was exhilarating.

You felt like you had a true gift, for once in your life.

An obscene gift, but still.

You had the courage to run from your mom and dad and then at what felt like a minute later you found yourself there, naked from waist up, on your knees, sucking a priest cock.

You knew you wanted it, though. You’ve never felt more alive.

You were just a woman, a woman who wanted what other women wanted. 

Sex, pleasure, being important to someone or just not being condemned to do what others wanted for you.

You continued to suck as Joel's breathing became heavier and labored.

He was just uttering disconnected phrases  at that point, like “oh my God” and “Yes, go on”, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

He started shaking violently, almost falling, as something warm and sticky hit your throat. 

You knew what it was, you'd seen it in the videos.

And you were eager to swallow, as you had seen done.

A little of it slipped from your lips, down your chin, onto your neck.

Joel's hand was still in your hair, it almost hurt but it was a delicious pain that you were enduring, a small punishment for the rush of adrenaline and excitement that was coursing through you.

You kept holding it in your mouth until you felt it relax.

“Get up,” Joel said gently, still out of breath, as he was fixing his boxers and pants.

Your knees almost gave out, you leaned against the wall feeling wetness on your panties.

Joel came closer to you, placing a hand on your cheek, pulling you into a deep kiss that left you stunned for a second and then you were more than happy to reciprocate. His tongue in your mouth explored feverishly, you wondered if he could taste himself from your lips.

He pulled out saying “I’ve never done anything like this before” and you replied “me neither.” 

And then he was on your lips again, nibbling at your lower one, placing his hand on your thigh, raising it under your skirt, up to your drenched panties, grazing it with his fingers.

You squirmed, moaning a “yes, please” from down your throat, a tingle spreading on your outer lips, in your tummy, up to your chest.

He put his hand inside your panties, brushing your skin.

“What should I do with you?” He asked, in an almost desperate tone, as if he knew he couldn't stop and was asking permission not to.

“Make me come” you pleaded “Please.”

He sighed, pulling your panties aside and sliding his index and middle fingers between your folds, gathering your wetness up to your clit, starting circling it as you writhed. 

It was different than when you did it yourself, his fingers bigger and stronger, his touch a little clumsy but still effective and intoxicating.

His mouth landed on your neck, stifling a moan, sucking a hickey where it joined your shoulders, nibbling hungrily at your skin.

“Have you ever done this before?” 

“Just…me” 

He smirked “did you put your fingers inside you?” 

“I- yes.” there were no point on beating around the bush, you already told him that you touched yourself thinking about him. You were already deep down into that abyss.

“Put your fingers in me” you added immediately “I want to feel it, please Joel, I want to know what they can do to me” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes.” You breathed.

He prodded at your entrance,  just a little bit, making you whine just with his fingers tip.

The rosary lay abandoned on the floor, you could see it out of the corner of your eye and you didn't care about that eyewitness symbol of what was happening between you two.

You would have liked him to put it around your neck while he fucked you, fully participating in that sinful act. 

You felt two of his fingers sink inside you, filling that void that you had never been able to fill on your own, stretching you. 

It hurts a little at first because they were bigger than yours, but then it was more heavenly than anything else. 

If you were made for anything, it was to be there in that moment.

Joel looked ecstatic “God, she’s so… wet” he whispered “and warm” 

His face was the representation of pleasure, lips slightly parted, his eyes wide, his pupils dilated, his heavy breathing blowing on your neck.

He started to move his fingers inside you, in and out, rhythmically, each thrust making you shake and sob, a litany of “yes” coming out strangled from your mouth.

He went slowly, taking his time, as if he was savoring every second of your pussy tightening around his fingers.

He placed his other hand on your breast again, cupping and squeezing and then twisting your nipple. Big hand full of your tit.

It was beautiful. 

You didn’t know how or why people could deny themselves that, but you certainly wouldn’t do it again, not after having Joel inside you. He curled his fingers, looking for the right way to make you feel the pleasure you wanted, the one you kept asking for.

“Is that alright? You like that, baby?” He asked with an hopeful tone

“It feels so good, so good” you told him, clinging to his neck, digging your nails into his soft skin as you felt like you were losing your mind. You didn't care about losing it, your mind had ruled your life for so, so long.

“Please don’t stop” you murmured, tightening your other hand on his wrist, guiding him “don't stop”

You felt your essence slowly leaking out of you, spreading over Joel's fingers and your outer lips, you had never been so soaked, never so much as under Joel's touch.

Your eyes suddenly fixed on that little piece of white cloth that was around his neck, that little piece that made all the difference in the world and made what you were doing wrong in the eyes of others and God and Joel kissed you again like a man deprived and starved, his lips trembling and dramatic, asking silently for more and more, like he was drinking from yours.

He was all over you, like a sailor through a  violent storm, he clung to whatever he could, as if it were a matter of life and death. 

Tasting him like this, the smell of his skin, his warmth, his clerical clothes rubbing against your half-naked body, made your head spin.

You moved your hand onto his collar, grasping it with your fingers, pulling it, until it came undone, you squeezed it as you came copiously, repeating Joel's name and God's, cutting off your moans, abandoning your head on Joel's shoulder.

It was all too much and yet not enough, you wished it would never end. Joel held you tight, one hand moving behind your back, as his fingers continued to sink into you. The blinding pleasure that had invaded every fiber of your body was raging like hell’s flames inside you, like a sinful but also purifying fire, wrong and right, heavenly and hellish.

And then it slowly faded, giving way to a sense of satisfaction that had never belonged to you.

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, hard and demanding again.

Joel grunted, pulling his fingers out of you.

“I want… I want your cock, Father” you whispered, at that point you felt greedy, delirious, drunk on sex.

His eyes widened. 

Being called “Father” was making him even more aroused and dizzy.

You grabbed his balls from above his pants, holding your hand tightly on them “please, Joel” if you were going to Hell for this, you might as well go all the way.

Joel pushed you against the table on the other side of the room, making you sit on it, unzipped his pants again, pulling out his cock without hesitation, as if he had finally accepted his fate.

His fingers were big but his cock… you wondered how it would all fit inside you.

“I’ll go slowly” Joel reassured you “It will fit” he said, brushing your folds with the tip, aligning his cock with your entrance, as if he had guessed your thoughts. 

His eyes were blacker than ever as he prodded his tip past through your lips.

It felt overwhelming, so big and pulsing, it hurt but you almost immediately felt a fullness that you had never felt before and a sense of belonging, your pussy opened like a bud, stretching and molding for him.

“She’s tight, so damn tight” Joel gawked “fuck” 

You whimpered, looking at his face, so serious, pleasure written all over it and you felt like it was right, it had to be right if it was that good.

“Make me yours, Father, make me good” you pleaded. 

Joel growled as he slid in and out of you, slamming against your walls, your pussy making obscene squelching sounds every time he moved, dripping all over his cock and the table.

Being so inexperienced didn’t felt embarrassing, you both were. 

You didn’t know if Joel had had sex before but he hadn’t had it in a long time anyway. 

You didn't know if it was the way it was supposed to be but you felt like it was natural, not like in the videos you'd seen which were probably mostly choreographed to please the eye.

It was sex. Pure and simple. Urgent, hungry, uncontrolled.

And the way your body reacted, melting like wax under Joel's hands, arching into his touch, bending to his will, and seeking all the friction you could get, told you that this was the right way for you.

“See?” Joel mumbled “You’re taking me so well, baby, a perfect angel for me”

You intertwined your legs behind his back, pushing him against you as much as you could, clinging to his neck and kissing his exposed skin. He was still dressed, only his cock out, and you wanted to rip off his shirt and run your hands down his chest to feel his warm skin on yours but there was no time, it was all too overwhelming, fast, intoxicating.

“Never had a cock inside before but this pussy is made for mine, I swear to God she is” 

He started desperately rutting into you, deeper strokes every time, taking God’s name invane, murmuring some prayers while he pounded your cunt. 

You could feel his big vein brushing at your walls, his big mushroom hammering your g-spot, the most intense rapture you’ve ever felt.

He pulled at your hair, forcing you to look him in the eye, murmuring “that’s what you wanted, huh? Dragging me to hell with you?”

Your eyes filled with tears at the thought. It was true, you corrupted him, but you were willing to face that just to feel something so strong. You weren’t sure about him though.

But again, he was there, right there with you, with his cock inside your cunt and you didn’t force any of it, he could say no, he could stop, but he choose the sin. 

Now blaming you wasn’t so saintly nor kind, but you understood why he did that. 

He needed to blame someone other than himself, and you were there, open arm taking the weight for him.

Your ass slid back and forth on the wood of the table with each thrust, one of his hands was on your nipple again while the other held you behind your back. He then moved to your clit, applying pressure on it, circling it with two fingers.

You looked down only to see his cock sinking between your lips, his balls bouncing and the bush of hair that adorned his groin glistening with your juices.

You could smell sex in the air, your mingling scents becoming one, your pleasure merging and becoming one as he shot huge spurts of cum into you.

He muttered a prayer, asking God for forgiveness, his voice exhausted, hoarse, broken by orgasm.

And then you woke up. Your room was quiet, the crucifix that your mom gave you hanging on the wall behind your bed.

It took a few seconds for your sleepy, blurry gaze to settle on it.

You were sweaty and shocked.

You closed your eyes, shutting them and cursing under your breath. 

You unrolled your body from the sheets and then stood up and picked up the crucifix. 

a/n: I'M CRYING AGAIN.... just. thank you thank you thank you!!! for all the continued support and outpouring of love for this story from the beginning. it has made every day a little better for me receiving comments, asks, and seeing you all connect with my work. it's truly been so beyond anything i ever would have imagined when i started writing this. it has been such an honor to build this world, write their story, and then share it with you all and be met with such an amazing reaction. smother made me fall deeper in love with writing and made me a better and more confident writer. it brought amazing new people into my life. it changed me as a person! letting this story go has been way harder than i expected and it is kind of scary to share this final chapter. i know that people may have expectations but this has always, since day one, been the ending i envisioned for them so watching it come to life on the page was really moving for me. i hope it's as beautiful an experience to read it as it was for me to write it. and don't worry, we can scream about joel and blossom forever, they aren't going anywhere so pleaase come share your thoughts on this with me! anyway, on with the finale! i love you all and i'm so so grateful 💗

You learn that Callum planned to follow through on his threat to baptise you right before the pre-wedding celebration this evening. Conveniently, he hadn’t thought to mention it to you, or any of this before the time was right for him to embarrass and entrap you, unable to protest. You know he wants to get in your head, and you despise the fact that it’s working, that you feel a deep despair creeping in on you, your soul starting to become chipped and frayed around the edges. You’re tired, so tired. After weeks of his mental gymnastics with you, hope is starting to feel like a foreign concept.

According to Isabelle, tonight was to be an evening filled with joy and redemption for the entire community to see. She sounds thrilled - eager, even - while you feel sick as she fusses with your hair and shows you the dress you’re to wear, picked specially for the occasion. In a strange way, it reminds you a lot of your wardrobe at the cabin - while much longer and more modest, it’s still sheer and bright white like all of Joel’s favorites, representing your status back to a woman of virtue, a bride to be.

Isabelle turns out to be very much an open book as you ask her question after question each time they pop into your mind. You’ve decided that the more information you have about what to expect, the better. You’re done with the surprises, the constant lack of control you have. At least this way, you can create the illusion of having even a modicum of it.

Isabelle tells you that you’re supposed to live in this house with her, the bedroom you’re in being your own once the wedding is over. You won’t exclusively share it with Callum, which brings a sweeping bout of relief over you. The house next door on the opposite side belongs to the other two current wives - Meghan and Katherine - to give everyone more space as Meghan is pregnant and Katherine already has two children with Callum. The house you’ve been holed up in is Callum’s own private quarters, but he bounces between all of the houses and wives. He divides his time between everyone evenly, sometimes bringing them all together, and then making sure to get his own private time as needed. You’d be more fascinated by how simple and easy she makes everything sound if you weren’t so terrified and reluctant to be a part of it.

“You don’t feel… er, slighted? That he has to divide his time so much?” you ask her curiously.

Isabelle’s persistent, small smile turns coy. “Not really. We’re all very understanding of Callum’s position. He makes the most time for us that he can, and makes the most of it when he does.” 

You chew the inside of your lip, a question of intimacy sitting bitterly on your tongue, but you realize that you aren’t ready to face that reality yet, even if it’s not far off. Thankfully, Isabelle redirects the conversation by excusing herself and coming back with a small container, twisting the lid off and dipping her finger inside. Redness coats the tip of it when she brings it up to your cheek, then your lips.

“It’s only made from beets, but don’t tell,” she says playfully, putting a finger up to her lips. Items that promote vanity are frowned upon, and as someone in such high standing, she surprises you with this tiny act of rebellion. “Nobody can ever tell I’m wearing it if I do just a little.”

Fitted in your dress, cheeks and lips slightly glowy, and hair resembling something composed, Isabelle leads you out, proud of her work. You head towards the community center, but take a path instead that leads down towards the lake, her arm threaded through yours, her shoulders pulled back and graceful.

The area has been completely transformed. It’s like every single resident brought each table and chair they could find and took it outside to bask in the pleasant weather, setting it up in long rows. Wildflowers adorn the tables and dripping candles burn among the few lanterns placed outside. A firepit blazing nearby provides light for when the evening sky slowly begins to fade towards night. They’ve pulled out all the stops with a potluck style dinner, dishes adorning every table to share with more to come. 

People mill about in groups, talking animatedly, and you couldn’t feel more out of place as you’re moved down to the waterfront by Isabelle, heads turning and whispers following you. Small pebbles push into the soles of your feet as you cross the small beach to where Callum waits at the water’s edge, the bottom of his pants already soaked through as gentle waves lap at the shore. Your stomach sinks at the sight, all of this becoming far too real. Your fate has become inescapable, a void that is on the verge of sucking you in and never spitting you back out again.

Callum greets Isabelle with a chaste kiss to the cheek, turning to you and taking your hands in his. You fight to not recoil or shrink under his suggestive, needy gaze as it rakes over you. You used to love this feeling - something thin and beautiful draped over your skin, hungry eyes on you. Joel’s eyes.

“Very lovely.” Callum says it as a compliment to both you and Isabelle, knowing that she was responsible for pampering you for the evening’s events. She blushes contentedly and excuses herself, following some unspoken rule between the two of them. 

When he sees you now, you sense that he’s not seeing you, but seeing your mother, dreaming of what could have been with her. You wish she were here now, that you could seek her advice and maybe for once she’d be a real mother to you. Maybe she’d finally look at you like you’d come from her, her own flesh and blood. She could help you understand just what happened between Callum and her all those years ago, and ask her how she could ever leave you in hands such as these.

You ignore the crowd beyond the beach, all lined up to watch such a momentous occasion. When Callum grabs your hands and begins to project his voice to them it’s hard to follow along, your chest thumping, hearing the tired words you’ve heard at every baptism. It all feels surreal, transporting you back to this moment at eight years old, feeling cool water lapping at your legs as he walks you deeper into the lake. You wish you were that child again, even for just a moment, to tell her everything you know now. It comforts you, to think in some other universe, you’ve helped her escape this fate.

“I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” Callum says, looking into your eyes as he pulls you down to your knees with him in the water. You don’t resist, even though your heart is telling you to. You fear him, fear everything he is capable of, the ways he could make your life even more of a living hell if you did something so stupid as make a scene in front of everyone.

Callum cradles your back and head, and knowing what’s imminent, you close your eyes, trying to take yourself anywhere but here. You’re pulled under, the water clouding your senses, and as you open your eyes to look up at him, warped through the ripples, you’re overtaken by a deep, restless fatigue. You wonder what it would be like to give up - it could be so easy, just open your mouth, inhale… just do it, just breathe. The water cushioning you from the world above, wishing for this peaceful silence to last forever, your chest starts to pound at the possibility that you could make that reality happen. But it’s too late. You’re already reemerging, crashing through the surface reborn. 

Numbness follows you through the evening like a black cloud, sucking the life from you as you move through the motions. Detached from your body as a towel is wrapped around your dripping skin by Callum, people clamoring with joy, all around you are bodies and praying hands and jumbled words. 

You sit next to Callum at the head table, tasteless food and drink on your tongue, his hand on your thigh weightless and unchallenged by you. People come to wish you well in your marriage and you feel lucky for once that it’s expected of a woman to be more meek. Minutes or hours pass of this, you can’t quite tell, and everyone’s spirited celebration of your coming union makes you start to sour from the inside out. 

A harsh squeeze on your leg makes you blink, turning to Callum as you emerge from the depths of your mind. The harsh lines on his face are a little deeper set with displeasure.

He leans in closer, lips poised near your ear. “I’d warn you to start smiling before I find a way to make you.” You swallow hard, shrinking in on yourself at his chastisement. “A frown like yours doesn’t suit my bride.”

You cast your eyes down to your half eaten plate on the table, a muttered apology on your lips. Callum rubs your thigh, the sensation suddenly too much after doing your best to ignore it the entire evening, and you shudder. 

“You will find joy in this.” He states it as a fact, a non-negotiable. “This is all you’ve been raised for, you know. To be mine. Nearly ten years of all that work and here I’ve got a pouting, frowning bride at my table. You’re lucky I can be patient with you, aren’t you?”

You lift your eyes to his and nod dully, finally getting the confirmation of your standing suspicion that you’d been raised maybe even more strict than most girls here. You were specially picked, plucked as an orphan from that empty home to serve one purpose, and Harry and Josephine could reap the rewards of it. It should devastate you completely, but you already feel hollowed out, long knowing that those two never truly cared about you.

You just give Callum your best smile, forcing it so that he’ll leave you be. He looks pleased, sighing. “Your circumstances, dear, worked against us. It was never in the plan for you to go through what you had to go through with that man. For him to… sully you.” His eyes flick up and down your body as he says the last words, and that feeling of violation strikes you again. You bite back the protest on your tongue, wanting to defend Joel. The line is getting more blurred the longer you stay here with Callum feeding lies into your ear, but you hold tight to your truth that everything you had with Joel was real. There wasn’t any way it could be anything but the most real thing you’d experienced - the way that he looked at you, spoke to you, touched you, changed you.

“It’s such a shame… But you’ve found me nothing but merciful and patient with you, despite this setback, yes?” Not giving you a chance to respond, he goes on. “You’ve been good, following my desires for you not to speak of him anymore. Soon enough, you’ll forget even his name. You’ll forget it all. It was just a phase, a misstep, a - a  fling. What I intend to do with you is for life, exactly as you were meant for.”

You’re close to tasting copper as your teeth clench tighter around your tongue, eyes continually averted to the table to not have to look at the man next to you, his spewing rhetoric with no purpose other than to rile you up, to test you. God, do you want to fail so badly, to chase the fact that you can feel something again, even if it’s fury. But it’s fleeting, slipping away into a sense of despair and hollowness that you wonder may be your new permanent state of being.

Come tomorrow, you’ll be his wife. You’ll be watched even closer than you are now, a known figure that people will recognize. It’s not like you can just waltz off the compound and be gone, given that you know Callum will be keeping a more vigilant watch on you than his other wives. You’re a flight risk, and until he believes that you’re fully his, that you want nothing more than to stay and repent for every way you’ve turned against him in the past, you’re stuck. You may wait months, years, for the chance to escape, if you haven’t completely given up by then. You shudder at the bleak vision of your future. 

Callum is closer to you now, the clean smell of his soap wafting over to you, catching your attention. He speaks again, low and hushed. “It’ll either be the most wonderful experience for you, or the worst. You get to choose. You have been an obsession for me for quite some time, and I’m going to rather enjoy this either way. So it’s up to you, my dear.”

Callum places your chin between his fingers, gently turning your head, forcing your eyes and focus back onto him. You tremble under the hold, frozen, watching him lick his lips. “It’s taken great restraint to treat you as I should, to keep everything I want from you between a man and his wife, not a minute sooner. You… are going to be exquisite.”

Threatening, lustful words that make your heart pick up its pace, having avoided the reality of what’s expected of a married couple to do for far too long. This is different from the pre-wedding nerves you’d expected as a girl, and has nothing to do with fearing for the unknown. You have every expectation of what a man might do to you in his bed now, but the thought of it being anybody but Joel is too difficult to wrap your head around. How could you betray him so by letting this happen? They say you are sullied by him, but this would be sullying yourself to Joel, the only man you ever want to touch you, to know how you feel from the inside out. It’s nearly too much to bear on your already weighty soul to wonder if Joel would even take you as you are once Callum is done with you.

When he lets go, your head falls forward, eyes fluttering in shock. His name is called from afar, heard above the thumping sound of your own heart in your ears, and he gives your thigh one last warning squeeze before leaving your side. You brusquely push out your chair, stumbling through the grass in a daze, heading to take refuge behind a nearby tree. You just need a moment, you just need to breathe, to think about what to do -

You halt as Rosalind appears in front of you, a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Oh, I wanted to find you! I’ve just been needing to say… I-I’m sorry I told them about our chats,” she gushes, shame tinting her cheeks pink. “I’m sorry we haven’t gotten to speak sooner. They pressed me… I d-didn’t know what to say. They knew, somehow. I felt so awful…”

You shake your head, trying to clear it as you barely hear her. “N-no, it’s okay. It’s not your fault,” you mumble, the words sounding far away.

She gives you a sympathetic smile, anxiously rubbing her pregnant stomach. “I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I hope it didn’t cause you any trouble.”

A dead voice exits your lips, one you don’t recognize. “No it’s… it’s okay. It just… is, now.”

Rosalind furrows her brow at you, tilting her head. “A-are you okay? You don’t seem yourself. I know this is difficult. But… I want to help you,” she starts to whisper, and you notice her keeping a calm and pleasant expression on her face, but her eyes are darting over your shoulder to casually survey the crowd. She’s worried somebody will be suspicious if the conversation looks too serious or secretive, and you don’t blame her.

Your mind reels as you blink softly at her, surprised. “H-how?” you gasp out, drawing your brows together, but quickly readjust your expression to seem more neutral, following her lead.

“I - I think I have a plan to help you leave,” she replies, and you feel your lips part, mouth hanging ajar as you take in her unexpected offer. 

“I don’t… I don’t know. It seems impossible. He’s everywhere. H-how would we even…” You hate the sound of yourself, so defeated right now. But how could you have hope when someone was always watching, doing Callum’s bidding? Aside from the fact that you have no clue where you are, your survival skills are weak at best and this seems like asking for trouble. Yet, it was all you’d been dreaming of since being dragged away from Jackson, and you had to try. You had to remember just where you’ve been trying to get to. Callum was right, Joel wasn’t going to come to save you, and maybe not because he didn’t want to, but how could he with the little information he probably had? You had to fight for him, like you know he would fight for you.

“N-no. I promise you, I can help. I can.” Rosalind’s voice grows urgent. “Please trust me.”

You can’t help the flicker of hope that ignites inside of you, starting to burn brighter than it has in weeks. You’d never have expected her to do something so decidedly dangerous to herself, but before you can respond, she speaks up again, her voice nearly lost to the noise of the crowd of people enjoying the celebration in the background.

“We can’t speak much more about this here. But tonight, I’ll be there. Just… act as everything is normal, like you’re getting ready for bed in your room.”

You can scarcely breathe as you study her, so fierce and determined for your cause, so different from the self-effacing woman you’d been spending time with. You just give her a nod, and she smiles softly, leaning in to hug you.

“Congratulations! I’m sure you will make such a lovely bride,” Rosalind exclaims more loudly, plastering a grin on her face. You stutter before playing into it, trying to remove the concern from your eyes and brighten them to match the fake moment as you thank her. She turns to walk away with one last glance to confirm the plan, but you stop her, gently grabbing her wrist.

“W-wait,” you say, your voice low again. “There’s one thing… my… my collar -“ Your face grows hot from saying the word out loud, knowing it’s an uncomfortable, forbidden topic here. “From Joel… do you think you could find it? They took it from me.”

Rosalind’s chest falls as she breathes out a deep exhale, giving you a curt nod. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The hope within you burns brighter still, your insides now fluttering with a mixture of excitement and anxious energy that makes you feel sick. You shut your eyes, taking a steadying breath. 

I’m coming home, Joel.

The soft click of your door opening makes your stomach drop. The quiet anticipation you’d sat with the entire evening had almost been too much to bear as you’d tried to act normal while your heart raced and insides buzzed with the euphoric promise of tonight. Luckily, Callum seemed to attribute the change in your demeanor to his earlier threats, his ego visibly satisfied.

If this is anybody but Rosalind at your door, the way you’re perched on the edge of your bed, completely dressed and ready with shoes on, would be far too damning to talk your way out of. It’s the middle of the night, though, creeping towards the early hours of the morning, and you know that Rosalind is intent on following through on her promise. 

Her form materializes in the darkness of the room, her feet gingerly moving as she steps in and noiselessly closes the door behind her. You stand from the bed on shaky knees, questioning everything. You know how dangerous this is for both of you, that the amount of things that could go wrong far outweighs the right. Nerves bite at your stomach, your throat dry as you watch her approach the bed. 

“This is everything I was able to get you without suspicion. It… should be enough to help you,” she says in a shaky whisper, setting a fully stuffed backpack and a lantern against the wall. Far and few between, you know it’s a big sacrifice to give up a working oil lamp. “It has some oil in it, I don’t know how long it’ll last, though…” She trails off, brow scrunched with worry. “A-and I’m sorry. I couldn’t find what you asked me for.” 

Your heart sinks into your stomach. It hurts like hell, knowing that your most special connection to Joel is gone, in the hands of those that deserve it the least. Of everything they’ve done to you, this was just the one final punch to the gut they’ll be able to get in before you’re rid of them forever. You don’t have time to mourn it, not yet, not when you’re living on borrowed time.

“W-why are you doing this?” you whisper.

She pauses for a moment, her throat illuminated by the moonlight bobbing as she swallows. “I… I can’t stand to see you here, when I see how much you love him. I’ve never… I figured somebody should experience it. I might never know that feeling, but you… you do. I can’t let them take that from you.”

Tears surprise you as they gather on the rims of your eyes. This is all you’ve wanted - an escape - but Rosalind’s sweet face, even holding that soft kindness in such a serious situation, makes your heart ache. She truly saw you, risking everything she has to help you, all for love.

Salty droplets roll down your cheeks as you surge forward, tightly embracing her. “Come with me. There’s places for you to go. We could -”

She pulls back, her face inches from yours as she shakes her head. “I can’t. You know that.”

“Rosalind…” you beg her, your voice shaking, “They’ll hurt you if they find out what you’ve done. I-I can’t live with that.”

Her head continues to shake, taking your hand in hers and placing it on her rounded belly. “They won’t hurt me,” she says confidently, and you realize she’s right. Life, in the form of a precious little infant and its mother, are one of the values the community holds most dear.

Your shoulders sink but you go in for another hug instead of arguing further, knowing that her place here is with her family, her children. Taking them away from this stability could put them in danger, and you realize that no mother like Rosalind - a woman with a sparkle in her eye every time they come up - would ever take that chance.

“Thank you,” you manage to force out through your choked back sobs, breaking the embrace. She can never truly know the depths of the gratitude you hold for her - her companionship, her compassion, and now this ultimate sacrifice to help you, it’s almost too much for you to carry in your heart at once.

“I think… South. I-I can’t be sure, but… I think Jackson is south of here.” Her voice trembles. “A-and I’ve made sure that everyone is preoccupied - well, my husband, mainly, considering he’s supposed to be keeping an eye out tonight. But I’m not sure how long we have, so…”

Reality crashes in on you as she hands you a light jacket to keep the chill of the summer nights off of you, slipping the backpack onto your back as if you’re a child on your way to the school house. The both of you are teary eyed, hands clasped tightly as you depart the house that’s held you - unwatched, unanchored to another’s control over you.

Free.

You dare another tight embrace out in the open of the porch, her hands gripping your cheeks as she presses her forehead to yours, already sticky with a nervous sweat.

“Rosalind… I could never thank you enough -”

“Hush,” she retorts quickly, sniffling. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she whispers. “I know you will.”

“I know you will, too,” you say, eyes trained on her stomach before giving her a watery smile. 

“Head that way.” Rosalind points, her finger trained on the road that leads towards the community center. You hesitate, glancing back at the house, wondering if Callum is asleep in there or if he’s with one of his wives. You want him to hurt, you want his life to be ripped out from underneath him as yours was, to feel even a fraction of the helplessness and pain that you have under his thumb. This could be your only chance…

“Now go,” Rosalind hisses, interrupting as she sees the fiery look in your eyes. She flits her gaze around nervously, knowing the longer you wait, the more risk this involves. 

You nod, tearing yourself from those vengeful thoughts as you both start moving in opposite directions, forgoing another tearful goodbye. One last look over your shoulder gives you a shadowy silhouette of Rosalind as she disappears, and your throat tightens.

You’re careful and quiet as you move along the road, keeping to the fringes of it, near the treeline. As the community center comes into view, towering above you, you stop to stare at it. It's the heart of this place, where people can go to feel a part of something bigger. You want to send a message to let everyone, and especially Callum, know just what you think. 

Perching yourself behind the building for cover, you move the backpack off your shoulders, digging around and rifling through days worth of food to find the tiny, cardboard box you know must be inside. Five withered looking matches lay in it, and as you prep the oil lamp a sinister fluttering begins in your belly, a warped sense of excitement simmering.

Fuck them. Fuck Callum. Fuck everything this place stands for. You would tear it down plank by plank if you had the time, until you got to the rot that is Callum Ashford at the center, and then tear that apart too. Make him hurt - slowly, surely.

But this will have to do, you think as the lamp springs to life, a flicker of light dancing in the middle of the glass. You find the nearest window looking into the ballroom, and climb inside to the dark, quiet space. There, at the pulpit you sneer, seeing a copy of the Doctrine. Each one has been hand written with care over the years, enough that every home may have one and relish in its holy, unchallenged word. 

Tearing page after page out, letting them scatter along the floor, you start to move with a fervor you haven’t ever known before. You know it’s foolish to put Rosalind’s plan so at risk for petty revenge, but you’re possessed, tearing and ripping until each page lays tattered along the floor, the last one crumpled and slammed down into the pile. You’d scream your burning lungs out if you weren’t afraid of making more noise than you already have.

Breathing heavily, rage running white hot through your bloodstream, you manage to carefully pour some oil from the lamp onto the pages despite your shaking hands. With one last look, you step back towards the window. Callum’s eerie words from that feverish dream hang in your mind as you look at the mess you’ve made: If we burn, you burn with us!

Not quite. You swing your arm and release, watching the faint light cascade through the air and then burst into a brilliant explosion of red, orange, and white all over the torn pages. It’s beautiful, cleansing, letting you finally breathe a taste of freedom for the first time in a long time. You only stay for a moment, watching it all burn in a dazzling display, already spreading to the other pages, before climbing back out to safety.

And then, you run.

ONE WEEK LATER

Save me. Please, anyone…

Please, Joel.

Desperation becomes a full time state of being. How is it worse now, with the summer sun warming you instead of the icy chill of winter? With forlorn tracking of the sun through the sky, guiding you south, when before you’d had no destination, no home? How is it worse, so much more agonizing? Is it because you know you are loved now, when before the world itself had seemed to shun you at every turn? You have something to move towards, to find once again. 

Lost. So lost. You walk, cry, and eat by the moonlight, then sleep in fitful bursts on the soft soil beneath you. Food rationed in smaller and smaller bits gives way to meals skipped, your hands considering the protective kitchen knife Rosalind had packed in your bag to be used for hunting. It’s silly, really, to think even if you could stomach it that any prey would willingly give themselves to your hand, to be close enough to become your next dinner. 

Deceived by the tedium of the trees, you move in what you think is south, through dense forest, twigs cracking underneath you, birdsong and skittering animals becoming your only friend as days move into night, over and over again. 

When you have the energy to, you think. You allow yourself daydreams to pass the time, visions of the life ahead of you with Joel. They’re beautiful and wonderful, something to cling to and tell yourself you would be able to have if you took one more step, then another, until you walked the entire day. You imagine children with him, pressing a hand to the mystery that still lays within you. Equally, and with more excitement, you imagine only the two of you, holed up in the cabin and happy, living that same monotonous routine that you had grown to love so deeply for the rest of time.

You think about Joel, and then think about his daughter. It hurts your heart, only a fraction of the pain that must live inside of him knowing that she’s gone. You know you should be angry, should want to curse him and cut him out of your life, but you can’t. You hadn’t been able to since you woke up somewhere that wasn’t with him. Damn it all if you are fulfilling some need he’d long lost, reawakened at the sight of you landing on his doorstep. You wanted it. You wanted him in all his forms, in all his secrets and the past lives he’s lived before you entered it. You wanted to be that for him, to have him look at you the way he does, to call him Daddy and be his little Blossom, living in a fantasy that neither wants to leave.

If he was some kind of sick for it, then so were you.

You tell him all of this in your mind, in dreams - forgiving him, letting him soothe you, grasping onto the tidbits of his voice that had started to fade. Each time you’re faced with the cold reality of being alone again when you wake from it, you feel the ache in your soul grow. It makes you weary. But this morning, it paralyzes you completely. 

Eyes trained on the pale pastel sky of sunrise, you stare off until it turns to blue. You’ve gone south, given it everything you have. Somewhere along the way, you suspect deep down that you lost direction, have been traveling in circles for all you know, but won’t admit such a painful truth to yourself. You’d never been raised to be resourceful, to know how to do much else above tending a home, carrying children, reciting the Doctrine, and praying. All the good it’s doing you now, you think spitefully. 

You worry at your battered lips as a tear slides down the side of your face into your messy, matted hair. You hadn’t let yourself cry in days, your forced positivity now breaking down with the crushing weight of failure. How much more of this could you take?

I’m sorry, Rosalind.

I’m sorry, Daddy.

You slip your eyes shut, wanting to find peace, to find Joel again, to take yourself somewhere beyond all of this pain. Familiar earth beneath your feet, you stare up at the cabin covered in snow, that cozy little waft of smoke coming from the chimney. You move, dreamlike, to the door.  Beyond the tiny windowpane of it, Joel is there in his plushy, tartan chair in the living room. Reading glasses perched on his nose, book in hand, and fire blazing next to him, he looks so relaxed and peaceful. You hunger for it like nothing ever before - to be there, to feel those walls around you again. 

Your breath fogs up the window before you turn the knob and step inside, but Joel doesn’t move or look up. It’s a snapshot of a life - your life - a moving picture to look around in, and nothing more. 

Tender fingers reach out to touch the polaroid on the fridge, your laughter echoing through the house as you’d ran and placed it there next to the rules list. Dirty dishes in the sink from breakfast, the kettle still cooling from making tea. It’s just as it’s meant to be. 

Your heart throbs, heavy with mourning. You touch everything you can, until finally, you touch Joel, your hands on his knees, waiting for him to react. His eyes scan the page of his book lazily, none the wiser, and you’re desperate now, sinking to the floor between his legs, fingers digging into the fabric of his favorite pajama pants. They’re so soft and worn, just as you’d remembered them to be. Your breathing starts to shake at how real this feels, how tangible and close he is. Maybe you’ve made it, maybe you’re in a place free from this, where you can live that dream you’ve been envisioning on these long, drawn out days on the road. If you just stay here, you can keep this, never having to return to a world where Joel isn’t there with you.

“Daddy…” you whisper with a terrified reverence, watching his face unchanged, his finger quickly licked before he turns the page.

“You ain’t gonna just lay there, are you?” he finally speaks, almost as if it’s an afterthought, and you startle, blinking hard. “Hm? C’mon, up now. Up, baby.” His voice grows louder, more harsh. “Get up.”

Up. Up. Up. His voice repeats, so loud that you swear you can hear it right in your ear, until you’re blinded by blue sky again and the sun filtering through the trees. You tremble, wearily bringing your hands to your eyes and rubbing them, willing your heart to slow. 

Something has shifted. This time, you don’t feel the loss of Joel, but rather the pull of him. Even through a dream, you can’t resist the need to heed his words, to treat them as sacred and meaningful and everything good for you. Putting your faith in him, you sit up, then get to your tired, aching feet, slinging your backpack across your back.

“I’m up,” you whisper, exasperated. 

So walk, Joel’s voice bites back, and for the first time in weeks you crack a real smile. 

Everything in you fights it, but you put one foot in front of the other, hoping to appease him, imagining his praises with each step until you’re just… walking. Directionless and hazy, without meaning, but you’re moving again, so close to praying to divine powers you aren’t sure you could ever believe in again.

Keep goin’, he whispers, but you’re not sure it’s enough anymore. You can hardly see straight, ruminating on how stupid it was to do this, to rush into this escape at the first chance. Why hadn’t you spent more time finding out exactly where to go, and how to get there? Desperation causes one to do funny things, you suppose. Things like wandering aimlessly in the wild, or like shacking up with a stranger that equally terrifies and intrigues you, putting your fragile life in his hands.

Lost to the rattle of your own thoughts, you don’t hear the distant snapping of twigs, the muffled rustle of brush, until a small clearing appears in front of you, and he’s… there.

No. No. It can’t -

It’s not real. You’re not in your right mind anymore. It’s a vision, another dream. You must have fallen asleep again. You must have -

You’re both deathly still. Slack jawed, face completely wrecked, he looks to you. “B-baby…?”

Oh god. Oh my god. Oh -

You don’t move of your own accord, sprinting, then stumbling, not caring about the ache in your shins and your feet and everywhere else. You are no longer in your body, unsure if you’re breathing or moving or of anything at all as you collide with something solid and warm. Arms wrapped around you as if on autopilot while your cheek presses to a chest - it’s so familiar, so safe, so… It can’t be.

“It’s not - it’s not - n-not real -” you trip on your crackling words, your throat dry. Your hands scramble, touching him all over, needing to anchor yourself, to understand how he’s here. You both fall to your knees, clutching on to each other for dear life. “H-how… how…”

“J-Jesus, it’s really… it’s you, i-it’s you. It’s me, sweetheart…” he gasps out. A familiar scent, behind all of your dirt and days without bathing, barrages your senses and it breaks a floodgate of emotions more powerful than anything you’ve ever known. It’s… home. You’re home.

“Daddy,” you croak out.

“‘M here, ‘M here…” His voice wobbles, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other around your back. You’re squeezed tighter and tighter to him, an apparition he could lose at any moment. “My blossom.”

You weep.

You weep and weep, wretched wails until only dry sobs wrack your body, Joel holding you up when your own body fails to do so. You cry for so long that you lose track of time, each wane into small hiccups cycling back to blubbering when you comprehend the moment all over again. It’s finally over, your soul sighs with relief. 

“Baby, let me look at ya,” Joel says as you hic, catching your breath, his own eyes rimmed red and shining. You allow him to pull back only slightly - it’s all you can bear - to peer down at you. “My god…” he whispers as he shakes his head slowly, thumbing at your wet, puffy cheeks with untamed awe. “What d’you need, honey? Are you hurt? F-food… water… anythin’. Anythin’ you need. F-fuck…” His voice wavers, choked up as you remain inconsolable, crying into him again and shaking your head, unsure of what you need from him right now.

With Joel, it’s always been about that ability to let go. To throw your own caution to the wind because he is cautious for the both of you. To let your mind rest because Joel had the uncanny ability to anticipate every need of yours and fulfill it. To simply just be - that was what Joel did for you, always. 

Right now, all you can think is one word, one concept, one man, managing to choke it out. “You. J-just need you.”

Joel holds you. From that moment on, you know nothing but his body, his arms, his hands, firmly wrapped around you. Hands clasped, or arms around each other as he lets you lean on him for each step until you find a good campsite for the night. Clinging to him like glue when he feeds you, your body slack against his shoulder as you let him take care of you, your face pressed into his chest while you try to sleep. Neither of you speak for a long time. You just… exist together.

He starts to talk to you in low, husky murmurs the entire night, peppering kisses to the top of your head when he thinks you’re sleeping. You’re safe, baby, that’s right. I got you, honey. You’re with me. I’m here.

I… love you.

That one he saves for the faintest of whispers, when you were dozing enough to barely be sure it was real after the night becomes a fitful blur for you. Joel lets you sleep until you’re rested, still in his arms as you wake up slowly, then immediately start to cry all over again. He lulls you back to a comforted reassurance, rocking you. He doesn’t push you to talk, to get up for the day before you’re ready, or to be anything other than what you are right now. A sniffling mess, Joel gently tells you that you’re still in shock and reassures you that he’s taking care of everything from here, that he’s going to get you back where you belong.

Quiet days follow as you meander through the mountains and woods together, finally making it back to a long, stretching highway. Joel shows you on a crinkled map around where you had been - lost somewhere near the Shoshone National Forest, apparently. It’s closer to Jackson than it is to the cabin, so he wants to stop there to make sure you’re stable and well fed before heading home.

Home. You manage a smile at the concept, feeling your heart flutter pleasantly, stuttering back to life. Even after days, you still have a hard time believing it’s real, that this isn’t another vivid dream of Joel, gearing up to disappear at any moment and leave you stranded again. But he stays and life marches on, keeping him by your side, as real as ever. Joel takes detours off the road to hunt, keeping you full. He makes sure you two bathe when you come upon a small lake, his hands gently working to try to bring some normalcy back to your hair. He acts as your guide as you two trudge along, taking refuge in the trees at night or when he can see the sun getting to be too much for you. It’s nice, being able to turn your mind off for a while.

You see him worry over you, just out of the corner of his eye, watching you carefully like you’re something to break now. You hate it, the different type of fragility he sees in you right now. Not a precious, pretty kind of broken, but a ticking bomb, ready to explode. There was nothing glossy and appealing about that. 

He watches your uncharacteristic silence with inquisitive looks that don’t dare veer into insistence for information. The protective side of Joel that was violent and angry had subsided into something pacified and soft, tender. On the third day, the sidelong glances and chronic, scrupulous looks make guilt materialize itself into a firm pit in your stomach. 

What if he was still upset with you? Why hadn’t he just come out and punished you for running already? It was your fault, afterall, that you’d ended up in that mess, forcing Joel into his own personal hell of venturing out into the unknown to find you. All your fault…

Your lip hurts, chewed raw, as you lay by the fire that evening. Joel informs you happily that you’ll most likely be back in Jackson tomorrow, and you wish you felt more joyous about it, but all you can pinpoint within you is numbness. You lost a little piece of yourself back at the Sanctuary, forever to rot in that bedroom with the striped yellow duvet. The flames of the fire in front of you mimic those dancing on the ashes of the Doctrine - you thought that it had cleansed you, set you free, so why do you still feel so haunted?

You want to give Joel more, give him your old, bubbly self again after every odd was stacked against you and how incredible it really is that you’re together again. You think about it now - really think - and wonder what kind of divine intervention it had to have been. If you hadn’t gotten up when you had at Joel’s urging in that dream, would you have missed each other by mere fractions of a mile? 

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” you mutter, the flames reflecting in your eyes. Joel sits behind where you lay with your head cradled in your own arms, and you know he’d rather have your head in his lap, hands slipped in his own. It only plunges a fresh dagger of guilt through you that you’re pulling away from him when all you really want is to be closer. Once you speak, he reaches out from where he’d been holding back to touch your head. It makes your eyes flutter, desperate for the contact.

“What is, sweetheart?” he asks, thumb stroking in even patterns. You well up at the gentle gesture, everything seeming to set you off these days. You want to be carefree and a mushy, cloyingly sweet mess for Joel again, the girl he’d fallen for and wanted to keep around all this time. Could he still want you now, this chipped and broken version of yourself?

“That we were there… at the same time.” You choke up, swallowing the lump down at the crack in your voice. Joel is silent, his hand now still where it rests on your hair, and then he shifts, bending down to press his head to yours, releasing a solemn exhale.

Joel’s raspy whisper vibrates against your scalp. “Don’t know much of what I believe in that kind of stuff anymore, but that right there… That’s fate, babygirl, that’s us meant to be together. That’s somethin’ in the universe that we can’t explain.” He kisses your head, eyes squeezed shut tightly. “Don’t you think so?”

“What if we hadn’t?” you whimper, starting to tremble. “All I dream about is that what if. What if I didn’t run that day, what if I couldn’t leave when I did, w-what if I’d never… made it -”

Joel shushes you, his body sagging with relief to see the dam finally break, to see you starting to speak and trust him and heal. “Shh, shh… We can’t change any of it, the good or the bad. I know, I know it hurts real bad to wonder.”

You crumple up into a ball, turning over to curl inwards towards Joel. He’s on the dirt with you in a second, arms wrapped around you, pressed tightly to him. 

“I feel all wrong, like I can’t… I can’t forget. It still h-hurts s-so bad, daddy. I don’t want to be like this for you, I-I’m sorry. I’m s-so so sorry, I promise I’ll get better so you can have the me that you really want. A-and I do forgive you for before I left. I know you just have a hard time talking abou-”

“Breathe,” Joel coos, starting to rock you. “Take a breath. You’re okay.” A jittery inhale gives way to a smoother exhale, obeying him. “One thing at a time. You don’t have to apologize, say anythin’ to me, baby. Jus’ in your own time, you’ll be ready.”

