#calculator.

Joel noticed something was wrong immediately. It came with the territory, especially with a partner whom he’d been with for so long— It was the tension on your shoulders, the way your whines were high pitched and just pained enough to be too much, the way you clenched around Joel feeling different than it usually did. He slowed down his thrusting, a hand splayed on the small of your back to steady the both of them.

“What’s your color, princess?”

You hesitated before gasping: “G–Green.”

It was that millisecond of hesitation that confirmed something was wrong. Joel closed his hand in a tight fist, resisting the urge of slapping you for the blatant lie. 

“Are you lying to me, girlie?”

“No— Shit, no. I can take it. Please, I— I can take it.”

Joel tutted. He knew the right thing would be to pull out and end it right there, but there was something both endearing and infuriating about you lying to him as if Joel wouldn’t notice, as if Joel didn’t know you so thoroughly inside and out. So he resumed his thrusts, a little harsher this time, more punishing than it had been before. 

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” Joel asked, slightly out of breath, each word punctuated by the snap of his hips. He pulled on the leather belt wrapped around your neck harshly, more violent than he’d been before, your neck popping audibly at that. The whine that escaped you was full of pain and little pleasure, tears running down your face and your lip bit enough to split the skin, crimson red blood staining your bottom lip. “M’good girl wouldn’t do that, would she?”

“N–No.”

Joel tugged on the makeshift leash again, the leather digging into his palm; it would’ve been so easy to break your neck like that, just another pull from his hand to make his lover crumble lifeless beneath him. One of your hands left the headboard, moving instinctively towards your neck before you dropped it back to where it had been before and Joel could’ve cum right there at the fact that you had also realized Joel could kill you and would’ve simply let him do it.

“You’d let me do it, wouldn’tcha? Let me snap yer pretty neck right now, with my cock buried inside your tight little cunt?”

You only let out a garbled noise, unable to speak from how tight the belt wrapped around your neck. Your fingers twitched against the headboard, barely a movement at all, but Joel knew what it meant. He stopped moving, fingers releasing the belt just enough for you to take a deep breath, your eyes widening before you slumped forward.

“Say it.” Joel commanded. You shook your head and then pushed your hips back against him, but Joel didn’t move. “I mean it. I can’t fuck you if I can’t trust you to know your limits.”

His tone, firm but not angered, made you whimper. A beat passed, and then another, the only sound in the room being of your sobs, interrupted by your ragged breathing. Joel wanted to demand it again, wanted to slap your flushed face and bite you raw for your insubordination, but all of that could come later, so instead he simply waited it out.

“C—” You hesitated, visibly torn. Joel rubbed the hand on the small of your back encouragingly, the belt still hanging loosely in his fist. “Calculator.”

“Wasn’t that hard to say it, was it, princess?” He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I’m goin’ to pull out and then take this off, just wait a minute.”

Joel did as he said, slowly pulling out slowly, mindful of your hiss when he did it. His fingers, raw and numb from where he’d been pulling at the belt carefully undid the buckle, a small kiss to the skin of your neck,  reddened and angry in the sort of shade that Joel knew would bruise beautifully. You shifted instantly, nearly yourself on his lap, a torrent of ‘I’m sorry’s escaping from your lips like a prayer.

“Don’t apologize, baby. You did great f’me.” Joel pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead, delicately pushing your hair away from your sweaty face. “Such a good girl f’me, always. Perfect, aren’t ya?”

And, although Joel wasn’t one for compliments, he knew it to be true— It was as if you had been tailor made for him, fitting perfectly in his life and in his hands just like one of his guns. The sort of match that one didn’t come across easily; Joel was a difficult person to please, and despite the fact that he had a lot of fun breaking and molding his girls to suit him the way he wanted them to, you often felt more like an equal than a plaything even if he wouldn’t willingly admit to it.

“Been perfect for me since the start.” He grinned, another soft kiss to your forehead, enjoying the thrill of the power he held over you, your body sagging against Joel’s almost immediately as if his touch was the only thing you needed to survive. “D’you remember the night we met? I knew you’d belong to me that night. So pretty and innocent— So eager, even then.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” Joel pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Do you want me to run you a bath, pretty girl?”

The bath itself was a long process to get going: The ranch the two of you had been shacking up in had running water, but no electricity, which made warming up the bathwater a hassle of a job, but Joel did it all without complaining, filling up the bathtub carefully and looking at you from the corner of his eyes every-so-often. You’d stopped crying by then, huddled in a blanket and sitting on top of the sink counter, but you weren’t your chatty self, instead watching him work in near silence; he knew he’d need to have a proper conversation with you as to why you took so long to safeword out of it — even if he knew it was because you were afraid to disappoint him, Joel still needed you to verbalize it —, and then set up some sort of punishment to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. At that moment, however, he needed to show you that he wasn’t disappointed in your need to use the safeword, but rather that you hadn’t done it on your own. 

