#chubby pedro pascal

Joel Miller was your street’s cranky asshole. No one dared throw a party or hold a garage sale without letting him know first. No one dared let their grass get over a certain length and the whole neighbourhood breathed a sigh of relief when he would go out of a town and not see the kids scribble with chalk on the sidewalks in the summer. He never called the cops; no, instead he showed up and berated whoever was hosting an event or engaging in an activity he found offensive. And he was intimidating. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was built like a brick shithouse. You’d lived on the block for almost nine years, and in that time, Joel had gone from being a broad, sturdy single father to a single, empty nester who lived off HungryMan frozen meals. He was a big man with linebacker shoulders and a meaty chest stacked on top of a boulderous belly. His plaid button up shirts always looked like they were holding on for dear life to avoid his temper.

And you were utterly in love with him.

Before the most recent snowfall, you’d been in your room on your bed with the window open a crack to let in some fresh air. Right below your window was Joel’s front porch, and as soon as you heard his door fly open, you grabbed your vibrator and listened.

“Get off my lawn!”, you heard him bellow at who ever had dared to approach his house.

You smiled to yourself and turned on your purple silicon friend and shoved it in your underwear.

As Joel berated the hapless victim of his temper, you nudged yourself closer to the edge. As you did, you cared less about the volume of your cries and let your noises out at top volume. By the time you came, Joel was standing on his porch with his mouth agape, staring at your bedroom window and the offending party walked away with a look of disgust.

*****

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You watched as your snow shovel slipped out of your hands and hit your Joel’s truck. The one with the vanity plate ‘SM 9000’ that you had no clue what it meant. You could only sit back and watch as it fell and gouged in the paint job on Joel’s 1989 Dodge Ram pickup, your panties grew damp as you heard his front door open and slam against his house.

You turned around, raising your hands, trying to look like you were de-escalating the situation. “Joel, I-“

“The fuck’re you think you’re doin’?!”, he bellowed, stomping towards you.

As he yelled and flew into a tantrum over your shovel’s sins, you couldn’t help the stupid, lovesick half grin blooming on your face.

“… and you ain’t got no respect for no one’s property and…”, he stopped, took a breath, and looked you over, face twisting in a confused rage as he tried to figure out why you were looking at him as if he were a can of tuna and you were a cat watching him being pulled open ever so gently.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!”, he yelled, stepping forward, trying to scare you to no avail. He huffed and stomped his foot, trying to snap you out of whatever trance you were in.

You sighed and tilted your head, loving the attention he was finally bestowing on you, not caring that your reaction was essentially dumping gasoline on a house fire.

“Fuckin’ disrespectful shit…”, he snarled as he grabbed your arm and dragged you towards his house.

“Joel? What’re you doing? Where we going?”, you asked with a big dumb grin on your face then wincing at the harsh grip he had on your elbow. Your boots slipped and skidded on the icy walkway and you tripped heading up the stairs.

“Fuckin’ clumsy dumbass…”, he grumbled, shoving you through his front door and slamming it behind you both.

You looked around his entry way, noting the ugly wallpaper and the stale cigarette smell lingering. You crinkled your nose, and he turned around, his frown deepening into a scowl.

“Boots off!”, he barked, harshly motioning to your feet.

You didn’t miss a beat and toed them off quickly, kicking them into the wall. His jaw clenched as he watched the dirty snow clumps slide slowly down, leaving wet patches on his yellow-turned-brown floral wallpaper.

His eyes snapped up to yours, expecting an apologetic look. Instead, he was met with…

“Why the fuck you lookin’ at me like a love sick puppy?”

Joel was enraged. You didn’t run away or beg for forgiveness. No. You stood in his entry way, kicking your boots and making a mess, looking like he was David Cassidy or Patrick Swayze. You smiled back softly and that was the last straw for him.

“WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You could have cum right there. Joel Miller was yelling right in your face. You’d gotten off by listening to him lose his shit at anyone trying to fundraiser or collect donations who had dared knock on his door but having a front row seat to a live performance was better than you could have ever imagined.

Joel watched your lips part and your brows twitch as they furrowed and your head tilt back slightly. He heard your breath hitch between his furious growling breaths, and his eyes slid down your parka-clad frame and he swore he saw your thighs clench.

His eyes went wide as he realized the effect he was having on you.

“You fuckin’ dirty little shit…”

The whimper he received in response made his cock twitch in his WalMart Levi’s. He sucked in a harsh breath and swallowed hard. He hadn’t had a woman look at him like that since he went to the strip club with his brother for his bachelor party, and he knew she was looking for a hefty tip. But you – the only thing he could think of is that you were trying to find a way to get out of paying for the damage your shovel caused. There was no waythat you were actually interested in him in that way. No. No woman had wanted to fuck him since before his daughter, Sarah, had been in junior high. He was a fat old asshole and you… you weren’t.