“You aren’t upset with me?” you ask, sniffling. “Even though it’s all my fault?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel breathes, squeezing you a little tighter. “That’s what you’ve been thinkin’? It ain’t your fault that those people did somethin’ awful t’you. Even right when I saw that empty room, all I could think about was if you were okay, if my baby was okay. Never even had a minute to be angry with you. If I’d just been honest…”

You shake your head gently, then tilt it to press your nose to his. “I understand now. I was never mad at you, either, daddy. Promise.”

Joel breathes a tiny noise of relief, stunned once again by your constant, good natured forgiveness of his sins. “I couldn’t deserve that,” he mumbles. A quiet moment passes before he speaks again. “Promised myself I’d be better f’you. Never thought I’d feel this again, feel like I want to be a better man for someone. That’s all you. You’re so special, blossom. Don’t let them take that from you.”

Your eyes sting, wanting that to be true, not wanting to let them win this time. They’d won so much of your life and had you a walking shell of a person, starved of the love you now know you deserve. It’s still hard to understand how, but obedience to the right person had changed everything and set you free. You could let Joel do that for you again, if you release that pain like you did all those months ago when you’d first met him, and let him fill all the emptiness that your family, Harry, Josie, Callum, the entire community, left behind. 

“It won’t be easy to forget all that they did t’you, sweetheart, but thas’ okay. Thas’ life. You gotta… carry your pain sometimes.”

“I don’t want to,” you whine, the sound of a petulant child, but you don’t care. It all just feels so unfair. You’re teetering on angry now, and you know that Joel only wants to help you, that he knows better than some about carrying pain through this life.

“It’s a good thing you got me then, hm? To help you carry it.”

Your watery eyes lock onto his - dark and sincere, inches from yours. “Daddy…” you breathe quietly, moved by his words. His fingers curl tenderly against your cheek, and he looks deep, deeper into your soul than he ever has, and it’s like there’s a shift in the world around you. It’s a void where only the two of you exist, and you can palpably feel the change in Joel, like if you reached out, you’d feel the air surrounding him charged with it. It’s then you realize that as much as this experience changed you and took from you, it did exactly the same thing to the man in front of you. The man you love. The man you want to be better for, just as he said he would do for you.

“I ain’t givin’ up on you. Ever. Would’ve crossed every damn state, lookin’ for you. Would have spent the rest ‘f my life -” Joel pauses, swallowing hard, his voice growing desperate. “Would hurt anyone that hurts you. It’s enough to make a man damn near insane with it, all the things I would do f’you. C-can’t you see that I’d do anythin’ for you? Anythin’ at all. I’d - I’d carry any pain of yours so you don’t have to feel a thing.”

Completely overwhelmed, you crash your lips to his in response, harsh at first but softening as he responds to it. It’s all you can think of, all you can do in response to such a declaration - to just show him how you feel. Joel’s hand slides to cup the back of your head, keeping you close. You kiss and kiss and kiss for what feels like an eternity, just relishing in it - the heat it blooms in your belly, the prickle of your skin in each place it touches his. Joel breaks it in a frenzy, panting softly.

“Tell me you understand, tell me you know,” Joel demands, his lips hovering in front of yours.

“W-what?” you breathe out, your lips aching to touch his again, barely grazing as you speak.

“That I mean all that, that you’re my fuckin’... everything. I don’t want you to think I don’t care, ‘cause I didn’t share the things you needed t’know about me. I was… fuckin’ stupid, pushin’ you away from me, honey. I was… scared,” he admits, looking the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him, and your hands claw around his back, digging in. “You say you forgive me, you say you understand, but I can’t - I can’t live with m’self knowin’ I almost lost you over it.”

Your eyes dampen and you kiss him again, little pecks in between your words. “You didn’t, though. We… we made it, daddy. All I could think about was you the entire time. That I didn’t see your face one more time, that I left and I was angry with you and hurt. B-but I can try to forgive myself, if you do, too. Please. I know, I-I understand you better now. I know you just hurt, that everything in your past hurts. I know it’s not about me, a-and you care about me.”

The words gush out of you, a steady stream of emotion that has been begging for release. Words you hadn’t even been sure you believed in, but in this moment, you do start to forgive yourself, and pray that Joel does the same. You two could be so free together, if you give yourself the room to do so.

“Baby…” Joel breathes out, eyes flickering as they drink in your features, moving lower, provoking you. You’re too aware now of the way your chest heaves against him. “C’mere,” he growls, and you’re moving, his hand gripping your waist, urging you to come with him the few feet into the tent. It’s a pitched bit of old, shoddy canvas, but it welcomes you inside, casting a soft glow around you as it filters the firelight.

Facing each other, the both of you kneeling, Joel’s hands play with the fabric of your shirt. “Can I see you?” he asks softly. You’re surprised, as Joel has never been one to ask for permission before - something you’d never minded, really - but you understand why he’s doing it now. You’d been able to get close, but something had held you back these last few days from being able to connect with Joel, a fragility you know Joel was keen not to break by pushing you.

That energy, reawakened, flows between the both of you again, stronger than ever. That pull, that magnetism, the undeniable heat that has brought your bodies together time after time like it would always be inevitable. Like the two of you were made for this, for each other.

Your hands cover his, stopping him. “Only if you say you’ll forgive yourself,” you say coyly, swaying enticingly.

Joel’s fists tighten on the fabric as his lips turn up. His face inches closer, teeth bared in a mock annoyance. “You think you can call the shots now?”

Pouted lips and widened eyes suck him in as you continue the stare down. “Just this once…” you whisper sincerely, breaking down Joel’s walls. He nods in understanding.

“I blame myself for everythin’ that happens to you, good or bad, ‘cause I’m s’posed to be takin’ care of you. An’ I wasn’t. B-but, I do. Forgive m’self, that is. I’ll keep tryin’ to.”

You press your forehead to his with a small smile, closing the space between you. “Thank you,” you coo, moving your hands to free his and lifting them above your head in submission. Joel tugs your shirt up, relishing in every inch of you as it’s revealed. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles, leaning down to pepper kisses on your skin, starting in the dip at the base of your neck, working down between your breasts. His hot breath countered by the cool little wet spots from his lips perks your nipples into hard pebbles, instantly noticed by Joel. He grazes them, first with his fingers, then his lips, and then his teeth. You moan, arching into him, the movement swiftly redirected into Joel laying you on your back and sliding over top of you.

“I dreamed about this,” you admit, watching Joel’s eyes darken.

“Me too.” His hips bear down into yours, grinding softly. You press into it, wishing there was less clothing between the two of you. Joel, seeming to read your mind, toys with the button of your pants, sensually slow in his movements as he finally peels them off of you along with your panties. You feel exposed, not having been seen like this by him in far too long, but his warmth is right back on you, and it’s so safe and familiar all over again. 

Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and Joel has a hand between your bodies, freeing his cock. Your entire body buzzes as Joel leans in, lips grazing your ear. You shudder as his voice comes out low and raspy. “Are you wet for me, sweetheart?”

You bite your lip, arching your back again, feeling his warm cock somewhere between your legs, but not where you need it. “Yes, daddy,” you whisper back obediently. 

“Yeah? Tell me,” he retorts. Your hand slides up his back to entwine your fingers with his hair, gripping tightly and tugging.

“I’m wet for you, daddy. Please…” 

Joel’s chest rumbles out a low chuckle while his finger finds your clit, rubbing the softest circles through your slickness. You keen, whining and writhing underneath him. “I can see that,” he teases in return.

Clearly eager himself, Joel doesn’t waste any more time taunting you before the startling stretch of him fills all your senses, leaving your mouth popped open, dumbfounded.

“Daddy,” you whimper urgently, feeling him inch his way further into you, your grip tightening in his hair, nails on the other hand scratching at the fabric of his shirt. Pumping slowly, Joel eases his way in and out of you, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent, kissing your skin, worshiping you.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs against your skin as his cock bottoms out. “Fuck.”

You’re overwhelmed - your senses flooded, nerves lit up, emotions welling up from deep inside, that place Joel touches that nobody else can. You’re safe, you’re here, finally so present and clear in the moment with him. You start to cry tears of joy, in love with the beauty of this moment. Joel hears you sniffle, and he snaps his head up to look at you, cradling your face in his hands. 

“Oh, it’s okay, honey, I’ve got you.” Joel slows his hips, looking at you with concern. “Are you -”

“N-no, i-it’s happy, daddy. I’m happy,” you tell him, smiling brightly even as tears roll down your cheeks. You can’t remember the last time you cried because you were happy, and it’s the euphoric rush you needed. 

Joel kisses you in response, long and deep. “I am too.”

You start to let your bodies do more of the talking, your hips rising to meet Joel’s as he rolls them down into you. It’s more gentle than usual, careful but full, sending you teetering on the edge of needing more from him. You pant out breathy moans each time he hits you deep that he catches with his lips. Kissing, sucking, biting until they’re swollen and raw, the most beautiful feeling to be ruined by him.

“Y’sound so pretty f’me, sweet girl,” he growls in your ear, his pace quickening. “You missed daddy’s cock, didn’t you?”

Your throat strains a sound as he thrusts hard, stopping a moment to feel you clench around his thick girth. “G-God, yes,” you whine out. “Yes, yes.”

Joel curses under his breath, his movements getting sloppy, desperate. “That’s right, ain’t it? Daddy’s here to make you feel so good now, darlin’. Not goin’ anywhere, gonna fuckin’ live jus’ like this, right in this perfect little pussy.”

You whimper, wrapping your legs tighter around him. All you can get out is a pathetic little mumble of “M-more…” as your eyes roll back.

“Fuck, honey. I wanna be rough w’you. Wanna make y’come so hard y’can’t breathe, can’t think or walk straight. C-can I do that? Can daddy get rough with you?” He seeks approval in your eyes, his own blazing with need for you, onyx in the low light.

Breathless at his words, you nod quickly. You need that feeling again, that reminder of how much you belong to Joel, that complete and utter domination. It’s a show of trust to submit so fully to his whims, and right now, you have more faith in him than ever before. 

His hands whip to your ankles, tossing them up to his shoulders, making you cry out in pleasure at the new angle when he sinks into you, folding you in on yourself. Your ass lifts off the canvas bottom of the tent when he bends forward even more, spreading your thighs out to the sides and using them to anchor himself as he belligerently ruts himself into you. It’s bordering on anger, aggression, with grunts of mine, mine, mine, flying from his lips. 

You hang on to him tightly, your body cramped but flourishing with needy pleasure. Joel’s hand lands on your chest, squeezing roughly at your tit, entranced as his eyes watch his fingers crawl up to your neck, wrapping it around the column of your throat. Wide eyed, you moan quietly when he squeezes with the lightest pressure, checking for your reaction. 

Your tiny nod pulls a wicked smirk out of him, his hand tightening. The other gathers your wrists, pinning them above your head. You’re completely at his mercy as he pounds into you, his cock starting to brush against that spot inside of you that has your legs trembling and breath shuddering.

“A-aaahh, daddy,” you cry out, your voice vibrating against the slight strain of his hand pressing down on your throat.

“I’m gonna go harder, baby, make this so good f’you,” Joel grunts out, tightening his grip on your throat as he ups his pace, leaving your wrists to put a circling finger to your clit. You leave them where he’d placed them above your head, showing him your submission, your desire to let him have whatever way with you that he wants. Your back arches as much as you’re able to in this position as he plays with your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Mine. My pussy. My perfect little clit.” He pinches it and you nearly screech, a strangled cry stuck behind where Joel’s hand is wrapped. He’s manic in his movements, like he doesn’t know which part of you to focus on next - his eyes eating you alive, his mouth suckling from spot to spot, his hips crashing erratically and harshly. He’s overtaken, no longer a man but something animal, feral, plunged deep inside of you.

“Need t’know. I know, I know I shouldn’t fuckin’... ask, shouldn’t make you say it, but I need t’know, baby. This is mine… mine…” He stumbles through his words, panting. “D-did he touch you?” 

Joel’s hand is tightening on your throat, maybe unconsciously in his fit of possessiveness, but it heightens everything, the pleasure rocking through you, the sense of urgency at the way he fucks you, like this could be the last time you ever join yourselves together. Your head swims, barely able to focus enough to answer him, your core hot and burning, the need to release taking over.

“N-no,” you choke out, trying to shake your head. You thank the universe that it’s the truth, even though you suspect that Joel could be understanding.

He groans in relief, sweat dripping from his brow as he thrusts to the hilt each and every time, hitting your g-spot. “G-good, good girl. F-fuckin’ hurt anyone who touches ya, looks atcha, ever again. Thinkin’ about what’s mine, what belongs to me.”

“Y-yours, yours, yours, yours,” you chant, turning to silent movements of your lips to continue to echo the word as Joel steals the tiniest bit more of your breath. It should be scary, but you find it almost peaceful, empowering, to give up control of something as vital as your own breath, because you trust Joel that much. Your eyes roll back, pressure building, your muscles coiled and tight and begging for release.

“Jus’ a little more, then you’re gonna come for your daddy, okay? Jus’ a little tighter,” Joel speaks, and you hear him but don’t respond other than a strained little moan. Your breath is completely stolen away, your head light and fuzzy as you reach for your climax. Joel presses deep with a skilled flick of your clit, making you feel crazy with need, crazy for that relief. You strain towards that edge that will send you into wondrous bliss, and just as you start to topple over, your throat is free, gasping in a breath and everything crashes over into you. Hard. 

Harder than anything you’ve ever felt with him before, it crests with swells of pleasure that completely take you away from reality. You hear yourself screaming out for him, crying at the sweet relief as tears bead in the corners of your eyes. Joel rides you through it dutifully, whispering his usual praises that you can only half hear over the garbled, unintelligible noises you make.

You slump, a sated shell of yourself, but Joel only thrusts harder for himself, egged on by hearing your pleasure. “H-harder…” you mutter, somehow needing more already, the feeling slinking up from the base of your spine, your body craving him.

Joel’s groan of pleasure is music to your ears. “What’s that, baby? Want me t’go harder?” 

“H-harder, please!” you cry out, trying to arch your back again, but then you’re empty as Joel pulls out of you. The loss is devastating, a cry on your lips interrupted as Joel quickly flips you, handling your body with practiced ease as you’re forced down onto your belly. Joel straddles behind you, grabbing your ass cheeks with both hands, spreading them. He shoves his cock between your closed thighs, not wasting a moment before he starts to fuck you again in earnest. Deep, harsh thrusts, leaning his entire body over yours now and stretching his legs out long to entangle with yours. 

The angle completely wrecks you, your g-spot stimulated more than ever before, Joel’s cock feeling impossibly deep and larger than ever with each thrust. It makes you wild, your fingers clawing into the ground without purchase as you whine pitifully.

“A-aah, h-h-harder, harder,” you beg him again, eyes rolling back, and Joel laughs, a depraved little sound of amusement. One hand slips underneath you, the other coming up and wrapping around your head, his bicep cradling it. His hot breath caresses your ear as he pumps you full, so full, your body completely his. He hooks two of his fingers into your mouth, your tongue flicking to lap at them immediately, stealing the salt from his skin.

“Show anyone what’s mine, do this right here ‘till you’re screamin’ for your daddy. You’d let me fuck you like this in front of anyone, wouldn’t you? If it’s what daddy wanted, if I wanted all your holes filled n’ you suckin’ on my fingers like it’s my cock to show ‘em that you’ll always belong to me. Me. Only me.”

The image makes you clench around him with a forlorn, sinful whine, like an animal in heat. You picture yourself completely submitted to him, onlookers seeing just how good you are, how good your daddy treats you. “Y-yes, daddy… ye-es, sir…” you croak out around his fingers, feeling them dip further into your mouth as he adds a third one. Instinctively, you close your lips around them, sucking hard and moaning, needing to soothe some of the lustful energy coursing through you.

“G-god damn, thas’ right, thas’ right,” Joel coos through strained groans. “You’re so good f’daddy. Daddy’s best little pet.”

Stuffed full of his fingers, you can only nod, losing every sense of the world around you with each new sensation Joel is pulling from you. His sordid praises fill you with overflowing pride, your belly warming and tightening with the promise of another orgasm. Despite his weight on top of you, you try to rock your hips into each thrust, getting him that much deeper, giving you just what you need to -

“Daddy! O-oh my god, daddy, please, please, just keep d-doing th-” You moan, the words unintelligible around his fingers, coming hard as your vision blacks out with slick, sloppy noises working in beautiful harmony. 

“S-shit, shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet, baby, I’m gonna pump you full, gonna f-fill you, need to fill you,” Joel spits out, uncontrollable movements as he jerks himself quickly before burying his cock deep inside of you at the tail end of your climax. His head falls to your shoulder, the weight of him collapsing on top of you while his cock spurts out ropes of hot cum. You’re needy, wishing to pull it deeper, wanting to feel it drip out of you for hours, reminding you that you’re taken, owned.

You both breathe heavily, the giddy rush of it all flooding you with too many emotions to name. Joel eases some of his weight off, but keeps himself inside of you.

“Gotta keep you full, plug y’up with me…” he murmurs, sloppily kissing wherever his lips can reach. You give his fingers one long, last suck as he slips them out of your mouth.

“As long as you need,” you coo loyally, nuzzling him. He catches his breath, slowly easing out of you after several minutes. You mumble an appreciative, sated sound when he pulls you close. You love every pleasure Joel draws from your body, but this right here, this closeness as you bask in the afterglow of it all, is your favorite part.

So long has gone by that you aren’t sure if Joel’s awake anymore, his breathing even and peaceful. “Daddy…?” you whisper. 

“Hmm?”

“I tried to get my collar back. I really did.”

His eyes flutter open, looking at you. “I know y’did.” Soft fingers touch your neck, feather light. You can see the sadness in his eyes, showing that he feels the loss, too. “There’ll be a new one, even more special. How about that?”

Joel’s words always have a way of easing your mind, so sure and confident in himself as he makes promises to you. “Y-yeah, okay,” you say, voice still tinged with pain.

“Somethin’ extra special, I promise. An’ until then, we have this.” His voice teases, trying to rouse you. His fingers curl around your neck as they had earlier tonight, just without the pressure. “Daddy can do this for you when you want a reminder. How’s that sound?” He gives a few light, playful squeezes and you finally crack a smile, giggling softly.

“Okay, daddy,” you concede, your heart fluttering at the reminder of how good it had felt to have his hand wrapped tightly around your neck. “It better be extra special.”

“Mm, look who’s makin’ more demands of me, like she owns the place.” He leans in and kisses you, rolling your body on top of his. Your legs splay, straddling him as you snuggle down, head on his chest. 

As you settle into it, you start to feel unease, the spend leaking out onto your thighs a reminder of the things you have yet to tell him. There may be a life - his little life - growing inside of you and he has no idea. It hurts for some reason, thinking of telling him, because you’re terrified, and what if he’s not? Or what if he is, given his history? What if it’s all he wants, and your doubt hurts him? What if… what if you lose the baby, or lose him, or lose yourself?

You push it down - far, far down - wanting to enjoy this moment with him. It’s been too long coming to feel this level of contentment again, and you can’t risk ruining it.

“Wanna feel all of you,” you say quietly, cheek squished against his damp tee shirt. “Can we sleep like that?”

“You’re askin’ me to get naked?” Joel chuckles, and you lift your head, your cheeks growing hot as you sheepishly nod. “‘Course, blossom. You’ll have to move, jus’ for a minute.”

You pout as you’re rolled off of him, but as soon as he’s undressed, it’s well worth it. Joel’s bronze skin is dusted with salt and pepper hair, all leading down to a gorgeously lush thicket of it curling above his cock. It makes your mouth water, seeing all of him. He’s firm and thick, his belly plush but arms straining with planes of muscles that snatch you towards him again, plopping you back on top of him. Warmth seeps into warmth, heaven incarnate as your skin reaches a balmy, perfect equilibrium together. 

“Sleep, babygirl. Y’need it,” Joel says, his hand tracing tranquil patterns up and down your spine. 

You want to protest, but your eyes grow heavy, as if Joel’s words alone are able to lull you to sleep. This is not a dream, you remind yourself for the umpteenth time, this is your life. This is you and Joel, having found each other again against all the odds. Forever, now.

You wake to Joel’s cock inside of you again. Rain pitter patters on the canvas of the tent, the inside humid and oppressive on your skin. Fluttering lids, curious little noises of contentment as you tilt your head up towards him, and a satisfying stretch between your legs greets you. He shushes you, kissing your cheek, your forehead, your lips as he squelches in and out of you, slow and purposeful with each stroke.

“Y’can sleep, if you want,” he breathes, his voice gruff. His hand cups the back of your head, keeping it pressed to his chest. You can only moan softly, letting yourself fade in and out of consciousness, living in that space between dream and reality. Glimpses of sensations, Joel’s cock deliciously slow and deep, his tiny grunts of effort floating to your ears.

“Feelsogood,” you mutter when your body bouncing wakes you again, Joel’s pace a little faster. He breathes heavily, nearly whimpering as he tries to keep himself quiet.

“Daddy’s ‘bout to fill y’up again. Need to,” Joel responds in an urgent huskiness. You nod with a breathy moan caught in your throat when his hips stutter, pouring his seed into you. 

You wake sometime later, Joel’s softened cock still inside of you, finding him drowsy but still stirring. A wriggle of your ass as you adjust your body has him hard again moments later, his hips moving against yours without thought, fucking his cum back into you. It’s more hurried this time, sticky and dirty and raw, so much slickness between your bodies. Joel makes sure you come this time, shuddering with quiet, raspy little moans as you tighten around him, squeezing until he’s sure he can’t hold back anymore, pumping you full again.

“Christ, I could get used t’this. Maybe once we get home I’ll jus’ keep you in bed forever, never without me leakin’ out of ya. How’s that sound?”

Blissed out, enjoying the thought of your belly full of his seed, you feel even more pliant and agreeable than ever. “Whatever you want, daddy,” you mutter.

“That’s right.” Joel grins, lopsided and tired, kissing you softly. You both doze and fuck intermittently, waiting for the rain to pass. When it does, you both reluctantly get on with the day and leave behind the peaceful morning, knowing that Jackson is waiting. Back on the road, Joel finds you somewhere to wash up, but it does little to remedy the grime coating your skin and the stickiness between your legs. 

You should be more embarrassed, arriving in Jackson such a ripe mess that evening, but the worry is quickly forgotten as soon as you’re embraced tightly by Tommy and Maria on their doorstep. Their words all jumble together as they clamor overjoyed sentiments of disbelief while squeezing you. This all felt too good to be true, too idyllic of a happy ending. Maybe after everything you’d been through, you did deserve that. 

“Thought I’d never see my damn brother again,” Tommy remarks, throwing his arms around Joel once more, tears glimmering in his eyes. You watch with a contented smile, leaning into the arm that Maria puts around your shoulders, holding you close. A smile of her own lights up her face, and you see that her reservations about Joel are slowly shifting into something new. She may never understand him fully, but maybe she could accept him and the two of you together. 

“I’m so glad,” she whispers to you, her voice cracking. Your heart swells, aching with that unfamiliar comfort that you’d never been shown - a sense of family. You want nothing more than to be a part of it, pining for it after that taste you’d gotten. It may not be like the concept of family that you’d grown up with, but you could live with dysfunctional if it meant getting shown that unconditional kindness of theirs.

“Inside! Inside!” Tommy hollers, interrupting the tender moment, ushering everybody into the house. It’s as warm and inviting as you remember it being with well loved wood floors, cozy furniture, and vaguely smelling like something delicious was recently cooked. He rushes off to fill two large glasses with water, bringing them to you in the living room.

“Shit, w-what happened? Are y’all okay? Y’aren’t hurt or anythin’ like that, right? We can get the doctor.” His eyes sweep over both of you, looking for injuries.

“We’re alright, Tommy. We’re good.” Joel puts out a calming hand in his brother’s direction.

“Can’t believe y’actually did it. How’d you manage to find each other? Joel, don’t tell me y’found those fuckers…”

Your stomach twists at the thought that they’re still out there. You hadn’t allowed yourself to think about it, to picture all of them still going about their lives. To wonder how Callum had reacted once he’d found your bed empty, you gone in the night and his precious Doctrine burned to ash. It was better to pretend he didn’t exist anymore. And Rosalind… her beautiful, warm smile, her sense of humor that only popped out once she really grew to trust you. You missed her, and the sad reality that you’d likely have to miss her for the rest of your lives strikes you hard. 

“N-no, I didn’t,” Joel replies distractedly, glancing at you and noticing you shrinking into your own mind at the mention of your abusers. A protective arm comes around you, his large palm landing on the small of your back. He leans a little closer, addressing only you.

“Let’s go run you a bath, yeah? Then I’ll come join you in a bit.” 

You reply only with an encouraged nod, watching as Joel excuses the two of you, promising to come circle back with Tommy soon. You catch their looks of worry as you practically skitter off with him, wanting to avoid the subject you know they’re so keen to hear about.

In the bathroom, Joel sits you on the edge of the bath as it fills, testing the temperature before undressing you with reverent kisses to odd parts of you that often remain ignored. Your shoulder blades, forearms, kneecaps, all peppered with little kisses before he has you climb into the bath. A long, hard sigh slips past your lips at the warmth of the water caressing every bit of your dirty skin. 

“Start washin’ up, I’ll be back to help you, sweetie. Jus’ enjoy it.” Joel glances at you, blissed out with your head leaned against the tile before he shuts the door behind him. 

You hear distant voices, the murmur of a back and forth between Joel and Tommy, Maria’s voice chiming in periodically. For once, you aren’t curious about anything being said, tuning out the emotionally charged conversation. You watch the water discolor around you as you absentmindedly swipe at your skin, deciding to refill the bath instead of continuing to hear the disjointed drone of their voices downstairs.

On your second soak, Joel slips back in, immediately softening at the sleepy sight of you. You can see the tension he’s holding, his energy sapped after what was likely a difficult conversation. He strips, climbing into the tub with you and tossing the bar of soap and washcloth down into the water.

“Scoot,” he says, pressing you forward to slide in behind you, cradling your body between his thighs. The tight squeeze as his hulking form pushes the water up near the rim makes you laugh, a tiny giggle as you watch the water slosh dangerously close to the edge. It’s halfhearted, but it feels so good to laugh.

“Daddy, careful!” you call out, leaving Joel chuckling.

“You’ll just have to be very good and sit still for me, then, so we don’t flood Tommy ‘n Maria’s lovely home, huh?” He reaches for the bar of soap, lathering the wash cloth and starting to move it in circles along your back. You grumble in response but then it turns to a pacified hum of contentment to feel the perpetually dirty feeling you’d carried slough off your skin.

Your body senses the relief, the asylum you’ve finally offered it by being here in Jackson, in this bath with Joel. It had been your goal all along - just make it to Jackson - but you can’t quite shake that feeling of needing to survive. At your unwelcome unease, you latch onto Joel, to the warmth pressing into you, his thighs caging you in as the water bobs around you. Focusing in on his movements with eyes fluttering shut, the loving way he glides the soapy washcloth down one of your shoulders, makes you want to cry.

You want to feel more grateful. More normal again. You’d thought that this safety would bring you instant peace of mind, set you free from these memories that now seem to play on an endless reel in your mind. Trapped. Desperate. Hopeless. God, it hurts.

You’d never realized just how much you’d taken things for granted before, your naivete allowing your world to be simpler. The life you’d had mere weeks ago seems too far away now to reach, leaving you with a hollow ache that you don’t know how to separate from yourself. You feel it spreading within you, a destructive path in its wake, one that makes you start to tremble with fear, wondering if it will be the very thing that tears you from everything good, from Joel.

For now, you just keep attempting to hold on to the feeling of him, his calloused hands cleaning you, revering your body, loving you the way you’d always dreamed of. A quiet anger takes over, thinking about the way they’d taken away the perfection you’d managed to achieve, tarnishing your sanctum you’d found in Joel. Your head hangs down, silence falling apart from the steady dripping of water from the washcloth down your back.

“It won’t always feel like this, darlin’,” Joel says softly, sensing your swiftly changing mood. He presses his lips to the back of your neck, and you just nod for him. He doesn’t press you any further, just diligently cleans the both of you until no trace of that forest remains. You’re thankful for it, but you can’t stand that you worry him so much you can start to feel it radiating off of him, clouding the energy between you two. 

You force a small smile over your shoulder at him in reassurance before he has you turn around, cradling you to him, all your limbs entangled and wrapped around the other. He holds you, fighting his own demons right now, too. Two people finding their way back to each other, to some semblance of being whole again. Neither of you dare move for a long time, not until the bath runs cold around you and Joel forces your shivering form out and into a towel, and then the comfortable pajamas Tommy and Maria left out for you. Neatly washed and folded from the last time you’d been here along with your other clothing left behind, it chisels out a soft spot inside of you. Your family, you repeat in your head to remind yourself of what you have gained, all the good things you can hold onto in your life.

Tommy and Maria invite you to stay up and sit outside on the back patio with them. The peaceful sounds of the night surround you now - chirping of the crickets, the distant voices of the people of Jackson passing by periodically, all just living their lives. 

You lean your head back, your legs tucked up onto the large adirondack chair and stare at the open sky above. It’s starting to glitter with stars, making your problems feel a little smaller when the expanse of the universe is laid so bare before you. Your skin still dewy from the shower, you shiver as the stifling air of the day gives way to a cooler night, but you don’t mind at all, just wrapping yourself in a little closer. Joel and Tommy are bantering over a bottle of beer at the table, happier together than you’ve seen them before. It warms your slightly frigid heart, but you stay on the sidelines, just smiling softly and half listening to their memories shared, your mind in another place.

“You doing okay?” Maria’s voice asks, coming up behind you, making you jump. She apologizes, then offers you a glass of water that you take before she settles into the empty chair beside you.

You blink a few times to ponder your answer, not wanting to lie. You shrug, taking a sip. “I - I guess so.”

“I don’t know what happened, but I do know it’s not your fault. I know that guilty, self blaming look anywhere,” Maria tells you. “I used to have it myself.”

You keep your eyes trained upwards, scanning the sky. “How’d you stop it?” you timidly ask.

She sighs out a tired chuckle. “Lots of work. And… letting people help me. There are people you can talk to here, you know. We’ve always offered the same thing to Joel, when… when he’s going through things. Someone who knows how to help.”

You pick your head up off the back of the chair, furrowing your brows a little. “I don’t-”

“You tell her about the counselor?” Tommy interrupts, turning from his conversation with Joel.

“Trying to,” Maria bites back playfully, looking at her rosy cheeked, slightly tipsy husband.

He flashes a sheepish grin, fiddling with the beer bottle dripping condensation onto his hands. “Sorry. Think we just want reasons to keep y’all around a little longer, too. You sure you have to head back so soon?” He glances at you and Joel inquisitively, concern wiping the smile off of his face. It’s easy to forget that even as grown adults, Tommy is simply a younger brother wishing to be close to his older brother, to not let go of the man you know at some point he looked up to in life. You grieve for Joel, wondering if that has changed, if Tommy stopped seeing his brother that way with all his blunders and rocky history.

You lock doleful eyes with Joel, awaiting his direction. “Think it best we still head on home tomorrow,” he concludes, “Been a long while comin’. But we thank y’for everything. Really.” He says the last word to Maria as an appeal to her, getting a discerning, more receptive nod in return - a peace offering.

Melancholy stains the moment - you want to leave, yet you want to stay right here in this moment - this floaty, in between state of being where everything feels a bit less arduous. It’s hard to abandon the warm, loving embrace of Tommy and Maria’s home, their hospitality towards you so gracious for a little girl that’s caused them nothing but trouble. 

A tempered eagerness still starts to buzz under your skin at Joel’s words, knowing that home awaits you. The place you’d dreamed of being, maybe long before it had even existed in your mind, always slowly pulled towards it by fate. Just as you are now.

“Can I take y’somewhere, before we head home?” Joel asks you as you adjust yourself in the saddle the following morning.

You give him a nod, perking up a bit at the idea of a surprise. You ride in silence for some time, well past the gates of Jackson and into the deep, soothing arms of nature. Joel’s cushy chest behind you and the soothing, repetitive rocking from Willow’s movements threaten to put you to sleep as the hours pass.

The beautiful landscape passing by you, all lush trees and mountain views, tinges you with a wistful sense of hope. It bubbles up from deep inside of you, lifting all the way to your heart, causing you to sit up a little straighter, observing the world with interest for the first time in a while. You’re cresting a large, tree covered hill with the grass overgrown, rustling in the gentle breeze. You gasp as you two come over the peak, the trees parting almost as if they knew what laid beyond them, wanting to frame it for the world.

A stretching view lays before you, wide as you can see, to mountains beyond, their peaks still white capped despite it being the dead of summer. You can see everything - a flowing river far, far down, and Jackson in the distance. It’s stunning, a reminder of all the good in the world, the harmony you can feel with it if you just take time to bask in the quiet it offers. Joel helps you down from the saddle, your eyes not able to peel themselves from the stunning view. He takes your hand, walking with you towards a flat bit of grass that affords a perfect vantage point to continue ogling everything.

“It’s somethin’, ain’t it? Stumbled on this one day. Used to jus’... ride, sometimes. Take my time goin’ to Jackson. Wanted time to think, to jus’... be, I guess.” 

“It’s amazing,” you breathe out, finally breaking eye contact with nature to smile at him. “Can we come here again sometime?”

Joel huffs a chuckle, a half smile pulling at his mouth at your sweet, childish insistence coming back to life. “Sure thing, honey. Whatever makes y’happy.” 

You wrap your arms around his middle, turning to savor the view with him for a long, serene moment. Contemplative and quiet, you’re both lost in your own thoughts. You wonder what Joel dreams of in moments like these, what future with you that he holds in his heart.

“What’re you thinking about?” you ask.

“Jus’... thinkin’ of you.” He smiles, his eyes still trained far away. “I… brought you here ‘cause I have somethin’ I want to give you.” You watch his cheeks color slightly pink. “Maybe this is silly, but -” He cuts himself off to pull away from you, placing his backpack on the ground. You watch with curious, excited eyes, your chest thumping with excitement.

Joel pulls out a wooden box, presenting it to you. You open your palms, laying them side by side as the weight of it dips into your hands and you silently admire it, inspecting the intricate carvings on the outside and the perfect, scalloped bevel. It’s stunning, such a gorgeous piece of work that you know was made by only two dedicated, loving hands. The same ones that touch you with such devotion and make you feel safe.

“I, well, I took it to Jackson, hopin’ to use some of their stain on it, seein’ as I don’t have any. And then, well, everythin’ happened and I just… I want you to have it, as it is. We can stain it some other time, maybe. Y-you can open it up, if y’like,” Joel chatters anxiously, his hands moving of their own accord to open it for you before you can reach for the lid, revealing the inside. It’s got a lovely, deep compartment and a tiny figurine pops up as the lid does, balancing on a spring. She’s delicate yet intricate, her hands poised above her head and some type of dress on with a large skirt.

“She, uh, she can spin. Here…” Joel explains, his fingers finding something at the back of the box, slowly spinning it. You watch with a tiny, delighted gasp as she starts to move, twirling in a slow circle as he rotates it. “I-it’s a ballerina. They were a kind of dancer way back when, an’ it just reminded me of you, somehow. Jus’... somethin’ cute. You could put your favorite things in there - nail polish ‘n such. I er, thought you might li-”

“I love it, daddy,” you cut in, tears forming, blurring the sight of his beautiful gift in your hands. You slowly shut the box before knocking into him with force, squeezing him with the tightest embrace you can muster, tucking the box between the two of you.

Joel breathes a sigh of relief. “I didn’t know if you’d think it was silly, or somethin’, I just - I started makin’ that when you first came to me. I wanted you to have somethin’ nice, but I restarted the damn thing so many times. Was never good enough f’ you… not what you deserved.”

“It’s perfect, I swear,” you reassure him. “I love it so much.” You break the clasp you have on him to admire the box again. It evokes something within you - thoughts of a child, a baby girl - and your smile slowly fades, lip bitten between your teeth. Guilt consumes you whole, pushes the words to tumble out of your mouth.

“I might be… pregnant.”

The air is still, a suffocating, noiseless void for what feels like an eternity, but you know it’s only seconds. You can’t look Joel in the eye - it’s too hard - but you see him standing frozen in your periphery, watching you carefully.

“Are… are y’sure?” He finally speaks, a raspy whisper. 

“No. But… I haven’t had… it’s been a while since my period.” Your face is hot, burning at the confession, wishing you felt more relief to finally get it off your chest. Joel’s finger tilts your chin, pulling your gaze from the grass to his eyes, searching your face with concern.

You can see him fighting his own reaction, stuffing it down to check that you’re alright. “O-okay. It’s okay. We’ll figure things out either way.” 

“I-I’m scared.” You break down, trembling hands clutching onto the wooden box like it’s a lifeline as tears gather in the rims of your eyes. Joel gently urges it from your hands, setting it down and pulling you into his arms.

“You can be whatever you need to be. I’m here,” he replies, soothing and soft, swaying with you. He rubs a hand over your back, falling into the depths of his own mind as he processes the news.

“I like that it’s just us,” you admit tearfully, the words you’d been ashamed to resonate with so deeply. You didn’t want anything to come between you and Joel, to change the life you’d been so desperate to get back to with him.

“I do too, baby, I do too. The thought of y-you all swollen with my baby, it’s… somethin’ fuckin’ stupid and primal in that me wants that… god…” He stops to take a breath, licking his lips as he fights off the fantasy. “I used t’think that’s what I wanted from you, that I could keep you with me forever if you had my baby, or - or that it would fix… me, but then you were so good at that already.” His words cleave into your soul, a warm, aching knife of truth leaving a mark on you. You cling tighter to him, hanging on his every syllable.

“I can’t say that I know what to think about all this. I… shit.” A hand swipes down his tired face, scratching through his beard.

You wince a little, eyes rapidly scanning his face. “A-are you mad?”

“Mad? Honey no. Just… it’s somethin’ to digest right now. I was playin’ with the universe, doin’ what I’ve been doin’ with you. Should have expected… it would bite us back.”

You let a quiet moment pass, working up the courage to speak again. “D-did you… like being a dad?”

Joel grimaces before he can think about it, making a sound half between a snort and a chuckle, and you start to regret the question. He swallows hard, seeing the trepidation written all over your face. 

“I… did,” he finally replies, the words pulled painfully from him. 

A wistful look casts a veil over his harsh, rugged features, softening him. It’s so akin to the way he looks at you, but you know he’s not seeing you in that distant stare of his. You study the emotions that flicker across his face in rapid succession, reflecting on what was his an entire lifetime ago. You know it’s hard for him to connect to it, to face that pain, but you’re proud of him for going there. It’s as beautiful as it is anguishing to watch, realizing it’s one place you’ll never be able to reach him. 

“What was it like?” you ask him gently.

“Y’can’t really describe it. Happiness, sadness, painful in all sorts of ways. It was jus’... it was your entire life. It was one day at a time, takin’ it as it came, or else you’d go crazy.” He blinks a few times, focusing back on you, shifting out of the embrace to take your hands in his and look at you with more resolve in his eyes. “That’s what we’ll do, okay? See what happens. We’ll jus’ take it one day at a time. You and me.”

One day at a time turns into several, settling back into life with Joel. The cabin welcomes your return like a breath of fresh air, and you privately shed a tear when it comes into view. Nothing could beat the feeling of coming home, and it took nearly twenty years of your life to find a place that evoked that deep within you, that happily took you into its arms, stealing away your troubles the moment you entered. The feel of the fabric on the old sofa, the annoying creak on the third step that meant you could never sneak up on Joel, the dusty scent of all the old books. It was a place full of Joel’s cooking and memories of love and giggling and hands all over you - it was all yours for the taking.

Yet, something about finally finding this again leaves you unexpectedly unsettled. You’d begged for this - pleaded and sobbed and even deigned to pray through lonely nights imprisoned in that bedroom for exactly what you had now. The harder you tried to grasp it, the more it seemed to slip through your fingers, silken threads of a past life you hungered for.

Joel notices the unrest you’ve carried home with you, still holding on tightly to a past you worry you’ll never escape, putting on a brave face for him. You feel him press you a little more each day, the walls closing in on you. He wants to fix you, he wants to help, but what if it had messed you up for good this time? What if you could never feel like the girl you were before - happy and free living in this haven with Joel? Worst of all, you don’t know how to share it with him, the thought that maybe you didn’t deserve to have this after the choices you’d made.

Forgiving yourself is not the straight and narrow path you’d hoped for. Every time you look at Joel it’s a reminder that you’d nearly given up on him and let Callum win in his nefarious games with you. You could say that you were just trying to survive, but had you relinquished yourself because it seemed the easier option than to take a real risk? You didn’t know how to be strong, violent, and brash like Joel, or smart and cunning like Callum. You were just… you. You with little might, so easy to lose your nerve, never wanting to hurt anyone despite how badly the people in your life hurt you. Your downfall has always been yourself.

An unshakable ache rekindles in you each night, plunging you out of your sleep for fear that you could wake up back in that house. The dreams are so vivid and warped that it steals your breath as you wake. They’re filled with visions - some simply replaying moments, but others are darker, foreboding messages, images of the life you’d run from. Taunting you, reminding you of your failure.

You strain your eyes through the dark and see Joel, soundly sleeping belly down, his arm tucked under his pillow. More nights than not, he’s restless, muttering unintelligible things in his sleep, but you’ve gotten used to it after sharing a bed with him for so long. In a better headspace, you’d be able to crack a smile at how untroubled he looks for once. 

The sight of him is enough to calm your racing heart, but the deep sense of shame from your dream sticks to you, clinging on as scenes from it slither through your mind. Your skin crawls, needing to move, to escape itself. You slip out of bed carefully, padding to the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. Bracing yourself on the counter, you look into the mirror, trying to take deep breaths.

Tired, lifeless eyes stare back at you, framed by your skin, shining with sweat. The urge to punch the mirror pulses through you, hating what you see.

It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. 

“It’s not my fault.” The words from Maria that you’ve been trying to believe, whispered to yourself, send your face crumpling, forcing you to look away from the mess you’ve become. You leave the bathroom, debating on crawling back into bed with Joel, rousing him and letting him hold you, whispering whatever words of encouragement and comfort he thinks you need to hear. But he doesn’t know what you need to hear, because how could you ever tell him what’s really plaguing you? 

You walk past the cracked bedroom door and downstairs to the kitchen, filling a glass of water and pondering it as you sit at the kitchen table. The cabin is so quiet tonight - even the incessant crickets outside seem to have found some time to rest. You know Joel doesn’t like it when you do this, when he finds the bed cold and empty, leaving his mind to fill in the worst case scenarios. After what you’ve been through recently it’s especially cruel to him, but you like it - sitting here in the dark, not having to be anything or face reality.

It’s not long before the old bones of the home groaning reveal Joel’s footsteps moments before he appears at the top of the stairs, coming down. He’s sleep mussed, eyes squinting as he rubs at the left one with his fist. 

“What’re you doin’ up?” he croaks out, clearing his throat. He stands at the table, his hands pressed against the wood, leaning down towards you expectantly

“Just needed some water.”

Joel’s eyebrows quirk. “Lot of water left in that glass f’someone who needed a drink.” You look down sheepishly, biting the inside of your lip. “Do you wanna tell me what’s really goin’ on? ‘Cause I’m this close to pullin’ that rule sheet off the fridge an’ havin’ you take a good, hard look at number six.”

You don’t have to look at the sheet to know, you’ve had it memorized for months.

Always be honest with daddy.

Joel’s anger isn’t unfounded, you know that. You’ve seen the patience he’s practiced, even beyond his usual comfort level. Joel Miller was not a patient man but for you, he’d changed, adapted, to show you just how much he cared about you. To be the better man he’d said he wanted to be. To show how only you could soften him so.

But you don’t move, don’t look up at him, you can’t face the love from him you don’t think you deserve right now. Your shoulders give you away, the slight shake of them as you hold back your sobs. You don’t want this, you don’t want any more of this to come out of you, to spill out the cracks no matter how hard you try to hold it back. You want it gone, don’t want to burden Joel with things you know would only hurt him to hear. 

Does he really want your honesty if it means knowing the life you’d almost acquiesced to living instead of continuing to fight for him? You recall the tired, overplayed memory of the way your head had fogged up, your body a shell, so, so empty and hopeless, ready to give up. Why, when you’re miles and miles away now, can that man still continue to hold power over you? 

“Honey…” Joel says, easing up. You hear the scrape of a chair as he pulls it close to you, sitting down. He shushes you, bringing you into his shoulder, arm wrapped around you. You want to resist it as much as you want to fall into it. Joel senses that, pulling back to look at you. You can only imagine the concern and hurt plastered on his face, but you’re too much of a coward to confront it, keeping your eyes down.

“I haven’t asked you to tell me anythin’ you aren’t wantin’ to yet. But at some point… you’ve got to. I can’t… I can’t let you jus’ live alone with it. I see that you’re hurtin’, and I can’t help if I don’t know all of the why.”

You blink up at him with watery eyes from where you’ve slumped back in your chair. His arms still reach for you, nearly caging you in, and his gaze is intense, expectant. 