“C’mere, babygirl.” Joel beckoned, hand stretched as he helped you into the bathtub. “How are you feeling? Throat hurts?”

“A little.” You said, voice still a little raspy. Joel didn’t get into the tub with you, rather kneeling next to it, a dented metal mug in his hands that he used to collect water and run it down your back. “It’s good, though.”

Joel ran the old bar of soap over the column of your throat, the skin already starting to bruise. His hand ran softly against you, more gentle than he’d ever been with you before, but the sight of your marred skin still churned his stomach with excitement. It was just the two of you at the ranch, and nobody else would get to see the mark he’d planted on your skin, but it made Joel feel the need to parade you around, to show you belonged to him to as many people as possible. To show what you’d let him do. 

To show that he could’ve killed you, and you would’ve let him with tears in your eyes and a moan on your lips. 

“‘N how do I know ya ain’t lying to me?”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t lie t—”

“But you did. Ya lied to me.” Joel interrupted you, tutting. He brought the soap to your hair, your head leaning back slightly for it— The soap was awful for your hair, making it harder to untangle and frizzy enough to have you pouting every time, but there wasn’t much else Joel could do in terms of personal hygiene without going back to Jackson; plus, he enjoyed being the one to untangle your hair, enjoyed knowing you needed him for everything, even something as small as that. “Coulda hurt ya real bad if I wasn’t payin’ attention.”

“But you were.” You replied, a mimic of his own words, eyes closed as Joel massaged his fingertips against your scalp. “You were.”

“Is that what this is about, baby? Needin’ my attention?” Joel rinsed your hair and moved the soap down towards your shoulders, lathering your skin softly. There were other bruises down your chest, some newer, some older, all of them shaped like his mouth. “Feelin’ a lil’ neglected lately?”

“You’ve been gone a lot.” 

In any other circumstance, Joel would’ve teased you. He would’ve called you needy, joked about how you’d glue yourself to him if you could, would’ve tutted and taunted about how you could possibly have survived without him— The cruelty escaped him just then, and instead he simply pressed a kiss to your temple. You sighed at the gesture, a small pout on your bitten lips.

“Just makin’ sure the ranch is safe for us. Lots’a ground to cover, lots’a fences need mendin’ before we’re truly safe.” 

“I know, I know. It’s just…” You shrugged, hands twisting above the water. Your fingernails were painted a dark shade of navy that Joel had almost lost an eye to steal it for you from a small camp of settlers a few months back. The nail polish had long dried and expired, but you hadn’t been deterred by it at all, using oils and a lot of willpower to get it malleable enough again. “I like when you’re perceptive. That’s when I don’t feel invisible.”

“Invisible? How could a pretty lil’ thing like you go unnoticed by anyone?” Joel’s hand dipped lower, soaping up your breasts; the touch wasn’t sexual in of itself, there was no groping or kneading, but your nipples still perked up, goosebumps erupting all over glistening skin and Joel had to bite down on his lip to keep himself from licking them off. “I don’t think any of that’s true at all. I think yer just tryna guilt me into not punishin’ you.”

You offered him a cheeky grin. “Is it working?”

“No it ain’t, you brat.” Joel pinched your nipple. You yelped, but the smile didn’t slide off your face. “Ain’t gon’ fuck you until I know I can trust ya to tap out.”

“I trusted you enough to choke me with your belt. You can trust me to tap out if I need to. I really didn’t—”

“You really gon’ look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t want to safeword outta there?” You didn’t have a proper comeback to that, and Joel found the way you opened and closed your mouth quite endearing. He grabbed your chin, turning your face to him; your lips parted as if it was second nature, jaw going slack and mouth opening up for him. Joel doesn’t take the bait, doesn’t spit or shove his tongue in your waiting mouth like he might’ve done in a different scenario.

“I would’a killed ya if I hadn’t noticed you needin’ a break.” He went on, fingers still gripping your chin, trembling with unearned rage. “You gon’ earn my trust back. Until then, I ain’t touchin’ ya, and you ain’t touching yourself either.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t have enjoyed it too. We both know you would’ve busted your load at the sound of my neck breaking.”

“And then what, sweetheart? Shoot myself while I’m still balls deep inside of ya? ‘Cause we both know I ain’t living in this shitstorm without you.”

You grinned at him, wet hair glued to the sides of your face, eyes shining maniacally in the way he linked it best. “Sounds romantic to me. Being connected to you for all of eternity.”

Joel leaned in then, the soap and the bath entirely forgotten as he pressed his mouth to yours in a demanding, filthy kiss. 

“You pull that shit again, and I’ll snap yer fuckin’ neck.”