“Joel…”

Your soft voice pulled him back and the frown he carried all but left his face, being replaced with eyebrows to his hairline and his mouth open in confusion and shock.

“Joel, I… I’m sorry about your truck.”

You grabbed the zipper to your parka and pulled down, opening it to reveal your great aunt’s knitted sweater with a loon on it. Joel’s widened eyes swept over you and his brows furrowed.

“The hell you up to?”, he croaked, trying to sound intimidating.

“It’s warm in here”, you respond, tossing your parka on to, but missing completely, the stair banister.

His mind was racing. You actually seemed to be coming on to him as you stepped closer in your mismatched socks. You looked up at him through your lashes while your hands slowly slid up your legging-clad thighs and up to the hem of your sweater. He watched as you pulled it over your head slowly, getting it stuck for a moment, revealing a worn out white t-shirt with a faded image of a marshmallow peep and the slogan ‘Holla At My Peeps!’. He took another step back and you tossed your sweater at him, and he stumbled back, falling onto his recliner.

“Jesus, woman!”, he hollered, ripping your sweater off his head just in time to see you standing above him.

“You know how hot you are?”, you asked, leaning forward over him.

He froze. He must be dead. Or asleep. Or maybe he slipped when he stormed out the door to yell at you and hit his head. Or maybe he was drunk. Maybe he took a NyQuil tablet instead of the Omega 3-6-9 fish oil pills.

“The hell is wrong with you?”, he sputtered out, looking at you wide-eyed.

You didn’t answer. You only leaned forward, nudging your nose against his and letting out a breathy giggle. He tried to speak again, but his words got lost in the high pitch grunt he let out when your knee came up and nestled in between his thighs, pushing against the considerable bulge that had developed.

His hand involuntarily gripped your wrist that was supported on his arm rest, and he sucked in a deep breath.

“I know exactly what you need, Joel Miller.”, you cooed, tongue jutting out and licking your teeth, trying to sound seductive. “You need a good fuck.”

His mouth hung open in shock. You grinned wildly and kissed the tip of his nose before nipping at his bottom lip and tugging it between your teeth.

Joel let out a groan and closed his eyes, the hand on your wrist moving to your t-shirt’s hem and slipped underneath it. You nudged your knee against his crotch again and kissed him, tasting no-name waffles and burnt coffee.

The kiss seemed to break something in Joel. This wasn’t a dream, or an antihistamine induced hallucination or a concussion - this was real. You, his hot, young, stupid neighbour was crawling onto his lap and shoving your tongue down his throat.

He grunted lowly and pushed you back, looking up at you with dark eyes. You tried moving forward again, but his hand held you back.

A whine emanated from your throat, and he shook his head. “I’m not fucking you-“

You scoffed and he shushed you.

“Oh, hush and lemme finish, you loony shit!”, he huffed. “I was sayin’ that I'm not gonna fuck you in this chair; it barely holds my weight and if you’re gonna be bouncin’ on me, this fuckin’ thing’ll screw the pooch.”

You shrugged your shoulders, irritated. “Okay, fine. Then where?”

“My bed, you nimrod!”, he snapped with a scowl, then grinned. “Got a nice mattress with good lumbar support.”

*****

You had followed Joel to his room and were pleasantly… let down. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the beige walls and the picture of a horse above his non-exciting bed were not what you had thought he would have. What surprised you was the essential oil diffuser plugged in on his bedside table, giving the air a fresh lavender smell.

The fact that the rest of his house looked like a rejected concept for an early nineties sitcom and his bedroom looked like a bed and breakfast that had no theme, for some reason, made you want him more. This man and his lack of consistency. You needed him in you now.

Grabbing his arm and turning him around, you pulled him into a desperate kiss; teeth and tongues, fighting for real estate in each other’s mouths.

“Get naked, sugar.”, he grunted as he broke the kiss with a lopsided grin. He unsnapped his shirt, revealing a grey, stained undershirt, its ribbing pulled tight and stretched over his belly while his mouth and surrounding patchy facial hair glistened with your saliva.

While he wasn’t being that polite, he wasn’t being mean. That was a problem. Even with how mundane he’d revealed himself to be, it wasn’t enough. The residual dampness that made your panties stick to your core was a result of him yelling at you out front, and that goodwill your pussy had shown was slowly drying up.