“I have dreams,” you whisper weakly. “Before, they were of you, when I wasn’t with you. But now…”

“Now…”

“It’s of him. Of all of them. Like, I’m reliving it.” Joel’s hand finds your thigh, silently rubbing it in encouragement. “In some of them, I - I have to keep living there. I never got to come back to you. And they always feel so real. It - it feels like I’m betraying you, even though I’m not happy in the dreams.”

Joel pauses thoughtfully for a beat. “Your dreams are jus’ a way for your mind to make sense ‘f things sometimes, sweetheart. They don’t always reflect what’s in here,” he says, placing a gentle hand over your heart. 

“But - but -” you stutter out, feeling your heart quicken its pace. Joel tilts himself to come into your eyeline. He looks worn down - brows creased, pronounced bags under his eyes, and a perpetual frown. It hurts to see that your troubles were affecting him more than you realized.

“Talk t’me. Talk t’me, blossom.”

“We were gonna get married. He - he was gonna marry me, and I was gonna do it, because… I was scared, a coward, and I didn’t know what else to do,” you spit out, letting the silence hang afterwards for a moment to leave room for his reaction. When there isn’t one, you swallow hard and continue. “Don’t you understand, daddy? I gave up. I - I betrayed you. What if Rosalind had never… It was only hours before and what if she hadn’t? Don’t you understand?” Your voice rises, anger climbing up from low in your belly where it burns to your throat, spewing out the words at him. 

You flick your bitter, narrowed eyes to look at him finally and all you find is empathy. It’s hard to accept that he could be anything other than what you’d expected him to be - angry, hurt, turning you away - building it up in your mind, you’d relentlessly worried about it. You double down, your movements frantic, gripping his shoulders. 

“Daddy, did you not hear me? Did you not -”

“Slow… slow down…” Joel says softly, shaking his head in a soft chastisement. “You’re gonna take a breath for me, mkay? A nice, big one for daddy. An’ then you’re gonna start from the beginning. Can you do that?”

You deflate completely. His stern, guiding words are like an embrace, giving you a direction, a path to healing. He was so good at this, so made for it. The way you immediately surrender to it, rage dissipated into thin air, you realize that you were, too.

“Y-yes, daddy,” you reply, a tiny sigh of words. One big breath in, a long one whooshing out, and you begin.

You tell Joel everything, and he listens. Slow to start, unsure of yourself and stumbling on your words, but once it starts to flow, you can’t stop yourself. Memory after memory, it rushes out of you, the toxicity that had festered inside of you, letting you take the blame for what other people did to you, begins to melt away. 

The drugging, the deep loneliness and hours spent by yourself, the ones spent being berated by Callum or his attempt to brainwash you back into the good graces of the Doctrine. The happier moments with Rosalind, your wishes for her future, and even Isabelle, who’d shown you her own version of kindness, not knowing any better. Your dreams night after night, where you could return to a better place with Joel. Your nightmare when you’d wake for the day, losing a piece of your humanity each morning you opened your eyes. Sharing with Joel that final night, when you’d felt yourself slipping away, bleakly submitting yourself to that life, was the hardest part. Seeing it in hindsight, it’s like there’s a veil around it, hard to access that complete despair for fear of it ensnaring you again.

Joel does nothing but listen for what feels like hours. Sometimes you need to stop for a moment and let him hold you before you can continue. You share every detail you can remember, your tongue wanting to stick on the more unsavory ones, difficult to relive. Everytime you check his reaction, though, he’s calm and understanding, pushing himself to the side to leave room for you to unburden yourself. He’s nothing but patient, staying up with you until the light starts to trickle in through the trees, making tea when your voice grows hoarse and scratchy, swiping the stray tears that fall. 

Exhausted but lighter, you look to him as you tell him that very last memory, the way he’d spoken to you in that dream in the forest, so clear and real. To your surprise, his eyes are shining at the confession, a heavy lump bobbing in his throat. A poignant silence left in the wake of all your rambling, he sits with lips parted, chest swelling with each breath, and shakes his head slightly in disbelief. 

“You think you gave up on me, sweetheart. But everythin’ you’ve said, jus’... I c-can’t even express the way it makes me feel. I’m no good at this, I -” His eyes flit around, searching for the right thing to say, like he’ll find it there in the kitchen. He sighs, giving you a somber smile. “I’ve always told you that you’re such a strong girl, blossom, since the day we met.”

“I didn’t feel like that, when I was there,” you mumble critically. 

“Doesn’t mean you weren’t,” he quickly shoots back.

“I was gonna let him… go through with it. I would have had to… let him do things to me.” You shudder, your entire body pulling in on itself in shame. “Doesn’t that bother you? Aren’t you angry I would have had to be with someone else? Just… just - giving in to it? And for what? Because I was too much of a coward to fight anymore?”

Joel gives you a serious look, completely unreadable. “Sit here for a minute,” he says, patting a hand to his thigh. 

“Daddy…” you grumble, flustered that he won’t just answer you and admit that he’s angry at the fact you were conceding to Callum, readying yourself for his marriage bed.

“Blossom,” he counters, eyes sharp with warning. You know that even with this softer side of him he’s showing, the authoritarian still lives just beneath the surface, demanding to get his way. You slide from the seat of your chair, a quick transition to his lap only inches away. Locking your arms around his neck, you straddle him, getting a satisfied look in return.

“Lemme ask you, did you ever think that maybe survivin’ was the strong thing to do? Even if that meant feelin’ like you were givin’ in? Doin’ what you had to do to survive? Tell me, honey, why did you want to survive so bad?”

Caught off guard by his question, you flounder for a moment before giving him a knowing, shy smile. “W-well, to get back to you. Someday, whenever that would be. It was all I had to hold on to.”

Joel’s brows raise a bit more playfully, as if to say gotcha. “You only have so much to give, baby. You were tryin’ so, so hard, jus’ like I was. Lord knows it would have been hard to contain myself, if he’d done that t’you. But if you want me to be angry with you for it, that ain’t ever gonna happen.”

Joel’s validation, as hard as it is to believe, finally starts to sink in, little rivulets of truth breaking down the dam of your stubborn insistence. You’d been reaching so hard for him to be outraged, to see you differently - a betrayer, throwing away the gift the two of you had together instead of fighting. You’d projected your feelings towards yourself of wishing you’d done more, taken more risks, fought to the bitter end, but Joel wasn’t having any of it.

You suppose that’s love, isn’t it? Someone who sees the best in you, when you can’t see it yourself. It’s a new concept, one that you’d thought you understood in the way you’d cared for Joel before. Desperate, clinging onto it, needing it. This side of it was more temperate, understated and not the untamed, burning love that drove you into his arms so many times before. That would still be there, seeking that reckless, frantic attachment to him, but the beauty came in accepting that he could love you through your pain and your loss and your shame, too.

“I did try, daddy. I tried…” you say, voice quivering, overwhelmed with emotion. Joel sniffles, pulling you in, his tight, safe arms around your back.

“I know y’did. I know, my angel. That’s what we do, is we find each other. Always, yeah?”

Yeah.

You dare to let yourself begin to live again after that night. Careful steps into the unknown future, but you try to let the universe hold the mystery of your fate for a while, clinging to the familiar in the here and now. You both seem to ignore the heavy, daunting possibility that you’re pregnant, too early still to tell. Joel tells you it’s not worth worrying over until you’re both sure of it, so instead, you put your focus on getting back to a routine. Its familiarity befriends you once again, so easy to slip back into it with Joel, getting to experience the full swing of summer. 

Tending to the garden, wilted in your absence, blowing the fluff off of dandelions towards Joel any chance you got, and cupping fireflies in your palms while Joel watched on from the porch. The days are balmy and restless, seeming to send you both into a heat of your own, making up for lost time. Sun high in the sky with lazy, sleepy strokes, or after dark with dirty, punishing ones - you’re pent up, panting, sweaty as you come together, addicted to the other. It’s nice to have the distraction as you work out your feelings, learning to love yourself again.

Your lusty, muddled head makes you call out to him when he tries to slip out of bed after hours of hiding away in it. “Daddy…”

“We need to eat, darlin’. I’m gonna make us somethin’.”

Your hand catches his wrist, sprawled out below him, naked and wanting, a sudden worry etching your face. “I want… Can you do what you used to do? T-tie me to the bed?” Your face burns as the words slip out. Even after everything you still find it hard to tell Joel the depraved desires you have to match his.

Joel’s face breaks into a filthy smirk that you could never forget. He leans closer to where you lay, barely able to contain himself from rutting into you again at your request. “I told you, baby, that one day, you’d be askin’ me for it. You remember that?”

That winter night is clear in your memory, the fear you’d felt, the dread of what life with Joel would hold for you. The horrors you’d thought he was capable of. Now, all that you could conjure up at the idea of being tied to his bed was safety. “Daddy always knows best,” you coo, echoing his own rule back to him.

He growls, pouncing on you in a second, pinning your wrists above your head, taking and taking from you, your already puffy, bruised lips even more tender now. He yanks back, forcing himself out of bed and to that special top drawer in the dresser. 

“Never used these yet,” he purrs, holding up a long strip of fabric. “What d’you think, blossom?” he asks, stepping closer, dangling a pair of homemade cloth restraints in front of you. You bite your lip, thighs clenching as your cunt throbs and starts to drip at the sight of them. Locked up and surrendered to his will, nothing sounds better.

“Yes, please,” you whine, squirming into position, throwing your hands above your head

“Fuckin’ eager… God damn,” Joel tuts, gripping your wrists, tying each one to the rails in the headboard. The soft material allows a little stretch for you to move your body, twist and turn for him if needed. “Now, you gonna stay here as long as daddy likes, hm? You’ll be a good girl - no whinin’, no matter if daddy needs to leave for a bit to take care of some things? You’ll be ready an’ waitin’, soaked and needy for me whenever I need you, won’t you?”

Your back arches, your hips gravitating towards nothing, desperate for him. “Y-yes, sir, yes, yes. Please…”

With a dark, gravelly chuckle, he climbs back under the sheets, the meal he was going to cook long forgotten. Joel makes good on his promise to keep you in bed, reliving that morning in the tent, keeping you full of him. This pregnancy scare seems to do little to deter either of you, your mind driven wild - a madness never able to be sated by his presence, always happily taking more of what he has to give. You need him near - even when he’s not inside of you, you want him laying next to you, keeping you safe, talking to you about anything and everything. You want to know him, more deeply than anyone ever has, more intimately, collecting pieces of him as he opens up and putting it together.

Despite his threats, Joel doesn’t leave very often, only to finally bring food back once you’re both starving, feeding it to you, never once untying the restraints. The longer you lay like this, the more your body aches to be untied, and the more it makes you crave it. Deserting yourself to fulfill something bigger: that perfect, pure obedience to him. 

“What d’you say, time to see the world again, blossom?” Joel asks you the following morning, groggy from a night of little sleep with you. Sore and contented, you finally give him the go ahead. Joel eases your arms down after untying them, carefully stretching them until they feel normal again. You bathe and eat at his direction and find your headspace so pleasantly empty that it nearly catches you off guard when he has to repeat himself to ask you a question. 

Joel only laughs, seeing the faraway look in your eyes, glazed as you push your spoon through a bowl of oatmeal. “Never thought I’d see the day,” he teases. “Too fucked out to even listen to her old man. Can’t be mad, ‘s my own fault, ain’t it?”

“Sorry, daddy,” you reply with a dreamy, slow blink in his direction.

“I was askin’ if you wanted to go for a swim today. I think y’need some air ‘n sun after all that.”

You couldn’t agree more.

Limbs tired yet limber from the day of swimming and restful sunbathing, your hand clasped in his, you swing your arm playfully as you trek along the homestretch back to the cabin, laughing at one of Joel’s stories about the many times Tommy had gotten himself in trouble in his younger years.

“A-and you had to… what was it you called it? Bail Tommy out? For… throwing food?”

Joel chuckles. “More than than. He caused a whole damn food fight at the local mall. He was jus’ borderin’ on eighteen then. They’d had enough of his sorry ass.”

“Food fights…” You sigh, shaking your head with another giggle as you step into the clearing around the cabin, crossing the yard. “People were weird back then, daddy.”

“That they were, princess,” Joel replies with an amused smile in your direction, tugging the key to the cabin out of his pants pocket. Despite nobody ever appearing for miles around you Joel seemed dead set on locking the door when you two left. 

You stall behind Joel as he steps inside, gasping quietly to yourself at the sensation between your thighs catching you off guard. You’d thought maybe it was sweat, lingering moisture from the swim on your panties, but this was undeniably something else. Something you’d been waiting for. “D-daddy, I think I just got my -”

The cold, condescending voice pierces through the air behind you, plunging an icy dagger straight into your heart.

“Being a whore does suit you, afterall.”

You immediately lose the elation that you’d felt a moment ago, the thought flitting far away. You breath stutters, a heavy weight descending upon your body, now just a fraught bundle of nerves. You’re quickly thrown out of the way by Joel’s strong arms gripping you and shoving you behind him. He snarls, fierce and protective as you turn, looking past his shoulder to see what you hope to be an apparition, a figment of your imagination.

“You’ve got some nerve comin’ here,” Joel punches out with grit. He doesn’t have to ask you, never had to see him to know exactly who dared to step foot onto his property.

“I have some nerve? Could say the same about you and your girl here. She’s been very, very bad. But you already know that.” He steps forward, and you blink everything into focus, seeing Callum looking a haggard, tired mess, clearly having gone through a lot since you’d left. It’s satisfying to know that he can look anything other than put together. 

Joel growls deep in his throat, and you spring to action, putting a soft hand to his arm to calm him, needing answers. “Why…?” you ask quietly, encompassing a whole hoard of questions with just the one. Your head swims, trying to catch up and grasp how it’s even possible that Callum is here.

“You cost me everything. You want to know what happened, after your little stunt?” 

You swallow, the lump hard on the way down, settling into a pit in your stomach. You can see the grief written on Callum’s face, and you immediately fear for Rosalind and her family.

“It spread. And spread. And spread. But you didn’t think about that, did you? Silly, foolish girl!” Rage becomes him, red faced and stepping closer to the porch. Starting to tremble, you physically restrain Joel, a tug on his arm as he begins to lurch forward. You need to know, you need to hear more. You’d never meant for that… never meant to hurt anyone, or ruin their homes. You’d only wanted them to see the pain they’d caused.

“What do you think people do, when let down by the same man twice, losing their homes, their livelihood, their faith, maybe? Well, they abandon him, abandon hope. Only the ones who are really angry stick around, wishing for revenge. It fuels you, doesn’t it? Wanting a little vengeance. That’s what you were thinking when you set that fire of yours. You know, dear, what God says about revenge, but frankly, I can’t find it in me to care much anymore. And neither can they.”

As he speaks, figure after figure emerges dramatically from the trees, looking just as rundown as Callum but oozing a calm, collective rage. At least a dozen of them, all men, ranging from elders you recognize to regular members of the community that believed too strongly in Callum’s word and mission to abandon him. You see dutiful Patrick, searching his eyes from afar for anything, any indication of Rosalind’s safety, but find nothing but a frosty stare in return. Josephine’s tiny frame peeks out, Harry nowhere to be seen, and your face falls, guilt eating at your heart. For everything she put you through, the woman did raise you, and seeing her here, unable to for once take the better path, fills you with a deep sadness. You’d almost feel sorry for her and the rest of them if their presence didn’t feel so threatening, noticing now the weapons they carry with them. Baseball bats, hammers, and one shoddy looking hunting rifle that you pray is running low on ammo.

You feel your heart pick up speed, thumping, thumping, thumping against your ribs, and you look to Joel. His eyes are trained outward, silently taking stock of the risk the group poses to you. Callum’s menacing grin shadows his face, clearly pleased with himself and his little band of followers. Through all the strife, his self loving arrogance shines through brighter than ever.

“You thought you could be safe if you left, didn’t you? That we wouldn’t want eyes on such a threat to us?” Callum glances at Joel. “Looks like daddy made a big mistake taking you back to Jackson with him. Made it so very easy to track you all… the way… here…”

Tears brim in your eyes. “Please, just… go. Let this go. Let her go…” you plead, softly attempting to appeal to a man with so little humanity left. You knew this pain, the one that comes with losing so much, your entire life teeming with it. Wishing for this to end well with Callum felt like a losing battle.

Your reference to your mother only seems to only anger him more. “I ought to burn this place to the ground! Make you watch as we take everything -”

“Get the fuck off my property, ‘fore you regret it,” Joel barks before Callum can even finish speaking. You squeeze his arm once more when he lurches forward again, catching his attention, a tiny whisper off your lips.

“I got this.”

Joel’s expression of surprise makes pride swell inside of you, the tiniest flick of his brows offering you the reins, seeing how badly you need this closure now that it’s barged onto your doorstep. Joel leans back against the door, disarming himself with arms folded across his chest, wary eyes watching you step forward onto the porch. You can pick up on his struggle, his reluctance to hold back and let you put yourself in danger, but he knows that you are a gentle creature above all, never quick to brutish violence as he is.

“W-what do you want, Callum? To take me away again? To - to force me into what you know I don’t want? To ruin my home like I ruined yours? W-why would you even bother?” you ask, trying to put on a brave face. Your voice sounds desperate, though - tired - giving you away. It’s terrifying, facing him again, but you try to hold steady.

His eyes blaze, a bit of madness peeking through. He almost seems to soften, changing his tune. “I’m not sure everyone would agree, but I’ll offer you one more chance at redemption. One more. They’d love to see you punished, and a part of me does, too. But I - I still know there’s something worth saving in there. I’ve always known you were mine. You’ve been p-promised to me. To me! ME! Not that - that -” His hands wave erratically towards Joel. “You are sick, a s-sickness that can be cured. I can make you so like your mother, so like her… and you can remedy her mistakes. We can rebuild… think of the children we could bear, the world we could build together. They’ll do it, they’ll follow us there.”

“You know I don’t want that,” you reply curtly, immediately seeing it fall on deaf ears. You surprise yourself as a flood of sympathy for him wells up inside of you, turning your frown deeper. A man you so feared, who had haunted your dreams, had nearly taken everything from you, reduced to this. Mania on his lips, still clinging so tightly to what he knows he’s already lost and will never have. You’d wanted him to lose everything, you’d wished so desperately for it. Seeing it now, you just felt sad, knowing that all he’d ever wanted was the love of your mother. He’d covered it with his power trips and his arrogance, but at his core he was a lonely, scorned lover, never to move on.

“You’re mine, my - mine -” His voice rambling on, deluded that he could convince you of anything, fades in and out of your hearing as you feel something transformative taking place inside of you. He no longer feels important, has no hold on you, no power. “You’ll be better off, you don’t know any better -”

Every single person you’ve met seems to want to weigh in on your life, to control you, all for their own purposes. When they stood to gain everything and you nothing. That was how it always went for you - a family that used you until they were spent themselves, discarding you without a second thought. Two lonely people taking you in, wishing for power while stripping you of yours, all to be thrust at the feet of a man who wanted not you, but your blood. It was your divine purpose, promised to you.

You’d never believed in that concept, that promised divine purpose of yours, until you met it. Until you’d met him. 

You don’t know when it all happened, when the fear of him gave way to such cosmic love that you felt you could rattle the foundations of the world with it, with the power that it held. A heart so full to bursting that one look from him could unravel every part of you, all the good and the bad, until he held every bit of you in his hands. You are his, you are his, you are his. He owns your body, your soul, your love, and to some that might sound a prison, a life that was not your own. Yet, you’d never been a prisoner here, not even when you’d wanted to run from him, run from the destiny that life held waiting for you. When you’d thought you were running from your home that cold, harsh day of the attack, you’d really been running to it.

To that mysterious, terrifying man with the smooth talking accent that slowly disarmed you until you found the most comfort you could ever dream of right here in his arms. God, how lucky were you, to find love that surpassed the bounds of knowledge and understanding. That was why you’d said yes that day to coming inside, because the universe knew something that you did not. If you could go back and talk to yourself, you wouldn’t change a thing. You’d tell that scared girl to keep on, push through those woods until you find a quaint cabin with a snow covered roof, plumes of smoke coming out of the chimney, and a man chopping wood out front. Go to him. Stay. Don’t run. It will be beautiful.

And it is. Your hand roams to your belly, tears welling up in your eyes, unable to hear anything but the steady thrum of your own heartbeat, guiding you to Joel, always to Joel. Callum’s face sputters nonsense, his army of loyal followers closing in on home, your home. Your Sanctuary. Life stops around you as you turn back to Joel, your souls speaking to one another. Your eyes glance past him to his rifle that leans against the wall inside, then back to his face, and he sees it - senses your shift, hears the silent language you’re speaking, understands you. As he always has.

Finally at peace. You should be red hot with anger, shaking with fear, but you could ascend with the way your soul settles now, at peace knowing that it’s nearly over, no matter the cost. You then steel yourself, irreversible change crackling in the air around you, coursing through your veins.  It’s nearly imperceptible, the dip of your head as you nod, but the power it holds is beautiful and destructive, sanctioning him to do everything you know he does best:

Joel miller ♥︎ One shots

Neighbours help pt. 1* pt. 2*

→ When your fridge breaks down in the middle of the day, you don’t really have a choice but to ask your grumpy old neighbour.

In the car, in the car in the backseat, i’m your baby*

→ it’s summer break at your house and your daddys best friend is also there. The one you wanted to fuck for so long and finally you got the chance.

Behind the tree*

→ after Joel and you got interrupted in the morning, he takes care of it on patrol.

Under his mercy

→ you think it‘s time to let go, you suffered enough and as you find peace and close your eyes, you hear footsteps. Joel miller takes you and saves you, but at what cost?

Millers wood carvings*

→ You want a wood carved present for your dad. Luckily Mr. Miller from Millers Wood Carvings shop is there to help.

First touch*

→ you’re unexperienced and Joel takes your virginity. Some very soft, caring and sweet sex!

What daddy wants, he gets*

→ Joel is insatiable when it comes to you. He has to have you, every damn hour and day. And you are always, desperately ready for him whenever that‘s the case.

Cherry pie*

→ After countless dates with a boy, you know that next time you’re going to sleep with him. But you’re way too inexperienced. So what better way is there than showing up at Joel Miller’s door with cherry pie in hand, and asking if he’s willing to help you out?

Sugar for Repairs*

→ Your car breaks down on a scorching Texas day, and Joel Miller—a sleazy, perverted mechanic—offers to fix it. You can’t afford the price, but Joel’s got other ways to settle debts. You agree once…then come back, heartbroken. This time, he says it’s free. But you? You’re not done wanting.

His to keep* (dark!joel)

→ Since the day Joel found you bleeding on his doorstep, he’s kept you…fed, warm, quiet. All he asks in return is obedience: to him, his rules, and the chart. But when you sneak out—when you break the one rule that really matters—you’re not just wondering how he’ll punish you. You’re wondering if he’ll make you beg for it.

Big mouth*

→ you’re trouble in red lipstick and skimpy dresses. He’s restraint wrapped in flannel and grumpiness. One patrol, one dare, and a tension that hums beneath every glance, every silence, every step through the woods. You always push. He always resists. But even restraint has its limits—especially when temptation bends over rocks, leaves kisses on paper, and asks to be taken while they’re forced to sit in silence in a small room.

Like a Stray Cat* pt. 1 / pt. 2

→ you tiptoe into Joel Miller’s home like a stray cat, always giving him a heart attack, always flashing those doe eyes, tear-spilled and aching, and making his heart twist. So he protects you—cares for you, cooks for you, calls you pet names. But that night feels different. Heavy. There’s an ache crawling through your body, one you don’t understand and can’t quiet. You try. You fail. And when you get caught—by the same man who just called you “kiddo”—you can’t help but ask him for help.

Daddy, i'm sorry*

→ Joel sits downstairs, reading by the stove, trying to pretend he doesn’t hear the footsteps of his son’s girlfriend. Trying to pretend he doesn’t remember what the two of you have done and feel. But when you appear in the dark—barefoot, wide-eyed, floaty-headed and call him Daddy like you still mean something by it, he knows you’re about to break the rules again.

His little Wife*

→ Joel Miller comes home to the one thing he’ll always admit he needs—his little wife, waiting with warm pie and that soft, obedient sweetness that belongs only to him.

The laundry Load*

→ Joel catches himself always staring as you walk over in that flimsy sundress, smile sweet as pie tugging at his restraint. Those pink panties you 'forget' on his bathroom floor? They shouldn’t make his pulse race, or have thoughts he shouldn’t entertain. It’s only laundry, but each visit leaves him harder, hungrier, and his restraint cracking further.

Little Fawn*

→ In a camp where survival depends on silence and obedience, you hide in the supplies tent, trying to outrun the shadow of the man who once pulled you out of the woods and claimed you as his own. But when a cruel voice cuts too deep and old wounds split open, you retreat to the only place you can fall apart unseen—only to find Joel stepping into the dark after you, his presence a reminder of the bond you shouldn’t want, and the one you can’t seem to break.

Strawberry Field*

→ Daddy Joel knows how much your period hurts you. So he takes you to the strawberry field he found. He carries you when your legs give out, feeds you berries one by one, wipes the juice from your chin with his thumb. All he wants is to make you feel better, to remind you that you're his sweet, whiney girl.

Series ♥︎

How to Disappear*

→ after the passing of your mom, you and your dads best friend get close. He understands you because he also once lost something. But Joel is an old man, guilt and the fear of losing you too, overwhelms him. So he leaves you.

@/coffeguitar*

→ After the loss of your father—your best friend—you create an account on the Message Heaven: Lonely Hearts Group forum, hoping to find someone to talk to. Joel Miller, a middle-aged man who lost his daughter and happens to be obsessed with coffee, writes to you. From the very first message, it feels like something just clicks between you.

Ache Beneath the Sleaze*

→ Joel Miller lives out in his beat up van, smells like smoke and sweat, and talks filth like it’s his second language. You’re supposed to be just fuck buddies—no strings, no feelings, just pleasure and orgasms in the backseat. He’s sleazy, shameless, and always has a cigarette hanging from his mouth, he fucks so good you keep coming back. But somewhere between highs and thrusts—it’s starting to feel like more. And neither of you are ready to admit it.

Joel Miller x Jack Abbott collection:

Sex Pollen*

→ It wasn’t supposed to happen. One wrong turn past the perimeter, one breath of unknown, drifting pollen, and suddenly Joel is pounding on Jack Abbott’s door with you burning up in his arms. Now it’s the middle of the night, the town's asleep, and the only medic who won’t report the two of you is the one staring at you down like he already knows this is going to get real bad.

Blurbs ♥︎

Softdom!Joel*

→ What happens if reader is bratty all day long? Joel takes care of it.

Needy*

→ You and Joel are fuck buddies…that‘s it!

sweet, stuffed mess*

→ Joel repeatedly fucking and breeding his girl.

sweat, soup and stubborness

→ Joel is sick, but he just won’t accept it.

happy birthday, old man

→ it’s Joel Miller’s 62th birthday

Deep*

→ Throat fucking special for my birthday!

Drabbels ♥︎

Joel survives

Little belly bulge thought*

Pregnancy reveal drabble

Random dbf!drabble*

Horny thought about cockwarming*

Random thought about old man Joel*

Thoughts about pussy spanking*

Cockwarming*

Somnophilia*

Requests ♥︎

throat fucking -> Joel fucks your throat as a punishment.

Bubble bath -> after a long day of work, Joel helps you relax.

Jealous? -> you’re drunk, and Joel is jealous.

Makin‘ you a Mama* -> Joel discovers how much he would like to see you pregnant.

My Old Man -> Joel battles with the thought that he is way too old for you.

Sweet evening -> Joel takes care of his girl, whenever they are at an event.

It’s okey. -> Joel’s girl has anxiety. And he knows exactly how to help her.

Over his knee* -> Joel punishes his girl.

Safe word* -> a Punishment gone wrong.

cruel* -> Joel punishes you, but he is very mean

You forget, he reminds* -> Pregnancy makes you forget how beautiful you are—Joel reminds.

Let him hear* -> to make Joel jealous, you fuck his brother Tommy.

Daddy takes care the best -> Joel’s girl is sick, and he takes care of her.

Back of the bar* -> a relationship meant to be a secret, gets revealed when Joel can’t help himself.

Forth times the charm* /pt. 2* -> every time you meet up with your ex-husband Joel, you end up pregnant.

Break me* -> Dom Joel fucking reader very rough for her anxious mind.

Sorting you out* -> Joel sorting ovulating reader out.

You don’t even bother to close your robe when you stomp out into the damp night. Your bare feet squelch in the wet grass, and you don’t care. The music gets louder when you get to your neighbor’s door. It’s nice? You guess. You don’t even know anymore.

You pound on his door. Three rasps. You give your neighbor time. Nothing. So you pound again. Until the music stops. Footsteps get closer, floorboards creak.

The door opens, just like your jaw drops. Dark hair slicks back from a face that the gods might as well have sculpted. Sharp cheekbones, strong nose, plush lips, big brown eyes. He’s in a black tank top, ridiculously broad shoulders escaping the flimsy fabric. His gray sweatpants hang loose on his hips. His whole look suggests either a strategic carelessness or a total lack of giving a shit. It might be due to how fucking horny you are, but your new neighbor could be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

His dark eyes size and assess you. Your robe. The flimsy, light pink tank top sticking to your skin, the short, barely there sleep shorts with tiny, green polka dots. Your hair’s probably a mess, your skin still damp with a sweat of frustration. He looks almost amused at the sight of you, but his eyes linger a little longer than propriety should suggest at your thighs.

“Can I help you?” he asks. Deep, kinda dark, like a freshly poured cup of your favorite coffee.

“It’s la—” your voice squeaks. You clear your throat, square your shoulders. “It’s late. Your music. It’s… loud. Some of us have to, you know. Sleep.”

He leans on the doorframe, folds his arms, and your eyes square in on the way his biceps bulge, the line of his forearms. “Sleep,” he says.

“Yes. That’s right. It’s past 11.”

“Didn’t think it was that loud.”

“Could you turn it down at least?”

A thick eyebrow arches up. “Guess these walls are paper-thin. I suppose I could use a different bow.”

There’s no shame in his voice, no apology, and it just irks you more. You wobble a bit in the way he looks at you, half wanton desire, half boredom.

“I’d… appreciate that.”

“Mm,” he says, and his lip quirks up in a maddeningly handsome smirk… like he knows he’s gorgeous and getting under your skin. “You best get back to… sleep,” he says.

You nod, because you have no other fucking clue how to respond under his heated, cocky gaze and the revelation that the music was being played by him and not a too-loud stereo.

The silk of your robe swishes across your hot skin as you make your way across the grass to your bungalow. You’re sure your neighbor’s watching you the whole way and you don’t dare look back.

He keeps his word, you can barely hear the music when you lie back down in bed. Fuck him for being beautiful. Your whole body is still reverberating from the baritone rasp of his voice. You press a pillow over your face and scream an annoyed sound into it, as the heat of his gaze still blooms across your body.

At least now all you can hear is nothing but the sound of your breathing, picking up when the heel of your hand slinks its way back between your thighs. Jesus Christ, you’re even wetter now. You’re leaking a frustrating hunger, the image of your neighbor’s big shoulders and golden skin playing in your mind. You imagine his biceps pinning you down and his thick fingers hooking against your waist as he pounds into you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, picturing his wide palm against your mouth. You wonder what he sounds like when he cums, is it as sad and tragic sounding as the music he plays?

God, it’s so easy now. Your body’s arching up, desperate to feel how soft his tank-topped chest is when it’s shoved against your chest. You can almost feel him, the weight of him atop you, his dark eyes searing into you as you edge yourself closer and closer. You’re pressing needy circles against your clit, your thighs tensing and toes curling. “Fuck, fuck,” you moan out, too loud for your own good and the silence of your own bungalow. Your hips are moving against your hand harder, faster, and when you think of that damned smirk of his and the way he’d watch you shatter apart for him, you orgasm, hard and hot and loud. “Oh fuck, godddd,” you moan. You don’t even care. You want him to hear it. Maybe he will, with the thin walls. Maybe he won’t, because he’s too busy playing that damned music. Maybe he heard a hint, and now he’s sat, frozen in his chair, bow in one hand, listening to your own symphony between the walls.

—-

Two nights of silence, and then you hear it… a loud cat-like moan around 11 PM. Followed by another high-pitched mew. “Aleeeeex,” the shrill sounds. “Oh god, Alex.”

So, your hot neighbor’s name is Alex.

A rhythmic thumping starts up against your wall, fast, brutal, not sweet. You can’t help yourself as you move towards the wall, listening in for any type of low grunt or groan, but there’s nothing… just a repetitive smack of wood against drywall and the squealing of a woman.

You roll over, turn on your speaker, and pick up your phone. You know the perfect song. You scroll to the B’s in your music, find Cello Suite no. 2 by Bach, and let the sad, melancholy play… loud.

The pace just behind the shared wall picks up, and the wails of the woman speed up, along with the tapping against the wall. Now it’s your time to smirk, take that, Alex, and whoever he’s decided to fuck.

And when the roaring sadness of the music slows and quiets at a point… you hear it. A long, low groan timed perfectly to the song, almost like he was waiting for it.

You feel the angry roar of want in your body at the sound of him and let the song fade out as you reach into your drawer and pull out your vibrator.

—-

The next night, the cello is back, at 11 on the dot. Louder. Like it’s back to mock you. You shake your head and smile, willing it not to bother you as you turn in bed and put a pillow over your ear, but even through the muffled down, you recognize the song. It’s Cello Suite no. 2, just like you played him last night.

Damn, he’s talented. You have to give him that.

By 11:30, he hasn’t stopped, and the cello almost plays like a siren song to you and your sleepy, horny frustrations. You step out into the night air, and you swear the cool air hisses against your heated skin. No robe this time, just you and your light blue silky, short nightdress, complete with the lace trim across your breasts.

You punch at his door again, then stand back, arms crossed. You’re sure your nipples are pressing against the thin fabric, and you don’t care.

He answers almost instantly, and good lord, he’s only in a pair of boxers and a loose, button-up shirt.

“You’re playing on purpose now, aren’t you?” you ask him, no greeting, just attitude.

“I need to practice. Figured you’d like to hear it.”

You snort. “So why that song?”

His hand rests against the doorframe and he looms over you. “Thought I’d return the favor of last night.” You roll your eyes and huff. “Thanks.”

He turns his head back to his living room, then back at you, deep brown eyes searing into you. “Come in. I’ll play you something else.”

“It’s late.”

“It’s not like you were going to sleep anyway.”

You don’t say anything, you just walk past him into his place. It’s neat, in order, vintage furniture with modern touches. His bow is discarded on the floor, the cello leaning against the wall.

He lifts his hand, guides you to his couch, a soft, buttery leather that dips when you settle on it, mindful of just how short your nightdress is. He bends to pick up the bow, and your throat goes dry as you stare at his ass. You blink yourself back to reality as he takes a seat and places his cello between his legs. God, his legs, strong and dusted with hair, he looks to be golden all over.

He begins playing. Something you don’t recognize, but it’s smooth and sultry. Your heart and body answer, heating and beating with each note of music that flows from the instrument.

Alex doesn’t look up, he’s transfixed by the music he plays, and you’re just as spellbound. You’re sure you’re breathing hard, sure your pulse is thrumming along to the song. You don’t know how long you sit like that, mesmerized by the music and the man. If this is how he looks as he plays, then you’ll surely sacrifice the nights of sleep, just to let this beauty out into the world.

His head tips back, neck straining as his head lulls back and forth, caught in the notes, and when he looks at you, dark brown eyes meeting yours, you know he can see the way your chest is rising and falling, the heat of your stare. He gifts you one of those damned smirks, but this time it’s different. It’s heated and full of desire. He watches you watch him, and you can’t look away. Every note he plays flows through you, from your ears to between your thighs.

Alex’s arm slows, the bow stopping, and the last warble of the strings escapes the cello. He sets the cello against the wall with reverence, his loose shirt gapes open as he turns, exposing golden chest and a dark line of hair. You try to adjust how you’re sitting, the leather couch sticking to you with the heat of your thighs.

His eyes roam over you, from your bare legs up to your chest, up, up, finally meeting your eyes again. He licks his lips, pink tongue against his plush bottom lip. He smiles, hot, knowing, painfully cocky. “Did you like it?” he asks.

You answer with a bobble of your head. Any type of words would just fail to be husked out of your dry throat. Goodness, you want him. You want him a way that’s almost embarrassing in the desperate, feral way you do.

"You want to try to play?" he asks.

You’re silent again, just another nod sent to him.

He pats his thighs, beckons you over, and you rise and pad towards him, going to exactly where he wants you. He parts his legs, and you straddle his lap, your back meeting his chest. You’re painfully aware of the silk of your dress clinging to the arch of your ass, the way your thighs bracket his, his skin meeting your skin. You move, hoping he can’t feel how wet you are for him, but you hear the small grunt, and you know he absolutely can.

He picks up the cello and sets it between both of you, the smooth wood is cool against your thigh. He wraps his arms around your waist, enveloping you in his strong arms, his chest flexing against your back.

You’re glitching, absolutely dumbstruck by how gentle and low his voice is as he places your fingers over the strings. “Here,” he whispers, guiding your hand to the cello’s neck. “Thumb here. Not too tight.” His hands are big and hot. His breath fans across your ear, and it makes you shiver.

“Now, try,” he says, handing you the bow. You attempt to make a song, but you’re so heady off the closeness of him that you’re too clumsy to do anything right. The bow draws across the strings, and it’s… like a car crash of a note, but he tightens his arms and chuckles low against your ear.

“Again,” he whispers, and you try. This time, the note is softer, a pleasant hum leaves the cello. “Good,” he says, lips grazing against your earlobe. He rewards you by letting his hand skim against your thigh.

There’s a shared hunger, an almost understanding, guided by the music and want that’s drifted between the walls. You melt and tense at the same time, and you feel the press of his cock against you when you tilt back and press yourself into him.

He slides his hand up, rucking up the hem of your dress. “You still want to play?”

You’re dizzy, barely holding onto the bow. “No.”

“Then set the bow down.”

You obey, letting it clatter to the floor. He takes the cello from between your legs and sets it aside while keeping you still locked against him, hand splayed against your belly. “Spread your legs,” Alex tells you.

You instantly spread, letting him slip his palm between you and trace your soaked pussy through the wispy layer of your lace panties. You almost lose it right there, hips jerking at the thick, callused fingers of his exploring the drenched line of your cunt.

He lets out a low, incredulous growl as he touches you, pressing his mouth to your neck, sucking at the skin. “Feel good?” he rumbles. “Yeah?”

“Fuccck,” you manage.

He smiles into your neck, slides his fingers into your panties, parts you, thick, middle finger slowly exploring before plunging deep into you. You moan, noisy and erupting, louder than any song he can play.

He fucks you with his hand, two fingers, thick and skilled, shallow then deep, giving you a pattern you’ll never guess. His thumb rubs circles on your clit, making you stupid with just how good he is at this. You’re sweating now, shaking, under the control of Alex’s possessive hands against your body.

He’s rutting and hard against you, whispering “that’s it, that’s it,” over and over as his fingers play you like an instrument he’s mastered.

You cum for him, so hard you shudder and squeeze. Head knocking back against his broad chest. He growls, licks up the sweat of you, holding you tighter as you ride and writhe against his fingers.

He pulls his fingers out, yanks your panties to the side, and frees his cock from the thin cotton of his boxers. You don’t know if you’ve ever wanted someone so bad before and when he brushes the fat tip of him against your accepting hole, you gasp at the promise of his size.

It’s one monstrous, behemoth of a thrust that makes your eyes flutter shut and all the air escape you. He fucks up into you hard, and you grab at his big hands, holding on as the old wooden chair frame creaks. He’s so fucking thick, overwhelming and rough, but Christ, the way your slippery cunt swallows him, it’s like he was fit for you. You ride him, back rubbing against his chest as he pumps in and out of you, the noise of your slick and his grunts crescendoing in the sex-heavy air.

He grabs your hips, planting both feet on the floor, and starts railing up into you so deep you let out a sob of his name. He’s rewarding and withholding at the same time, sliding all the way out, holding you above himself, letting you beg for him, until he plants all of himself into you. He slinks a hand up your body, thumb stroking your cheek before he sticks two of his fingers into your mouth.

You taste the sweet tang of your orgasm, tongue licking at the rough and ridges of his fingers. You suck, and he groans, bucking so hard the chair actually scoots back across the floor.

He must want to see you desperate and dumb, his other hand finding your moving between your legs, playing with you there. It only takes a couple strokes of his fingers against your puffy, needy clit for him to orchestrate your orgasm out of you. It’s shocking how fucking hard you cum for him, how white your vision goes, how the pulse of your body pulses a cacophony of beats. Alex fucks straight through your orgasm, cock spearing you as you whimper around his fingers and drip around his cock. But, he’s losing it now, panting into the crook of your neck, hips snapping so loud against you.

He pulls out, and you feel the slide of his cock head against your clit when he cums, thick, white ropes painting against your panties, your belly, the silk of your dress. You’re still floating high like the music notes he plays, a trembling mess in his arms when you lean your head back and can’t help but laugh. Alex chuckles, too. Both of you are sticky and soaked, pressed together, glazed in shared sweat and cum.

The cello sits unused, the bow on the floor. Alex’s forehead rests against your shoulder as he comes down. You think he’s going to say something smart and frustrating, but he just kisses your shoulder blade and tightens his arms around you.

@cursed(your)wombz huh?

He had a pitch-black profile picture and a layout with nothing of note, a banner as equally colorless and unnotable, and a simple bio stating: 

I know what you want…

- C.

And beneath that was a link.

It stood out stark against the black background. You don’t click on it, of course- for fear of being something malicious, you’re avoiding it like you’d avoid a minefield. 

You’ve already heard one too many horror stories on here about such things. One click and you’d find your address posted somewhere. Instead, your eyes drop to the number of followers he had…and your eyebrows are immediately shooting up.

0 Following.

581k Followers.

Now that makes you blink.

Okay- alright, maybe it wasn’t the most astounding number you’ve ever seen throughout your expansive time on the Internet - but it was still niche celebrity-status. Especially on this app. Especially to be stalking an account like yours…where all you did was repost the stray picture of a pretty landscape or yell into the aether about your missing assignments for your friends to comment on. 

Now that was a little strange.

And so you’re scrolling down.

And you never quite know what you’re in for whenever you enter the realm of a person’s account—fanfiction with tags you never knew existed, one part of an argument on social media that really shouldn’t exist, mpreg. 

Which was all fine and dandy to be quite honest- you just never expect to be met with the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The first picture you’re seeing- pinned.

Posted just an hour ago. It’s a mirror selfie taken at a low angle; of a man with his body angled towards the lens and his phone covering his face. In nothing but a towel. With nothing but his chiselled body. His beefy arms flexed as he takes the picture, biceps rippled with a few veins—though still lean and almost smooth to the touch. Pierced nipples. Defined abs. Your eyes linger on the sparse dusting of dark hair leading below, below, below his fluffy white towel…

The picture cuts off just a few inches past his navel. You know because you’re enlarging it.

The photo is almost vampiric in nature.

Somehow. 

Dimly-lit. Beautiful—he clearly knew his angles and lighting. It’s slightly blurry and you can’t make out much of the man’s features - nothing more than the slender length of his fingers, silver rings, and the outline of his dark (perhaps brown?) hair. Touching his shoulders. From just above the hem of his towel, the amorphous blur of a tattoo snakes down his left v-line - and no matter how much you’re zooming in, you can’t quite figure out what it is. 

Something twists at the pit of your stomach as you’re latching your eyes onto the very obvious bulge he was sporting through the towel - very.

The flash created a shadow of his lengthy cock—oh. Hanging between thick thighs, heavy and needy. And it also illuminated the slight dampness clinging onto his body; perhaps he’d just gotten out of the shower, or was about to take on after a workout. 

Whichever scenario it was, both made your thighs clench- fuck.

Fingers slightly shaky, you’re exiting out of the picture and scrolling down for more. 

The next post is a video seemingly taken from the very same instance: it was from the point of view of the beautiful man. Facing downwards, as he zoomed the camera in on his bulge and ran one vein-covered, ringed hand down his abs- down his pelvis- down to that throbbing erection and squeezed himself through his towel. 

And then through your speakers echoes out the most pornographic moan. 

Thank goodness your dorm had thick walls. 

And that’s when you decide that you’ve seen enough.

Not enough as in enough enough to block this strange man and move on with your life- of course, not. As quickly as your fingers would possibly let you, you’re exiting out of the video and scrolling up to a bio that seemed to have more to hide than the first time you read through it. 

The link stands mockingly stark - almost winking at you - against the dark background. You think you know what it is.

And you click on it.

Suddenly, your laptop screen’s flooding with a gaudy pink color. A loading circle swivels in the middle of it for a few seconds, before you’re met with a logo in swooping, slanted black script: C4mBoyfriends. Better than that boy in your dms.

Rapidly, you’re opening up a new tab and typing in the name.

“C4mBoyfriends is an adult streaming platform that hosts webcam performers that choose to label themselves as male. Here they can stream live video, post photographs, and interact on forums with a wide array of paying viewers—for a range of content catering to specific niches or sexual roleplays. C4mBoyfriends, since its recent launch, has shot up in the industry as one of the most-visited adult sites and the safest for its performers. All cuts go to the performers themselves and the site runs on separate donations from its audience.”

Ah- you’d guessed right.

Excitement burbles at the pit of your stomach for a few seconds. You’re clicking back onto the tab with the pink logo, and finding that it’d stopped loading.

It was in the layout of a streaming device, with static images of ongoing streams on one side of the platform, and different pages listed out on top. But what took up the majority of your screen was the vision of the very same man from before- from the mirror selfie, from the video.

This time, it was a stream.

@cursed(your)wombz is streaming—#1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends [101 week streak]. [Only solo]. Your internet boyfriend <3

0 Subscribed.

820k Subscribers.

455k Currently watching.

This time, he had his towel lifted up and his hands fisted around his fat cock.

Perfectly angled. 

Your jaw drops. He was about eight- maybe more inches, though you weren’t in the state to count. Way too entranced by the way his veiny, ring-decorated hands were wrapped around his cock. Large. He was just so loooong and standing tall between wide-spread legs, shiverin’ every time he’s gliding his hand up and down. Up and down. 

Again and again.

Getting faster by the second before he arches-

The edge of his thumb’s reaching for his ruby-red crown—then smearing the glistening liquid that just kept on foaming from the top. He lathers it upon his palm and drags it down his hot erection, making every inch gleam underneath the off-camera lighting.

You’re clicking on a button to increase your volume.

And just in time, too, because then he snakes his left hand down and squeezes his heavy balls- letting out a botched groan that leaves your shorts oh-so-wet. 

Deep and guttural; there’s a slight quiver in them as he whispers. “F-fuck.” Just so full and sensitive—the man’s head tips backwards and his hips buck off the cushioned chair. Sluttily. As though he was fucking something invisible. It’s creaking ever-so-slightly as he settles back down, composing himself just a little bit before he starts cumming.

Pearly white droplets of cum. 

Beading from the very top of his shaft - where he was the most pink n’ angry - shaking as he empties out. Globs of it start to glide down his length, and a few more collect where his silver Prince Albert’s piercing was positioned right beneath his mushroomy tip.

You’re just letting your eyes linger upon that little heap of satiny sap, when the man thumbs upwards and smears that, too. Such a mess.

And you think that might be all- but then he’s reaching his non-dominant hand upwards and pressing down on his frothing cockhead. Stopping himself from cumming - and as he leans to the side, you swear you’re glimpsing the twinkle of even more piercings on the upper side of his shaft. Was that…a Jacob’s ladder?

You’re rendered so damn speechless that you almost don’t register him speaking- “Awwww, did my pretty sluts wanna watch me cum?” 

A shiver runs down your spine at the hitched tone of his voice- drunk on lust. He’s slightly slurring. So alluring, you almost catch yourself nodding.

“Well, too bad.” The man meanly snickers, before he’s suddenly reaching out with his non-dominant hand and angling it higher. The screen shifts to display that very same mouth-watering body from the picture—though, this time with the addition of a black-and-white mask that covered his features from forehead to his sharp jawline. 

The only opening in it was a concave cutout for his mouth - almost reminiscent of a Phantom of the Opera mask. In the background was a clearly expensive bedroom of a clearly expensive home - far different from your single dorm - an artwork that you couldn’t name on the wall behind him. Something like a photograph or a portrait. Something about it was so precise- so cinematic. Like watching a movie scene. He continues, “Because you know why? You don’t deserve it.”

There’s a flurry of comments on one side of the screen, so fast that you wonder how he reads it.

“Didn’t I tell you to spam me with your nastiest stories in the chat?” He asks, and from beneath his mask you catch the outline of dark eyes shifting down those hurried words. Those needy comments. “None of you are nasty enough, so none of you get to see me cum…”

You’re tearing your eyes off of him to peruse what they were saying.

@girrrrrrrrrrth: nuuuuuu please, curse! i’ll get on my knees!!

@vampzo333: me too ME TOO

@likezmenpregnant: My story about the body pillow wasn’t nasty enough? TT

@CCpervnextdoor: AWWWW I’m begging~

@Curse’swifey: I’LL PAY YOU EXTRA PLEASEEEEEEE

@Curse’swifey donated 500 cherries.

“Tch- what a desperate bunch. Just fucking look at yourselves…” And though his words weren’t in the least bit nice, you couldn’t deny just how badly he made your cunt twinge. 

Curse…that’s what his name was, huh?

You’re squeezing your thighs together- your sleep shorts were definitely soaked. 

Curse rolls out the kinks in his neck just a little, and stares down at the camera with a crooked grin. “But that’s not gonna be enough. I said to be nasty- so be nasty.” The active chat becomes nothing but a blur once more: pleas, donations, stories half-typed in their urgency. “And in return I’ll moan whatever name you want me to moan when I cum.”

Before you know it, you’re opening up the sign-up page in a new tab.

Keeping Curse’s livestream playing in the background as you zip through your details. You’re picking out a username for yourself: Ietsmakeamovie and hastily going back to the ongoing stream with your newfound handle. Was it too obvious to make it the same username as your other account? The one that he had stalked?

Fuck- you’re too wound up to think of something else at this point. You decide that you’ll change it later…

Luckily, Curse’s stream didn’t have a paying threshold before you could comment. And you’re jittery with excitement as you pull the laptop closer to yourself and start typing out something—hitting send before you could overthink it.

@Ietsmakeamovie: Seeing you is the first time I’ve gotten this wet.

Curse’s eyes drift down the chat, and he seems to latch onto something. Eyes widening just a fraction.

“The first time?”

Fuck.

You’re feeling a jolt at the way he addresses you - never expecting him to pick out that comment amongst tens of thousands of others that were uttering even filthier things. Curse leans in and speaks with his deep tone, “Those other boys didn’t know how to treat a perfect pussy like yours, huh? This is why they call me the Internet boyfriend, baby.”

@Ietsmakeamovie: Yeah.

@Ietsmakeamovie: Fuck, you’re so hot.

@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t even wanna look away to touch myself.

You feel embarrassed typing it all out - but you console yourself with the notion that no one here knows who you are. And you don’t know anyone here, either.

Curse leans back and starts pumping his cock even harder—taking his left hand off the drivelling top. His milky-white precum is frenzied n’ sticks to his hand like glue, and the chat grows more and more excited as Curse’s actions do the same.

“That’s alright, baby, you don’t have to finger yourself.” He chuckles, eyes locked on the comments. “I’d be doing that for you if I was there.”

@Ietsmakeamovie: Wish you were. You’d reach so much deeper.

@Ietsmakeamovie donated 1000 cherries.

“Fuh-fuck—” He hisses, head throwing back in his chair. You take the time to admire the lines of his prominent Adam’s apple - the way it bobs every time he’s taking a shaky swallow. “No need to donate or anything, baby, just keep- ngh, talking t’me like this and that’s enough…”

@0003h0lesforCurse: holy shit. i’ve never seen him like this.

@CCpervnextdoor: Needy Curse I like it~

@bewbsRlife: KEEP GOING OP KEEP GOING!!

You giggle to yourself.

@Ietsmakeamovie: Enough to make you cum, Curse?

“Greedy, greedy girl…” Through the slightest gaps in his mask you’re catching the way his nose crinkles in amusement. A wolfish smile. “S’that what you all want?”

The chat explodes in agreement.

He cocks his head, “Movie?”

Was that your new nickname now? Hastily, you reply-

@Ietsmakeamovie: Mhm.

“Well then…” He grins, toned body arching off the chair. “Get ready for a show—” Darkened gaze narrowing at the comments, “And you better not take your eyes off of me for a single second- hump your damn pillows if you have to. I don’t care.”

Quickly grabbing your own puffy pillow, you’re stuffing it between your legs.

Right as Curse lets his head loll backwards- and his cum drizzles out of his cock. He’s been edging the poor viewers and overstimulatin’ himself for so fucking long now—all it takes is a few pumps to let the cascade of white coat his hands and his rings. Just the slightest bit of silver peaking through.

Hard and fast.

The man’s cockhead flushes even redder as he drags his high out deliciously. Every burst of dopamine. Every heaving pant. Every pretty moan escaping him. 

It seems to be ramming into him in waves- gooey ribbons of seed coat his digits. Getting smeared like a gloss across eeeeevery single inch, ridge, and vein—and since Curse’s pace was something furious, a few globs of cum splatter across the towel and onto his thighs. A mess that he’s seeming to love.

Because in the next few seconds, he’s wrung out just the final bits of pleasure in him- and is raising his cum-coated fingers up to his mouth and sucking. Staring straight into the camera lens as he does so.

You’re watching slack-jawed as those long, lacquered digits disappear between his lips. Finishin’ them off squeaky clean and letting his head tip to the side.

He mouths, “Movie—”

Part of your username.

Though you hadn’t asked for him to moan your name, as he’d promised to do to one of the viewers had they been nasty enough. And this special treatment…

Maybe he did it to every new viewer. Maybe he just liked how much you complimented him- though everyone else did, too. Either way, it’s perhaps what sets off the bursts of electricity between your legs—and soon enough you’re hurtling into a high you hadn’t even realized had been building up and up and up.

Your lashes flutter shut as the orgasm overtakes you. 

Hips ruttin’ away into the plushness of your pillow- you wonder just how much better riding him would be…

And that’s setting off a whole new layer of dopamine at your core, your cunt quiverin’ as white-hot pleasure makes your heartbeat throb in your ears. Chest pounding. Breaths heavy.

By the time you’ve finished pushing through your high, you’re coming to find that Curse had somewhat cleaned himself up with the towel and was bantering back n’ forth with the chat. He rests his head on one hand and sweeps his eyes down the usernames, “What happened to dear Movie, huh?” Curse pretends to pout. “The first stream wasn’t too much for her, right?”

@girrrrrrrrrrth: kekekeke you’re too freaky, curse!!

@CCpervnextdoor: So dirty~

@daddytoeknee: Must thank Movie for the show though…

Urgently, you’re gathering yourself and tapping a few buttons on-screen.

@Ietsmakeamovie subscribed to @cursed(your)wombz. 

@Ietsmakeamovie donated 2500 cherries.

@Ietsmakeamovie: It’d never be too much.

“Ahhh, there you are.” Such a beautiful smile smears across his face, and Curse’s leaning in to take a closer look at the comments. “And thank you for subscribing, same time tomorrow?”

You’re unsure whether that was directed at you or everyone viewing- but you’re chiming in agreement alongside the rest of the comments. And Curse reads through them, lingering for just a little while longer before he grins.

“Heh- bye, sluts.”

And he covers the camera, the stream cuts off. 

Yet your heart still thunders.

Ignoring the time at the bottom of your laptop screen, you’re then clicking on his profile and scrolling through what other videos he had…

.

.

.

It was your fault that you kept dozing off.

Honestly. 

You should have known better- and you know that you should’ve known better…but you couldn’t help yourself. After Curse’s initial stream, you spent some time browsing through the numerous photographs and short clips that he’d posted; there were even some saved streams that were each dirtier than the last—each with his attractive mask and his even more attractive voice, his sensual cock getting pumped over and over for the audiences.

And so you’d left a few comments, a few hearts.

Throughout all of them, you made the peculiar discovery that they were all more high-quality than the last. The standard of being the #1 on the site, you guess. But the lighting and angles were all just so perfect…

You’d watched them for just a little while- at least, what you’d thought was a little while. Because by the time you’re realizing that your laptop battery was dying, and your eyes were tired, you’re turning your head in the direction of the dorm windows and- fuck.

Why was the Sun coming up?

And so you’d rushed to get at least half an hour of sleep before you had to get up for your 8AM lecture. 

Professor Yaga taught Film 101 as though he was trying to scare everyone off it. Rigorous coursework and never-altered deadlines. Though you yourself wouldn’t consider him an unreasonable man, it was impertinent to be punctual and alert in his classes - and right now, you were feeling neither of those. 

By the grace of the universe, you’re somehow managing to stumble into class just two minutes after it starts. It’s not enough to rouse Yaga’s anger - and either way, you had made a name for yourself as one of his most avid students - though it does get you a sternly raised brow as you apologize and take the nearest open seat.

Just-so-happening to be in the very last row. 

At the very forgotten corner.

Right beside who you knew to be Yaga’s actually most avid student—Choso Kamo.

Had it been a race between the two of you - perhaps between the entire department - Choso would have finished five times before anyone’s even stepping past the finish line. You would’ve gotten second. And that wasn’t to diminish your abilities in any way - you’d long since proven yourself to be one of the best students this course had even seen - it’s just…Choso was a film nerd through and through. 

If there was anyone that could live up to such a title, then it was him.

Choso lived, slept, and breathed film and television. He could name any television show around the world with just a single frame, and most he could recite line-for-line. Oh, that? He learned Korean just to immerse himself in that scene in Parasite. That scene? It was from the 1957 Sri Lankan film Amba Yahaluwo, by the way did you know that Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom was filmed there, too?

Knitted vest. Hair in two messy space buns. 

Clunky glasses rested atop his nosebridge, and dark bangs covering most of his vision, you’d often see him tottering around campus with a column of books that was damn-near taller than him. And despite his towering demeanour - from your mental counting, Choso was around 6’2 or more - around most of the student body, he was the type that couldn’t meet your eyes no matter how many classes you shared with him.

Even now, as you seated right next to him and smiled- Choso softly yelps and turns away from.

You don’t take it personally, of course, as he was simply the shy type. And by the flush that rises to his high cheekbones, you know he - at the very least - doesn’t dislike you.

Situating yourself, you’re opening your bag and pulling out your laptop. Opening it- fuck.

The briefest flash of one of Curses’s previous streams—where he had his cock in his hands and his face contorted mid-ecstasy flashes across your screen. And you can’t slam your laptop shut fast enough- cracking it just the slightest bit to exit out of the numerous tabs, fingers nothing but a blur. Thank fuck your volume hadn’t been set on high.

Head ducked, you’re looking out from the corner of your eye to check whether Choso had seen anything. 

But if he did, he shows no indication.

Only keeping his back ramrod straight- his gaze ahead- his flush fiery as he listens to whatever Yaga was saying. 

And so you think you’re in the clear…for now…

Opening your laptop up once more, you’re logging onto your lecture platforms and attempting to forget about last night. Which was difficult when that smile upon Curse’s face, just beneath his mask - was the only thing running through your mind.

And before you know it, you’d been staring blankly at your screen for a few seconds—before Choso inches in just a centimeter closer. Unwilling to let himself take up even more space. He keeps his eyes trained ahead and his voice - fuck, you’d never heard his voice before but it was just so deep and measured, something you wouldn’t have expected out of him - low. 

Whispering to you, “H-he’s on Chapter 18 of Stone Butch Blues, we’re about to write a screenplay for the zoo scene.” 

“Ah…” You don’t know whether you’re more surprised at the timbre of his voice or the way he managed a proper sentence out to you. All your previous attempts at conversation throughout the semester had been futile—and you’d long resigned yourself to the idea that he was too nervous to ever talk to you. “Th-thank you.”

He doesn’t answer but nods in shy acknowledgement.

And as you’re opening up your file, you bask in the realization that Choso Kamo was actually hot underneath those glasses. If only you could see his features further…

Maybe you’re being a little delirious. Your eyes feel heavy. 

Heavy.

Heavier. 

Tap-tap-tap.

A shake.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

A warm hand on your shoulder, by the time you’re opening your eyes- you’re looking up into even warmer, molten chocolate-colored ones. They were framed by fawny eyelashes and thick glasses that made his shy gaze seem ever-so-slightly amplified. 

You think you’re stunned for a few seconds before Choso speaks, “U-um…class is over.”

“Oh.” That makes you dart your head up and look around, noticing that most of the students had filtered in or were in the process of already doing so. “Oh, shit-”

You’d seriously slept through all that?

And Yaga had left you alive?!

No, you weren’t going to question this act of mercy—thank goodness for the last row, because he likely hadn’t been able to see you. Shooting upright, you’re grabbing all your things and hoping you hadn’t snored next to the sweet boy - “Thank you so much for waking me.” You’re turning towards him and saying, earnestness seeping into your tone. “Knowing me, I would’ve slept right through till next class. Might actually have been more convenient.”

He startles into a laugh then raises a hand up to his mouth and quietens himself down, “It’s alright.” You’re staring closely at the little bells of laughter, and he turns his eyes downwards. Bashfully admitting, “Happens to me too, whenever I stay up um- studying. Long night?”

You sigh, “You could say that…” Not a long night studying, but…

And as the conversation quietens down and Choso worries down on his bottom lip, you’re hiking your backpack up on your shoulders and saying. “Well, I guess I should be going then. Catch up on the recordings of the lecture and everything-” Turning, “See you ‘round—and thanks again.”

You make all of five steps before Choso finally gathers up the courage to call out-

“Wait—!”

Confused, you’re facing him once more. “Yes?”

And his hand was out, his fingers were slightly trembling. He was mouthing out the words as though still debating whether to speak them into existence - whether he was capable of. “I…we-” Eventually mustering up the courage once you give a reassuring nod, “When will we meet up?”

That makes you pause.

Was he…

“F-for the assignment.” Choso clarifies, a flush rising to his cheeks as he likely realizes he should’ve led with that. “Professor Yaga’s mid-semester project he always does…”

Ah—you’re clapping a palm on your forehead. How could you have forgotten? Yaga had announced at the start of the semester that about halfway through, the class would be paired up or put into groups to work on a collaborative project that contributed to about 50% of your grade. This semester, it was to write a full-length movie screenplay for a book or musical of your choice. And you’d been excited for it, in fact, but after the…activities of last night it’d completely slipped your mind that he’d be delving more into it this lecture.

And the poor boy stumbles through his explanation, “H-he let everyone choose their partners, and I wanted to wake you up but…you just looked so peaceful.” He fidgets with his fingers and flushes, “I th-thought one of your friends would come up here and choose you but-”

Probing him gently, “But?”

“B-but I’m afraid you ended up paired with me.” Choso just looks so genuinely apologetic- “I’m sorry- no one picked me either. I should’ve woken you up, but we can go talk with Professor Yaga about changing partners if you’d like-”

“Hey—wait.” You’re cutting off his spiel, something in your chest aching at the utterly devastated furrow between his brows. You take a step closer to him, “I would love to do the project with you, Choso. No need to talk to Yaga about anything.”

He looks up at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “B-but your friends…”

“I don’t really have close friends in this class, anyway.” You smile, “I’d much rather do it with you.”

“Really—?” Breathed. As if he couldn’t believe it.

And it’s after some time - and a deep inhale - that he speaks again. Finally sinking in that someone would choose him of all people—that you would, that he speaks again. “And um- would you like to work on the script at my place?” Before you can answer, his breath hitches and his head shoots up. “N-not that I’m pressuring you into…it’s nothing weird, I promise! We can meet anywhere else you like- the library, your place- wait, no that’s weird, too…”

“Choso- Choso.” You giggle. And if this was anyone else then you would’ve assumed that they were putting the moves on you. “I’m okay with your place.”

.

.

.

The apartment was a fair distance away from the campus dorms. 

Which made sense, you suppose, given the fact that less than half the people there would be able to afford the rent on such a place—especially after tuition. The highrise dove into the clouds, its vermicular body scaled in glistening windows and gold-accented furnishings within. You got the distinct feeling of being swallowed whole as you entered through the widely-gaped entrance, with several doormen and security that eyed you up and down, bowed at Choso.

You thanked them and made your way - slightly speechless - through the hallways.

This was everything you could ever dream of, and you’re sure you spot the odd actor or two down in the lobby. As you’re getting into an elevator the size of your entire dorm room, Choso punches in one of the highest floor numbers and turns to you-

Throughout the bus ride here, you’d been the one chattering away. And so it surprises you once he finally speaks, “I-I’m sorry…my place is a bit of a mess.”

“Can’t be as bad as mine. I won’t judge.” Who cares about a mess when he lives in a place like this? You couldn’t wait to go inside…

He pushes his chunky glasses upwards and gives you a shy smile, “Thank you.” Looking down at his polished shoes, “You’re so sweet.”

“Thank you.” 

And you rise upwards in silence.

Soon enough, you’re finding yourself being led up to his massive apartment. He’s punching in the numbers of the code and setting his backpack down—telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you shuffle inside awkwardly; past the lavish furnishings and the alien-shaped lamps that all rich places seemed to boast. 

He leads you in the direction of the master bedroom - where Choso said that his film collection was vast and likely to reveal techniques that the two of you would be able to incorporate into your own script.

“I even have a copy of Momijigari- it’s one of my most prized possessions.” He shoots you such a charming smile, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, over his shoulder. Heading inside. 

And you can’t help but follow.

A single step inside his not-so-humble abode and you’re feeling a sudden sense of déjà vu wash over you, rendering you unsteady on your feet. Not quite sure why, you’re sweeping your eyes around the space: the high-quality camera equipment in one corner (not unusual to see for a film student), the chic furnishings, and then over to the empty wall space above the king-sized bed, something in you remained dissatisfied as they find nothing there but white plaster.

Choso notices that you’ve stalled behind and looks over at you curiously—he was taking a seat on the carpet, laptop opened up on top of the coffee table. “Something wrong? I’m sorry, I know it’s really messy but-”

“No, you’re good.” You shake your head, “It’s actually not messy enough.”

He smiles.

That night, you went home and wondered why Choso’s smile looked so familiar.

.

.

.

The musical that you’d chosen for your ‘adaptation’ was The Phantom of the Opera, suggested by you, of course.

And if there had been any connection to the masked man you’d been watching the night prior, then you were just glad that Choso had no idea.

It was far easier, given the fact that it’d already been adapted from the initial novel—though that only meant that Yaga would be critiquing yours even harder. 

So you had to strive to be more cinematic, than the others in your class, stronger in ways than the ones before you - and though you doubt you’d ever match up to Schumacher’s visuals, there was little doubt as to whether you’d be the best amongst the students. This was a screenplay made to impress, and in the week since you’d pored over it—and Choso Kamo’s mahogany coffee table typing away at it, you only grew more determined in the fact. And throughout the week, you’ve been flitting in and out of that very apartment of his.

Choso had been a lovely partner for the project - the best you could’ve ever asked for - and you’re coming to find that he was actually far more funny than anyone ever gave him credit for. Far more open. Far more active when it came to something he was passionate about.

And of course, you knew that he’d be sweet.

Despite his initial insistence that he could do the project himself, you’d taken up half the work. And you’d joined him in browsing through his massive catalogue of movies, in searching up screenplays to read, and in annotating them for techniques when starting to write yours.

You’ve come to make friends with one of the doormen by now. 

Just today you’d watched the 2004 Phantom of the Opera adaptation. And after a few hours of occupying his space and getting to know the nerdy boy a little better, you’d go straight back home to…Curse.

Whenever Choso made you feel tingly with his sweetness, Curse would amplify that heat to right between your legs. 

It’s been a week of getting to know Choso Kamo, and a week of having Curse splashed across your laptop screen—cock furiously hard n’ his moans echoing. He’d smile and utter your username whilst wearing his iconic mask and it’d be a high strong enough to follow into the day after. And often Choso would ask you what you’re so happy about.

Today, in particular, Curse had just finished one of his streams - cumming aaaaaall over the desk this time - when he’d settled himself back down and started chatting with the comments. Responding to one or two of yours.

You’re just about to joke about why he was sticking so long after his orgasm when he speaks once more- 

Voice somewhat serious, “Alright, now…settle down, settle down.” Curse waves his hand airily at the camera, throwing a middle finger up when the chat only gets more frenzied. “Tch- what brats you all are, would you wanna roleplay that someday?”

@vampzo333: YES PLEASE.

@likezmenpregnant: How about you be the brat…?

@Ietsmakeamovie: I would like that. 

@sixeyesorsixh0les: ^^

@0003h0lesforCurse: ^

“Fine fine…” Underneath the mask, he rolls his eyes fondly. “But I really do have something to announce-”

@likezmenpregnant: You’re pregnant.

@Ietsmakeamovie: I’m the father-

@Curse’swifey: NO MEEEEEEEEEEE!!

“I’m thinking of getting a partner for these streams.” He finally admits, rubbing his chin as though still in thought. And your heart stops-

@bipplruletheworld: so down.

@Cursenoticeme44: Omg yeeeeeeeeees!!

@daddytoeknee: YESYESYES.

The chat practically explodes, and you’re unsure what to feel about it—after all, you don’t know Curse and it’d be strange to feel a little possessive over his solo streams, however, you did have your preferences. But then again, you can’t help but imagine just how much hotter it would be to have two people- perhaps to see him make expressions he never has before…

Ultimately, you’re quiet as Curse leans in and scans the chat. His brows furrow just a little as he sweeps through the blurring usernames, “I dunno…I’m still thinking about it- I haven’t even asked this person, to be honest. I just wanted to know what you guys thought.” Nodding his head along or huffing out laughter at some of the comments, “Movie?”

You jolt—at being called out.

He wanted your opinion specifically? You suppose you did contribute to about half his comment section most streams.

But you stall as your fingers reach for the keyboard. 

Biting down on your lip and contemplating for a little while. Though he waits as patiently as ever-

@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t mind!!

Something seems to wash over him as he reads your comment, nodding. “I see.” 

He moves onto something else and his expression was indiscernible. 

You’re flickering your eyes to the artwork behind him, the small corner of it peaking into the frame, and it suddenly hits you that it’s the theatrical poster of The Phantom of the Opera (2004).

.

.

.

It can’t be.

It can’t be.

It can’t be.

There’s something your brain was telling you that you’re absolutely refusing to believe—after all, how many people in the world loved The Phantom of the Opera? Hell, how many people in the world have watched The Phantom of the Opera?

That didn’t mean that everyone you came across had a secret identity as one of the hottest streamers on C4mBoyfriends.

You were being paranoid, you told yourself. You were being utterly silly- and the next time you’re going over to Choso’s apartment was the very next day. Which wasn’t entirely ideal, given how much you’d tossed and turned after Curse’s last stream conjuring up all the possibilities…but Yaga wouldn’t accept a request for an extension even if you were set on fire in front of him. And so you went.

The pit of your stomach twists as Choso swings the lavish wooden door open and gives you a beaming smile. So innocent. So sweet.

He shakily pushes his glasses up as he welcomes you in. “Come in—s-sorry if I took a while to get to the door, I’ve been doing some decorating recently.”

His nervous smile is what makes you find your voice. And you’re dubiously looking around the luxurious apartment, “You need to do some decorating?”

“Believe it or not, yes.” Choso huffs. “Would you like something to drink? Or maybe to eat? I checked out that bakery you recommended last time and you’re right- they have the best Danish pastries.”

“Actually, Choso…” You’re shaking your head, shooting him a grateful smile. “I’m good. I’d think I’d prefer to start right away, if that’s alright? I really wanna get to Act 2 today.”

“O-oh, of course—!”

And he’s sweetly guiding you inside, whilst you attempt not to look like you’re taking two steps at a time. Back to that familiar room. Back to that familiar desk. Back to that (somewhat) familiar bed which most certainly did not have an artwork from The Phantom of the Opera on it—

You open the door and the first thing you’re seeing is the familiar plane of that white mask. The Phantom. 

Choso follows behind you and catches you staring at the poster. Gravelly tone echoing from behind, “I told you I did some decorating.”

And you jump-

Swivelling around to find him bearing you a sheepish smile, “Sorry if I startled you.” He pushes those chunky glasses up, “Tea?”

“S-sure…” You breathe, if anything for a thing to occupy your mouth with. Wait- not like that—!

And as Choso disappears down the hall, you’re taking a seat on the bed you’ve sat on countless, countless times before without a single care in the world. Now you’re sinking into the very - the very - edge as though it’d swallow you whole.

Body just resting on the plush comforter before-

“Hey, so I also have coffee if you would prefer?” Comes Choso’s sudden voice.

And you’re startling once more- “Just tea is fine, thanks.” Barely managing to get that through your lips, you’re watching as he disappears…as the sound of his footsteps echo…

Before darting off the bed and now heading towards the camera equipment you’d noticed in the corner the first time you’d been here. What you’d assumed to be part of another one of his classes or personal projects. Now, you’re leaning in and wondering with just which camera he showed his pretty cock off to millions, at just what height of his tripod he made your cunt so heated. 

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck this was real.

Now, you’re noticing things in the room that you’d never noticed before. Like the ring light kept underneath his bed, and the dresser in the corner with numerous rings- those weren’t costume props or anything. They were pure silver.

Heavy.

Heavy, like the pit in your stomach—excited and swirling. Just trembling at the tips of your fingers - ever-so-slightly - you’re reaching out as though to touch it, as though to feel the alternate version of Choso that you knew longer than you knew Choso-

“Ah, so you’ve realized.”

And then his voice permeates the room.

The room that suddenly seems smaller, the room that suddenly seems to rise ten degrees in temperature - though goosebumps skitter across your skin. And almost as though in a horror movie, you’re turning in slow motion to face the bespectacled man who was now holding up a tray of steaming hot tea. 

He walks over soundlessly and sets it on the coffee table with a slight click! And besides that, Choso walks over to the dressing table and puts his silver rings on.

One by one.

His eyes hold court with yours through the mirror, “How long?” Voice a deep timbre. 

You’re taking a step closer without even realizing, “Um…just last night. Just now- actually.”

He chuckles and you realize he’s asking how long you’ve known about Curse.

“I-I found you by chance. About a week ago, actually…” And then you say what’s been on your mind ever since you had, “Ever since you liked and unliked my repost.”

“Ah, a rookie mistake.” Choso comments. “I should have known better than to stalk using my public account.” And with all rings now put on and glinting in the lighting of his bedroom, Choso shuffles through his jewellery tray to pluck his earrings in and one eyebrow piercing. And then…one lip piercing—a lip ring that twinkles mischievously as he smiles.

He rises and you think you’ve never quite appreciated his built frame. 

His deep eyes as they’re locking in on you. Echoing out, “Though…you really can’t say much- can you, Movie?”

And though you knew that he knew- you can’t stop the zaps of electricity running through your body. 

Sputtering out, “Yeah-” Your fists clench and you’re looking up at the object of both your fantasies and your secret interest these past few days - melded into one. “Yeah, I really can’t. Choso you’re so…”

“Different?” He fixes his glasses, “Though I really am shy, I can’t deny that- especially around you. But it helps to be a little more antisocial when I’m around idiots.”

He leans in closer- so close that his scorchin’ hot breath wafts across your features. You have no idea how you’d diminished such a distance so soon…

“And if my memory serves me right-” Choso taps on the edge of his chin, in mocking thought. “-I seem to remember that Movie agreed to have a partner on my stream.” You shiver. And he looks at you adoringly, “So how about it? Wanna make a movie, baby?”

You step a little closer. 

“Only if I get to match wardrobes.”

He chuckles and picks you up to spin you around-

And then it’s getting to work. And then it’s shuffling through his closet to find a mask that matches his own. 

He stretches on the rubber a bit and brings it to you—“I bought this one when I first started, but it ended up being too tight- I think it’d be just the one for you.”

It was. It fit perfectly.

And then he paces around the room and starts to set up- before Choso’s gaze catches you hovering around the bed, and then he’s clicking his tongue and forgoing the tripods altogether. With just the professional lights and the high-quality camera, Choso places the camera on top of the coffee table. Facing the foot of the bed - everything and anything could be seen.

Just with a few clicks he’s started the stream.

And with just a little nudge he’s urging you to sit next to him. 

“Hello, my little sluts—” Choso- or should you say Curse croons towards the camera. On one of his monitors you can see him being projected there - waving, in his knitted vest that clashed with his mask. You stand off awkwardly out of sight from the camera. He smiles. “As you can see, things are a little different today…”

@girrrrrrrrrrth: uuuuuu change of angle!! change of angle!!

@bewbsRlife: ARE WE GETTING A SURPRISEEEEEEE??

@likezmenpregnant: Pls be pregnant, Curse <3

“No- no, I’m not pregnant.” He laughs, “But I have been thinking about what we talked about last night.”

@bipplruletheworld: omg this can’t be…

“And guess what? I did what you guys told me about- and I talked to her.”

@bipplruletheworld: yessssssss

@yoyoyoureinmypuss: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE^^

@bewbsRlife: WOOOOOO-

@daddytoeknee: Omg where’s Movie, Ik she’d love this- heh. Imagine this WAS Movie though…

“So, my little sluts…” Choso announces, “I’d like to introduce you all to my new partner—” And he’s reaching out and clasping your wrist, looking up to check for reassurance before continuing. Miming whispering to the camera, “And this is her first time on stream, so be nice…”

You’re sheepishly walking into their view. 

Slightly bowing your intrusion into the stream, “Th-thanks for having me?”

“Isn’t she cuuuuute?” He asks the commenters, and there’s a flurry of agreements. You’re even spotting a few questions about your name n’ interests, even kinks, amongst those - all of which Choso waves off with a laugh. “Now now—we can have the Q&A later. For now, let’s get to the fun part…”

@Curse’swifey: FUCK THAT’S MY FAV PART-

@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Movie you’re missing out on a historic moment uwu

And the fun part consisted of clamoring onto the bed as fast as lightning. Letting the mattress dip n’ creak its protests out as Choso sits on it with his back turned to the camera, then lovingly pats his manspread thighs as a signal for you to climb on. Meaty muscles. Thick enough for you to want to sink your teeth into- how could you never have noticed?

Perhaps because this was the polar opposite of how he acted when he was on campus - always keeping to himself, never taking up too much space. Now he was practically vacuuming it all up so you had nowhere else to sit.

And you were more than happy to climb onto Choso Kamo’s lap.

Sitting your ass down on his readily-awaiting seat. From under your skirt you feel something hot—and throbbing between his legs. Cylindrically shaped and curved to the left.

Just the slightest movement makes his rock-hard erection twitch underneath- and you’re whimpering at the lewd sensation. At the way he drips out a hefty dollop of precum that seeps through his trousers and sticks to the front of your panties, making you gasp—“Ch-Cho-”

“Shhhh.” Choso wraps a hand ‘round your throat and cuts you off. 

And before you know it, he’s bouncing his knees to get you to slide your drippin’ pussy up and down his bulge. Up and down. Turning towards the camera, “Ya hear that?” Up and down. “My girl’s so needy- she’s already begging for it. But I dunno if she deserves it, huh?”

@bewbsRlife: I MEANNNN

@theh0rniestsoldier: i’m feeling mean today…

@daddytoeknee: Give her your mouth!!

“Mouth? I love that idea.” Choso titters.

And then he’s giving a teasing slap on the side of your ass cheeks—smack! 

“Please-”

“Sit on my face now, baby.” He purrs, eyes flickerin’ with pure need underneath his mask. Then leaning in to whisper in a loooow tone for only you to hear. “You know Choso, but let’s see if you can handle Curse.”

Then he leans back on the bed - his head pointing in the direction of the camera. 

And you’re shuffling up Choso’s toned, brick-hard body—straddling your knees upon either side of his head, veerin’ your hips right atop that pretty face. You’re sitting - right in front of the camera. Though nothing was revealed…yet. 

And Choso’s digging his tongue up to you instantly- he isn’t even making it past the fabric of your panties. But that doesn’t stop him from lettin’ his tastebuds take a looooong, luxurious lick of your swollen pussy.

Right down your sopping wet slit. 

Suddenly, the room echoes with one of his pornographic moans- the very same ones you’d listened to night after night through your laptop speakers. Now they’re even louder, and somehow even sexier, sending electricity shooting straight up, up, up from your core.

And even more treacherous was the way you’re feeling something cold…and metallic at the very middle of Choso’s tongue. Rock-hard. It takes whatever’s left of your rationality to realize that it’s a silvery tongue piercing smack-dab where his tastebuds kissed your pussy. Scraping alongside where you were most sensitive. 

Instantly; your head tips back and saliva starts bubbling at the sides of your lips. “Fuh-fuck…” And before you know it—you’re starting to drag your throbbing pussy up n’ down his features.

Short, barely-there jerks of your shy, shy hips.

And Choso chuckles huskily to himself at the cute way you were yearnin’ for his mouth. But what you didn’t expect was for him to reach one ringed hand up and squeeze the left side of your hips.

Your only warning.

Before he’s suddenly tightening his hold on you and reaching one more hand up- snaking it beneath your skirt like some pervert. Choso edges towards your throbbing cunt and places one good slap—

It’s the resounding smack! of skin-on-skin that makes you halt more than anything.

Jaw-dropped. Thighs quivering. The white-hot pleasure runs through your spine and leaves you barely hearing his roughened words, a tone lower than you knew his voice to be- as though drunk on the delicious taste of your pussy already. “Greedy, greedy girl…” Choso tuts, “Don’t tell me you’re trying to enjoy yourself without letting our dear audience in on the fun?”

Oh, shit.

You’re letting your head snap to where the camera was positioned and blinking its one gluttonous eye. Comments flooding the screen of the monitor so fast that you couldn’t read them-

You’d completely forgotten about the stream for a second. 

“I—oh, I um.” 

Yet another harsh smack! “Forgot, huh?” Amusement seeps into Choso’s words, as though he’d already guessed the situation.

You admit, “M-maybe…”

“I’m afraid I can’t blame you, baby.” Smack! “Curse’s mouth is too good, huh?” He yammers on and on, his tongue nudging deeper, his rippling tastebuds skidding into every ridge- as if trying to fuck you through your damn panties. “This pussy’s too good–she’s purring f’me already. Hear her?”

And you’re not sure why- but you’re nodding to whatever he says. “Y-yes—fuck.” 

“Mhm. So why don’t we let our lovely audience hear, too, huh?” You’re barely given the time to register his suggestion, before Choso husks out a command. “Lift your skirt up, baby.”

Your thighs squeeze around his head at the notion-

And your fingertips touch the short hemline of your skirt.

@Cursenoticeme44: Holy shit.

@theh0rniestsoldier: i’ve been waiting for thisssssssssss-

@daddytoeknee: WOW.

@girrrrrrrrrrth: bby’s so needy!!

@R€4leater: munch Curse #canon

The chat explodes as you let them bear witness to Choso’s face stuffed between your pretty legs- he’s redly-flushed and ravenous. They could see the slightest glimpse of his nose n’ the way he’s driving it between your sodden pussylips, diving and diving, they could see the glossy layers coating your cunt—and the way Choso’s pink lips come up to suck on it. 

Those handsome cheeks of his hollow out, as he’s makin’ out with your pussy through your panties.

Like a man starved.

Long canines slightly nippin’ at your folds- almost wolfish in mannerisms.

“Oh p-please…” You’re quivering atop him. You don’t even know what you’re begging for—just that it feels so good to have him veering his tongue hungrily against your cunt like this. And you wanted more.

More, more, and more.

Choso’s holding onto your restless hips with a clammy hand- he’s stuck to you almost like adhesive. And he guides your hips - he fucking slows them down - whilst you continue moanin’ and shaking atop his raw mouth. Glistening wet tongue extending even more than its usual length to slide-slide-sliiiiide your panties to the side-

And you’re gasping at the sudden whiff of cold bedroom air against your naked pussy. “Ch-” A spank. “I mean- fuck, Curse?”

“Mhm, m’here, baby.” He drawls out. Slightly slurring with all the extra globs of your pussy juices - pooling straight into your mouth, n’ Choso reaches up and smooches your soft swollen folds to smear it all around. Like some gloss. “M’here aaaaaand- so are 820k sluts that wanna watch you break.”

“B-break?” You’re gaping, “I thought you were just gonna- ngh, eat me out…?”

“Baby, Curse never ‘just’ does anything.” And you’re shocked to find him sliding his tongue out, tipping his head back to refer to the camera on the coffee table. “Isn’t that right, fuckin’ pervs?”

@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah.

@0003h0lesforCurse: duhhhhhhhhh

@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU’RE THE BEST CURSE

@Fishygurodad: Fuck, her pussy’s divine.

“Heh…” Choso smiles into your cunt, “And so whaddaya say? How many slaps before I stick my tongue in her?”

@vampzo333: 3

@bbynohuuuuzz: 14

@Ilikepr1menumbers: 29

“Since m’feeling nice- read your favorite one out, baby.” He murmurs.

To which you’re unable to do anything but- you tilt your upper half just the slightest bit closer to the monitor and pick out the first one you can read through the blur of words and numbers:

@Fishygurodad: Until she cries.

Oh.

Your blood runs cold.

Your cunt grows heated.

And before you can either rectify your recitation or beg for mercy—Choso doesn’t hesitate before fixing the rings on his fingers to be slightly higher than before. Making sure they’re in line of him planting one- two- three good, loud spanks on your sobbin’ cunt. “O-oh my god- fuck, mmm, oh my god.”

Until the skin of his fingertips seems to redden, and your pussylips feel raw - “How about that?” He asks- not from you, but from the viewers.

@daddytoeknee: I don’t see her crying yet…also idkkkkk I’m getting Movie vibes.

@girrrrrrrrrrth: movie would’ve loved this-

And then it’s one after the other. Again and again, Choso’s emblazoning the rude outlines of his rings against yours - until you’ve fucking memorized the ridges n’ patterns of the one ring on his middle finger with the carving of an octopus. 

Tentacles flared out.

“Shit, not that damn ring again.”

And as he’s doing so he can’t help himself- fuck, he can’t heeeeelp himself. His canines dig into the sticky fabric of your underwear like a damn dog - and throughout the duration of what his hands were doing, you’re hearing the sharp riiiiip of fabric tearing—!

Soon enough, your panties are tattered and ruined in Choso’s maw- just from his mouth. He spits it out and continues swerving his thickened tips inwards to give a loving pinch on your clit—and you can’t help but burst into peals of shrill, needy cries. Both pain and pleasure mixing as he doles out a final swat-

Before Choso swipes your pussylips apart and spits- the glutinous glob of his saliva landing directly on your hole. He doesn’t give it the time to seep back out—instead, he’s surging up and shoving his face between your legs.

This time, without the barrier of your panties in the way. 

@CCpervnextdoor: HE FUCKING RIPPED IT OFF WITH HIS MOUTH??

@bewbsRlife: HOLY SHIT CURSE-

@Fishygurodad: Shiiiiit, I’d do the same ngl.

And then Choso’s shoving his tongue inside and slurpin’ all around your wet hole like a damn animal…

In and out.

In and out.

Probin’ into slippery sweet spots.

Chin hitting the back of your slit. Plastic mask rubbing against your clit. 

Choso’s pierced tongue was going absolutely fucking wild inside of you. He wastes no time before gripping either side of your cute hips and slammin’ your pussy down onto his mouth- hard and fast. The perverted nerd is slashing his tongue inwards, smearin’ apart your glue-covered folds. As deep as he could go. He doesn’t care if it hurts, he just needs to make sure that loooong slick muscle of his tastebuds were scrapin’ every inch of your walls.

With the curved tip of it, he flexes it against a sweet bundle of nerves. Making you buck with a pitchy moan of his name—“Ch-Cuuuurse—!” And the sensation was made even more delicious with the way his orb tongue piercing presses in contrast against your hot cunt. “It feels so good, Curse.”

“I already know.” Choso pipes up- cocky in all the ways you never knew he could be. “I already know- but what about those fuckers watching, huh?”

“W-well…” Spit drivels down your chin, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes focused to read the urgent chat. 

@bipplruletheworld: they’re so HOT!!

@NERDSAREMYBABYGIRLZ: OHHHH WHAT A MUNCH

@daddytoeknee: Me next <3

And it was clear that they were seeing the effect he had on you- how could they not?

Your eyes were dazed and teary, your thighs were shaking like leaves in the wind, Choso was making your body twitch—just from the way he’s reeling his entire tongue out. And breathing out steadily and slowly against your twitchin’ pussylips, freezing cold air that leaves you even wetter on top of him.

He’s unfastening his mouth - leaving it wiiiiide open for all the satiny ribbons of your slick to enter his gullet. And once you’re done- that isn’t enough riling you up.

Choso leaves a good slap on your folds and asks, “So…what about it?” Muffled through his mouthfuls.

“They agree- they agree—” You’re keening out. Star-struck, seeing pleasure burst behind your shuttered eyelids at the sudden stinging. “Fuck- you’re the hck! best I’ve ever had, Curse.”

“I agree.” He hums. And as if this entire ordeal wasn’t sinful enough, Choso’s swashing around the silky-smooth sap he’d collected from your leaking pussy. Letting the flavor seep into his tastebuds, before he’s then spitting again on your pussy. A semi-opaque layer of lewdness that coats your inner thighs in a sheen that catches the lighting. 

Perfect on camera.

You’re squeezing your wettened thighs together and creating an audible squelch!

“Awwww, look- this pussy agrees, too.”

The gooey addition startles you- and you rut.

Only straight down onto his awaiting fingers.

@girrrrrrrrrrth: oh, shit is he…

@legsopenforcurses: With the rings on, too!!

@likezmenpregnant: My show is onnnnn

It’s such a fucking mess for him to navigate- even with his own fingers. Soon enough, you’re arching your back as you feel him intrude a single ringed digit between those utterly swollen pussylips of yours—almost difficult to find your snug hole between them. You’re damn lucky that Choso’s fingers were slender as well as incredibly lengthy.