Joel’s hands began to make quick work of his belt and stretch denim jeans, but he noticed you not moving to do the same.

His hand flapped at you in an urging motion, “Make with the no clothes. Can’t fuck you with them on.”

His eyes narrowed as he noted your lack of movement, and he paused. You began to see signs that Joel was getting mad, and your mind flipped through every situation you’d witnessed him lose his shit in.  What was it that would set him off quick? You weren’t about to throw a block party in his room, nor were you a religious group knocking at his door early on a Saturday. Then it clicked.

A devious grin broke out slowly on your face as you sat on his Temperpedic mattress and crossed your arms.

“Make me.”

“You indignant little shit…”, he growled, clenching his fist.

A flutter in your lower belly. More.

“Come on. Make me.”

“You fuckin’ tease… Fuck you!” His eyes were filling with fire.

An almost painful need bloomed in your core. More!

“Fuck me yourself, coward.”

He sputtered and guffawed, eyes wide in rage.

“You fuckin’ shit! Bangin’ up my truck and actin’ like a needy Jezabel just to fuckin’ tease me like this!”

You could have cum right there, between the iron grip on your wrist and his loud belittling.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that erupted, and he snarled. He grabbed your hand and yanked you up off the bed. You truly thought his back was bad enough that the effort of getting you up alone would be too much, but he shoved you against his dresser, then slamming his weight into your back. You whined, feeling your pussy clenching on nothing.

“You’re such a shit!”, he grunted, grabbing your elasticized waistband, and yanking your leggings and panties down on one side while your hand went to the other; the two of you awkwardly working towards removing your barrier.

When they were low enough on your legs to step out of, you clumsily did so, then tried to turn around to help Joel. He wasn’t fast enough, swearing under his breath as your hands lifted his belly to access his strained button fly. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting like a dog on a window while a steak was being grilled just on the other side.

You pushed his jeans down around his hips and they pooled around his ankles. He kicked them off and bit down on the crux of your neck and shoulder as your hand cupped and felt up his hard cock.

Jesus. Oh fuck.

Joel was hung. Like unreasonably so. You’d had your fair share of men slamming their pork steeples into your wet cunt, but none of them could even hold a candle to the monstrosity that sat heavy and covered in satin in your hand. You planted your hand on his chest and pushed him back, needing to get a peek at what Joel was packing. You immediately looked down, seeing the Wile E. Coyote faux-satin boxers protruding out in an impressive, and frankly intimidating, bulge.

“Oh shit...”, you breathed out, contemplating on whether you truly needed to do any serious sitting for the next week, or if you could maybe just get away with laying down at work.

His hand snapped to your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye, and he gave you a dark smile, “Showed up to a gun fight with a knife, sugar?”

You didn’t have time to respond because Joel shoved his hand between your legs and harshly began rubbing your clit.

Your eyes fluttered and rolled back. Joel watched, an approving sneer on his face.

“’S fucked up … you like this?”

“uh…. Uh-huh…”

“You’re a lunatic…”

You smiled lazily. “You’re fingering a lunatic… w-what’s that say about you?”

He paused then huffed out, “That I’m fingering a lunatic, you moron.”

You let out a throaty laugh that bleeds into a moan as Joel shoves two thick fingers into your hole, slowly dragging them out before plunging them back in.

“You’re a sick little shit… you seducin’ and teasin’ an old man, an’gettin’ me all wound up… Neighbourhood headache… that’s you. Fuckin’ shit up and walkin’ away with a smile on her dumb face.”

“’M close… don’t…. don’t stop…”

His fingers kept the slow languid pace going as he leaned in and harshly whispered, “Unlike you, sugar, I don’t like to leave people disappointed.”

His eyes never left you, watching your every move. Every involuntary twitch and shudder, every flutter of your eyelids and breath leave your parted lips. He could feel it around his fingers and see it on your face that you were feeling everything intensely and now that he had you like this, he wasn’t going to let you go without making sure you weren’t going to pull this shit again.

Joel was many things, but a man who could let things go was not one of them. He was tired of hearing you cream and cry on whatever silicon thing you were shoving into yourself through your bedroom window as he lost his shit on someone; tired of seeing you make eyes at him while you sat in your front yard as he grumbled at a neighbour for the state of their lawn. He was still furious at you for once letting your hand - your soft, sweet, tender hand - linger on his when handing him his mail that was accidentally delivered to your home, forcing him to sit in his shitty recliner and try to finish with his calloused, rough, and hard hand. He never came.

You were going to pay for that. He’d promised himself that for almost five years and now here you were, on your way to being a muppet with how his hand played in your pussy. Joel’s time had come.