Because he’s circlin’ your tight orifice a few times - only a few times - before inserting the sections of his finger. Quirking just right and hitting the exact bundle of your nerves.

That infamous g-spot that made you yelp once he starts and keeps on hitting.

And his rings- oh, fuck, his rings.

Just so chunky and textured. They were the perfect designs to press up against your walls and massage them stupid- every drag meant that you’re feeling them dig into ridges n’ crevices you hadn’t even known existed. 

Hitting and hitting. Curling his dexterous finger and scraping- “Fuuuuck, oh my god.” The doughy tip of his finger soon becomes damn-near molded to the area where it was, and your eyes flicker to the back of your head as you continue anglin’ your hips so he could hit it perfectly. “Right there, Curse- r-right there.”

“I know.” Choso rolls his eyes - at least what seems like it underneath his mask. “That’s why I’m hitting it. Honestly…is my girl dickmatized?” He utters as he sucks on your clit—ultimately erupting a sobbing slurp! that makes him nod. “Mhm, I think my girl’s dickmatized.”

Tipping his head back before you can refute his claims. He then addresses the audience-

“Whaddaya think, my little pervs? Dickmatized already…maybe I should go easy on her, huh?”

@olderandR4w: nooooooooooo

@yoyoyoureinmypuss: NEVER.

@Fishygurodad: Go even harder.

“Tough crowd.” And with that said, Choso’s stuffin’ in just a few more fingers. Each with their own numerous rings and sopping wet sounds accompanying them—slurp!

One. 

Two.

You’re counting about three of his prolonged digits pushin’ your tight walls to their limits, rubbing your sweet spots raw with his constant bashing rhythm, before lustful fogginess coils around your brain. And it’s around here that Choso catches onto the glazed look in your eyes and chuckles—

“Ohhhh, you really are dickmatized.” He hums to himself, though you’re sure the professional mic picks it up either way. “And so soon, too. Probably hasn’t had a good finger-”

A fourth being added so that he can scissor apart your velvety channel whilst still multi-tasking with his other fingers to ram into your g-spot.

“-or even a good mouth on ‘er…” To emphasize his point, he presses a dramatically loud kiss upon your clit. One that’s making you bounce n’ bounce your hips atop his clammy face, and grind your throbbing nub down on his pointed nose. The addition of his mask just makes that cool touch even more lecherous. “My poor girl.” Choso still mutters out despite the way he’s gluing your cunt to his mouth. He pulls away from your clit with a loud pop! “What do you think, my slutty audience?”

At the slurring question you’re letting your head down to watch him. “Ch…Curse, what’ve you got on your mind-”

“M’just asking what else you deserve, baby.” He coos. And questions them once more, “How about a little quiz? Which parts of Curse are going to make my poor, poor girl feel the best? A). My fingers. B). My mouth. Or…”

And he pretends to listen to your noisy wet pussy once more.

“Or C…”  You could practically feel the grin plastering against your needy pussy. The way his eyes narrow in sinful amusement beneath his mask- you didn’t have to see his full face to know that Choso was enjoying this perhaps way more than he should. “—all of the above.”

And it was futile to think that they would answer anything else.

C floods your vision.

You’re letting your mouth droop, and your gaze meet Choso’s own between your legs- but you’re finding that you don’t have to say a thing for him to already know the answer.

And as expected, he gives a final roll of his tongue atop your clit - before munchin’ on your aching cunt once more. This time, he’s tunneling his fingers deep into your cavern whilst still licking inside with his prolonged tongue—when stretched out, Choso’s tongue could reach almost as deep as his fingers could.

Your cunt was being stretched-out to lengths you never thought about before.

Not only were Choso’s fingers thicker than yours, but his tongue was something ravenous- no matter how much you’re flinching in sensitivity, he isn’t slowing down. “Mmm-” He groans, barely breathing through even his flared nostrils. You’re hit with the distinct feeling that he thinks he doesn’t even have to breathe as long as he had you on him like this - “Mmm, hold still.”

Taking advantage of the fact to lavish your sensitive inches with kiss upon kiss. To grind his nose down purposefully on your clit. To glide his metallic piercing across those hidden spots. To bash your poor g-spot in again and agaaaain with his fingers before his tongue’s coming to the rescue to soothe the slightly raw sting-

So it’s not long before you’re throwing your head back and cumming.

Perhaps the strongest you’ve ever felt when you’re in the throes of your high.

You barter your hips forwards and keep up a steady pace - one that’s making Choso hit the exact spots you wanted him to during the peaks of your high. The utmost peaks. “Shit—shit, just like that.” Breathless. “K-keep going, baby, it feels so good.”

And he doesn’t even answer - too caught up in fucking you through your orgasm.

In the way you shudder above him. In the way you’re only getting even sweeter by the second-

Bodyheat raising a few degrees in temperature; your heart sings and the bed creaks with how much you’re jostling from above. This was even better than touching yourself to videos of him, there were so many thrills of bliss that he’s wringing out of you- like he’d wring out of himself during his solo videos. 

With both his fingers and his tongue, slurpin’ and sliding. Those doe-like eyes of his are edging straight to the back of his skull as he feels your drenched walls cleeeeench around his pierced tongue, as though it’s the best thing he’s ever fucking felt. And you’re acting on impulse - you really are - because the coffee table was positioned right beside the foot of the bed.

And all you had to do was reach your arm out to grab the simple camera there. Turning it into your point of view as Choso’s sweaty brown bangs stick to his forehead, as sweat trickles down his temple, as he lets out soft yet unyielding moans whenever you’re squeezing your thighs around his head.

@cockycockowner: no homo but that’s the most beautiful man i’ve ever seen.

@theh0rniestsoldier: woah he’s PUSSYDRUNK

@Fishygurodad: Show me his POV.

@daddytoeknee: Don’t you know that she’s his girl now smh?^^

@daddytoeknee: Movie-core- wya ml??

Choso cocks his head and keeps making out with your pussy in all the ways that make your toes curl—pleasure elongating from your orgasm and spreading into every part of you. Your vessels, your cells, your atoms.

They’re all buzzing with pleasure and still aching for more once Choso finally pulls away with a loud pop! of his lips releasing. 

When they do, you’re sneaking a look down at him and noticing just how red n’ swollen they were. Even the skin around his jaw was flushed with the constant ramming contact. And the viewers are just gobbling it up - subscribing bells keep dinging here and there, and everywhere. 

Just a single look at his stats on-screen reveal that Choso’s climbed up to 870k just since you’d started this stream.

And it’s after a little while - after he’s had his fill - that the dark-haired man finally taps at the side of your thigh to gesture for you to get up. Though, even then, he’s tightening his grip on your body—going against his own fucking instruction to press a final few open-mouthed kisses before he’s done.

He chases after your pussy with his maw for a little- before he’s finally sitting up.

And it’s only then that he seems to notice the camera in your hand, blinking his glazed eyes a few times to make sure he isn’t dreaming things up. Once it finally registers, the most attractive grin spreads across his face. “You changed POVs?”

“Had to.” You admit, “I wanted them to see how pretty you are…”

“Guess you finally learned about sharing, hm? Greedy girl.” He chuckles darkly to himself. And then he starts looming closer, “But you realize that the show’s not done yet, right?”

You gulp.

@Fishygurodad: Fuck her already, damn!! I’m only here for her.

@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Hate to admit it, but he’s lowk right. I think I’ve discovered I’m bi…

@vampzo333: ^^

@girrrrrrrrrrth: ^^

“So impatient.” He looks at the monitor, reading the chat and tuts. “Honestly- so ungrateful. I should end the stream right here and fuck her on my own terms.”

There’s a frenzied flurry of comments- all of which you were sure were begging for Choso not to stop and bashing that one commenter for attempting to start a revolution. To which you’re only giggling and handing over the camera to him.

Choso - as the expert - then positions it somewhere by the edge of the fluffy pillows: where they’d be able to see the expanse of both your bodies and where you’d soon be connected…

And then you’re shedding your clothes in a hurry- making it to your smart blouse before he’s reaching a hand up and tearing through it. The buttons hit the floor, and at your noise of displeasure Choso merely lets out a half-delirious giggle. 

He leans in and whispers, “I-I have a Phantom of the Opera t-shirt I’d love for you to wear.”

The change in demeanour gives you utter whiplash, and you can’t help but stare at him open-mouthed.

“What?” Choso asks, next moving on to shrugging off his own fabrics. They’re landing on a heap beside the bed, and your lips slightly part at the display of his red-hot erection—it’s just as large and sensual as all those streams had proven him to be. Polished strawberry top. Slender veins along the middle. 

A happy trail of dark brown - nearly black - glistened with the splattered remnant of his precum. Just like the gleaming mess across his chin, mouth, and cheekbones that Choso wore like a medal.

He was slightly longer than even on camera- and even prettier up-close. Way up close- he shuffles his body up yours n’ fucks your tits a few times to dollop out glistening translucent precum across yours tits.

“Lighting’s not the best here.” Choso explains- or at least attempts to pin an explanation onto that. Onto something he’s clearly been wanting to do for so long. “Had to highlight ‘em, baby.”

You scoff, “It’s just…” Throwing a cautious glance at the camera, you lower your voice. “You’re so different from how you are in real life.”

“Oh? And how did you expect me to be, huh?” He positions himself between your legs - wrapping both of them around his waist. Before then thinking better of it and throwing them even more lewdly around his neck instead—his plush priggish tip kisses your entrance. “Did you expect me to be like…”

He trails off.

He doesn’t need to complete the rest of his sentence- and you don’t think you’d have heard him even if he tried.

Because in that very moment, Choso’s jerking his pale hips back a mere few inches—then plopping his globular tip between your pussylips and push-push-puuuuuushing. Fucking past the initial restraint of your first ring of muscle, he’s funneling in some thick inches that make your heels bang against the muscles of his back.

And he doesn’t even seem to notice.

He doesn’t even seem to breathe as he’s letting his cock swerve inside. Get suctioned inside. Get his Prince Albert’s piercing crept down your sensitive innards. Get gobbled up between your greedy legs-

You clench ‘round him and Choso throws his head back with a low, broken moan.

“Oh p-please—” He’s babbling out through unsteady pink lips, a lazy line of dribble starting up from one corner of his mouth. Those long lashes of his flutter as he’s reaching one bulky hand up to grip the headboard, and placing his right one on your hips- keeping you steady.

Fingers trembling. Muscles rippling.

@likezmenpregnant: Woah…make him do that again…

@sixeyesorsixh0les: SUBBY CURSE HELLO??

@whimperwhiteboywhimper: oh I am SO here for this

@Fishygurodad: Whatever…

Your eyes bulge once his throat cracks with what sounds like a whimper—“Please it feels so good.” And though you couldn’t quite make it out, even the chat seemed stunned as Choso punctures out a broken stutter of his hips. Delving a few inches into your goopy insides- though not enough to bottom out completely, as you’re still too wound-up for him to fit completely. And you’re able to pinpoint exactly where he’s using the orbed metal of his first piering. With more to come…“Ngh- oh.” Broken noises emanating into your eardrums and the mic. “It f-feels shooooo good, baby.”

Choso’s head drops into the crook of your neck, and there - and there - you’re feeling his cheeky grin.

And suddenly you’re understanding.

Oh—he was toying with you.

And he was doing it in a way that’d completely fooled you- and perhaps all of his viewers, too.

But before you’re able to open your mouth to bite back something at him, Choso staggers his hips back and gives you a vicious jackhammer with his cock, “O-ohhhhh, my god—” Your toes curl atop his shoulders, slippery with sweat. He hadn’t even rammed all the way inside yet, and yet the slightly left-leaning angle of his shaft was driving you wild.

Big and thick.

Running the slick globe of his tip down your walls, Choso probes a direct hit to that spot you loved so much. And he knew you loved it so much—he’d mapped out your entire pussy earlier, of course.

And yet, he’s still gasping as though the pearls gates of heaven had descended right here and there. He’s letting his sweet caramel eyes widen convincingly as he peers down at you, “I-is that…the spot, baby?”

@Curse’swifey: HE sounds SO NGH.

@daddytoeknee: Daddy likey…

@daddytoeknee: Also Movie would’ve really LOVED this, huh?

You hiss, “Curse, you should already know-”

“But how could I know—?” He exclaims. “This is my first time, after all…” Then Choso’s plastering his clammy tattooed hips - with a snake on the side - to yours, as though the two were connected by the force of the world’s strongest magnets: pulling and pushing, pulling and pushing. Every single battering ram of his mazing cocktip ends up lodged against your sweetly bruised g-spot, marking his circumference out with the sheer pace at which he was hitting it. 

“Shit—” Your nails clench on the sheets, and feeling jealous- Choso guides them to fist his hair instead. “Shit, right there. It f-feels so good-”

“There?” The once-nerdy man breathes out in awe. Disbelief every single time - or at least the mocking imitation of one. Swipin’ a line of precum down your nervy spot once more, “Th-there, baby—?”

Something breathy- octaves higher in his tone. “Yes- yes there-”

“There-” Choked up and ruined. Husky grunts hatching in the back of his throat. There was something there in his words that you couldn’t quite pinpoint—a sort of undertone of primal need, primal amusement as he ruined your pussy with his speedily pap-papping hips, but acted as though he had no idea what he was doing. Every single syllable uttered was met with a thorough whack of his curved cockhead against your particular spot- “There there there there- there-”

“Fuh-fuuuck-”

“So this g-spot’s really m-mine now, baby?” Choso asks. 

You whine, back arching off the mattress. “Yes-”

“Does she really have my mark on it now?”

“Yes…?” Eyes shooting open as you’re half-registering his question in your hazed brain. He bores his dark eyes down at you intensely. And as though to emphasize his point, you’re feeling his perfectly round tip squeezing into your throat by the next few thrusts. Deeper and deeper.

His Jacob’s Ladder starting to ease its frigid way past your entrance and glide across the roof of your cunt. It was a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before. 

Choso probes even more, “I-is she really shaped to the shape of my cock now?” 

“Cho—ngh.” Quickly shutting your cockdrunken self up. Quickly reaching a ringed hand up to squeeze your throat- before he’s languidly snaking his way up to squeezing your pretty cheeks together.

Smushing your face in a way that was almost disrespectful- though, not that you were in any state of mind to call him out on it. And there’s a mean inkling in Choso’s tone as he coos, “Awww, b-baby, why aren’t you answering me?” Another rude slap! of his hips make your own sear in flames- that damn strength of his. Those damn piercings of his. “Is your poor, poor Curse not good enough?” 

Before you can answer, he’s looking at the blinking camera. 

“My babies, my girl doesn’t love my cock anymore…”

“I do—I do-” 

Squeezing his doughy-soft restraints - those contrastingly mean fingers of his - around your cheeks. He’s managing to smush your mouth shut and make you echo out the most pathetically pleading whines—as he fucks you. Determined and targeted.

The glossy rotund edge of his tip presses against your g-spot a few more times before you’re managing to make yourself take a peek at the comments on the monitor. 

Almost too far away- almost too blurry with the tears in your eyes. 

@Curse’snewestharem: Awwwww poor bby </33

@CCpervnextdoor: I would LOVE your cock, Curse!!

@girrrrrrrrrrth: is it just me or is he teasing us?

@Fishygurodad: ^^Yeah, he’s totally a fraud.

@Curseswombmommy: ^^girl shut up

“Th-they really think you’re oh-so-innocent…” You’re whispering up at him. Overstimulated tears in your eyes.

Breath hitching every time he’s surging his tattooed hips forwards and hitting that one spot particularly hard. Though there was never such a thing as too hard…

And Choso’s shooting you a secret smile - one just between the two of you - before morphing his expression into that of picture-perfect innocence. Roleplaying the demeanor of his nerdy self on campus, mixed with the utterly sultry—sexual way he was draaaaagging his lengthy cock in and out of your cunt.

Eventually, Choso’s emptying his inches out n’ bruising the bottom of your pussy. All of his nine - you seriously felt nine throbbing inches - inches shaping out the in-betweens of your legs. All of the beaded barbells of his Jacob’s Ladder massaging inside- the slitherin’ feeling of them making themselves at home. Zig-zagging and slithering. 

He feels the sponginess of your cervix and presses a hand down on your abdomen just to make sure, before changing that excitement into one of almost-genuine bafflement- “I-I really bottomed out?” Choso’s pinkish bottom lip juts out and quivers dramatically.

“Of course, you did.” You’re ready to scoff-

But whatever sarcastic sound was in the back of your throat gets quickly dissolved at the sight of Choso with genuine tears in his eyes. Glistening. “But I never- ngh, never thought I’d be able to.” He puts some more merciless pressure on your stomach that makes you buck—

And the only thing you can do is let your head tip back into the pillows.

The only thing you can do is let out a few mottled moans as he rubs over the small tummy bulge he was fucking into you. Pushing his palm down so that he could feel it. 

Whispering out, “I-I never thought this pussy would claim my cock as- ngh, hers, hm?” And for the moment there, you’re completely sure that he isn’t talking to you. Rather, your pussy that was sobbing out squelches after every one of his jackhemmerin’ thrusts. “And it’s not too big, right?”

“N-never—”

“Because m’just a nerd with a- hngh, biiiiiig fuckin’ cock.” How pitiful, right? He’s letting his long, dark lashes flutter as Choso avoids meeting your eyes—as though in shyness. He drills his hips even deeper - one unforgettable strike after the other following every word he spoke. “Just a big- fat- fucking- cock-”

“Please—!” Eventually, your arms reach upwards and you’re grabbing ahold of whatever part of him it is you could reach first. Which just-so-happened to be his bulky deltoids.

Choso’s brows genuinely seem to furrow at the lewdness of you digging your nails into his muscles, leaving your marks for everyone and anyone to see even after this stream has ended. And so he continues in his faux-innocent tone, “Oh? Did that feel good, baby?”

Purposefully slidin’ his cock across your g-spot so that you’d have to cry out. “Y-yeeees—”

“I didn’t even know, baby.” His mouth hangs open, and the most lustrous squelches! echo between your two connected bodies. Your cunt n’ his precum were making such messes…“I had no idea…”

His Jacob’s Ladder leaves your channel feeling raw n’ overstimulated- you feel raw and overstimulated. 

And you’re laid-out on the bed dazed and feeling so fucking good as Choso’s picking his pace up even more, you notice for a split-second that his hands have moved. No longer was he holding onto your cheeks n’ watching you squirm—now, the nerdy man hooks both hands around your sweaty thighs and pins them close to his body.

Holding them in place as he leans down, down, dooooooown until the caps of your knees hit your tits. 

You’re keening at the stretch, and a searing burn spreads from between your pussy and along your hamstrings. How did he even hide such strength underneath those soft knitted vest? Such a body?

Before you know it, you’re being pressed into your first-ever mating press.

And Choso gapes as though he was just as bewildered as you, “O-oh…did I do that?” He’s fucking asking you—however, when your stunned expression bears no answer, he turns and asks the same question from the camera. The bursts of replies obviously agree n’ tease him. And he’s shaking his head ever-so-slightly, “Did I really bend you in- heh-” A slight chuckle escapes him. “—half, baby?”

And what else can you do but nod and nod and nod—? 

“I think this is called a…breeding press?” He cocks his head ever-so-slightly, before shaking his head. “No wait- a mating press.”

“A m-mating press.” You’re repeating lamely.

“I c-can’t believe I’ve folded you into a mating press, baby.” Choso nearly snarls at himself, his hips accelerating until that rouge-tipped cock of his was almost nothing but a blur. “Can’t believe—s’like my body is moving before my mind, ngh. My fat cock’s not hittin’ you too deep, right, my girl?”

“Not in the l-least…”

And he really was long enough to make each and every probe feel as though it was slam-slam-slamming into your throat- the capped crown of his shaft was entering crevices n’ crannies you hadn’t even known you possessed. All marked out precisely by the silvery orb of his Prince Albert’s. 

Just then, after your answer, Choso reaches his left hand up to wrap ‘round your throat - and then hauls you back down to meet his slapping hips.

A thrust even harder than the ones before it.

Your breath gets snatched out of your lungs, dissipating into the heady air filled with the contact-riddled sounds of sex. Hard and fast. Only getting harder the longer you have your ankles looped ‘round his neck—“Not too hard, is it, baby?” Chosos asks you once more.

And you don’t have anything to spit out besides, “Oh f-fuck off.”

He gasps dramatically-

Well, not exactly dramatically. But in a way you knew was fake, and in a way that sends the chat exploding into comments.

The nerd pouts cutely, “Well, that’s not very nice…”

You’re rolling your eyes—right before Choso’s genuinely sending them rolling with his two fingers clamped around your clit. Using the silvery edges of his rings, he runs a few massages that end up with you sobbing and blabbering out your pleasure. 

@Curse’swifey: FUCKKKKKKKKKK they’re both so hot. THEY’RE BOTH SO RUINED.

@peepeesarebetterfictional: they both look like they’re gonna cum soon hehe

@bewbsRlife: CUM CUM CUM CUM CUM

Biting back. “I would argue th-that that’s not very nice, either.”

“But m’just trying to make my gorgeous girl cum…” And from where he’d been looming his pretty face above yours, Choso then lets his head droop down between your tits. During his ravenous pace, he’s roverin’ his mouth all over to kiss and suck at your tits, your nipples.

His cold lip ring drags across your left areola- and he catches onto the way you’re shivering. Before Choso then grabs your nipple between his lips n’ hollows his cheeks out sucking—“Promise m’just trying to make you feel- hah, good.” He mutters, slightly muffled. “Promise I just wanna fuck my cock raw if it means making my lifelong crush feel good…”

“Cho- Curse, are you…?” Your eyes widen.

And his own flap droopily a few times, “Hmmm?”

And that proved it.

That proved it.

Because Choso Kamo could be pretending to be a stuttering, panting, blushing mess on your heavenly cunt all he wanted- he could pretend to be pussydrunk out of his mind. But at the end of the day, it was impossible to hide when pretend turned into something…more. 

When the cocksure streamer that’d been driving you wild all this time morphs into the contentedly pussy-whipped nerd you expected him to be deep down inside.

His eyes genuinely glazed and blinking longingly.

His hair drenched in sweat.

His skin flushed with need- and only flushing even more fiercely the longer he kept his eyes on you. 

Without much ado, you’re throwing your hands around his neck and tuggin’ him as far as he could crane his neck when his entire body feels like collapsing onto you and into your maddening pussy. 

Choso pistons his hips slightly upwards to hear the slurp of his Jacob’s Ladder sliding across your walls, and he grooooans—

“Curse, baby…” You hum.

“Mhmmmm?” He replies with half-lidded eyes. Barely focused.

This was the big, bad #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends? As though sensing your thoughts, Choso’s fingers grow a little more frenzied on your clit. “I need you to cum inside, okay?”

He jolts at the idea- that sinful, sinful idea. Before chuckling, “Never had any other plan, baby.” And then he turns to the camera, “What do you think, fuckers? Think my girl deserves to cum?”

@Fishygurodad: Yes.

@Curse’swifey: YES.

@likezmenpregnant: Yesssss~

@girrrrrrrrrrth: yesyesyes.

@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah-

He’s holding out a little longer to make sure there wasn’t a single ‘no’ in there - and had there been one, you’re sure that Choso would have stopped and edged your incoming orgasm until it was a wave of complete agreement.

Luckily for you, they liked you.

And all he does now is press down harder on your g-spot from inside, lingering, and massage a pretty heart on your clit once more, lingering—before a final, thorough stroke is all it takes for you to hurtle into your second high of the night.

For you to arch your body into his chest, and shutter your eyes. “Ch-Cho…” 

Barely a whisper. He’s crashing his mouth into yours to make sure that secret between you two isn’t revealed. And you’re moaning deeply into Choso’s mouth as you cum—“Feels so- oh. It feels so…”

“Mhmmmm.”

Unable to even find the words.

The only thing you can do is riiiiiide out the massive wave of your high. It’s torrential; pure bliss floods your system from head-to-toe, and no matter how much you’re squirming your overstimulated hips, Choso only succeeds in batterin’ away his pierced cock into eeeevery single hidden sweet spot inside of you. The ones that prolonged your bliss and left spikes of euphoria leading up to your brain.

Your cunt clenched so tightly around his cock- almost as though you didn’t want him to even pull out. And Choso’s sweaty head drops once more into the crook of your neck as he cums with a shudder.

The knot between his brows deepening, the bedsheet around his knees bunching up as he surges his body upwards. Almost animalistically.

Choso bottoms out his furious, twitching cock and keeps it there- “Oh, fuck…” It didn’t sound like he was acting once his bawling red divot starts splatterin’ out more milky white wads. Deeep in the back of your pussy, right where your womb was, Choso puddles out his ecstasy in long ribbons. “Oh fuck fuck fuck—fuck. Always knew it’d feel this good.”

Wave upon wave.

Toes curling. Eyes scrunching shut.

If you thought his moans were sensual before, then you weren’t prepared for the ones your pussy was able to drag out of him - ragged and hollow utterances of your name. Over and over like a broken record, like a mantra.

He’s fucking into you to milk them out of his hefty balls- then fucking you again just to pump those webbed wads right back in. From the top of his rotund tip and dooooooown to the tufts of hairs at his base. All nine inches of him being used to stuff you till the brim—

You’re sure your insides look like an utter fuckin’ mess by the time he’s slowing his tattooed hips down ever-so-slightly—still shaking from the aftermath of his orgasm. This was far stronger than anything he’s ever experienced before. 

Drunkenly, you’re blinking your eyes up at him. “Always?”

He smiles, “Ever since our first lesson of Film 101.” Admitting, he lovingly wipes off a bit of his cum you were foaming between your pussylips. “You referenced Pride and Prejudice when talking about the best lines of dialogue of all time, and I-I’d been a goner since then.”

“Corny…” You snort. Though you can’t help the flutter of your heart.

“So um- coffee after this?”

“It better be dinner.”

He laughs in agreement. “Also I bought a vibrating piercing the other day and have been dying to try it…”

Your eyes widen.

And once you’re helping him pull out- Choso reaches for the camera and gets a good shot of the cum leaking between your legs. Before you’re both waving at it, “Thank you for joining us, today—this was the most fun I’ve had on stream yet- heh.”

You’re shooting the camera a pretty smile, too.

And Choso kisses the corner of your cheeks, “Until next time. This has been Curse and Movie.”

@girrrrrrrrrrth: holy fuck??

@Curse’swifey: WAIT WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT NO WAY-

@bewbsRlife: HOLD ON-

@CCpervnextdoor: SAY SIKE RN?

@bipplruletheworld: oh my god that’s amazing.

@likezmenpregnant: Oh, a love story for the ages~

@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU TWO LOOKING FOR A THIRD??

@Fishygurodad: Damn.

@Fishygurodad: Hmu when he messes up.

@daddytoeknee: Stfu he won’t.

@daddytoeknee: Also I totally called it <3

A/N. I did NOT plan to have me inserted and beefing with Toji Fushiguro but here we are-

The way Joel fucks you can never be labeled as anything other than exquisite. His breath is hot against the sensitive skin of your neck, his mouth closing over the pulse point just below your ear so as to taste the salt of your sweat. The coarse scratch of his chest hair drags across your breasts as he leans in close, the low rumble of his groan vibrating through your ribcage. The muscles in his back shift and flex under the featherlight touch of your fingertips. A large hand pins your wrist above your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, his thick fingers digging into the soft flesh in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

Despite being lost in the throes of pleasure, you can tell how dangerously close Joel is to coming. His thrusts are no longer the steady, rolling grind that he started with, but desperate and choppy. The thick head of his cock grazes against your cervix with every sloppy snap of his hips. The veins along his shaft throb against your stretched rim, his balls slapping against your ass with each stuttered movement. “Joel…” you warn.

He shakes his head fast, jaw tight and teeth clenched as he fights his impending orgasm. “I know, baby. I know. M’pullin’ out, I promise.” 

That had always been the deal between the two of you – he could fuck you bare like he wanted, but he had to pull out – and until tonight, Joel had always been overly cautious. He’d pull out earlier than he needed to, stroking himself those last few seconds before spilling across the backs of your thighs.

Tonight though, Joel seemed to be struggling to hold up his end of the bargain. He rises onto his knees and hooks one of your legs over his broad shoulders. The new angle lets him sink into you further, grinding against that spongy spot inside you with merciless precision. Your body clenches around him, squeezing his cock in a way that makes him break with a choked sound. “Fuck, baby. M’gonna come–”

He rips out of you at the very last second, cock throbbing in the cool summer air. His hand wraps around the thick, slick shaft as he jerks himself with fast, desperate strokes. With an exasperated groan, the first hot rope of come shoots out of him, landing exactly where he wants it - splattered perfectly over your swollen clit. Before you can even react, a second spurt follows dripping down your folds in a sticky, pearly streak. 

The sight of his release painting your pussy flips a switch in him instantly. That primal urge in him that is usually kept locked down roars to the surface. Joel’s chest heaves, his entire body going rigid as every civilized thought gets wiped clean and is replaced with the need to be inside you. “Fuck. Fuck, baby–” He drives into you in one brutal, instinctive thrust, thrusting every thick inch of his cock back into the heat of your cunt. The stretch is sudden and overwhelming despite him pulling out only moments earlier.

“Joel–” you manage to breathlessly exclaim as he turns his head and groans against your ankle. His orgasm hits him harder now that he’s buried where he knows he shouldn’t be, the guilt and wrongness only seeming to intensify everything as he continues to spill inside you.

His whole body shakes with the force of it, completely lost in the rush of filling you when he promised he wouldn’t. “Oh fuck–” he chokes out, gasping and moaning as he grinds himself impossibly deeper, pushing his spend as far inside you as he can. 

Your leg slips from his shoulder and Joel’s body collapses forward with a groan, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He trembles above you, arms braced on either side of your head, too weak to hold himself up fully as he attempts to catch his breath. Even after the last powerful aftershocks ripple through him, Joel stays buried to the hilt, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary roll, unable to stop chasing the euphoric feeling. His cock twitches inside your come-filled pussy, his body refusing to accept that it’s over.

The room falls silent, the gravity of what just happened settling over you until it’s almost suffocating. Joel finally slumps over you, his forehead nudging into your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around your middle like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His breath is shaky as he burrows his face into your neck and you sense the tension and unease radiating off of him.  “...baby. I–I fucked up,” he admits, voice wrecked from both exhaustion and nerves. 

You can feel the warmth of his release slowly leaking out around his softening cock and you try to lift your head to see, but Joel is heavy over top of you. You tap the side of his ass, urging him to get up and thankfully he understands the gesture. He eases himself out of you, his cock slipping out of you with a wet noise, and falls back onto the mattress, covering his face with his forearm. “Jesus…” you breathe, having propped yourself up on your elbows to look down at the mess he made. The sheen of your slick is smeared glossy across your inner thighs. Joel’s come is everywhere – seeping out of your hole in thick, pearly white streaks and dripping onto the bedsheets beneath you. 

Joel sits up, leaning back on one hand as he takes in the sight of your spread thighs, watching as his come slowly trickles from your entrance. The guilt of breaking his promise to you starts to eat at him; but, alongside the shame is a dark, hungry satisfaction that he can’t push away. The conflicting feelings weave together into some fucked up shame spiral and he lets out a heavy sigh, flopping back onto the mattress. 

He hears you say his name, but the sound barely registers. He’s too lost in his own head, trapped somewhere between regret and disgust. You call out again, this time a little louder, and he rolls onto his side to face you. Without a word, he leans in, one hand cradling your cheek as he kisses you. It’s not rushed or desperate, but rather sweet, as if his lips were trying to say everything he was having difficulty putting into words. There’s an apology in the way that his thumb gently strokes the side of your face. There’s hunger in the way his tongue slides against yours. And, there’s relief in the quiet sigh he breathes into the kiss, like touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded. “M’sorry, baby…” he murmurs against your lips. 

His eyes flick back down to the mess between your thighs, brows furrowing together. “Fuck…look at what I did to you,” he whispers. “As soon as I can feel my damn legs, “we’re gonna get in the car, okay? I’ll drive you to the pharmacy and we’ll see about gettin’ you the mornin’ after pill.” Joel shakes his head, disappointed in himself, but even more so at his cock which twitches with interest. “I promised. I fuckin’ promised and I just…” his voice cracks, “the second I came, I lost it. Buried myself right back in like some goddamn animal.” There’s a short pause, Joel swallowing down a dangerous thought, “Jesus Christ, baby…what the hell did I do?”

You grab Joel’s face with both hands before he can spiral any further, pulling him into a kiss that shuts him up and steals whatever apology was about to tumble out. His lips quiver against yours, unsure if he should even be allowed this kind of forgiveness. It isn’t until the tip of your tongue slides slowly over the seam of his lips that he melts. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and the tension in his jaw finally eases. His hand comes to rest on your waist and he kisses you back, trying to convey his gratitude for not pushing him away.

When you break apart, you rest your forehead against him and brush your thumbs over his stubbled cheekbones. “Should make you go by yourself,” you mumble against his lips, no malice in your voice. “Explain to the pharmacist what you did.”

Joel looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, knowing he deserves every bit of shame and reproach that would come from confessing it aloud. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his face starting to heat up. “Baby…” he breathes out, voice barely above a whisper. 

You smile softly, eyes locked on his, “She’s going to take one look at this guilty face and just know that you couldn’t keep your cock where it belonged.” Joel makes a ragged sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “She’ll make you say it too,” you add, dragging your thumb over his bottom lip. “What you did. Out loud.”

Joel’s eyes flutter shut, cheeks burning hotter under your gaze, his forehead dropping to your shoulder in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. You’re not exactly sure what prompts you, but you find yourself sliding your fingers into Joel’s hair, gently tugging his head back up so you can see his face. “Tell me what you’d say to her,” you whisper. “Tell me like you’re standing at the counter.”

Joel shakes his head weakly, attempting to resist your request, but his pupils are blown wide, lust swallowing his irises. His cock twitches with interest, blood rushing to where he’s already growing half-hard between his thighs. 

You let your gaze drop, catching the sudden movement in your peripheral vision. Joel lets out a small, miserable whine and tries to bury his face in your neck again, but you keep your grip firm in his hair. “Joel,” you say, slightly amused but with a strangely cruel undertone to it. “Are you getting hard while apologizing?”

Your question lingers in the air, and the real shock of it hits you, because Joel is not the type to be brought down to his metaphorical knees. He is always the one in control – bigger, stronger, unmistakably male – and seeing him like this almost feels surreal. You can’t help but think that it looks good on him for a change. 

Joel’s breath stutters, his cock betraying him as it twitches under your gaze. His blush deepens until he’s red all the way up to the tips of his ears. He feels exposed, ridiculous and so fucking turned on that it’s making his head spin. “Baby, I–I’m trying not to.”

You tilt your head and let out a disbelieving laugh, glancing down at his cock steadily thickening between you. “Doesn’t look like it. Looks like you’re getting big and hard just from thinking about having to talk to the pharmacist later.”

A shiver zips up Joel’s spine and he barely restrains the groan that wants to escape. He fucking loves it when you call him big. Not just because of the way it strokes his ego – though he loves when you admire his dick – but because the way you say it makes him feel powerful. Hearing you use that word against him, teasing him while he’s exposed like this, makes his stomach tighten. The contradiction of being called ‘big’ while feeling so small and humiliated fucks with his head in the best way. Because no matter how big he is – how easily he could pin you down and take control – here he is, rock hard and almost submissive for you. His cock throbs, heavy and flushed dark, curving up towards his stomach as the tip glistens with a fresh bead of precome.

“Answer me,” you say, voice low and commanding as you give his hair another firm tug until his eyes are trained on you.

“...fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, unable to keep himself in check as you stare down at him. “Yes…okay? Yes, I’m gettin’ hard. I hate it and I can’t fuckin’ help it.”

Joel looks completely mortified, but his hips twitch upward anyway, like his body is begging for attention. His big, guilty brown eyes stay locked on yours, glassy and desperate. A long moment stretches between you while you watch him squirm, shame and arousal practically eating him alive. You lean in closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “That’s because you liked it,” you whisper. “You liked filling me up when you weren’t supposed to. You liked fucking up.”

His whole body tenses, his cock jerking with another helpless twitch. “Fuck…baby,” he whispers. “So fucking much.”

You let the silence sit for another beat, just to watch him sit with his admission. His hand flexes at his side like he’s dying to reach out and touch you – to grab your hips, pull you closer, bury his face between your thighs, and eat you out until you’re shaking and pushing him away.  Anything to distract from the embarrassment of telling someone else how much he enjoyed coming inside you. 

When you’re satisfied that you had made him wait long enough, you loosen your grip on his hair and slide your hand down to cup his jaw. “Joel,” you say softly. He responds with a hum, leaning into your touch. “Say it.”

Joel blinks, his breath shallow. “Say what?”

You lean in until your lips are barely an inch from his, “What you’re going to tell the pharmacist.”

Joel’s eyes flutter shut for a second, his lips parting slightly as he half-expects you to lean in and kiss him. When you don’t, he lets out a huff. After a moment, he relents,  “Sorry ma’am,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Can I bother you for Plan B? I…I accidentally…” His sentence tapers off, embarrassment and arousal tying his tongue while you look at him expectantly. “She–she told me to pull out, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You tsk at him, a low, disappointed sound that makes his shoulder tense. You trail your fingers from where it cups his cheek, down the side of his neck, over the rapid thud of his heartbeat in his chest, until you reach his navel. You trace his happy trail with the pad of your pointer finger, purposefully keeping away from his more than interested cock. “Keep going,” you state, more demand than request. “You weren’t finished."

Joel looks at you wrecked, completely at your mercy as you continue teasing him with featherlight touches. “Baby…I–”

You cut him off mid-sentence, wrapping your fingers firmly around the thick base of his cock. He goes stock still, his eyes flying wide open as he lets out a sharp gasp, “Fuck–”. You hold him there, tight and possessive, feeling his cock throb hot and heavy in your palm, but refusing to stroke him. 

“Keep going,” you say calmly, your thumb brushing lightly over the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft. “Don’t stop just because I have your cock in my hand.”

Joel licks his lips, eyes glued to yours, his thighs trembling as he fights the overwhelming urge to thrust up into your fist. “She told me to pull out,” he starts, your grip tightening. “…but I saw how pretty she looked on my cock and I–” He groans softly, enraptured by the way you’re looking at him. “I couldn’t help myself, baby.  I–I just needed to feel you feel you full of me.”

You lean in close, nose brushing against the shell of his ear, and whisper, “Pathetic.”

A broken groan tears out of Joel’s chest, shame flooding his face. He jerks his hips involuntarily, eagerly chasing the heat of your palm. His body shakes – the big, strong man who’s always in control, trembling from a single whispered insult.

“Go on,” you purr in his ear. “Repeat what you’d say to the pharmacist. Word for word.”

Joel’s eyes squeeze shut, his voice is wrecked, cracking with every humiliating word. “...Sorry, ma’am. Can I get a Plan B? I accidentally came inside my girl. She told me to pull out but I…I couldn’t help but fill her up anyway.” His hips twitch helplessly, precome drooling from the tip and leaking over your fist.

“And why not,” you ask softly, adjusting your grip, your thumb swiping over the flushed, sensitive head.

Joel keens, his back arching off the bed. “Because–” he starts, swallowing down a shaky breath,  “because she was squeezin’ me so good that I lost control.”

“I told you to pull out,” you remind him, thumb continuing to move. 

He nods quickly, shame tightening in his throat. “I know, baby. I know. I did at first but…” Joel lets out a strangled whine, only furthering his embarrassment, “...fuck.”

“But what, Joel?” you ask, lips still brushing his ear in a tease. “Finish your sentence.” Your hand slides up his length in one smooth stroke, then back down to the base. He’s so fucking big in your grip, your fingers barely meeting around his shaft due to the sheer size of him. His cock is a complete mess, glistening and still slick with his earlier load. 

Joel’s hands fist the sheets, needing to hold onto something, the fabric pulling away from the edge of the mattress as he fights for control. “I didn’t listen,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “Stuffed myself right back inside.”

You pull back just enough to see his face, his pupils blown with lust, his lips parted as he pants, desperate for more – desperate for something. “Good boy,” you praise. Joel’s entire body seizes up, his cock surging with want, as he attempts to push himself deeper into your grasp. You keep stroking him, the pace excruciating, letting your thumb swirl over the messy come-slick head on every upstroke. “Now tell her why you’re there,” you murmur.

Joel lets out a broken whine, hips jerking helplessly. His voice cracks as he forces the words out, shame and arousal twisting together so tightly he can barely speak.  “ ‘Cause she needs the morning after pill,” he breathes out. “And it’s all my fault.” Joel shoves his hips up, spearing his cock into your grip as he starts fucking your fist in short, needy strokes. “All my fucking fault.” 

The big, dominant Joel Miller is officially gone. In place is this desperate, leaking, shame-drenched version of him who can’t stop confessing how badly he fucked up – how badly he needed to come inside you – and how much he loved it.

“Greedy boy. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” 

He doesn’t answer you. You let him use your hand to get off, watching his face go slack with pleasure before urging his hips down and slowing your hand. Your fingers tighten around him, just enough to control the pace, forcing his thrusts to become shallow and frustratingly restricted. Every time he tries to move, you ease off, keeping him right on the agonizing edge without letting him tip over.

“That’s it,” you croon softly, “Tell her exactly why you need it.”

Joel’s hands fist the sheets tighter, knuckles white as he bunches the fabric at his sides. “‘Cause–fuck…’cause I came inside you, baby,” he groans. “Pussy looked so good covered in my come that I just had to get back inside.”

You feel him swell impossibly bigger in your hand, the thick shaft pulsing in time with his heartbeat, as he teeters dangerously close to the edge. His balls draw up tight, the first warning of his impending orgasm.

Joel’s breath catches, his eyes starting to roll back, inches away from satisfaction. You let go, your hand pulling away completely, leaving his cock twitching and bobbing angrily in the air. He lets out a broken sound as his orgasm crests and then crashes without release. His cock kicks hard, pulsing uselessly, a thick bead of precome dribbling pathetically from the tip and sliding down his shaft. His hips buck in the air, every muscle straining as everything fades into a cruel, aching denial. He collapses towards you, his body practically shaking  as he presses his forehead to your shoulder. “Fuck…baby…please…” he begs. 

You let him ache, his chest heaving with quick, uneven breaths, his denied cock twitching and leaking against his stomach. Every heavy throb is visible as he attempts to gather himself. He tries to tamp down his arousal, but underneath is something deeper  – raw, aching need. 

You press a hand gently to his chest, urging him to lie flat and Joel obeys instantly, falling back onto the mattress fully and without protest. You swing a leg over him, straddling his hips, your slick folds parting around him. His head falls back with a guttural groan as you start to rock against him, the fat head of his cock dragging hot and slippery over your swollen clit making you both moan. You feel him shudder underneath you, a low groan vibrating through his chest as he curses silently, “...fuck, baby. Just like that.”

Joel’s hands fly to your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh like he’s barely holding himself together. His breathing is ragged, eyes half-lidded and desperate as he watches you use him. You tease him like that for a few more torturous seconds without giving him what he really needs, a needy whine slipping out before he can stop it. 

Without hesitation, you take his cock in hand, lining him up with your entrance and sinking down all the way to the hilt. The stretch is perfect, your walls squeezing tight around him, greedy for more. A broken moan escapes both of you at the same time as Joel springs up, sitting up beneath you in a rush, one arm wrapping around your back as he pulls you into a messy, desperate kiss. Joel licks into your mouth like he’s starving for you. One hand slides up your back, while the other stays wrapped around your middle as he guides you harder onto his cock. 

“Fuck, baby…” he pants between kisses, “you feel so goddamn good.” Joel’s forehead drops to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin as he lets you take complete control, utterly lost in the feeling of being buried inside you again. 

“Keep going,” you say, pulling off of him until only the tip of him remains inside you, then slamming back down until he’s fully sheathed again. “Tell the pharmacist what you did.”

Joel’s brain is barely coherent. “Fuck–I–” His hands dig into your skin, almost like he’s afraid you’ll leave him ruined and desperate again. “M’sorry, ma’am,” he begins, his words somewhat slurred as you continue to mercilessly ride him, the wet heat of your cunt enveloping him over and over again. “Need a plan B for my–fuck– girl.” His voice cracks as you grind your clit against his pelvis, the coarse hair on his groin prickling into your skin. “I’m sorry,” he groans, starting to babble, the confession spilling out in desperate, shattered pieces. “So fucking sorry. Felt so good. Fuck, baby…you feel so good. Needed to fill you up.”

Joel is embarrassingly close already, his hips stuttering up to meet your rhythm. “Fuck, baby. Hop off–fuck, I’m gonna–” he gasps, starting to panic. His hands scramble frantically at your hips, trying to lift you off him to avoid further incident. 

But you don’t let him. You slam down onto him one last time, taking him as deep as you can, rolling your hips in tight circles that eke him closer to the finish line. Your walls clench around him like a vice and Joel’s eyes widen in shock. “No–baby, wait–I can’t–fuck!”

His panicked warning dissolves into a guttural groan as his cock pulses violently inside you, his eyes rolling back into his head, vision going white, as thick, hot ropes of come flood you for the second time that afternoon. His entire body trembles beneath you, his fingers bruising your skin where he grips you as if you’re the only thing anchoring him to Earth.

The wet warmth of his spend spills from your cunt and drips down his shaft, coating him in his own mess. Joel’s face is slack, experiencing what one can only assume to be pure bliss – like nothing in the world exists except the tight, slick heat of your cunt milking him dry. 

You ride the high right alongside him, your bodies in a perfect, filthy sync until your own orgasm crashes into you without warning. Your thighs lock tight around his hips as white-hot pleasure rips up your spine. You cry out, your head lolling back, his name slipping from your lips as every muscle shakes with wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure. 

Joel starts to slowly soften inside of you but doesn’t dare look down at the mess. “Still gotta go to the pharmacy, baby.”

The fluorescent lights of the pharmacy feel way too bright as Joel stands at the counter, posture rigid like he’s waiting on his own execution. The pharmacist, a no-nonsense type of woman in her fifties, offers him a polite smile. “How can I help you today?”

Joel’s face immediately burns red, his blush crawling all the way up to his ears. He rubs the back of his neck, glancing over at you like maybe you’ll save him from utter embarrassment, but you don’t. He clears his throat, an attempt at keeping himself from stuttering which immediately backfires as soon as he opens his mouth to speak. “Uh–I–I–uh…I need the, uh…the Plan B pill.”

The pharmacist doesn’t even blink, she just nods calmly and types something into the computer, “One moment, sir. I’ll grab that for you.”

Joel lets out an apprehensive breath, muttering under his breath while his fingers tap nervously on the counter. He prays the ground will just swallow him whole. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles to himself.

The pharmacist returns with the small blue box and sets it on the counter, scanning the barcode. “Alright, if that’s it for today, that’ll be–”

“It’s my fault,” Joel blurts out, far too loud, before realizing his blunder. “I–I messed up.”

You watch the pharmacist’s eyebrows slowly lift. In truth, your hand reaches for him like you’re going to stop him, but the words tumble out of him quicker than expected. “She told me to pull out but I just lost my head.”

You bite down hard on your lip to keep from laughing, your face heating with a mix of second-hand embarrassment and delight. The pharmacist blinks, completely unfazed. “Oh. Well…it happens. That’ll be $54.11.”

Joel looks like he’s two seconds away from melting into the floor. His neck and ears are bright red, jaw clenched so tight you’re afraid he’s going to pop a vein in his forehead. He fumbles for his wallet, dropping his debit card with a loud clatter, cursing quietly under his breath. You place a steady hand on his bicep and he manages to swipe the card with shaking fingers, refusing to look at you.

When the transaction is complete, the pharmacist hands him the bag, telling him she hopes he has a good day. He can’t even respond with words. He raises his hand, nodding his head and gently takes you by the arm, leading you out of the pharmacy as quickly as he can. When he reaches the sidewalk, he turns towards you, the bulge evident in his jeans, his voice dropping into a hushed whisper only you can hear. “Baby…I swear I ain’t ever been that embarrassed in all my life.”

The minute the front door clicks shut behind you, Joel lets out a heavy exhale, dropping the keys to his truck on the entryway table. You barely make it two steps before he reaches for you, grabbing your hand and pulling you into him, your back flush against his broad chest. His face drops into the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin like he needs the contact to steady himself. 

He turns you to face him and his eyes are soft, filled with adoration and love. The flush of humiliation hasn’t fully faded, his ears tinted pink as he cocks his head to the side and then leans in to kiss you. The kiss starts slow, as if he’s asking for permission, but the moment you kiss him back, it deepens – slow and hungry in the softest way. His hands slide down your back, palms warm and steady, pressing you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. “Baby…”, he whispers, his lips not leaving yours. “...you were real mean to me.”

You smile, humming in agreement, “Yeah, you gonna let me do it again?”

Joel swallows, eyes dropping to your mouth, his response somewhat shy, “Jesus…I–yeah,we’ll talk about it.”

His forehead rests against yours and he breathes you in for a long moment, then kisses you again. His arms tighten around you as the tension starts to bleed out of his shoulders. “Thank you,” he murmurs, the words barely more than a breath. “For helpin’ me take care of it. For not bein’ mad. For…hell, for everything.”

Joel Miller is a busy man.

With his brother he went from small construction firm to a millions-worth constructing business in less than three years. He knew how to achieve what he wanted. Long hours, sleepless nights, basically no private life.

He always told himself he’s gonna success and he did.

Despite his father’s cruel words, despite everyone saying he won’t achieve anything without school.

And look at him now. Years later.

Sharp suits. Even sharper jawline. The kind of stoicism that keeps people on edge. He’s not unkind. Never. But he is sure of what he wants. His employees listen dutifully in the boardrooms, eating from his hand. He basically built the whole Austin at this point. And constantly gains more clients and deals. The company is growing.

This man has everything under control. Perfectly-structured life and business.

And yet…

He does have one weakness.

The weakness that makes him do stupid things. That draws his attention from the important stuff. This weakness keeps swirling in his mind and has made itself at home there.

This weakness… is you.

And that’s why he flew over three hours to San Francisco — a day before an actual business meeting here — just so he could spend more time with you. That’s exactly why he sits in a luxurious hotel room now, waiting for you to appear.

He’s not sure how this started. It just did. He does business with your mother. She’s a big fish in California’s construction circles. You met in her office. Then again at some gala.

You ended up in bed.

Deals with your mother kept him in San Francisco often, but in fact… it was you. The need to see you.

Just like now.

He waited weeks to see you.

Weeks for a one night stolen from his busy life.

He loosens his tie, anticipation flowing in his veins. He stands up to pour himself some whiskey into the glass. He drinks it in one gulp.

And that’s when he hears it. Knock. Knock.

He stills with the glass mid-air. He sets it on the table and makes his way to the door, way faster than he wishes to admit. With a final inhale, he pulls it open.

„Did you order room service?” You stand there, grinning flirtatiously.

Jesus, you’re breathtaking. He guesses you came here straight from your studying session in the library. Your favorite sweater on you and those tight, sexy jeans… Fuck.

„Hell yeah.” He breathes and tugs you inside, shutting the door closed. You giggle when he wraps both his arms around you, like he couldn’t spend another second without your touch. His lips are on yours now, pouring all the longing and desire into the heated kiss. You don’t even have time to respond properly, before he pushes you onto the nearest wall. A gasp leaves your mouth and only then he leans back, just to get lost in your beautiful eyes.

„Hi, baby.” He rasps, proud when he notices your cheeks are already rosy.

„Hi, handsome. That was quite a welcome.”

„Sorry, just… missed you so much.” His lips find your jaw now, nipping softly at the skin. You smile to yourself, feeling the nice warmth settle in your body. He missed you.

„I missed you, too.”

He pulls away, just to cup your cheek with his large hand. You relish in the feeling of his touch. How someone so gruff and stern can be so gentle behind the closed door?

Joel is like that just for you. He’s sure no one ever saw this side of him, not really. You awoke this protector side of him. This loving part of him. And he starts liking it more and more with every day.

„I’m sorry, I didn’t wear anything more… sexier. I was studying and-”

He cuts you off with a kiss. You feel him smirking against your lips, which makes you confused.

„I figured you’d be studying. And don’t you dare apologizing…” he trails off just to look you up and down. „Those jeans are sexy as hell, baby.”

It’s the way he looks at you… The way his eyes darken. They always do when he sees you after so long. You never felt like this with any man. Joel worships you. Worships the land you step on. When he watches you like that… you’re sure you could wear a potato sack and he’d still get hard at the view.

„But I would much rather have them off.” He whispers and leans in just to inhale your sweet scent. You balance yourself, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. God, it’s been so long. Every time you say goodbye it feels like his heart gets another painful jab. He hates this.

So he always tries to make your meetups unforgettable. He wants to give you something to remember for those weeks you spend apart. No matter if it’s the way he fucks you, or some gift.

Joel’s hand travels downwards your body. For a moment stops in the dip of your waist, squeezing there. But his goal? The zipper of your jeans. Your breathing is already uneven, anticipating what he’ll do to you tonight. With Joel it’s always a surprise. It’s thrilling in a way you never experienced before.

„Hurry.” You whisper and he chuckles.

„Missed me this much? Good.”

His lips find your neck. The kisses he lays on your heated skin remind you of a feast. Joel is having a feast and you are the main fucking dish. It’s like he can’t get enough and you love it. You love the passion he bestows upon you.

He runs his tongue from your shoulder to your jaw, leaving a wet path that makes you shiver. All this while his hand works the button of your jeans. You arch beneath him, the hard wall against your back makes it impossible to seek your desired friction. An uncontrollable, desperate sound leaves your mouth.

„Shh, baby. I got you. I know she missed me, too.” He rasps, slipping his hand beneath the fabric of your jeans in search for your needy pussy. You whimper, so he kisses you again.

Joel can’t wait much more, desperate to hear your sweet moans. His hand barely fits in those tight jeans of yours, tempting him to rip them. But he manages to slip his fingers under the hem of your lingerie. He believes he noticed a glimpse of his favourite black set. You wore it especially for him.

At this point he’s painfully hard, but nothing is more important to him than your pleasure.

„Joel.” You groan when his fingers brush through your slick folds for the first time. You feel so hot already, sweating in your sweater. You want him to free you from your misery, give you the release you waited so long for.

„I’m right here, Darlin’.” He starts circling his fingers, making your clit swell with desire. „Ride those fingers, I know you want to.”

And, oh, how right he is. The pressure of his hand in your jeans makes your head spin. You shift your hips, tasting the delicious feeling of his fingers. Burying your hands in his thick curls, you steady yourself and start moving. His fingers join the movement, at first slow. Relishing in each other.

„Good, baby. Good girl.” His lips brush against yours, but you chase after them, pulling him into a proper kiss. You nip at his lower lip. He groans into your mouth, because goddamn, you feel amazing. His fingers all slippery as he runs them through your folds in these precise strokes he knows that drive you crazy. The way you respond… your shivers, those unsure moans… Jesus Christ, he might come right into his pants.

Right now, neither of you can speak much. Four weeks of tension finally gave way to relief and nothing will stop you. You’re consumed by the enormous lust for each other. Consumed by the longing that only grew. Sure, you text and have long phone calls… But it’s nothing compared to this.

Skin to skin.

Breath to breath.

„Oh yes… Joel!” You gasp, when he slides his two fingers inside. Suddenly you feel so full, so perfect… Your head light, without any worries about your uni, or your life. Just Joel having his way with you.

„You like that, hm? Shit, I can feel you pussy choking them...” He mutters, his breath hot against your skin. You writhe beneath him, but he’s not having it. He pins you firmly to the wall, no space between you. His free hand goes to your wrist, wrapping around it tightly. He pins it beside your head, keeping you right where he wants you to be.

His fingers speed up, hitting deeper into your needy core. Your mind starts getting hazy as the pleasure coils low in your stomach. It’s there. It’s right there within your reach…

You grasp onto anything, digging your nails into his shoulders. Then higher, on his neck… He growls at the sting. He fucking loves this.

„You’re marking me up, baby? Shit, you know how much I like it.”

„I do…” You whimper, because it’s getting harder to think when he fingers you in that perfect pace. „You close, Darlin’? I can feel it. You want it bad, huh?” He mutters pecking your lips.

„Yes… Please.”

„You got it, baby. Come for me.”

His thumb joins his fingers, pressing against your clit. The rhythm is fucking amazing and the circles of his thumb? Unraveling.

Those delicious, soft moans ring in the hotel room. He admires your flushed skin and how your eyelids flutter when he fucks you with his fingers. The tilt of your head backwards, exposing your neck only tells him how good it feels. He knows you’ve been waiting. And, God, doesn’t it make him love you even more.

„Good fucking girl, come on.” He growls pushing you so your back hits the wall once again. The movement makes you clench around him until the pressure is unbearable.

You come with a desperate cry escaping your mouth. Shudders run through your whole body and Joel holds you through it all. God, you’re gorgeous like this. The guard down, skin flushed with how he wore you out. A drop of sweat rolls down your temple and Joel sweeps his tongue over it. You sigh weakly at the sensation.

He stops his hand, pulling it out of your jeans, only to suck his fingers off of your juices. The view almost makes you come again, the way he swirls his tongue over them… Jesus Christ.

When he’s done, he takes a better look at you.

„You good?” He asks, pulling a strand of your hair behind your ear.

„Y-yeah.” You breathe, still overwhelmed with the orgasm he just gave you. But the release only increased your craving for more. You need this man right now. You want to feel his cock stretch you in the best way possible. You think you might go feral, if he doesn’t fuck you this second.

But before you can do anything about it… he just pulls you into his arms. Into a hug that shows just how much he really longed for this moment. For this bitter-sweet reunion that happens every few weeks. You melt, relishing in the moment. In the musky scent of his cologne. The strength he keeps you close with.

Your lips find his neck, kissing him like you wanted since you saw him. You’re glad he holds you, because your legs still feel wobbly. With all you have, you push him, so he stumbles backwards to the bed with you. He smiles, trying to fight you, pushing back, but you’re stubborn.

Stubborn and horny.

„Don’t make it harder.” You say and with a final push his legs hit the edge of the king-sized bed. Joel laughs and before he can fall onto the mattress, he grabs you, spins just enough so it’s you who lands on the sheets. You huff at the smirk that he looks at you with. „Asshole.”

„You love me.”

„I do.”

It’s simple in its difficulty. You shared your feelings long ago. But both of you know that coming out as a relationship… It could end badly. So you just keep it secret. Secret calls, secret nights at the hotels. It works, even if you miss each other like hell.

He pulls your sweater over your head, letting you finally breathe. Your skin glistens with sweat, but his eyes focus on this naughty bra that covers your plump breasts. Your nipples perk through the thin material and he hums in appreciation.

Joel always appreciates art.

„Gosh, baby…” he shakes his head and leans in, bracing one hand on the mattress and pulls you into another hungry kiss. Your legs spread, inviting him closer. He doesn’t want to crush you with his weight, but goddamn you’re so sexy right now… His lips travel to your cheek, then your eyelids, making your breath catch. „How’s college?” He murmurs between kisses. It’s so Joel of him. He wants you as hell, but even then he’ll ask you about your life.

„Good. Passed the last exam for this semester.” You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

„You did?” He grins pecking your lips. „That’s my smart girl.”

He really adores your brain. Well, not everyone could get into Stanford. He really admires how much time you spend on learning. Though, sometimes it worries him that you don’t take enough care of yourself. That’s why he’s glad he can see you. Because he knows, with him you can relax.

You know it, too.

„Hold on tight, I need to take these off.” he smirks tugging at your jeans. You grasp the edge of the bed and with one swift movement he gets rid of them. Finally.

„Missed this gorgeous body.” He smiles and takes off his tie. Then he reaches for the buttons of his shirt. His tall frame stands above you and you feel this throbbing need between your legs.

„Missed yours, too, big man.” You bite your lower lip.

God, just the sight of it.

He undoes his shirt and soon it lands on the floor next to your sweater and jeans. You admire his muscled chest, formed from years of hard work before he became the businessman. He’s still in a good shape, though his stomach softened just a bit. But you love it. You love every single piece of him.

Joel leans in to take off your shoes and socks, as he does you spread your legs wider with a giggle. You see his nostrils move as he takes a deep inhale, your actions frustrating him even more.

„You’re asking for trouble, little lady.” His devilish smirk makes you pause and then shift your gaze to his hands as he unbuckles his belt. It falls to the floor with a thud. You’re watching mesmerized as he meticulously unzips his pants and shrugs them down his thick legs. His socks and boxers follow.

He’s completely bare before you, stroking his hard as rock cock.

„On the middle.” He nods at the mattress and you submissively move to lay there. He slowly follows, kneeling on the bed between your legs. „Do you need me to tell you what to do?”

„Yes.”

It’s a dynamic you worked out pretty quickly in your relationship. Joel likes to take your mind off things. He knows that with him you let go of your guard and eagerly follow the lead. It keeps you balanced. He’s aware that after weeks of studying you tend to be a nervous wreck.

„Then take off this sinful bra for me.”

You do, reaching behind you unclasp it. You don’t look where you throw it, too focused on your boyfriend. But he chuckles when the bra lands on the bedside lamp, nearly knocking it down. „Good aim.”

„Shut up.”

And, oh, he does, because finally there is no barrier between him and your tits. He hovers above you, just to dive in between them. He kisses and licks your breasts and you instantly arch into pleasurable touch. He bites on the sensitive skin, leaving a mark. You tug at his hair at the sensation, not sure if you want him closer or further. Gosh, what he does to you…

„Joel, please… Quit playing.” You breathe.

„Quit playing, huh? You want me to fuck your needy pussy?”

He lays a kiss on the column of your throat. Right where your blood runs.

„Yes… please, baby.” You nod eagerly, the tension is unbearable. Your first orgasm only increased your lust and you physically can’t bear it anymore.

„You’re lucky I’m impatient tonight, too.” He rasps and with one swift movement gets rid of your panties. He thinks he ripped them a bit, but… who the hell cares? His girl is lying here eager and hot.

That’s far more important.

Joel lines himself up with your heated entrance. One strong arm braced next to your head, while other hand has iron grip on your thigh. Definitely a handprint there later.

„Ready, baby? Still on those pills of yours?”

Your nod is all he needs to push inside. He’s not slow, not when he waited so long. He’s actually surprised he hasn’t came already in his boxers. But the wet heat of your pussy is enough of a reward for those weeks apart.

Joel groans when your soft walls envelope him. „Fuckin’ hell.”

You grasp the sheets, bracing yourself as he starts thrusting into you with that intense pace. You feel every vein, every throb deep inside you. The slick sound of you two is enough to make your head spin. He’s right here. With you. In you.

„Joel… Oh, so good.” You moan, reaching to hold onto his shoulders, he pulls you closer by your thigh. Your pelvis meeting his in the sensual movement. You try to remember to breathe when his lips again find your breasts, he sucks on them with enough pressure, making you tug him closer. „Like that…”

He exactly knows what you like, knows when to bite, when to kiss. When to speed up, or slow down. It’s like he’s got his personal playbook on how to make you see stars.

„You feel amazing. So tight…” He groans, leaning back as he fucks into you. „Put your legs on my shoulders, baby.”

His command sends a shiver down your spine. The way he says that, all firm and with this depth of his eyes… You obey, but are thankful when he helps you settle them just right.

The new angle is definitely what you both needed. Joel gives you a moment to adjust. But when you’re ready? He has no mercy.

His thrusts turn deep, almost punishing. He holds your legs in place, against his chest as he pushes hard. Your moans get louder as his cock hits that sweet spot deep inside of you. Over and over.

„Shit, keep those moans loud. Wanna hear my girl…” he growls. „How good I make her feel-”

Joel can’t stop admiring you. Your hair messily splayed over the mattress and those lips parted in pleasure… You are a fucking work of art. Same view makes him pound faster, chasing the inevitable, crashing release.

„Joel!”

He squeezes your thighs at this precious gasp.

Your hands now clutching the sheets beneath you. You’re writhing in pleasure, hips jointing his movement. The sensations make you confused, your mind too hazy, too overwhelmed. God, you love this state.

You love how he keeps hitting that spot.

You feel the orgasm coming.

It’s right fucking there.

Right…

„Not so fast.” Joel pulls out. He puts your legs down, flipping you onto your stomach. You whine pathetically, but your body is like jello — at this point you let Joel do anything. He positions you, lifting your hips just enough to dive into your slick pussy again.

The groan that leaves his mouth is so filthy. It rings in your ears, makes you clench around his cock. Joel feels it.

„Fuckin’ hell… So good to me tonight, aren’t you, baby?”

He presses his palm flat against your back, keeping your chest pinned to the bed. You feel so good when he takes what he wants. You relish in being good for him. It feels freeing.

It’s in the scent of sex filling the hotel room.

In the sounds of skin slapping as he pounds into you.

„Good fuckin’ girl.”

You’re gasping for air, his cock filling you to the hilt. You feel your desire running down your thigh. The power of his thrusts is so unraveling, you would collapse if he wasn’t holding your hip. He guides your movements by the waist, his large hand splayed out over your skin. Strong and solid.

„Joel… Gonna come…” You cry out.

„Then do. Come for your man, baby.” He raps, you can hear he’s barely holding on with how your pussy’s clenching around him. „Shit-”

You don’t know if it’s the way he keeps you in place, forcing you to stay pressed to the bed. Or if it’s the way he’s panting and groaning… Or maybe it’s the way his dick is filling you so perfectly…

All you know is that another orgasm rips you open, having you almost scream into the sheets, biting onto it as the shudders run through your body. He holds your shaking form, but he is not fucking stopping.

Instead, he follows you, unable to hold back when he hears those sweet cries of pleasure. He spills into you, his cum drips out of your overstimulated core. You whine, clearly having too much of sensations, but he rides out your orgasms until he collapses onto your back, covering you with his big frame. Just enough not to crush you, but enough for you to feel his warmth and his rapid heartbeat.

„Holy fuck…” he sighs exhausted and all you can do is trying to catch your breath. It’s been a lot, he knows. He knows you tend to stay quiet afterwards. So he presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. Then another. And then to the nape of your neck. All this to say he’s here.

He’s got you.

„You did good, Darlin’. So good for me.”

You tilt your head to glance at him and smile.

Gosh, that smile. It’s all he ever needs.

„Think you can give me another one?” He whispers, already sneaking his hand around to your front, and then between your legs.

Oh, fuck, of course you can.

You don’t feel your limbs, you barely steadied your breathing, but God knows you can.

„Thought you’d never ask.” You smirk tiredly.

Joel pecks your nose gently. His fingers find your clit. You wince slightly, but he eases it with another kiss. „She’s sensitive, huh? Don’t worry, it’ll feel good.”

You’re not worrying.

With Joel you’re never worrying.

He’s still resting above you. His chest to your back. This weight is keeping you grounded, though. What you’re doing now is much more intimate. Delicate.

That’s how it is with Joel. He can be both. Wild and calm. Rough and then sweet. You love every face of him.

You hum in pleasure as his finger rubs you. His softened cock is still buried deep inside of you, which just doubles the experience. You shift beneath him, just to create a small friction.

Joel peppers your back and shoulder with kisses. His lips get everywhere he can reach. Even to the corner of your lips. You smile to yourself.

It’s not about dirty talk now, or passion. This is pure about your pleasure. About making you feel all boneless and happy.

„Joel…”

„I’m right here.” He rasps gently, still supporting himself on his forearm not to crush you. He loves watching you like this, flushed and soft. Moaning quietly at his touch. „You’re so wet for me, baby…”

He speeds up just enough to get those overwhelmed sounds out of you. You just can’t keep them inside. Not when he’s leading you to a third orgasm. You’re already spasming with the sensation.

When he notices your breathing turn into panting again, he moves his hips, just one thrust of his, now half-hard, cock into your pussy. She clenches involuntarily and you gasp.

„You feel it, Darlin’? Getting me hard again? It’s all your doing.” He breathes against your skin. „Yes…” you squeeze the sheet in your hand.

Your third orgasm hits with another wave of shivers and that overwhelmed, weak whine he loves so much. He holds you through it, never stopping on kissing your skin. His fingers work long enough to make you completely oversensitive and spent. Until you have nothing in you.

You drop your forehead on the bed, trying to catch your breath. Joel pulls out from your tender pussy, as well taking away his hand from your clit. He rubs your back now in soothing rhythm, letting you calm down after the high.

„You alright?” He asks, always mindful of your wellbeing.

„Yes… that was just… a lot. I needed that.”

„I saw it the moment you stepped in here… Those eyebags… Bet you studied till late.” He rests a lingering kiss on your shoulder blade. He is not saying it to make you feel bad, he’s just concerned. You close your eyes, already sleepy after all this sex.

„Fortunately you are here, so I can unwind.” You mumble.

„Meeting me every few weeks shouldn’t be your only source of relaxation, baby.” He says, and you sense a hint of vulnerability in his voice. You know he’s worried. And it melts your heart, but also… What the hell does he know? He is never actually here to see what you’re doing.

No. You shouldn’t think like this.

You instantly cut off those thoughts.

He sighs softly when you don’t respond and finally leans back. That is not a good moment for any of this type conversations.

„I’ll prep us some bath, hm? Sounds good?”

„Yes. The best.”

„Okay. Don’t fall asleep on me here.” One more time he kisses you, this time on the head. And then he stands up, walking to the bathroom to fill the tub.

The next hour you spend soaking in the hot water. Joel’s arms around you, his lips on your neck. You catch up on everything, finally there’s a moment for both of you to talk. And how good does it feel to be in his arms again. No pressure, no outside world. Just the two of you in your bubble.

Afterwards, Joel wraps you in one of those fluffy hotel’s robes and carries you to bed. You giggle when he does it, making you feel so light and happy. He just knows your legs are still like jelly after what he did to you.

And when he lays you on the mattress, you believe you’ll just have a quick nap together. But no.

Not with Joel Miller who missed you so fucking much.

You look at him confused when he lays on his stomach before you, just a towel wrapped around his waist. Then… he spreads your legs.

„Joel. No.” You shake your had, trying to close them, but his grip is strong. „Joel… I’m sensitive.”

„Just one more, baby.” He whispers, leaving a feather-like kiss on the inside of your ankle. He breathes in a fresh scent of your skin. He scoots even closer, lips trailing up to your knee and thigh. Your resolve crumbles with every kiss he presses.

„But we already…”

„I haven’t seen you for four weeks, so now you’ll come at least four times, got it?” He looks at you from between your legs. His eyes have this decisive glint in them. His grip on you is tight just enough to make you squirm beneath it. And those wet curls on his head…

You can’t say no. Especially not when you feel another wave of wetness flood your pussy.

„Yes.” You whisper, biting your lip when he buries his head between your thighs.

Fucking hell.

You tilt your head backwards until it hits the pillow. You never had wild rounds like this with other partners before Joel. Four orgasms and it’s not even your record.

But it’s inevitable when your man looks like Joel. Acts like Joel.

Is Joel.

He brings the best out of you.

Just like now. With the licks of his tongue on your swollen clit. It’s too damn sensitive. You moan weakly, grasping his hair, seeking some balance as he unravels you with his tongue.

„Goddamnit.” You breathe, guiding his face just like you want it. Oh, he knows you like it.

He flicks just perfectly through your slick folds. Up and down. Then circling. Then pressing. „Oh, God.” You can’t help it, your back arches off of the mattress. You think you might cry. The desire is enormous as well as the need to push him away. It’s confusing. It’s too much…

It’s the best fucking feeling in the world.

„Joel, baby…” you moan. „I can’t…”

He pulls away, just enough to speak. „You can. Just look at me when I eat this sweet pussy.”

His velvet words force you to lift your head, just enough to watch how he savors your taste. He looks wrecked form just this. It’s like you’re undoing him just with your taste. With the sounds that he gets out of you. You close your thighs around his head when he hits a good spot with his tongue. This is unbearable.

You writhe beneath him, matching the pace of his tongue as he eats you. It’s too much. Too fucking much. You feel like you might implode.

„Joel… J-Joel!”

Your moans turn into weak cries and as the pressure grows…

You hit your peak with a strangled groan. Your heart beats so fast, like it might burst out of your chest. Your body trembles and he keeps eating. Rubbing his nose against your clit until few tears roll down your cheeks. You make an overwhelmed noise, tugging him away from your pussy.

He looks at you wide-eyed, with that boyish, proud smirk. You wish you could kiss it away, but you’re too damn shocked from what you’ve just experienced. Joel kisses the inside of your thigh and props himself to hover above you.

„Now, I can say I’m done. For a while.”

You chuckle, but the tears keep flowing. His expression softens and he leans in to kiss every single one of them. He got you to a point when your body is fully relaxed, so now he can also relax. Taking care of you in an emotional way, beyond just the physical one.

„I love you, baby.” He whispers.

„I love you, too.” You breathe, reaching your shaky hand to cup his cheek.

With that, he rolls onto his side of the bed and tugs you with him. Snuggling and safe. Completely spent and happy. Just like he planned.

You rest your head on his chest and he slides his hand beneath your robe, just to gently stroke your back. You close your eyes, enjoying his warmth and presence. He’s the only person who sees you like this. Guard off, responsibilities aside.

And you’re the same to him.

Because no one would ever assume that Joel Miller is capable of being such a softie. But he is for his girl. For you.

With you he is the guy to kiss away the tears. He’s the guy to hold until you fall asleep. He’s the guy to wake you up with breakfast and a peck on the forehead. Even he didn’t suspect himself of being like that.

And when he first felt this need to take care of you? He was terrified.

But now? Now, it’s the only right way to live his life. Even if usually there are miles between you.

It’s those stolen moments that matter.

From your routine, your problems… you’re your escapes. No matter if it’s pleasure, or emotional matters.

He’s there for you and you’re there for him.

You don’t know how long you sleep. You dozed off just few minutes after he gave you your fourth orgasm. But when you lift your head from his chest it’s already dark outside the window. Your legs tangled together, Joel’s eyes still closed.

You let yourself watch him for a while. He looks softer like this. Younger. Not like this serious constructing businessman. He looks like the man who makes love to you and then holds you until your breathing evens. You trace with your finger the few age spots he has on his chest. You lay a kiss right where his heart beats.

That’s when he opens his eyes.

„What time is it?” He asks, raspy from sleep. You smile. „I dunno.”

His hand gently rubs your arm, eyes checking if you’re still okay.

„Tea?” He asks, already sitting up.

„Yeah. But I can make it.” You say, ready to stand up, but he pins you back to the mattress. „Nah uh. You rest. I make the tea.”

With that he gets up. Puts on some sweats he had ready on the armchair and heads to the small kitchenette there is in the hotel room. You prop on your elbow, admiring his sexy back.

„You’re so handsome, you know?”

Joel chuckles.

The room is filled with the quiet hum of the kettle and him searching through cupboards for some mugs. Soon, he walks up to you holding to steaming mugs of green tea. He never liked drinking it, but… You make him do a lot of different things he never liked and yet with you… they seem bearable.

Together you sit against the headboard and sip the tea. Joel’s hand absent-mindedly strokes your leg that you threw over his lap. It’s comfortable. Peaceful.

„You have a meeting with my mom tomorrow?” You ask.

„Yeah… 10 A.M.” he sighs. „You’d be there?”

His question makes you pause. Usually you’re there, because your mom wants you to learn the business.

„No… I have a project to make with Simon.”

„Simon?” He glances at you. „Yeah, the guy from my year.”

„Hm.” Joel hums.

„Oh, you can’t be jealous.” You sip your tea, not wanting to get annoyed at him. Joel is perfect for you, but… just sometimes it gets hard when you’re doing long-distance.

„I’m not. Just sad that my girlfriend chooses a project with some guy, knowing I’m leaving in the evening.”

You look at him, eyes widening slightly in pain. He sees it. He sees it and he fucking hates himself.

„Shit, I’m sorry.” Joel sets his mug on the nightstand to focus just on you. He grabs your free hand. „I didn’t mean it...”

You look away, trying to hold back a sniffle. „You know, it’s hard for me too.” You say.

„I know. I do, I’m sorry, Darlin’… It wasn’t fair.”

He presses a kiss to your knuckles. You glance at him, seeing the guilty crease forming between his brows.

The situation you are in is difficult for both of you. The distance… The jealousy is normal. Especially when you don’t see each other every day. You try to somehow manage through that. Expressing your feelings and all. But despite it, the moment like this one do sometimes happen.

„I don’t want to fight.” You whisper. „Then let’s don’t…” he says, reaching for your mug to set is aside too. He envelopes you in his arms. You let him, resting your head on his shoulder. „I love you.” He mutters against your temple. You relax in the embrace. The slow raise and fall of his chest, soothing your nerves. You’re both aware those difficult moments are effects of the strong love that’s bonding you two.

And you’re not gonna waste your precious time together on fighting.

Especially not after the passionate moments you’ve just shared.

It’s hard, but you manage. You have each other.

Even if just for a night.

One bad day doesn’t make your whole life bad. 

The message glares back at you, the words etched in Sharpie on the back of the bathroom stall in a shitty gas station in Reno. Next to it is for bad time call 775-397-04, the last two numbers are too smudged to read, and several other doodles you suspect might be the leftover artwork from people using the stall for anything other than its intended purpose. 

You had managed to make it to Reno thanks to a kind older lady, Gladys, who had offered you a ride about 200 miles back. 

“Can’t take you all the way, hunny, but I can get you to Nevada.” 

She was nice; a little Elvis-obsessed, and you’d rather walk through a sandstorm fully nude than smell her breath again, but she kept her promise and got you where she said she would. 

You told her the truth when she asked why you were alone and needed a ride. 

You had followed this guy, convinced he was the love of your life. That was until the day you saw him with another woman, in your bed no less, and everything shattered. In a spur of anger and heartbreak, you decided to leave. Without a car or much money, your only option was to hitchhike back to Texas, silently praying your family would understand and take you back. Not likely, but it’s not like you had any other option. 

“Good luck, Toots. You’ll be alright. Anyone gives you hell, just punch ‘em in the balls.” 

You laugh at that. “I’ll keep that advice in mind, Gladys. Thanks for the ride.” 

She gave you a stiff nod and popped the trunk. You grabbed your modest suitcase, a small thing that held only a handful of clothes, some of your favorite books, and the few memories you cared to bring. 

You watched as she pulled out of the gas station parking lot, her window down, fingertips clutching a cigarette that dangled out of the window. The tires of her Crown Vic squealed against the gravel as she pulled out. And then, she was gone just like that, leaving you alone once more. More alone than you’ve ever been, you realize. 

You turn to walk into the building, quickly scanning the walls for the restrooms, avoiding the clerk. Your life was already embarrassing enough, you didn’t need to add getting silently judged by a 7-11 gas station attendant in the middle of fuck-all nowhere. 

You find the cleanest stall and let yourself cry. 

One bad day doesn’t make your whole life bad. 

Right.

You step out of the stall with a heavy sigh and slumped shoulders. It smells like artificial soap and bleach, and the mirror is scratched and clouded at the edges. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, reflecting harshly on your now puffy eyes. You run cold water over your face, drying it with the rough paper towels that disintegrate like melting snow, and do your best to rid yourself of the grossness you feel. 

You give yourself your best it’ll be okay look in the mirror, and step out. 

You head to the gas station counter and buy a cheap bottle of water with the last of your cash. The clerk gives you a sympathetic look but offers no words. You step outside and lean against the building, scanning the horizon for any sign of a kind soul willing to give you a lift, but no such luck. 

The sun dips lower, and you decide you can’t stay here. You pull out the map Gladys gave you and assess your options. The nearest town is about three miles up the road, give or take a mile or two, you’re not really sure how to read this damn thing anyway. Walking the whole way doesn’t sound ideal, and the flip-flops on your feet aren’t really up for the job either, but you’ve never been one to complain. 

Despite your best efforts, the cars just zoom past, one after another, leaving you with nothing but a cloud of dust each time. You hold out your thumb again, hope dwindling when, finally, a semi-truck slows down and halts to a stop in front of you.

The door swings open, and you look up and into the cab. 

And oh.

His eyes glaze over your body, the suitcase in your hand, looking you up and down before they meet yours.

“Needa ride?” 

You're wide-eyed, like a doe caught in the middle of a highway, the realization hitting you that maybe this isn't such a good idea after all. 

He notices your apprehension and cracks a half-smile. 

All you can do is nod.

“Where ya headin’ to?” 

“Texas,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He nods, patting the passenger seat. “Hop on in then, Bambi.” 

It might be a no-good, terrible idea, but you do it anyway.  ++++

You’ve never been in a semi before. You wouldn’t necessarily consider yourself afraid of heights, but you have to admit you’re pretty far up. The inside is far more spacious than it looks on the inside. 

You give him a small smile as you adjust onto the seat, barely meeting his eye as you do, trying to look anywhere but. He watches as you pull the safety belt across your lap and nods when he hears it click into place. 

“Joel,” he says, extending his hand out to yours.

You offer your name in return and feel heat rush to your chest when his large hand encloses yours. 

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Joel,” you say, shaking it slightly. 

"Just Joel, darlin'," he says, dropping your hand. He brings it to the mesh hat on his head, taking it off to push back his curls. You notice the strands of grey that thread through the brown. “Ready?” 

You're not sure if you are, but you nod anyway. You watch as he shifts the truck into gear, checks the mirrors, and then pulls out.

You ride in silence. 

Through the corner of your eye, you see him occasionally glance over at you, his lips slightly parting like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. 

After a few minutes, you shift your attention from the road and begin to look around the truck. The front dash is covered in patterned fabric that’s starting to fray at the edges. The interior seems a little dated but relatively clean. There’s a coffee cup in one of the drink holders and a pack of sunflower seeds in the other. There’s a cinnamon-scented air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. 

It’s kind of cozy. Not in a way that feels cozy, like coming home after a long trip away, but it’s comfortable. 

You decide to break the silence.

“Nice setup you’ve got here,” you say, reaching out to touch the fabric on the dash. “Did you do all this yourself?”

Joel glances over, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Yeah. Spend so much time in here, might as well feel like home, you know?”

Home. 

You’re not sure what that feels like anymore. 

You give him your best smile and nod like you understand what he’s trying to say. 

You chat for a little longer, letting him do most of the talking. You learn he’s been in trucking for over a decade, something he got into when his back could no longer handle his contractor job. He plays the guitar. He’s a fan of spaghetti westerns and a native of Texas. He has a younger brother named Tommy. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he seems like a decent man. 

His eyes stay on the road for the most part, apart from the occasional glance over he’ll give you. You notice his eyes drop to your bare thighs every time he does, but you don’t mind. You can tell he’s curious about you. And you would be, too, if the roles were reversed, but he doesn’t pry. 

The conversation naturally ends, and you both begin to ride in silence once more. 

You gaze out the passenger window, watching the sun dip below the horizon behind the rock formations. In true desert fashion, the sunset is spectacular – the sky transforms into a canvas of deep oranges and purples, giving way to night. 

Now hidden in a tinge of darkness, the only light coming from the illuminated buttons on the truck's dashboard, you take a moment to look at him—really look at him. 

He has a strong jawline, a perfect slope to his nose, and facial hair that’s just beginning to gray. You think he might be in his late 40s or early 50s, but he wears it well. He's handsome in a way that’s solid, sure of itself. It unmoors you. 

You shift in your seat, trying to shake off the feeling. You crack the window, letting the cool breeze caress your face. You lean back on the seat and close your eyes; you’re more exhausted than you thought. 

Joel glances over, catching the weariness on your face. He clears his throat, and you blink your eyes to look at him.

“If you’re tired, you can go lay down on the bed in the back,” he says, his voice gentle. “It ain’t the Ritz, but the mattress is pretty comfy. I even have some fresh sheets in the cabinet above it.”

You lean up from the seat, a little surprised by the offer. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. There’s a TV back there, too, if ya wanna watch something.” 

It’s a simple offer, but the kindness behind it makes your heart flutter a bit. 

“Thanks, a bed does sound nice,” you say as you unhook the seatbelt. 

You move to the back. As you do, he risks a glance over his shoulder, taking in the view of your ass and the flesh that peeks out from the cut of your daisy dukes before quickly returning his attention back to the road. 

Fuck, he’s in trouble.

From the front, the truck seemed huge, but now you realize it's even bigger than you thought. In the center, there's a decent-sized bed with a TV positioned across from it. There's not much room to walk around, but just enough to get by. You drop your bag and pull out the fresh sheets from the cabinet, exactly where he said they'd be.

As you’re pulling the old sheets from the bed, you feel something under the corner of the mattress. Lifting it slightly, you find a bottle of lube. A moment of awkwardness washes over you, but you quickly brush it aside, place it back where you found it, and finish making the bed. 

As you settle onto it, you look around for the remote but can’t find it. 

“Hey, uh Joel, where’s your remote?”

“Oh shit, um, check the nightstand.” 

“Thanks,” you call out, opening the drawer. Inside is the remote, a copy of a Lonesome Dove, a pair of reading glasses, and some Tums. Most definitely in his 50s, then. 

You lay back on the pillows, pull the blankets over your body, and point the remote at the screen. 

When the screen turns on, you’re immediately met with the sight of a woman on her knees, mouth stuffed full of a large cock, hair a tangled mess in the fist of the man above her as he uses it to guide her up and down on his shaft. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You fumble for the off button, but something stops you. Your ex-boyfriend had a hard rule about you touching yourself without him. That should have been your first red flag, but he was charming enough that you could make do with that. He wasn’t a bad lay, and you did occasionally orgasm with him, but you haven’t actually made yourself come in you don’t even know how long. 

You glance toward the entrance to the back of the cab to make sure Joel isn’t watching, double-check the sound is all the way off, and decide to let yourself watch.

You watch, captivated, as the scene unfolds. It’s a little corny, the way she slobs on his cock, but she looks like she’s enjoying it. You watch as the man tugs her up by her hair and mouths something you can’t hear as he quickly bends her over and fucks her with his fingers. 

You dip your hand below the band of your shorts and rest it above your panties as you watch him slide another finger into her wet, wanting cunt.  Your fingers slide beneath the fabric, slipping through your slick to press against your clit. 

It feels a bit bold to do this here, but boy, do you need it. Your body feels foreign, but you quickly reacquaint yourself, finding that perfect pressure and making small, satisfying circles with two of your fingers.

You can't hear it, but you can tell from the way the camera captures her face, her eyes rolling back into her skull, that she's coming. You’re close, but you hold off from your release, wanting to see him fuck her. The man pumps his cock with his fist a few times before lining himself up against her wet hole. 

You start to pick up the pace of your movement as the tip of him presses against her entrance, parting her swollen folds as he feeds her his cock. He starts slow, taking his time to slick himself in her release. Before long, he’s fucking her hard, holding onto her hips for leverage. You watch as her tits bounce, and he pulls her down and back onto him.

You feel the pressure build, the intensity of knowing you could be caught by Joel at any second only adding to your arousal. 

You come just as the man does, muffling your moans with the pillow, watching his hips flush against her ass as his hands grab her flesh. The camera pans to a close-up of him pulling out, followed by the sight of thick white cum oozing out of her. 

You watch in a daze, hand still between your thighs, as the scene ends. You change the channel, then turn off the TV.

As you stare at the ceiling of the cab, still enraptured by your release, you think about the last time that you actually felt this good. You think about what it might be like to be pumped full of hot cum, filled to the brim by a large cock. 

Everything else in your life was falling apart, but maybe this was one problem you could actually solve.

Trucking must get lonely, after all. 

++++

Joel must have let you sleep for a while because when you wake up, the sun is just starting to rise. You hastily make the bed and change in the back before heading up front, finding Joel right where you left him.

“You drove through the night?” you ask, wiping some sleep from your eyes.

“Got a late start yesterday. Usually like to drive through the night anyway, fewer idiots on the road.”

You must have stopped recently, though, since he's sipping what looks like a fresh cup of coffee. You're surprised when he reaches over to the center of the dash, eyes still on the road, and hands you one too.

“You sleep okay?” he asks. You let the warmth and aroma of the coffee slowly wake you up.

“Yeah, thanks. I really needed that.” You smirk, knowing you needed a little more than just sleep. You buckle yourself into the passenger seat.

“Thanks for the coffee, by the way. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind,” he says, holding his cup in one hand, the other gripping the wheel. Now that you're more alert and less tired than yesterday, you notice how big he actually is. His thick thighs take up most of the seat, and his arms are tan and muscular.

You squeeze your thighs together and try to ignore the aching want that hasn’t gone away since last night. It doesn’t help that he keeps looking at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever laid eyes on. 

“So, tell me about your load,” you say, hiding your smile behind your cup. You watch as his neck turns pink, and he clears his throat. 

“My, uh —” he looks over at you, but you’re already holding his gaze. He wonders if you intentionally phrased it that way. 

“It’s just a bunch of construction stuff; pipe and stuff.” 

He blushes even more when he realizes how that sounds. You get a kick out of him being flustered and decide to press him a little more. 

“And what are you gonna do with that pipe, Joel?” 

He sets his coffee down and clears his throat again, his grip so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles bleach. 

“What am I — uh, it’s not for me. Just dropping it off for a company,” he says, adjusting his net hat and looking firmly out the windshield. 

You look over at him and try not to make your amusement at his embarrassment too obvious. He’s cute when he’s flustered. 

He doesn’t look over at you for the next hour. 

He can’t. 

Not when you’re asking him questions about his load, looking at him like that. 

It's early afternoon when Joel says he needs to stop for the night. He made good time driving through the darkness, but his company has strict rules about maximum drive times.

He pulls off the highway at the next town and into a motel parking lot. It's a small place, probably no more than 15 rooms. The parking lot is massive, likely a popular stop for truckers with how long and wide it is.

Your stomach sinks. You don't know how to tell him you can't afford your own room, that you barely had enough money for a bottle of water yesterday.

He parks the truck, and as the engine falls silent, he steps out of the cab. Just as you're about to open your door, he rounds the front and opens it for you, offering his hand to help you out. The gesture makes your stomach swoop.

Standing next to him now, you realize how tall he actually is. He's a broad, solid man. His dark jeans grip his legs perfectly, and his t-shirt fits snugly across his broad chest. He's truly a sight.