You came, moaning, on his hand as he watched, his fingers still moving in and out of you, and his thumb took up the task of tending to your twitching clit. Your face twisted and you cried out, trying to push his hand away.

Your tongue felt thick in your mouth and a moan seeped out. As you rode the wave, he yanked his hand out and grabbed your arm, throwing you onto the bed.

“Goddammit, you’re such a pretty shit.”, he grumbled, reaching for your ankle, and tugging your ass to the edge of the bed. You tried sitting up on your elbows, but he shoved you back down with his body weight.

His weight. Good god, he felt heavier and better than you ever thought he could as he pressed you down into the mattress.

But he got up off you, trying to wrangle your ankles and pull your exposed pussy to just the right spot to save his back from being strained. You tried sitting up again, wanting to have some sort of control over the situation, but Joel growled and grabbed your hips, and, in an impressive feat, flipped you onto your front all while grumbling about what a pain in the ass you were.

“Can’t even fuckin’ be considerate enough to stay put…”

You heard him spit then grunt, figuring he was priming that fucking meat wagon between his legs, and you let out an impatient huff.

“Knock that shit off!”, he snapped, flicking you on your ass cheek. “You just came, nimrod. You can fuckin’ wait!”

“Yeah… but I wanna cum again!”, you whined out with a smile, trying to not laugh at how irritated he was with you.

“I bet you do… but you’re on my time, and I am a patient man, sugar.”, he crooned lowly, snaking his hand up your back and to your hip. You squirmed a bit, but his hold kept you planted in place, and his other hand held his cock as he nudged it against your opening.

The smile on your face dropped as his huge member pushed in; your mouth opened, and out came a gasp followed by a choked moan.

“That’s it… Jesus Murphy…  not even fuckin’ your throat and I got you to shut your mouth…”

Yes, you knew Joel was huge. But it was just an abstract concept up until that moment. Now that he was shoving his massive dick into you, you felt like the universe’s mysteries were now clearly laid out. You knew what religion was right, who shot JFK, how they made the moon landing look real…

Nothing in life would ever surprise you again because you were being split open by this grumpy, fat man. You were being ruined by Joel Miller.

He grunted as he pulled back and then slammed into you.

“Tight little snatch, sugar… takin’ me like a champ.”

You couldn’t respond. Your brain had melted and left your skull empty, and you were unable to do anything but breathe loudly and moan, “S’too big… too big…”

Joel snickered and grunted, snapping his hips and shoving himself deep. You wriggled and squirmed, simultaneously needing him stop and to fuck you harder. Your head began to feel faint, and your core squeezed him, forcing a groan out of him.

He began to snap his hips faster, panting and grunting like the fat kid in gym class being forced to run a mile. You whined and squirmed, trying to get your knees under your body to be able to push back against him, to get him deeper, but he grabbed your calf and bit your leg right above your sock with a growl then groaned, “Stay… stay put… don’t move… jus’lemme… lemme finish…”

You let out a yelp than melted into a moan, throwing yourself into another orgasm. Joel’s thrusts became hurried and more erratic. The high-pitched whine that ripped out of Joel sounded like a dog begging for table scraps as he shot his load into you.

He collapsed onto your back, both of you panting. After what felt like hours but in reality, was only about 30 seconds, Joel had gone quiet. You nudged him, hoping to god he didn’t die from a pussy-induced heart attack. He grunted and struggled to push himself up off you, then flopped on the bed next to you. You rolled over onto your back and looked at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his brows furrowed; his wispy salt and pepper hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were closed. He was still breathing heavily through his mouth. You smiled, feeling a fulfillment you hadn’t since you’d convinced your parents that it was your sister who broke the CD-ROM drive in the family computer even though it was really you. Cuddling into his, your fingers drew heart shapes in his sweat coated chest hair.

Now that he’d fucked you, you wanted to clear the air as it were, and make sure he wasn’t going to make you pay for any damage to his truck. “So…”

Joel grunted in response, one eye opening and looking at you.

“I was just wondering… what’s your licence plate mean?”

He sighed and closed his eye again. He said the meaning quietly and at first you weren’t sure you heard him right.

“What?”

His cheeks flushed a little harder and he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a huff.

“ShagMaster 9000.”

“Eatin’ like it's your last day on earth, Miller...”, you teased with a wry smile as you walked past him in the dining hall.

“Shut it...”, he grumbled, a bit of pink flushing his cheeks. He took another bite of gravy-flooded mashed potatoes.

“What helping’s this? Third? Fourth?”

Joel looked at you, exasperated. “The fuck? Can't a man enjoy his girl’s cookin’ without the third degree?”