You reluctantly follow him into the motel and stop him just short of the front desk.

"Joel, I—I don't think I can stay here."

He looks down at you, a deep crease between his brows.

"We can try to find somethin' a little nicer if ya—" you cut him off, bringing your hand to his bicep.

"No, no, it's not that. It's just, well, it's a little embarrassing," you say, pulling your hand back, your arms wrapping around yourself.

"What is it?"

"I can't afford it. I don't have any money for a room," you say, gaze glued to the ground.

"'S alright, Bambi. I can take care of it," he says, bringing one hand to your cheek, using his thumb to tilt it up to look at him.

You smile at him, knowing you should push back, try and fight his kindness a little more, but you don’t.

He walks over to the front desk, and you follow behind. He's greeted by a man who looks like he just rolled out of bed. The name tag affixed to his shirt says Dieter.

"Howdy. Two queen rooms for the night, please."

Dieter looks at his computer, shoots a glance at you, and returns his gaze to Joel.

"Sorry man, no can do. Looks like we're pretty booked. Best I can do is one king room."

"Uhh," Joel says, hesitating, one hand now rubbing the back of his neck.

Joel turns and shoots a look at you, almost a question. You’re looking at him with those doe eyes again.

"We can find another motel in the next town over," he tells you, but you see the exhaustion on his face. You don’t want to make him drive to another town. You’re already more than an inconvenience to him, no need to pile on.

"It’s fine, Joel. I can sleep on the floor."

"You ain't sleepin' on the floor. I'll sleep on the floor," he tells you before he turns back to the man and says he'll take it.

It doesn’t take long to get the keys. The room is on the west side of the building. Joel swings a bag over his shoulder and insists on carrying your suitcase for you, too.

The room isn’t much. One big king bed in the middle, just like the man said, a TV across from it, and a small chair with a side table in the corner. It's sparsely decorated apart from a lamp on the nightstand and a picture of a beach above the bed, one of those cheesy prints from the 90s. It’s not much, but it’s clean and cool.

Joel drops the bags and offers to let you shower first, which you happily accept. It’s been far too long since you’ve had a proper one, not just a quick wash from a bathroom sink

When you’re in the shower, Joel sits in the chair across from the bed, his eyes fixed on the TV in the room. He decides to watch the fucking Weather Channel, a poor attempt at distracting himself from his raging hard-on. 

It came on the second you closed the bathroom door. 

He couldn’t help it, the thought of you naked in the room right next to him, what you might look like all soaped up and wet. 

It doesn’t help that you’re singing in the shower, some song Joel doesn’t know, but fuck if you don’t sound pretty doing it. He wonders how sweet you might sound, moaning his name as he splits you open. 

He’s about to touch himself when he hears the water shut off. You open the bathroom door and emerge from the steamy room, a white towel wrapped around your frame, strands of wet hair clinging to your neck, your skin glistening. 

Fuck. 

“All yours,” you say before walking across the room to your suitcase, leaving the scent of your shampoo in your wake. You smell divine, like toasted coconut with a hint of tangerine. It’s intoxicating.

He gets up from the chair fast, his hand in front of his crotch, quickly turning so you can’t see what you’ve done to him. 

He’s never been one to take a long shower, but you don’t know that. He takes the opportunity to fuck his fist, coming fast and hard into the stream below, doing his best to muffle his moans under the sound of the water.

You try not to stare when he emerges from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. You knew he was in shape from how his clothes fit, but seeing him shirtless is a whole different story. His chest is broad and muscular, with just a little hair there. You can see the faint outline of his upper abs, but he's a bit soft around the middle, with a delicious tummy that makes you want to sink your teeth into him.

You’ve already dried and dressed, but you feel yourself get wet at the sight of him.

“I’m gonna get some fresh air while you get dressed,” you tell him, quickly stepping out of the room. You lean against the building, staring out into the parking lot, trying to ignore the restlessness between your legs, that deep, aching want that only seems to grow stronger.

You’re not sure you’ve ever wanted someone more.

After a few minutes, the door to the room opens, and he steps out. He’s changed into a pair of dark denim jeans and a nice shirt, even wearing a belt. He’s left off the hat, and his dark curly hair is pushed back. And damn, he smells good. The musky scent of his cologne, the fresh mint from his toothpaste, and the clean smell of his deodorant blend together perfectly.

“You look nice,” you say, not even bothering to hide the fact that you’re blatantly eyeing him.

“You too, Darlin’. Now let’s go, ‘m starving,” he replies, his eyes lingering on you just a moment longer than usual, adding to the tension simmering between you.

Your stomach growls, reminding you that you're hungry too. You follow him through the parking lot, initially heading toward his truck, but he gestures for you to continue walking.

“‘Ts not that far, there’s a diner just up the road.”

You catch up to him and walk by his side until the diner comes into view. He holds the door open for you, his free hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you in. The simple touch sends a wave of heat rising to your chest.

The waitress is warm and welcoming, and the kitchen is quick and efficient. You both opt for a burger and fries. Conversation flows easily, and at one point, you even ask Joel about the weather forecast for the week. He lies on the spot, not remembering a damn thing about what was on the screen. As you talk, you get to know each other a little more, and you find yourself opening up about your past, including your ex. Joel's eyes darken with a protective edge as he listens, clearly thinking you deserve better.

When you finish dinner, Joel notices you glancing at the small sign on the table with a picture of a chocolate milkshake on it.

When the waitress stops by to see if you want dessert, you start to say no, but Joel orders one for you anyway. Your visible excitement is unmistakable when it arrives, eyes wide as you take in the mountain of whipped cream on top.

You lick at the cream, a little landing on your lower lip. Joel feels himself harden at the sight. He took care of himself earlier, hoping this wouldn’t happen, but of course, you find a way to make eating whipped cream the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say, still distracted by your milkshake, its coolness a stark contrast to his hot and heavy gaze.

You bring a scoop of whipped cream on your finger to your mouth and suck on it, holding his gaze while you do. You smile when you see that familiar blush crossing his face.

“Anything,” he says earnestly.

You think he means it.

“Why did you agree to help me?” you ask, taking another sip. “You know, by giving me a ride and stuff. You’re being so nice to me and I guess I just want to know why.”

“Oh. Um, well, I guess the simplest answer is that I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t. Pretty little thing like you, ‘t’s dangerous out here, a lot of bad men in the world. Couldn’t go to sleep at night knowing I just passed you by, knowing I could have helped.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“All that, and that’s what you picked up?” His eyes drink you in, the flush visible on his cheeks. You just smile as you lean back in the booth, holding his gaze.

“Yeah, Bambi. I do.” He says, dropping some cash on the table.

After you’ve finished the last of your milkshake, he slips out of the booth and offers you his hand again. The walk back is silent, but the tension is thick enough to feel. 

You’re not sure what it is about him and the want he awakens inside of you. You think maybe it’s his kindness or the way he looks at you, but you don’t want to overthink it. 

You want him. The ache in your chest and the heat in your veins all confirm it. And you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he wants you, too. 

His hand slips into his jeans pocket, fingers brushing against the motel key. Your eyes lock, an electric current sparking between you. He hesitates, the key poised above the lock, the moment stretched taut like a bowstring.

Everything hangs in the balance, the air thick with unspoken desire. You can't tear your gaze from his lips, noticing the way they part slightly, the soft plumpness inviting you in. Your breath catches as you glance up through your lashes, meeting his eyes with a silent answer. 

The world narrows down to this moment, this decision. He sees it in your eyes, the undeniable yes. 

And with that, he turns the key.

The motel room door isn’t fully closed before he’s on you, one hand on your hip, the other firm on the back of your neck. He crowds you back, pressing you further into the room until he’s pinned you between the wall and him.

He lowers his head to your neck, his lips grazing the skin of your throat. The touch sends shivers down your spine, your pulse quickening under his mouth. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath warm against your skin. His grip tightens, his fingers digging into your hip, grounding you. 

“You sure you want this, darlin’,” he murmurs, “because once I start ‘m not gonna be able to stop.”

You feel the soft press of his lips against your erratic pulse, the slow drag of his teeth drag up the side of your neck.

A moan slips from your lips.

“Need you to use your words, baby.” He sucks a mark on your throat, and you melt a little under his touch. 

“Yes, Joel, I want you,” you say, earning a small groan from him. 

“Music to my fuckin’ ears, sweetheart,” he says, his firm hand still on the back of your neck. You angle your chin to face him, and his lips find yours. He kisses exactly the way you thought he would – it’s deep, intense, commanding. 

You moan into his mouth as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, and you twist your hands into the fabric of his shirt. Your fingertips graze the top of his belt, then drop lower, feeling the hard shape of him through the denim.

His breath hitches at your touch, and he presses even closer, his hips grinding against you. You can feel his heartbeat, rapid and strong, matching the pounding in your chest. His lips leave yours, trailing hot kisses down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck.

“God, you feel so good,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire.

Your hand moves more boldly now, tracing the outline of him with your fingers, feeling him harden even more under your touch. He groans, the sound vibrating through you, and you can’t help but arch into him, seeking more contact.

“Patience, baby,” he purrs, “Wanna see you first.”

His hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and dip. He finds the hem of your shirt and tugs it upward, breaking away from you just long enough to pull it over your head. He discards it carelessly, his eyes darkening as they rake over your now-exposed skin.

You toe off your shoes and work to take off your bra, all while Joel unbuttons your jeans. You wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save your white cotton panties.

“Holy fuck,” Joel says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He looks at you like you’re a piece of art, prettier than anything he could have conjured up in his mind.

He steps forward and puts his hand on your waist, using his thumb to trail over your soft skin. Goosebumps collect like pebbles on your skin from the cool air, and your nipples harden from his touch.

You push your chest to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. You can’t control the deep hum that escapes from your throat. Joel smirks at the sound, lips still attached to your breast.

“Joel,” you moan.

He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, whispering praise against your skin as he goes. His voice is a low, soothing murmur, each word sending shivers down your spine. You drape your hands over his broad shoulders, fingers threading through the curls that gather at the back of his head, holding him close as he works his way down to the band of your panties.

On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. He looks up at you like a man starved, his pupils so dark they edge out most of the brown, his hooded eyes are almost a plea for you to let him continue.

“Can I taste you?” he asks, already hooking his thumbs in the band of them, awaiting your permission. 

You pause with your mouth agape a bit, he wants to taste you. Your ex only ever ate you out when he was drunk, his tongue too sloppy to really make it worth it. 

“Only if I can taste you after,” you tease. His prominent nose presses into your mound and groans. 

“Could you get any more perfect?” he praises. His cock twitches against the confines of his jeans.

His hands are warm and sure as they slide beneath the fabric, pulling your panties down with agonizing slowness. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. 

He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him. The anticipation is electric, every nerve ending in your body alive and buzzing with need. His lips follow the path of his hands, kissing along the newly exposed skin, his breath hot against your thighs.

“What a cute little cunt,” he praises before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. You let out a soft little sound at the feeling of his lips on your skin. 

He gets bold with his kisses, and once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides his middle finger through your dropping folds before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole. 

You look down at him with your lusty doe eyes that have been driving him crazy since he first saw you and bite your lower lip in anticipation. He looks at you and gently nudges the nip in, he holds it there for a brief second before fully thrusting it up into your core, holding your gaze as he enters you. You gasp.

“Oh, she’s tight, too,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, his lips sealed around your puffy clit. His large finger pumps in and out of you as his tongue flicks and swirls where you need him the most. 

“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle. 

“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. 

He devours you, lapping at you like you’re a popsicle on a hot summer day. His tongue is precise and relentless, each flick and swirl overwhelming your senses. It's so good, so intense, that you feel like you're going to come apart at the seams.

“Joel,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “I—”

He looks up at you briefly, his eyes dark with hunger and desire, before doubling down on his efforts. The world narrows to the sensation of his tongue, the heat of his mouth, and the steady rhythm that drives you closer and closer to the edge.

Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and the world becomes fuzzy at the edges of your vision. 

You moan as he sets a relentless pace with his mouth and fingers, slowly tightening the coil inside of you in a way you’ve never felt before. Time slows briefly, and your vision goes white, little specks of light dancing behind your eyelids, heat rushing up to your chest and cheeks. 

Until – 

“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. And when he’s satisfied that you’re satisfied, he gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to his full height. 

“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until his lips find yours. You taste yourself on them, feel the wetness in his beard. He slips his tongue into your mouth, and you moan. It’s so hot to taste yourself on him, dizzying that wants to taste you on his tongue. 

“My turn,” you wink at him, hooking your fingers into his belt loops. It’s your turn to press him back, and you do, guiding him until he bumps into the bed and takes a seat on the mattress.

On jelly-like legs, you begin to kneel before him, holding his gaze as you do. The look in his eyes is a mix of anticipation and hunger, and it sends a thrill through you.

You place your seemingly tiny palms on his very large thighs, gliding them up to meet his belt. You watch his face as you make quick work of unbuckling it. His breath hitches, eyes darkening with desire.

Pants next, you pull the zipper down, and he helps you take them all the way off. You pause to palm the length of him under the single piece of fabric left on him, feeling the heat and hardness beneath. His breath catches, and you see the muscles in his jaw tighten.

With deliberate slowness, you pull his boxers down, far enough for his cock to finally spring free. The length of him slaps against his soft tummy, leaving a little smear of pre-cum in its wake. You can’t help but take a moment to admire him, the sight of him fully aroused, sending a fresh wave of desire through you.

You wrap your hand around him, feeling his weight and heat, and his hips jerk slightly at the contact. You look up at him, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure, lips parted as he watches you intently.

You take his heavy cock in hand and begin to stroke it slow and rhythmically, admiring its size. Joel's head falls back as if to gaze at the ceiling – you’ve barely touched him, and already he’s melting like putty.  

You wet your lips, duck down to the base of his shaft, and plant a small kiss at the base of his cock. 

“God damn, Bambi,” he retorts. 

You hum as you flatten your tongue and lick a long, wet stripe up the underside of his dick and stop at the top with your mouth open wide. As you hold the tip of him in your mouth, your tongue darts out to taste the salty, musky flavor of his pre-cum. His hands tangle in your hair, gentle but insistent, as you take him into your mouth.

The sound he makes as you begin to move, slow and deliberate, is nothing short of primal. You can feel his thighs tense beneath your palms, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you work him with your mouth and hands.

You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, the feel of him against your tongue and the sounds of his pleasure spurring you on. His fingers tighten in your hair, guiding your movements, his control slipping with each passing second.

“Whoa, back up now, Darlin’,” Joel huffs, “Gonna make me blow my load.” 

You smile around him, the vibration of your laughter making him shudder. You ease off his cock, and look up at him with hungry eyes. He pulls you up by the back of your neck and brings his hands to your hips. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he says, turning you around so you’re lying down on your back under him.

“I wanna fuck you,” he rasps in your ear. You reach up and tangle your fingers through his hair as he nips at your jaw. 

“I want you to fuck me,” you coo. 

“I don’t have a condom, but I promise I’m clean,” and you believe him. 

“I have an IUD, and I’m clean, too. Please, Joel, please fuck me,” you wiggle your hips a little under him. He doesn’t need much convincing. 

He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust. Your heart throbs in your chest, and your eyes flicker closed.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again.

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head no, tell him you want all of him.

After he’s confident you’re ready, he pushes his hips forward once again, fully burying himself deep inside of you.

Your pussy walls clench against him, and your jaw goes slack.  He fucks you deep and slow, giving you time to adjust to his size. It’s all whispered praises in your ear, a firm grip on your hips, and his cock barely leaving your cunt before he slams back into you, desperate to keep himself buried inside of you.

“Shit, baby, I can feel you squeezing me, taking me so good —” his words break with a moan as you come for the third time, falling apart on his cock, before he adds, “Little cunt is choking my cock.” 

He begins to set a relentless pace. 

“Touch your clit for me, sweetheart,” and you do. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that makes you see stars. He pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy, wanton sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I –” you mewl, “I think I’m gonna come again,” you say, breathless.

“Yeah?” he says, breath short, voice deep, “Such a good girl, want you to come for me, show me how pretty you look when you do.”

You think you could come from just his words alone. 

Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, your mind hazy and filled with nothing but the thought of the way he fills you just right.

His movements begin to slow. You can tell he’s close.

“Where do you want me?”

“Inside. Want you to come inside of me,” you beg.

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses, buried to the hilt inside of you, and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of cum.

He holds you there, both of your breaths coming a little ragged, his body shaking and jolting a little. You feel him pulse inside of you. He plants kitten kisses on your face and pushes the hair back from your forehead. 

Still plugged, he kisses you again. This time is different—not as intense as the first few, but still scorching, still brimming with passion. His hands travel up and down your back, drawing you closer, as if trying to memorize the feel of you against him. You melt into the kiss, the intimacy of it sinking deep into your bones.

When he pulls out, you let out a small moan, a little sad your pussy has nothing to clench around anymore. He rests on his shins and tells you to spread your legs wide for him.

“Full of me, ain’t ya?” He smirks as he says it, admiring the way his cum dribbles out of you. 

He fills you up twice more before dawn. 

++++

The next two days on the road feel different—you're happy to spend the time with him, admiring him as he drives. There's a comfort and ease between you now, a silent understanding that didn't exist before.

You find ways to keep yourself busy, fighting the boredom from the endless stretch of highway rolling beneath you. Sometimes, you read, the rhythmic hum of the engine providing a soothing background noise. Other times, you watch the scenery change, marveling at how vast and varied the landscape can be. 

You and Joel talk, sharing past stories and funny encounters. You open up to him about your biggest fears and deepest desires, something you've never done with anyone, ever. 

Joel listens intently, his hand still holding yours, his thumb gently stroking your skin in silent encouragement. There’s a sense of safety with him, a feeling that you can tell him anything without judgment.

At one point, he asks you about your biggest fantasy. One immediately comes to mind, of course, but you feel a flush of embarrassment. You hesitate, the words caught in your throat.

Joel squeezes your hand, his voice soft and reassuring. 

“Hey, no judgment here, Bambi. I promise.”

Taking a deep breath, you finally let the words tumble out. “I’ve always fantasized about being with two men at once. I don’t know, there is just something so hot about being used and cummed in twice.”

His eyes darken with understanding, and a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. “Thank you for telling me,” he says like he’s tucked the information away for later.

But more often than not, between conversations, you find yourself stealing glances at Joel, appreciating the way he handles the wheel, the concentration etched on his face, the way his muscles move beneath his shirt. 

Sometimes, it’s so much that you can’t help but touch yourself. You make yourself come on your fingers in the passenger seat, making him verbally direct each of your moves. There was even one stretch of highway that was so boring that you crawled onto his lap while he was driving, and cock warmed him for an hour before he couldn’t take it anymore and pulled off to a rest stop and fucked you in the back of the cab for hours before you both finally gave in to sleep. 

On your fourth day on the road with him, you wake up with a sinking feeling in your stomach. It’s your last day together, and the thought of it hits you harder than you expected. You both haven’t talked about it and for some reason, it feels like your heart is breaking more than when you caught your ex in bed with another woman. 

Joel curls around you, and you feel the press of his lips on your shoulder.

You sigh, trying to hold onto the warmth of his embrace for just a little longer. His arms tighten around you.

“Morning, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” you whisper back, trying to keep the sadness from your voice.

He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You force a smile, shaking your head. “Just...thinking about today.”

He frowns, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it too.”

Silence stretches between you, the unspoken reality of your impending separation hanging heavy in the air.

“I wish this didn’t have to end,” you finally admit, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Me too,” he says softly, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. “I didn’t expect...any of this, but I’m glad it happened.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you blink them away, not wanting to cry. “What happens now?”

He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to lose what we have.”

You nod, understanding. “Neither do I.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “We’ll figure it out.”

You close your eyes, breathing in his scent, memorizing the feel of him against you.

“We should get goin’, sweetheart.” 

You nod, and you’re on the road again before you know it. 

After driving in silence for a while, you and Joel stop for a pit stop. 

You’re in a gas station buying a Diet Coke when Joel gets a call on his CB radio. Another trucker has broken down not far from here and needs a lift. 

Perfect timing, too. Joel knows exactly what will cheer you up. 

++++

You’re unsure why you're exiting the highway again, but you don’t ask questions. As you pull into a gravel lot with a rather plain-looking building in view, Joel turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Got a surprise for you, Bambi.”

“A surprise?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

“Mhmm,” he hums, “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

He leads you across the lot, your hand in his, and your confusion only deepens when you see the sign for an adult video store. 

You glance a him, eyebrows raised. “Joel, what are we doing here?”

“C’mon, you’ll see.” He takes your hand, guiding you inside. The store is dimly lit, shelves lined with tapes and various adult toys. He leads you to a room in the back, your heart pounding with anticipation and a touch of nervousness.

The room is bare for the most part, illuminated by a red light casting shadows on the walls. There’s a legit hole in the wall, the words Go For Glory etched above it. Your eyes widen. Is this…?

“What is this place?” you whisper.

He smiles, his eyes impossibly dark. 

“It’s a place for fantasies, Bambi. Remember what you told me?”

Your breath catches. The memory of your conversation rushes back, and you realize what he’s offering. It’s unexpected and bold, but your trust in Joel makes you feel safe enough to explore it.

Joel steps closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek, looking at you in a way that makes you feel things you didn’t know you could.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, but if you want to try, I’ll be right here with you.”

You take a deep breath, the mix of fear and excitement bubbling up inside you. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and your stomach is alive with butterflies. 

You nod slowly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I – I want to.”

“Atta girl,” he praises as he guides you closer to the wall, his hands steady and reassuring. You position yourself in front of the hole, suddenly frozen. You’re so fucking nervous out of nowhere.

He sees it etched on your face. He remembers what you told him about how you like being with someone who takes control. Someone who knows what they want and isn’t afraid to show it. Someone who you could trust. Trust them to take care of you, to know your needs even before you do. 

So he gives it to you. 

He takes a step forward and grabs your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“You’re in control here, baby. You have your safe word. Use it and we stop, no questions asked. Okay?” he says, voice steady, reassuring.

You look up at him through your lashes and nod. “Okay.”

He kisses your forehead tenderly, his touch soft and comforting.

“Good. Now get on your knees.” 

You do as he says, falling to the linoleum ground beneath you, your hands neatly placed on your knees, awaiting further instruction. He stands above you, palming himself through his jeans. 

You want to reach out to help him, but he hasn’t told you to, so you don’t. You kneel and look up at him, arousal already pooling into your panties.

He undoes his belt buckle and zips his jeans down. The sound is almost deafening in the quiet room. He shifts his pants and boxers down to the ground, revealing himself. His hand wraps around his shaft, he leans down and spits, and begins to pump it, his eyes locked onto yours. The sight of him, fully hard and glistening, captivates you.

You can’t take your eyes off him, your mouth watering at the thought of what’s to come.

“Fuck, you’re pretty. Could probably come just from looking at you.” 

“Please, please let me touch you,” you ask, the words coming out more like a plea than a request. 

The room is cherry red, but you don’t miss the way his pupils dilate from your request.

“Rather see you touch him, first, sweetheart,” he rasps, voice throaty and low. 

Using his free hand, he knocks on the wall. A few moments later, a large cock appears through the hole. It’s big. Not as big as Joel in girth, but a little longer. It has a prominent mushroom head that’s already red and weeping and several large veins visible from under the skin. 

Fuck.

Your hand grips around it, your fingertips barely touching, and you begin to slide your hand up and down, the skin of it velvety soft. The man behind the wall lets out a groan that’s muffled by the drywall. 

“Spit on it,” Joel commands, eyes on you, but still paying attention to his own cock. 

You lean forward and do as he says, the cock now glistening with your saliva. It makes the skin move easier under your touch, and the cock hardens even more. The thumb slips over the bead of precum on the tip, and you work it into the skin.

“Go on, Bambi. Show him how good you are with that little mouth of yours.” 

You start slow, wrapping your lips around just the tip to start. You can tell the man behind the wall wants more from the noises you hear. You wonder what he would be doing to you right now if he could actually touch you, what he looks like. He has a nice cock, you think he might be just as handsome. 

You hum in delight as you sink down onto him more, letting your jaw relax so you can take him deeper, savoring the salty taste of his skin. 

You see Joel fucking his hand out of the corner of your eye, getting off on you sucking another man’s cock. And god, you’re into it – the sounds are filthy, but your delighted little moans have Joel unraveling like a runaway spool of thread. You look up and over at him through your wet lashes and let out a little wink, an innocent act considering you’re practically milking a cock that isn’t his and having fun with it. 

The man behind the wall knocks twice, and Joel tells you to stop, or you’re gonna make him cum.

“Have other plans for you, Bambi. Come here,” he says, helping you up off the floor. He starts to undo the button on your shorts and quickly pulls them, along with your panties, down and off. Your inner thighs are glistening with your arousal, and Joel groans at the sight. He steps forward and cups your whole sex, his thick middle finger sinking into your wet cunt easily. He adds a second and then a third. 

“God, you’re fucking dripping, aren’t you?” He releases his finger and pops it into his mouth, savoring your taste. 

“Yeah, I think she can take it,” he rasps. He turns you so your back is facing the hole, and he pushes you back so your ass is neatly aligned with the hole. 

“Spread your legs, baby,” he says, nudging your foot with his, so you’re standing in a wide V shape for support. “Thas’ it, just like that.” 

He stands a few feet away from you and tells you to bend over at your waist and hold on to his hips for support. His hands grab your forearms for additional support.

Your wet pusy is visible to the man on the other slide, slick glistening on your folds. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to see what you look like, but he takes what he gets.

He steps forward and aligns his cock with the hole, and his tip nudges up against your entrance. You’re on the other side, holding on to Joel, your face nearly eye level with his cock. Your jaw goes slack when the man presses forward, burying half of him inside of you. He pauses for a second, giving you a moment to adjust, before he pulls back and then slams all of him inside of you. 

He’s deep, not as deep as he could be if he could use your hips as leverage, but you feel the tip of him pressed up against your cervix. 

He begins to fuck you in earnest, and you don’t dare move yourself away from the wall, pressing your ass back hard so he has as much access to your pussy as possible. 

“How’s it feel, baby?” Joel asks, and you’re too cock drunk to string a full sentence together, mumbling so good in between your moans. With your other hole occupied, you put your free one to good use. 

Still bent over and taking it hard from a man you’ve never seen in your life, you begin to suck Joel off. He holds you steady while you angle your mouth just right, taking his cock deep down your throat. You think you hear another knock, knock on the wall, and Joel confirms it when he tells you what’s gonna happen next. 

“He’s gonna fill you up, okay, baby? And then you’re all mine,” he growls, his breath a little erratic from the way you’re working his cock. You’re so fucking into all of this it has him teetering on the edge of his release. 

The man stalls his thrusts and presses forward one final time. You can feel him buried to the hilt inside of you and hear a deep groan through the wall. You feel the slight throb of his cock, and then he gingerly pulls out. 

When he does, you gently rise to stand, feeling a little sore from your odd position. You bring your fingers to your pussy and gather some of the cum in your fingers, and run it through your swollen folds. Your fingers brush against your throbbing clit. You were so lost in the haze of your arousal that you didn’t even care that you didn’t get your own release. Although something tells you that Joel will make sure to take care of you. 

“My turn,” Joel rasps.

He turns you around so you’re facing the wall, pressing you up against it. The coolness of the surface causes your nipples to stiffen. His hand trails down your side, over the swell of your ass, and then he brings his hand to your pussy, from the front, the skin coated in cum and your own release.

His fingers find your clit, and you whimper, the sensation overwhelming. He circles it slowly, expertly, sending shivers through your entire body. You press your forehead against the wall, your breath coming in short gasps as he continues his teasing touches.

“You like that?” he murmurs into your ear, his voice low and husky. You nod, unable to form words, your body responding to his every movement.

His fingers move with practiced precision, alternating between gentle circles and firmer pressure, building the tension inside you. Your hips begin to move instinctively, seeking more of his touch. He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

“Does my perfect girl wanna come?” he asks, ghosting your clit with his fingers. He’s giving you just enough to be a tease, not enough to make you come. “Wanna hear you say it.” 

“Yes, Joel, need to come so bad, please,” you moan. 

Right as you’re about to orgasm, Joel stops, removing his fingers. 

You gasp. So close. 

“You’re gonna come on my cock,” he says, running the tip of him through your wet and sticky folds. He collects some of the cum from the man and uses it as lube as he presses into you, entering you in one thrust. You’re so aroused, so ready for it, but the intrusion still knocks the air from your lungs. 

One hand on your hip, he uses it to angle you down and back onto his cock, thrusting up into you with equal force. His other hand returns to your pussy, and he quickly has you on the cusp of your orgasm like he did a minute ago. 

He fucks you hard, barely leaving your wet, tight cunt before he’s thrusting up into you again. 

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises spurs you on. He reangles your body, forcing you to arch your back against him. The new position lets him take you deeper, harder. Holding you against his chest, he snakes a free hand around, and his fingers find your clit once more. He makes soft circles on your clit, working you with each thrust until he once again has you climbing the ladder to your climax.

“Filthy fucking girl, coating me in another man's cum,” he rasps, voice low. “I can tell you like this, baby, letting us both use you, fill you up so good.” 

You moan, your body trembling as he increases the pressure, pushing you closer to the edge. The combination of his skilled fingers and the rough texture of the wall against your sensitive skin is almost too much to bear.

“Joel,” you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve got you,” he reassures, his fingers never faltering. The intensity builds, your whimpers turning into desperate cries as he drives you higher and higher.

“God you’re perfect,” he praises. 

“You want my cum, baby? Gotta ask for it.”

You squirm and babble yes, yes, want your cum and he holds in place as you begin to unravel once more for him. Your hole contracts around him, your perky tits bouncing as he continues to fuck you through it. You’re so tight, your sweet sounds have his own orgasm not far off.

His hips slow, and he lets out a rough moan, spilling inside of you. He pauses there, and you feel him gently pulsate and twitch as your walls drain every last bit of cum inside him.

When he’s finished, he pulls out and steps back, kneeling down behind you. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, and pulls your cheeks apart. You feel a flood of cum dribble out of you, a thick stream connecting from your pussy to the floor. You must look obscene right now. 

Joel smacks your ass, and you let out a little yelp. 

“Damn near got you bundled out (loaded to max capacity), don’t we?” He smirks as he says it, admiring the way the cum dribbles out of you. 

He stands up, looking down at you with a satisfied smile. “You did a good job,” he says, his voice gentle and full of pride. “Are you okay?”

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at his words and the remnants of your orgasm. “I’m more than okay,” you reply, your voice steady and sure.

When you go to put your clothes back on, he tells you that he doesn’t want you to clean yourself up, that he wants to know you’re sitting in his truck, spilling out onto his seats, full of his cum and then some.

His lips ghosting yours, he whispers that you’re his before he kisses you. You lean into him, your breath hitching at the possessiveness in his tone. It’s intoxicating, knowing how much he wants you, how much he’s willing to claim you as his own.

When you walk out of the building, you’re a fucked out mess. He opens the door to the truck and helps you up, his touch steadying you. 

He pulls himself up into the driver's seat, and you start to buckle yourself in, but he gently stops you.

“Gotta move over, darlin’. Come sit near me,” he says, his voice warm, like he didn’t just absolutely wreck you 10 minutes ago.

You slide over, feeling the comfort of his presence. Just as you settle in, another man hops into the truck.

You blink in surprise, glancing at him. “Who are you?” 

The man grins and extends a hand. “Hi sugar, I’m Tommy,” he says, his smile disarming. 

“Tommy, as in Joel’s brother, Tommy?” you ask, glancing up at Joel.

Joel smirks.

“The one and only,” Tommy says.

“He’s the one whose cum is running down your thigh with mine, baby,” Joel winks, “wouldn’t trust anyone else to share ya with,” he says, and the engine rumbles to life.

One bad day doesn’t make your whole life bad. 

As you cross the Texas state line, you let yourself believe it this time. 

END

You are rushing along an empty suburban street caught in a warm summer rain. Soaked strands of hair are sticking to your face and you brush them off, feeling your clothes getting wet too. Drops of water are trickling down your naked thighs as your skirt rides up and your shoes squelch with every hurried step.

The rain isn’t too heavy and you might have enjoyed it some other time but not now, not when you’re running late for your lesson at Professor Miller’s house. You could have waited it out under a tree but by the look of it, the pouring won’t stop soon.

You didn’t want to make Professor Miller wait. He is already doing you a huge favor, tutoring you a few hours a week in preparation for another year at college.

You decided to switch majors and, being a good friend of your mother, Professor Miller agreed to help you so you could catch up on what you had missed and get more confident in the new field.

Frankly you wouldn’t be late if you hadn’t been running circles in your room, trying to decide what to wear. Of course, you had a crush on Professor Miller. He was handsome, intelligent, nice and much older than you. But you’d never act on it because you couldn’t even imagine him looking at you like that. So you weren’t choosing anything to attract him that day. All you wanted was to look nice. You always wore formal clothing out of respect for him. One time you put on a band tee and a pair of ripped jeans for your lesson and felt terribly out of place next to the perfect Professor Miller. After that you swore to yourself to look presentable at his lessons.

You’re looking very far from presentable when Professor Miller opens the door to you now. Yet there’s not a trace of displeasure in his warm gaze.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re soaked!” he exclaims, eyes widened behind his black-rimmed glasses.

“Forgot my umbrella, so sorry,” you mumble, stepping inside. You take off your wet shoes and put on the slippers you always wear in his house. Seeing that you’re dripping water on the floor, you silently curse.

As a striking contrast to you Professor Miller looks impeccable. Beautiful dark curls are combed back, a black sweater over a white dress shirt and black slacks make him look like he’s on a red carpet rather than in a suburban house on a Saturday.

He rushes away, mumbling something about towels, and you peek into the hall mirror to check the damage.

What you see makes you want to jump out of the window - your mascara is running, the hair’s wet and disheveled but what makes your heart drop to your stomach is your white blouse, soaked, stuck to your torso and completely see-through. Your chest is fully exposed except for your white lacy bra which isn’t much help either as you can definitely see your nipples.

Your hands dart to cover yourself but you don’t want to attract more attention to it, so you try to cross your arms over your breasts as casually as possible.

“Here.” You jerk, hearing Professor Miller’s beautiful voice and take a towel from him with a quiet ‘thank you.’

“Can I use the bathroom?” You ask, hugging the towel close to your chest.

“Of course, take your time. Join me in the office when you’re ready.”

You love Professor Miller’s guest bathroom. All of his house actually. It’s always neat and feels warm and cozy. Every piece of furniture seems thought through, the colors are rich but calming and you often find yourself wishing to stay here longer.

You clean your face up and dry yourself as well as you can. Your hair is still damp, but the skirt is not that wet. On the other hand your blouse still makes you wanna cry. At some point you contemplate asking Professor Miller for a spare shirt but this seems very inappropriate.

So you take a deep breath and decide that you can cover your almost exposed breasts with a book or something else.

You walk to the office and hastily join Professor Miller at his desk. A cup of hot tea is waiting for you next to a stack of books.

“Take a seat, sweetheart,” he says, patting the chair next to him and you plop down awkwardly, trying to hide your indecency. “Drink this. It’ll help you to get warm.” His gaze slides over you fast, not sticking to anything in particular, and you ease up a little.

He starts the lesson by checking your homework and explains your mistakes. You nod but hardly listen to him. So close to Professor Miller you feel disappointed in yourself, looking like an idiot who forgets to check the weather before leaving the house.

A light breeze hits your back and you shiver.

“Oh, I’ll close the window.” Professor Miller rushes to stand up, but you stop him with a hand on his arm. As if electrified by the feeling of his firm muscles under your touch, you dart your hand back, as your cheeks burn and you say,

“It’s ok. I love the sound of rain.”

“But you must be cold? Here, take my cardigan.” You object but he doesn’t listen, grabbing it off his chair and putting it over your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, wrapping yourself in it as his scent envelops you. He smells of vanilla and cardamom and you can’t help but take a deep breath of him. He smiles, but you don’t notice it.

A couple of times during the lesson Professor Miller seems to lose his train of thought and you blame your look for it. He must be thinking that you look like a stray wet dog and your mood gets worse.

When he stands up to get a book from his home library you use the pause to apologize,

“I’m sorry again for looking like this. I should have waited the rain out but I was running late.”

He turns to you, standing at the wall full of books, and shakes his head, a warm smile on his handsome face,

“What are you talking about? You look great.”

“Ehm…I doubt it. I bet I’ve left a puddle in your hall like a wet dog.”

He chuckles, then grabs the necessary book and returns to the desk. He sits down and turns slightly towards you. His knee touches your naked thigh and you press your legs together, feeling the tingling between them. With a new wave of embarrassment overtaking you, you close the cardigan over your chest. He doesn’t look down but instead searches for your eyes.

“You look amazing, sweetheart, you always do. And I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. It’s just rain.”

The sun peeks through the clouds for a second, and when its golden rays fill the room, you notice how beautifully Professor Miller’s eyes sparkle behind the glasses when the light shines on them. It takes your breath away and you lower your gaze with a smile. His praise makes you feel warm and fuzzy and your heart sings at the sincerity in his voice.

“Thank you.” Your quiet words are barely audible because of the sound of the rain outside.

Professor Miller takes a deep sigh. “Sometimes when I look at you…I wish I was younger.”

Your jaw nearly hits the floor as you look up at him and stumble, “W- what… why? Really? Why?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, my back wouldn’t give me so much grief.”

You’re nodding with a fake smile, disappointed by his answer. He’d never look at you this way, in a different way. He’s perfect and you’re …well, you. He interrupts your self-deprecation saying softly, “Sweetheart, you worry too much. You, young people, don't understand how lucky you are. You have the whole life ahead of you, you’re free of regrets, sorrows. And the youth passes so quickly.”

You’re staring at him now, lips half parted, and then suddenly blurt out, “I am afraid. Almost all the time.”

“Of what? Why?” He asks, looking concerned.

“I don’t know. Of… everything.”

You turn slightly to him on the chair but quickly avert your gaze and stare back at the open window. The thrumming of the rain outside makes it easier to talk, as if it is accompanying your words.

“I’m afraid of my future. How wonderful it can be or how unhappy I might become. I study hard thinking …wishing the result will give me happiness but what if it doesn’t. I worry about my future career, but I’m not even sure I want it. I.. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You feel wetness coating your eyes and glance at him. He’s looking at you with intent, his brows slightly furrowed in thought.

You sniff, turning back to the desk, and stare at your fingers fumbling with the corner of Professor Miller’s cardigan.

“Sweetheart, no one knows what the fuck they’re doing.”

Your head whips up and you gawk at him with widened eyes. You’ve never heard him swear and never thought you ever would. He smiles, as if finding your reaction amusing.

“I might look all put together but I’m just like you. Scared, unsure… hell, we all are. No matter the age, I doubt it ever goes away,” he says placing his heavy hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, “But you can try to focus on the present, enjoy the moment, enjoy yourself.”

The sadness in your eyes makes him chuckle bitterly, “My intent was to help but it seems like I’ve done the opposite.”

“No, it’s fine. I appreciate you telling me this but I doubt I can do that.“

He watches you for a few moments and suddenly his face lights up and a charming lopsided smile twists his lips. You almost giggle at how mischievous and joyful he looks.

“I know what we should do.” He gets up and offers you his hand.

You look up at him confused but so much joy is radiating from him, you can’t say ‘no’. You take his hand and your whole body vibrates with skin on skin contact. You’re overwhelmed by his and your confession, by the unexpected turn your lesson took, and your heart is fluttering in your chest.

You follow him to the living room, your hand in his, and come up to the French windows which lead to the back yard. He lets go of your hand and you fix his cardigan that’s slipping off your shoulders.

Professor Miller opens the windows and a flow of humid slightly cold air rushes into the room and you wrap the cardigan tighter around your torso. The rain got heavier and you see little puddles on the patio.

He turns to you and says, louder than usual, so you could hear through the drumming of the shower.

“You know what I want to do now? What will make me happier?”

He starts walking backwards out to the wet patio and you open your mouth and giggle,

“Oh my god, Professor! What are you doing?”

He shoots you a wink and steps under the heavy rain. Then he tilts his head up, closing his eyes and exposing his face to the drops, falling from the sky.

“Please, come back inside!” You walk up to him, still standing under the cover of the roof. You place your hand on his shoulder and grab him lightly. “Come back inside, you’ll get cold. I’m not sad anymore, I promise.”

Just a few moments under the downpour are enough to drench him and when he looks at you, his glasses are all wet, curls are stuck to his forehead, his sweater is soaked.

“Do you like walking in the rain, sweetheart?”

“Well, sometimes yeah, I guess, but…”

“Great!”

With that, he grabs your hand on his shoulder and pulls you out onto the wet grass. You gasp, feeling the rain drops on your face and body again, your clothes and slippers getting wet slowly but surely. You try to get back inside but he quickly closes the windows and stands in front of you, not letting you through.

“Come on, sweetheart, enjoy this summer rain with me.”

“I will but maybe inside the house?” you plead, trying to cover your head with your hands.

“And where's the fun in that? C’mon,” he returns your pleading gaze with his own, placing his hands on your shoulders, “Let’s enjoy the moment. Do what you want. Don’t worry about the future. Live now.”

His hands leave your shoulders and he steps up closer, making you walk further from the cover of his house. Watching him prowl towards you like that, with a charming smile, his hands in the pockets of his slacks, sends a surge of arousal through your core and you feel yourself getting wet not only from the rain. You stop and he does too, an arm length from you.

You two are standing in the middle of the backyard, smiling at each other, while the heavy rain is soaking your clothes, drawing wet paths down your faces.

You follow his lead from a few moments ago, looking up and closing your eyes. You feel the drops caressing your skin, kissing your eyelids, nose, lips and then sliding down your neck. For a moment you let go of your fears and hopes that weigh on you rather than motivate you and just feel, taking a deep breath.

When you open your eyes a few moments later, there’s something different about the way Professor Miller is looking at you. His cheer is gone and he’s serious again but not in his usual ‘I’m a professor’ way. His gaze is focused on you, dark eyes tracing your features with quiet hunger.

“What would you like to do right now?” He asks you, tilting his head to the side. The answer comes to you like lightning and you act on it immediately.

You take a step, reach up and kiss him. It’s just a peck but you stay there for a few seconds pressing your wet lips to his.

He breathes in sharply against your mouth and the realization of what you’ve just done hits you like a freight train. You part from him and step back, your eyes filled with terror.

You’re staring at each other for a few long moments, only the sound of rain and your pounding heartbeat breaking the silence. You open your mouth to dump all possible apologies on your tutor but you have no time to do it because in the next moment Professor Miller kisses you.

One hand on your neck, the other on your arm he’s kissing you, keeping you close, but not grabbing you. You can stop it any second. You don’t. You revel in the feeling of his lips gently caressing yours. They taste like rain. His thumb is sliding along your jaw and your pussy aches with need. You’re cold from the rain but burning up inside for him at the same time. A shiver runs through your body and his lips leave yours.

“Let’s go back inside. You are freezing,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. You curse your body for interrupting the most beautiful moment of your life but follow him when he takes your hand in his and leads you back into the house.

You’re dripping on his carpet in the living room until Professor Miller brings towels and you dry yourselves. He takes off his sweater and you swallow loudly when he rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt exposing his big forearms. His tousled wet curls take your breath away. One curl falls on his forehead and your heart hurts from how handsome he looks. He places his glasses on the coffee table and asks you,

“Would you like to change? I can give you my shirt. Or find something of Sarah.”

After discarding his soaked cardigan, you look down and see your sheer wet blouse sticking to your breasts but you don’t feel uncomfortable or embarrassed any more. You shake your head, wanting him to see you, all of you. The realization makes you gush and your pussy tingles, making you press your thighs together.

“God, you’re shivering, you can get sick,” he fusses over you and he’s right, you’re trembling all over, but not only because of the rain-drenched clothes. Your whole world is upside down. You shoved your crush on Professor Miller into the furthest corner of your heart, being scared of it. You were always good at limiting and controlling yourself, at making yourself feel less, not acting on your desires.

Until today.

Shaking legs bring you to the sofa and you sit down. He takes a blanket from the side of it and wraps you in it, rubbing your arms and back over the material, trying to warm you up.

He’s so close to you. You stare at his wet face, lashes stuck together, lips shining with the rain or your saliva or both.

It feels like a dream that you don’t want to end. His hands leave you and you look at each other. His gaze slides down to your lips and your heart flutters. You wonder if you have enough courage to kiss him again.

Suddenly you hear a loud thunder and jump in your seat. You look around and it’s like you finally woke up. Your heart freezes at the thought, ‘You kissed Professor Miller! You kissed your fucking tutor! Your mom’s friend! Fuck!’

Your head whips back to him. “I’m so sorry,” you mumble, trying not to burst into tears, your throat getting squeezed with embarrassment. “I…I don’t know why I’ve done it. I must have lost my mind. I’m sorry. Thank you for taking pity on me, Professor.”

His hand darts to your shoulder but he swiftly puts it away.

“First of all, call me Joel, please …and what do you mean by pity? I didn’t take pity on you. I acted inappropriately but… I wish you could see what I see when I look at you.”

You drop your head and murmur under your breath, “A complete mess?”

He sighs and takes your hand in his. His big warm palm engulfs it completely and you look up at him, not being able to contain yourself anymore, as tears well up in your eyes. His voice is warm and soft and so pleasant you wish he’d never stop talking.

“You’re a wonderful young woman. Intelligent, kind, capable of anything you’ll set your mind to. Your future is bright, I'm sure of it.”

You smile and tears roll down your cheeks.

“And you’re very beautiful. I hope someone tells you this.”

You sniff, eyes downcast, and shake your head, making your tears fall. Joel gently takes your chin between his fingers and tilts your head up so you would look at him. His face is blurry with all the wetness in your eyes. He cups your cheek and brushes a tear away with his thumb.

“Well, then let me do it. You’re the most beautiful woman I know.”

Your heart stops. At least you think so because what you’re hearing can not be real. You died and went to heaven otherwise it’s unbelievable that Professor Miller… Joel is telling you this.

You’re gawking at him and he chuckles before taking his hand away.

“I love that I can see all your emotions on your face.”

You hastily close your mouth and try to collect yourself while a whirlwind of feelings swirls in your stomach.

“And I don’t regret kissing you.”

You search his face for a sign of a joke, but find none. He looks and sounds serious and you feel yourself lean closer to him.

“Me neither, Joel,” you whisper, his name sweet on your tongue, and lean forward a little. It takes him a second to meet you halfway and kiss you. He takes the lead and moves his lips slowly and gently against yours but you feel that he’s holding himself down by the way he breathes, the way his lips move faster and with more vigor until he stops himself. You feel hot wrapped in the warm blanket so still glued to him you unwrap yourself and it pools at your feet.

“You’ll get cold,” he mumbles against your lips and you shake your head no, still kissing him. You don’t want it to end so you desperately cling to him with only your lips touching.

Another thunder shakes the house and you feel his hand on your naked knee. You part your legs and scoot closer to him and his thumb brushes your inner thigh. Your whole body erupts with chills.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers as his lips leave yours, “Your legs are ice cold.” He puts his hands on your arms, “And you’re still shivering, poor thing.”

You’re about to explain that it’s not because of the rain or wet clothes, at least not only. It’s him, his plush lips on yours, his warm hands gliding over your skin, his eyes looking at you so differently from what you’re used to. All of it makes every cell in your body vibrate, your stomach churn, your core burn with arousal.

But before you can tell him all that, he says something that makes you stop in your tracks, “Would you like to take a bath?”

For the hundredth time today you’re staring at him with your mouth agape.

“H-here? In your house?” you stumble, blinking at him.

“Yes. There's a nice tub upstairs in my bedroom.” He hears himself and hastily adds, “It’s not like that. Ehm… You can take it and I’ll wait for you here. I’m afraid you’ll get sick because of my carelessness.”

His beautiful brown eyes are pleading you to agree. You don’t want to leave him but your sodden cold clothes make the offer of a hot bath sound better with every second.

So you nod and he beams at you. In a second he’s walking upstairs and you’re trailing behind him, your hand in his. He leads you to his bedroom and you quickly look around, seeing that it’s perfect like the rest of his house, simple but cozy. You follow him to the en-suite bathroom and he starts the water. He explains to you how to make it colder and hotter like you’ve never seen a bathtub before but you don’t get offended or annoyed. He’s nervous, it’s visible and it makes you jittery too. Suddenly the idea of being alone without him makes you sad and your heart aches.

The tub fills up fast and while he’s telling you about the bath salts and towels you interrupt him,

“Can you stay?”

Now it’s his turn to gawk at you.

“When…until it’s full?” He asks and you shake your head.

“No, when I take it. Can you stay with me?”

He swallows loudly and takes a step closer to you.

“Sweetheart, I’ve crossed so many lines today. I’m not sure I can cross this one.”

“You told me to do what I want right? And I want you to stay with me, Joel,” you say louder, trying to feign confidence, before taking a step to him.

“Are you sure?”

You look deep into his eyes, so close that you can see your own reflection in them and reply,

“I'm not sure about anything in my life… but I'm sure that I want this,” you say, drawing an invisible line between your hearts with your finger, and add, “Really badly.”

His dark eyes are darting between yours as if he’s looking for a trace of doubt in them. He won’t find any. He’s reading your features and they probably tell him something because in the next moment he slowly leans to you. The kiss is soft but the more you taste him the more confident you get.

So you press your body to his and he groans when your lower belly touches his bulge. Your heart and pussy flutter when you realize how big and stiff he is. Is it because of you? A part of you can’t believe a man like him can be interested in you but his body can’t lie.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, pulling away but, in an attempt to interrupt something you don’t want to hear, you raise your hands and start unbuttoning your wet blouse.

Joel’s eyes are glued to your fingers, working their way up your top. Soon your belly is revealed, then sternum and your breasts, covered by the bra. You slide the blouse off your body and it pools at your feet.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel whispers, as his hand slowly lifts to your breast and he brushes your nipple through the thin lace of the bra with his thumb. It’s already perked up from all the kissing and the cold and you whimper, your body vibrating with desire at the slightest touch of his big hand.

You get impatient and take your skirt off too. You’re standing in front of him wearing nothing but a lace white set and Joel growls like a hungry wolf. You bite your lip, hearing the sound of his desire for you.

His gaze slides from your face to your breasts, belly, hips, legs and up to your face again. He seems to make a decision because soon he starts unbuttoning his shirt too.

“I’m going to hell,” he mumbles as the expanse of his chest is revealed to you and you salivate seeing his golden skin, soft belly, happy trail that leads down. Your clit twitches when he unzips his pants.

Soon his clothes join yours on the floor and he places his hands on your waist. You try not to look at the huge tent in his boxers but fail miserably. He smiles and pulls you into his arms and you hug his middle. He’s big and hot against your cold skin and your whole body erupts in goosebumps.

“Still shivering, poor thing, let’s get you into the hot water,” he whispers and his hands slide to your back. He searches for your eyes and after you look up and nod, he unclasps your bra and takes it off you.

His chest is heaving when his gaze moves down to your naked breasts but he doesn’t stop stripping you. With his fingers hooked in your panties, he waits for your permission and then slides them down. They fall on the floor around your feet and you step out of them.

His eyes are completely obsidian now and his hands dart to you but he stops himself.

“Could you help me?” You ask and turn around before offering him your hand. He takes it and you step into the full tub. The water feels scolding hot at first but all your senses are focused on Joel and you lower yourself into the hot water. Sitting in the middle of the tub you look at his bulge, which is at your eye level now.

“Join me, please,” you plead and he mumbles soft “yeah,” before pulling his boxers down. His cock springs free and your pussy buzzes with anticipation and fear because he’s really big and thick.

Joel gets in the water behind you, his legs bent at the knees by your sides. He puts his hands on your shoulders and pulls you to lie down against his chest.

You rest your back on his warm broad chest and he wraps his arms around your waist. You feel his cock twitch against your lower back and a quiet whimper escapes your lips, “Joel.”

He almost purrs hearing how you said his name. You feel his heart beating hard at your back. His body, so big and strong, envelops you, warms you up better than the hot water around you and you feel like it’s where you belong, in his arms, reveling in his warmth, his softness, ready to give him anything he’d wish for.

The ache in your pussy gets harder to ignore and you squirm between his legs. He takes a sharp breath and bucks his hips against your butt. You feel his lips at your temple as he plants a kiss there.

“You’re so hot,” he praises you as his hands slide up your body and he cups your breasts. He palms your pebbled nipples and you moan, pressing your thighs together.

Then you tilt your head to the side and back and look up at Joel. His face is twisted in pleasure, eyes blown, and he lowers his head and catches your lips with his. This kiss is different from the ones you’ve shared before. Craving, impatience in every stroke of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, and you drown in pleasure of his caress.

Suddenly it’s not enough for the both of you. Without saying a word to each other you sit up and turn around while he helps you shift in the tub with his hands on your waist. You’re facing him now, standing on your knees, and he takes in your wet naked body before whispering,

“Let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”

You breathe out a soft ‘ok’ and in a second he lifts you up and sets you on the edge of the tub in the corner. You lean your back against the cold tile wall and shiver. Joel notices your reaction and starts pouring the water over you so you’d warm up again.

When you say that you’re not cold, he stands on his knees in front of you, his hands planted on the edge of the tub by your sides. He cages you in between his broad torso and the wall and your pussy pulsates for him.

“Could you spread your legs for me, please?” he says, sitting down on his heels, as his chest is pressed to your knees.

You slowly do what he asked and your pussy blooms for him, folds opening up to his view and Joel’s breath hitches and he llicks his lips at the sight.

“Oh, my,” he mumbles and glances up at you, "You have the most gorgeous pussy, sweetheart." That word on his lips sends a fiery wave through every inch of your body and you whimper, when he moves into the space between your legs, spreading your thighs wider with his broad torso.

His plush lips parted, eyes blown and restless, he takes you in - his gaze hastily runs over your face, breast, belly, cunt as if he can't get enough of you. He reaches for your face and kisses you deeply and passionately. His hand brushes against your aching pussy and you moan.

"My sweet girl," he whispers against the corner of your mouth and his soft lips move down to your neck, collar bone, chest. He's swirling his tongue over your nipple, his hand kneading your breast while you are running your fingers through his damp curls.

Soon he gets to your pussy and when his hot lips touch you there you almost come against his mouth.

“You’re sweet all over, honey,” he mumbles against your twitching clit, hunching down. Then he grabs your ankle in the water and lifts your leg.

“Put your foot on the edge, yeah, like that, good girl.” You’re completely exposed to him now but your desire shuts all your insecurities and you ache to show him every inch of you without any shame.

Soon you’re moaning and writhing on the edge of the tub as his tongue is dancing over your clit before his lips close around it and he gently sucks on the bud, keeping your folds spread with his thick fingers.

You’ve never felt more euphoric in your life and he approvingly hums against your pussy, when you whisper his name again and again, alternating it with whimpers and soft ‘yeah’s’.

“Damn, I can come just from hearing you, honey. What are you doing to me?” He says, looking up at you from between your thighs, eyes glistening. He looks completely pussy-drunk and it must be taking everything from him not to spill his seed into the bath water right now.

You give him a little apologetic smile and he continues pleasuring you. Joel’s caresses are slow and gentle, he’s almost edging you but when you start moving your hips, searching for more friction, he reads your signal immediately.

“Need more, sweetheart?”

You nod eagerly and with his hands on your inner thighs he starts devouring your pussy, his growls full of lust. The flat of his tongue is rubbing against your clit, then the warm muscle plunges into your crying hole as his nose nudges your clit and soon you’re screaming, shaking with the hardest climax of your life.

Joel laps at your juices, generously dripping into his greedy mouth as you’re digging your fingers into his broad shoulders, clenching around his tongue when he slides it inside you.

“Yeah… like that. Oh, my good girl,” Joel mumbles, his words muffled by your pussy.

When your climax dissipates, you rest your head back against the wall and he stays between your legs, peppering kisses on your inner thighs. His palms glide up and down your legs as you’re catching your breath.

When you look down, your eyes well up with tears when you see this big, gorgeous, intelligent, hot man on his knees in front of you. A voice inside your head reminds you that he’s much older, your parents will kill you, you’re fucked. But you push all your fears away when he gently helps you get back in the water and sets you on his lap.

Straddling him, you look into his eyes. You’re feeling a myriad of emotions but the brightest one makes your heart sing - you finally feel like yourself, confident, free, happy.

“Thank you,” you whisper with a smile, grateful for the pleasure but also for the self assurance he gave you.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He returns your smile with the warmest grin and pulls you into his embrace before kissing you. His big arms envelop your torso as you melt against his chest.

His cock twitches between your bodies and the fire in your core ignites with a new force.

“I want you inside,” you whisper, nuzzling his neck.

“Oh, darling… I wish for nothing more but … I’m afraid to hurt you.”

You sit up straight and drop your gaze into the water. His cock looks painfully hard and huge and you take a sharp breath, imagining it piercing you.

“I wanna try,” you say with confidence.

He searches for any doubt in your eyes again and then nods. Joel helps you to stand on your knees in the bath, holding you steady with his hand on your hip, the other holding his cock at the base.

“Start slowly and if it hurts… stop any second, ok?”

You agree, positioning yourself right above his waiting cock and begin lowering your hips.

You feel his hot tip bump into your clit and, feeling a burst of pleasure, you grind against it a few times. You both moan at the sensation and Joel tightens his grip on your body.

His handsome face twisted in pleasure might be the most beautiful thing you’ve seen. You don’t tear your eyes off him, wishing the image got sealed in your memory forever.

You shift a little, nudge your hole with his fat head and start sinking on his throbbing member.

He’s big. Really big.

You widen your eyes as his length parts your folds and slides inside you, surprisingly easily thanks to your recent orgasm.

Joel leans back against the tub and watches your pussy swallow him in the water, his brows furrowed, half-lidded eyes set on the place where you two are slowly joining.

You lower yourself further as your walls spread, trying to accommodate his member inside you. It hurts a little but you’re so aroused you hardly notice it.

Joel moans when you’re finally flush with him, his cock filling your wet heat perfectly.

“Fuck, ohhh, fuck… I’m sorry for all the cursing, honey, but your pussy feels fucking incredible.”

You smile at the praise and clench around him making him squeeze his eyes shut.

“You’re not a virgin, are you?” he asks with his eyes still closed.

You shake your head, but hastily add ‘no’, realizing he can’t see you.

“I’ve had a boyfriend. But he dumped me pretty quickly.”

He looks at you, brows furrowed, as he hears a slight sadness in your voice.

“His loss, sweetheart,” he says, gently taking your neck between his palms.

His gaze slides down your body to your pussy.

“Hnggg, you’re so tight.”

“Sorry. “

“What? No, it’s .. Gosh, I can’t think straight when you …look like this, wrapped around my cock. I’m in heaven.”

His warm hand rises to your face and he cups your heated cheek. You nuzzle into it smiling against his palm. Then you move your face a little and when you feel his thumb at your lips you part them and take it into your mouth.

His cock throbs deliciously inside you, and he moans as your tongue swirls over his thick finger.

“Oh my god, you naughty thing. You’re going to be the death of me.”

You smile around his finger and roll your hips a little. You both almost scream at the sensation. His thumb slips out of your open mouth as a wave of pleasure rushes through you. You seem to feel his cock everywhere. You can’t stop now, not with the way his thick length massages your pussy on the inside, sending bolts of ecstasy through your body.

You start fucking yourself on his stiff cock and you both fill the room with groans and whimpers, adding them to the soft splashing of the tub water.

He tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut while you feel another climax building.

“Oh, Professor,” you moan and he groans, clenching his teeth,

“Don’t.”

“What?” You ask and bite your lip, seeing that he’s deep in the pits of lust just like you are.

“Because I won’t let you stop calling me that,” he groans and your heart sings at the implication of you two doing it again in the future.

Not giving him any respite you breathe out, “It feels so good, Professor,” and start bouncing on his throbbing cock.

Joel moans but then holds you down.

“Baby, are you on the pill? I can’t… I’m gonna come soon.”

“No,” you reply through panting and he furrows his brows,

“Shit… not sure I have condoms,” he says, his eyes darting between yours. He clears his throat and adds, “I haven’t been with anyone for …some time now.”

You feel like he wants to apologize and you shut him up with a kiss.

“It’s ok. I’ll get Plan B. I want…want it inside me,” you whisper against his lips and sit up, starting to move again. You roll your hips, feeling your clit rub against his soft belly, and whimpers escape your parted lips again and again.

“Fuck, look at you,” he mumbles, watching your body slowly move on him. He’s almost drooling as his palm slides from your neck to your chest, over the swells of your breasts, brushing against your erect nipples, caressing the soft skin of your belly. He dips his hand in the water and presses it to a lump right over your mound and moans,

“Oh, fuck, I can feel my cock right here… do you feel me deep, baby? Tell me.”

“Yes, Professor,”

“Shit, I’m not gonna last, gonna fill you up.”

Looking down, you see it, the bulge in your belly moving up and down, his cock inside you stretching your skin.

With a loud moan, you clench around him and it sends a chain reaction making your pussy vibrate and contract, as another climax starts shaking your body.

“Yeah, baby, just like that… squeeze my fat cock, my good fucking girl.”

Not being able to hold any longer, Joel erupts inside your core, jets of cum spurting against your walls. You feel hot from the water and his heated body and now there’s warmth inside you too, your pussy’s getting filled with him.

You’re fucking yourself on his exploding cock while he’s sucking on your neck, and then he holds you so tight, it gets difficult to breathe. Every cell in your body is screaming with pleasure and you wish this moment never passed, he was inside you forever, holding you close.

When you both feel your climaxes subside, Joel leans back against the wall and pulls you to lie on his chest. You stay like this for a few minutes, plugged by his cock and full of his seed. You breathe in the scent of his skin, your hands on his chest as he rocks you like a big strong wave, slowly breathing in and out. You feel an immense affection towards him, and your throat gets squeezed with upcoming tears. You try to hide them from him but when you sniff he gently cups your cheek and makes you look at him.

“Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” he asks, looking you over with worry in his gaze.

“No, I’m just… I’m just happy. I’m sorry.”

You smile at each other until he takes your face in his big hands and plants kisses on your eyes, cheeks, nose, chin, lips. You giggle when his facial hair tickles your delicate skin and he laughs with you.

Your bodies relaxed, hunger satiated, you stay in the bath for a few more minutes while he’s pouring water with his hands over your shoulders to keep you warm.

When the temperature lowers, he gets out of the tub and brings you a big fluffy towel while you shamelessly watch him move naked and wet around the bathroom. He helps you to get up and you bite your lip when his cock twitches at the sight of your body on display for him. He clears his throat and starts gently drying your skin. The memory takes you back to him drying you in his living room, before you crossed the line with him and you marvel how much changed between now and then.

You feel happy for the first time in a long time but also scared of what happens next. What if he goes back to being just your tutor, what if he doesn’t want to see you at all, what if your parents find out… The thoughts rush through your mind and he reads your face again and asks, “What is it, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, driving away your fears. Joel wraps you in the towel and you gasp when he lifts you. He laughs, carrying you to his bedroom, and then lowers you gently on the bed.

“Get under the duvet, sweetheart.”

You listen to him and get comfortable in his bed. The sheets smell of him and you can’t help but gush again. He brings your clothes and you sit up reaching for them so you could put them on but he stops you.

“Stay here. I’ll go get you the pill,” he says and makes you lie back down. After getting dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, Joel tucks you in and kisses you gently before leaving.

You hear his car drive off and fall into the comfort of his bed. You close your eyes for a second suddenly feeling tired.

You wake up from soft kisses to your forehead, cheeks, lips.

“I hate to wake you up, honey, but your parents are worried.”

You sit up rubbing your eyes and holding the duvet over your naked breasts. You see the pill and a glass of water on the nightstand and take it.

“They called?” You ask, swallowing Plan B.

“Yes, I told them you needed to do some extra exercises.”

You giggle but he looks upset. Your fears come back again.

“You regret it,” you whisper, as your eyes well up with tears.

In a second you’re in his big arms and he whispers against your cheek,

“Never, baby. I don’t. But I can’t help but feel guilty. I should know better. I feel like I’m robbing you of your time. You should be someone young, someone who can give you more.”

You search for his eyes and take his face in your hands.

“No, I don’t want anyone else. I want… I need you.”

You kiss him and pull him to lie over you on the bed. You’re making out holding each other close. The rain has stopped and you can hear birds chirping outside through an open window.

“Fuck.. I need to go,” you whine, parting from Joel and reaching for your clothes at the foot of the bed.

“Language, young lady,” he scolds you with a smirk. You bite your lip and purr with a sultry tone, “Sorry, Professor.”

You love how this word makes him shiver with arousal now.

He adjusts himself, cursing under his breath and his dark eyes are watching you while you’re giving him a little show while putting on your clothes - gliding your hands over your body, slowly slipping into your panties and bra. When you slide your arms into your already dry blouse, he gets up to button it up for you. Soon your lips gravitate towards each other and it takes a lot from you to part from him again.

You go downstairs and Joel offers to drive you home but you politely refuse.

“I’ll walk. I love the smell of the air after rain,” you smile ready to leave, standing at the door, “besides someone told me to enjoy myself more so I’m gonna follow his advice.”

You smile at each other and he gives you a farewell kiss, hugging you, before whispering in your ear, “My sweet girl. Thank you.”

You look deeply into his eyes and ask,

“See you on Thursday?”

“Yes, but you’re going to study.” Your widened sad eyes make him chuckle as he adds, “Among other things.”

You beam at him, peck his lips and walk out of the door, feeling wings behind your back.

*****

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Good Girl extra || Masterlist

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @missannwinchester @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @littlemisspascal

“Let’s go.”

“Sure you need me there? It’s your deal, Ronnie. And you know you’re armed, right? Why do I always have to hold your hand?” you complain, while your eyes are scanning the crowd at a public hanging for any sign of disturbance. It’s not your favorite task but Fedra sends enough soldiers here to keep things under control so it usually goes smoothly. That’s probably why your friend Ronnie arranged a deal right in the middle of your shift.

“I’m nervous, ok,” he admits, glancing at you, “The dude’s fucking scary. Never worked with him before. But I’ve heard stuff. You’re just gonna stand there, that’s all. Don’t need to talk.”

You’ve known Ronnie since you were teens in a Fedra camp. Now both officers, you are still inseparable, though at this moment you’d prefer to be as far away from him as you could because in case you two get caught, you both will be a spectacle of the next hanging. Ronnie’s pleading eyes always work on you and the little weasel knows it well so you curse and follow him to the place of the meetup.

As soon as you see the smuggler, standing in a secluded spot far away from the prying eye, your heart starts beating faster. And not because he scares you. Yes, he’s huge and looks very unfriendly, thanks to his furrowed brows and the closed off stance which actually happens to be the culprit of your unexpected reaction. His pose accentuates the beauty of his arms as he’s crossing them in front of his chest. It’s a threatening sight, same as his gaze, but like a moth to a flame, you’re pulled to the man immediately. All thoughts in your head are replaced with only one - he’s fucking hot.

Ronnie slowly comes up to the man, feigning confidence.

“Who the fuck is this?” the smuggler asks, nodding at you with his chin.

“Just a friend. Don’t worry, Joel.”

“I ain’t the one to worry here, kid,” he gruffs, uncrossing his arms as his fists clench in a threatening gesture and you can sense the waves of panic, coming from your friend. “I prefer to do these things one on one. Don’t need an audience. Ya got me?”

“Yeah, ‘k. Next time I’ll be alone.”

“Hope so.”

Joel looks you up and down and you suddenly feel too hot. Standing a step further from him than Ronnie and not saying anything, you’re ogling the man with hungry eyes. Joel seems to relax and the men finally exchange the goods— pills for your friend and ration cards for the smuggler. They’re talking about the product, scheduling the next deal, and you should be on the lookout, should be attentive to the surroundings, like you always are, but your mind, as well as other parts, is fully focused on the stranger.

Joel’s hairy forearms are thick and strong and every little move makes his muscles flex and bulge out of his rolled up sleeves of the denim shirt. His shoulders are broad and the fabric, containing them, is strained to the limit. You’ve never been a biter in bed but suddenly you want to sink your teeth into his arms, lick them all over, glide your hands over the vast expense of his skin, grab them and feel them tighten around your body, encompassing you fully, while his cock stretches…

“Hey!” Ronnie exclaims, interrupting your horny daydreams, pulling on your sleeve and you blink at him, trying to shake away the visions of the man, doing filthy things to you.

“Let’s go!” he says for what appears not the first time, and you smile awkwardly, noticing Joel’s smirk. His arms are crossed again, but now he’s looking at you with a twinkle of curiosity in his piercing eyes, his heavy gaze lightened up.

You take a step away, following your friend, but Joel stops you.

“Sweetheart, wait!”

The pet name hits you right in the pussy and you pause and turn back, confused by why he’s calling you.

“C’mere,” the man motions for you to return to him with a shake of his head, his bear hands shoved in the jeans pockets.

“We’re in a hurry, man,” Ronnie frowns, thinking he’s coming to your rescue, but you turn to him and say,

“It’s ok. Wait for me over there.”

You have no idea what Joel wants from you, but you’re eager to find out. Not hiding his anxiety, your friend takes a few steps away from you and stands at the gate, glancing in your direction from time to time while his hand is resting on his gun.

“Yes? Joel, right?” You ask, coming up to the smuggler and using every last drop of your will not to leer at his mighty arms again.

“Yeah. What’s your name?”

You reply with a little smile and see a smirk tug at his plush lips when he asks, “Like what you see?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been starin' at me like at a piece of meat. No use denyin' it."

You avert your eyes, chewing on your lip. You probably should be embarrassed to be caught ogling the man, but life in this miserable world taught you to take what you want whenever you can. Especially if it's being handed to you.

"I'm not." You look back at Joel with defiance in your gaze. "I think you're hot."

Joel’s chest expands when he takes a deep breath, the shirt’s buttons hanging for dear life. His piercing eyes turn a shade darker as he asks,

"Wanna do somethin' about it?"

Your heart rate increases and the warmth of arousal between your thighs makes you shift on your feet.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Come over to my place tonight. Around 8. Ask your friend for the address. He knows."

You don't reply for a few seconds, making it seem like you're thinking about your answer, although your pussy has been aching since the moment you saw the smuggler so there's no way you're going to reject his invitation.

"'K", you reply, feigning nonchalance, while excitement is twisting your stomach.

“What?! Are you out of your mind? You're gonna see him?” Ronnie hisses at you, as you two are walking back to the square. “He’s dangerous! Do you realize that? He’s huge! Have you seen his arms?”

“Oh, I’ve seen his arms alright,” you reply with a dreamy smile, sensing butterflies in your belly.

“Fuck, you’re so stupid when you’re horny. If I find you tomorrow dead in a ditch, I’ll tell your lifeless face ‘I told you so!’”

“Jesus, man,” You giggle, playfully punching Ronnie’s shoulder. “I’ll be ok. I promise.”

The night can’t come soon enough. Still wearing your uniform, you rush to meet the man who's been occupying your mind all day. When Joel opens the door to you, you swallow loudly seeing him in the same denim shirt and dark blue jeans. You’ve been dreaming of his huge arms around your body, so your panties are completely soaked, and having had no time to change after your shift, you hope to slide them off as fast as possible.

“Hi,” you greet the man, stepping into his apartment.

“Howdy.”Joel closes the door and stands next to you, while his gaze is sliding up and down your body. You look around the apartment, getting a whiff of his scent— sweat with a subtle trace of whiskey.

“Are you from Texas originally?” You ask, glancing up at him, slightly intoxicated by his closeness.

“Yeah. Want a drink?”

He walks to the living area and you follow before leaving your guns at the door.

“What do you have?”

“Whiskey, vodka…water.”

“Vodka’s fine,” you reply, stepping up to a worn out couch and sitting down.

“Oh, are you a vodka girl?”

“I’m a ‘whatever burns’ girl, but vodka works faster on me,” you smile and Joel smirks, crossing his arms again. You swallow loudly, seeing his sexy tan forearms in the golden light of the setting sun. Fuck, you wanna touch them.

“Why d’ya need it to work fast? Doesn’t seem like you need any liquid courage.”

“Really?”

Joel goes to the kitchen and in a few seconds returns with a half empty Smirnoff bottle and two shot glasses. He plops next to you on the couch with a grunt and pours out the alcohol.

You drink yours in one go and Joel follows. The vodka burns and calms you down a little. Joel clears his throat before he speaks,

“This morning your friend was shaking like a leaf. And you… You were practically undressing me with your eyes, sweetheart.”

You smile and drop your gaze down to your lap.

“Well, Ronnie is a nervous guy and I’m …”

“A needy little slut?”

You shoot your eyes up at him and see a smug smile, tugging at his lips, as he awaits your reaction. You should probably feel offended or angry, but instead your core burns brighter at his degrading comment and your pussy flutters, as if proving him right.

He reads your reaction immediately.

“Oh you like that, huh?”

“What?”

“When I call you a slut.”

“I don’t mind,” you mumble while your mind is shutting down with every dirty word he throws at you.

“Yeah, you looked like a thirsty whore this morning. And I see that nothing’s changed.”

You’re barely breathing at this point, as waves of arousal ripple through your body, making you squirm in your seat.

“I…I just really like your arms.” Your gaze shamelessly slides over his body, so big and powerful.

“My arms?” Joel’s brows shoot up and he turns his head to look at his arm, resting on the back of the couch, as if trying to understand your attraction.

“Yeah,” you nod slowly, ogling the muscles straining his sleeve.

“Wanna touch ‘em, baby?”

“Yes, please”.

“So polite. Wanna call you a good girl but we already know that you prefer ‘a slut’.”

Joel chuckles and narrows his eyes, watching you for a few seconds, while you’re melting under his lustful gaze, sinking in the sticky pit of desire. Through the fog in your head you hear his voice, low but still powerful.

“How about we skip the pleasantries then and get to the thing you came for.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m gonna fuck you. And let you touch my arms.”

Your breath hitches and your body tingles all over. You can’t agree fast enough.

“Yeah, ok.”

“Do you always say ‘yes’ to everything, little slut?” he smirks, playing with you like a cat with a mouse.

You try to come up with a witty response but your mind is clouded with lust so you just shake your head with probably the dumbest look ever.

“Can I use your bathroom?” You mumble and when he points you in its direction, swiftly walk there.

You close the door in the little room and check your face in the mirror. It’s the same as every day except for your glossy eyes. You rinse your face, trying to come to your senses, look a little less horny but it’s all in vain. The desire overtook your body completely so you dry yourself and leave the room.

When you return to Joel, you find him on the couch in the same spot and in the same position. Only now he’s completely naked.

A shiver goes down your spine from a new surge of arousal, tightening your core.

You barely hear him, your mind is fully occupied by the image of this gorgeous, huge man, waiting to fuck you. Everything about him makes your pussy beat with the rhythm of your heart - his soft belly, his long, girthy, slightly curved semi hard cock, resting on his thick thigh, his broad hairy chest and muscular arms. Seeing them without the confines of the clothes completely shuts off your brain and you take a step towards him, mesmerized by his muscles, wishing to feel them already.

“Take your clothes off, baby.”

You hardly hear him, taking in every inch of his body.

“Girl! Undress. Fuckin’ hell,” Joel groans and you shake your head, waking up from a horny trance, and start discarding your clothes hastily, piece by piece while his dark gaze is set on you. You should be more graceful and seductive taking them off, but your aching pussy makes your movements rushed and determined. When you’re completely naked, except for your panties, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of the last piece of clothing, but Joel stops you.

He gets up and walks to you, his big cock in his veiny hand.

“Wanna do it myself,” he mumbles and stands next to you, at your side, so close that you feel his warm breath on your cheek and breasts, his naked chest brushing against your shoulder, his manhood poking your thigh.

“Pretty little thing,” he whispers, taking in your body, while his hand slides down your back, leaving chills in its wake. You raise your big eyes at him, your lips parted. “Pity you get so dumb though,” he chuckles and lightly squeezes your asscheek. His hand stays there while the other one cups your breast and grazes your nipple with his calloused thumb, making it stiff. You moan and he groans.

Joel’s palm on your ass moves lower, and reaches your pussy, covered by the wet panties. He slips his finger between your asscheeks and rubs your drippping hole over the gusset. You softly whimper and he plants a light kiss on your cheek, stroking your folds over the fabric.

“She’s been crying for me all day, huh?” he mumbles, placing his large warm hand on your belly, the other one still caressing your cunt. “Pussy so needy she shut down your whole little brain. Yeah, baby?”

All you can do is nod, your senses fully focused on the way his thick fingers are rubbing your aching cunt over the underwear.

“She must be cold, sweetheart, being in a pair of wet panties all day like that?” He coos at you.

“Yeah”, you reply, barely breathing, already feeling your orgasm build because of his light touches. “Didn’t have time to change. I have a sexy pair at home.”

Joel breathes out a chuckle, “I bet you do, little slut. Would love to see ‘em too one day.”

The only response you can give is a mewl.

He steps in front of you, his hand leaving your pussy, and you whine. Joel tsks at you and pinches your chin with his fingers to lift your face to his.

“Oh, my pretty bimbo, already cock drunk,” he laughs, locking eyes with you.

Joel’s so huge, you should probably be scared, but all you feel is a pathetic need to be completely destroyed by him.

“Lights are on but…fuck, you’re gone,” he mocks you, looking into your hazy blown out eyes.

“Listen to me,” he commands, as his fingers slightly shake your head, getting your attention. “How do you want it? Gentle or rough, sweetheart?”

“Rough,” you croak back without any hesitation.

“Good. Then do what I say and we gonna have a great time, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good little slut.”

Your breaths are short and fast as you’re blinking, starting at him like a mindless fuck doll. Suddenly, you gasp when he grabs the back of your thighs with his massive hands and lifts you, throwing your legs around his waist. You grab onto his broad shoulders and he carries you away from the couch and to the bedroom.

He drops you on the bed, old and stiff, but you don’t care. You have no time or ability to think about anything, because as soon as you’re on your back, Joel pins you to the lumpy mattress with his heavy torso and kisses you. He’s not asking for a kiss, he’s taking it but you willingly open your mouth, welcoming his hot tongue. A happy moan escapes your mouth, when you finally glide your palms over his huge arms. He slides your panties off and cups your pussy with his huge warm palm.

“Messy whore,” he mumbles against your mouth.

Joel’s assertive, passionate and as horny as you are, and you smile against his lips, enjoying his desire for you.

He begins peppering kisses along your jaw, your neck, leaving hickeys on his way to your breasts.

You whimper when his mouth finds your nipple and gasp when he nips at it. He licks the pain away and starts sucking on it while his hands are roaming your heated body.

You grab onto his shoulders and shift your hips under his arm. Joel’s slurping and growling, caressing your breast with his lips and tongue, but you crave more so you start grinding your wet pulsating pussy against his arm. Your movements immediately send you to the precipice of your climax. His muscles flex as you rub your clit against them, smearing your slick over his tan skin, and Joel parts from your tit for a few seconds to watch you use his arm to get yourself off.

“Look at this sloppy little pussy. Gonna need a shower after this. Or…,” he smirks and gets back to suckling your other breast.

Each motion of his muscles is helping you to come as you’re dragging your pussy up and down his heavy limb. Soon you throw your head back, dipping it into the pillow when a hard climax hits you and your cunt contracts around nothing, as euphoria is coursing through your veins, taking away the last of your clear thinking.

“That’s it— take it, slut— come for me — jus’ like that,” Joel mumbles against your trembling chest but you hardly hear him, so deep in the ocean of desire, all sounds around you are muffled.

The next thing you feel is his hands grabbing your shoulders and lifting you. Joel makes you sit up and wraps his heavy hand around the back of your neck.

“Look what you’ve done, messy girl.”

He nods at his arm, glistening with your cum and slick and then growls, “Lick it clean.”

With a hazy smile you sit on your heels, getting comfortable. Then you take his arm between your hands and reach for it. Your tongue slides over his hot wet skin and you flutter your eyes shut, reveling in the sensations of his firm muscles under your tongue and the earthy taste of your juices.

“Attagirl,” Joel praises you and slightly squeezes the back of your neck to make you move your head lower and lap up all the mess you’ve left on his skin.

When you finish, Joel lifts your head and sees you staring at his throbbing cock with empty but hungry eyes. It’s leaking precum generously and you almost drool looking at it. You should probably be nervous to take his huge length but all you feel is feral lust.

Placing his palm under your jaw, Joel tilts your head up and searches for your eyes.

“Damn, lookin’ so dumb right now. Lucky you remember how to breathe, little whore.”

He laughs at you and grabs your face, as his fingers dig into your cheeks, making your lips pout.

You whine and he pulls you into his chest. You hug him as if afraid to float away and he gives you a few moments of rest while you are panting, snuggling into his embrace after the shuddering orgasm.

Then he lifts your chin and locks eyes with you. Your breath hitches as you’re struck by his handsome face, which leans down and he kisses you again, gently and slowly, wrapping you tighter in his embrace. Then he asks,

“Why do you like my arms so much?”

You blink a few times, trying really hard to understand the question, drunk on his taste and the way he’s holding you, but when the meaning finally reaches your brain, you stumble over your words.

“I… they… jus’ so big. And … fuck, very hot.”

You feel his broad chest shake with a quiet laugh. “Ready for my cock, baby?” You nod your head with a soft mewl.

“Wanna watch my arms when I’m railing you?”

“Yeah, yes, please.”

Joel hums and gets up before manhandling you off the bed and leading you to a wardrobe. He’s holding you under your arms, noticing that your weak legs are barely able to move, still tingling after your orgasm. He places you like a fuck doll in front the wardrobe door with a mirror and stands behind you. He’s so big and broad that you can see his shoulders and arms perfectly in the reflection. Your gaze glides over your own naked body, and you notice a path of hickeys along your neck and breasts and your core ignites again at the sight of his passion. Then you look at Joel, his eyes are obsidian, the expression is carnal and hungry, and you moan, feeling his cock slap your lower back.

His gaze drops down before he pushes your legs aside with his knee, his thick fingers dig into your hips and he pulls your ass, making you stick it out. Trying to steady yourself, you brace your hands on the mirror in front of you, but he grumbles,

“Not the mirror, stupid. You’ll break it, cut yourself.”

You swiftly move your hands further apart onto the wooden surface.

“Sexy but so dumb,” he mumbles as his eyes return to your ass and his cock. You watch his face, serious and concentrated, and sense his tip prod your sopping hole.

“Fuck,” he curses and pushes his cock deeper, slightly bending his knees to insert it into your tight pussy easier.

You push your ass out more for him, already whimpering like a whore, as you feel your walls slowly part to accommodate his stiff cock. It stings but you welcome the sensation of his manhood spreading your pussy until he bottoms out and you both moan at the sensation.

“Ahh— she feels amazing, baby,” he grunts and you smile dumbly at his reflection in the mirror.

“Such a sloppy cunt,” he murmurs, starting to plunge his length in and out of you with a fast rhythm, “oh, yeah — yeah — yeah—.”

His fat cock is massaging your walls deliciously, kissing your cervix with every deep thrust and you mewl with pleasure and scratch the wooden surface of the wardrobe with your nails.

“Naughty kitten. Tess will kill you if you leave marks on her furniture,” Joel chuckles through heavy panting, squeezing your hips and watching your cunt swallow his glistening cock.

“Who’s Tess?” You ask, not really giving a fuck and he doesn’t reply.

Instead he grants you your biggest wish - he pulls you flush to his chest and wraps his arms around your torso from behind. Your hands immediately fly to grab onto his strong limbs. Joel’s right arm is under your breasts, slightly pushing them up. The other one is keeping you in place, pressed to your chest, between your tits, his giant hand on your throat. His thick fingers curl around your neck but he doesn’t squeeze it, just holds you close against his broad torso.

The sensation and the vision of his powerful muscular arms bonding you to him like that, make your pussy contract and Joel growls in your ear, his breath hot and wet,

“Squeezing me already? Fuck, you’re easy.”

You whine and Joel nibbles on your ear lobe and rasps,

“Hold tight, baby, it’s gonna be a wild ride.”

As soon as the words reach your ear, he begins rolling his hips and dragging his cock in and out of your tight pussy, hard and fast.

You grab onto his bulging muscles better, and as he’s increasing the pace, you’re scratching him with your nails, leaving white marks on his golden skin and whimpering.

“Yeah, take it, dumb little whore. Gonna fuck the last of your brain out of your pretty head.”

Your breasts bounce while he’s fucking you and you bite your puffy lips, trying to muffle your moans, but Joel commands against yout ear,

“Want you to be loud, baby. C’mon. Let them all hear how good im fuckin’ ya.”

You would do anything he told you this moment so your lips part and you let your pleasured noises out, as they mix with the sound of skin rhythmically slapping against skin and his animalistic groans.

Reveling in the sensation of Joel, pounding your crying cunt, you let your hands wander all over his forearms and shoulders, squeezing and scratching them slightly, wishing to memorize the feeling of their strength under your hungry touch. Your vision is shaking with every mighty thrust of his hips but you’re watching the reflection of you two closely, drowning in the image of this tall broad man using you like a mindless fuck doll, caging you in his powerful arms and tears well up in your eyes at how amazing it feels. Your mind and body are focused on this pleasure, suffering and worries of the reality are gone and the drops of pure happiness spill and fall on his arms.

Joel notices you crying and stops fucking you, swiftly pulling out and turning you around.

“What is it, baby? Did I hurt ya?”

His dark eyes, a second ago filled with carnal desire now worried and concerned, dart all over your face and body, searching for the reason of your tears.

You grab onto him and shake your head,

“No, no, i’m fine — feels so good - you feel so good, Joel.”

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he breathes out, pulling you into his bear hug and rubbing your back with his warm hands.

“Please keep fucking me,” you mumble against his hairy chest and he barks a laugh before throwing you back on the bed, making you squeal with excitement.

Joel lies down and manhandles you to straddle him.

“Sit on my cock, little slut,” he commands, eyes darting between yours, reading your reaction.

“Yes, yes,” you mumble, wrapping your hand around his hot hard cock and lifting your hips, hovering over it. You don’t make him wait and immediately sink down on his weeping manhood, as your mouth falls open and your head tilts back.

Joel’s hands are holding your hips when you start riding him, and then snake up to your breasts to knead them, pinch and twist your pebbled nipples.

You run your fingers over his forearms from the elbows to his wrists and grab his hand, intertwining your fingers. Not pausing your lustful dance on his cock, you gently kiss his palm, his hand, then your lips glide down, leaving open mouth kisses over his wrist, the underside of his forearm and his elbow, darting your tongue out and tasting his salty skin. You lean forward, your nipples brushing his chest, and kiss his biceps, using your tongue, and Joel moans, watching you practically make out with his arm.

“Fuck, you’re hot, baby,” he groans while you’re lapping at his skin with your eyes shut. You’re softly whimpering at the sensation of his body, big and strong under you, his cock caressing your walls, making your pussy flutter around it, pushing you closer and closer to your second climax.

“Shit,” Joel curses, pulls your head off his arm and kisses you, while hugging your torso with his python-like grip. He’s holding you tight and you whine, not being able to move your hips and chase your orgasm. Sensing your impatience, Joel plants his feet on the bed and begins jackhammering his fat cock into your slicked up pussy, giving it to you rough and fast, not sparing your little hole.

You’re moaning against his scruffy cheek, your body shaking with his feral thrusts but Joel’s iron hold is keeping you in place.

“Usin’ you like a fuck doll you’re, yeah? Brainless little slut. Made just to make my cock happy. Perfect for me.”

His filthy words, leaving his mouth through gritted teeth, are barely audible because of the loud slapping of his body against yours and the squeaking of the old bed.

“Joellll…,” you moan, and after a few more thrusts explode on his thumping cock, caged by his strong arms, sobbing with heavenly pleasure flooding every inch of your body.

“Hnggg—shit—can I come inside?” You hear a gruff roar in your ear and with Joel fucking your brains out right this moment, you breathe out, “yeah, oh, yeah.” You crave to be full of him, drip him for days after, getting turned on just from the memory of him. As soon as you agree, Joel starts spurting his hot cum into your pulsating cunt, filling you up, emptying his balls into you.

You’re lying still, nuzzling his neck and taking everything he’s giving you, milking his cock to the last drop with your contracting walls.

Gradually intense ecstasy morphs into a pleasant satisfaction and you both bask in the afterglow of your orgasms. You feel almost high on endorphins, not used to such an amount of happiness in your veins, in your life.

Joel softens his embrace but still holds you, letting you rest and you almost doze off, lulled by his warm chest rocking you up and down like a giant wave.

“Don’t sleep yet, ya need to take a pill,” he gently shakes you, sleep heavy in his own voice.

“Oh, yeah…fuck, you came inside,” you murmur, blinking at him, as your mind fog slowly clears up.

“I have a Plan B, don’t worry.”

He moves you off him and lays you down on the bed, then gets up, making the bed squeak.

You can’t move your limbs even if you tried to so you’re lying there, feeling his warmth between your legs, kisses of the afterglow all over your heated skin and smile lazily when he returns to the bed with a glass of water.

“Look at you, as cock dumb as they get, huh?”

He plops down next to you and hands you the pill.

You sit up with a tired smile, swallow the pill and chase it with a few sips of water.

“Good girl,” Joel takes the glass from you and shakes his head when you murmur that you need to go.

“No way. Sleep here. They'll hang your ass if they catch you out and about at this hour.”

You turn your head to the window, just noticing that it’s completely dark outside, only the street lamps illuminate the room with a yellow light.

“Aww, you care about me, Joel? Don’t fall in love,” you giggle but your heart flutters as you look up at the man, so handsome and huge, looming over you.

“I’ll try,” he deadpans and shakes his hand, motioning you to scooch.

You shift to the other side of the bed and he lies down on his back with a grunt. You’re still sitting up, shamelessly admiring his naked body.

“Quit starin’,” he mumbles with eyes closed and pulls you down onto his chest.

You’re lying on his shoulder for a few moments and then whisper,

“Can you big spoon me?”