You smiled at him, loving how much of a rise you were getting. It had been a few months since you and Joel had your first encounter, and while nothing was made official, more often than not, you’d find yourself entwined with Joel in your bed at night. His heavy, full stomach pressed against your back as you both slept peacefully. While you enjoyed your time together, you were beginning to feel something was lacking, hence your teasing.

The cold glare he gave immediately dampened the playful banter between you. You felt a twist in your mood and sour heat in your stomach.

He shook his turkey leg at you, giving you a scolding look, and warned, “You better knock that shit off, Darlin’... or so help me, I’m not gonna - .”

“Not gonna what?”, you asked, getting closer, and you voice dropped down to a cool whisper only he could hear. “Not gonna fuck me? Pretty sure haven’t been doing that lately anyway, so what’d be the difference, huh?”

He sat back with wide eyes and his mouth open in shock, and his full belly sat rounded out on his lap. You stood up, brow raised, and arms crossed.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?!”

Joel was affectionate, but usually too tired, full or both to do anything but let you ride him. And not to say you didn't enjoy it, but it was starting to feel a bit one sided. He hadn’t done anything beyond finger you a bit to get you ready and then sweet talk you into being on top again. He’d apologize and praise you, but you wanted more. Especially now that there was more to him.

His eating habits had really started to impact his physique; his jawline was softer, his arms and thighs were thicker, but his stomach was truly the star of the show. He’d made do with the clothes he had for as long as he could, but at the rate he was eating and the limited physical activity he’d been doing, he had to trade labor and time for new shirts and pants that would fit him. And on nights when he ate like this, you swore you could hear the seams praying to their polyester gods for mercy.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Coulda fooled me!”, he snapped, louder than he meant. “Seems to do the trick and make you whine and mewl like a beaten dog almost every night!”

You felt your face get hot as a few heads in the dining hall turned towards you. He sighed and his eyes softened as he saw your face fall a bit. But you held firm, pulling your mouth into a scowl.

“Not every night, nowhere near it. And I’m the one doing the work. I’m the one fuckin’ you!”, you hissed.

Before giving him a chance to say anything else, you quickly turned and went back into the kitchen.

*****

After storming out of the dining hall, you’d spent the rest of your shift cleaning the entire kitchen, probably to a degree it hadn’t been since its installation. You’d scrubbed and polished every surface with enough fury in your eyes that no one dared step in. It wasn’t until you heard the jukebox turn off and see the lights in the dining hall dim that you realized you’d been at this for a few hours.

As you leaned back against the counter, head down and thinking over how your and Joel’s interaction had escalated like that, you heard a small voice say your name. You looked up and saw Sally, one of the other kitchen attendants.

“Sorry - don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m tryin’ to close up and Joel won’t leave. Says he’s not leavin’ without’cha.”

You scoffed out a ‘for fuck’s sake’ then walked to the swinging doors, only to see Joel, still seated where he was before, leaning back in his chair and picking his teeth with a toothpick. His eyes met yours, and you knew just from the look he was giving, he had a lot more to say.

“Joel, go home. Need to close up and can’t if you’re here.”

He looked behind you at Sally and gave her a small wave. “I’ll help her close up, Sally. You run on home. We got this.”

“Joel!”, you hissed.

“Go on now, Sally.”

His tone left little room for Sally to argue, and she muttered a ‘good night’ as she passed by you then Joel as head made her way out the door.  You sighed, clenching your jaw, feeling the frustration and anger that you’d just weeded down in your cleaning frenzy begin to rise again. Joel watched Sally leave, then turned back to you, smug look on his face, made all the smugger as he noted your irritation.

“Darlin’, cut that shit out and come’ere.”, he crooned with a small grin, hilding his hand out to you.

You glared at him, not moving from your position.

He kept his hand out and raised his eyebrows and let out a huff. “Don’t make this old man beg, baby…”

“I think this old man has a lot more ground to cover than just beggin’.”, you responded cooly, crossing your arms across your chest. Before Joel could answer, you turned and went back to the kitchen to finish your duties.

You figured there was a 50 / 50 chance of Joel following you in, so as the door swung open and his heavy footsteps lumbered towards you, you knew he was at least picking up slightly on the passive aggressive breadcrumbs you’d dropped. You kept your back to him, drying cutlery and putting them into their respective bins.

“Darlin’…”

Joel’s voice was set low in a growl, leaving you unable to tell whether he was angry or aroused. You jumped as his hand grazed your lower back and settled on your waist, giving you a small squeeze.

“You wan’me to beg?”, he huskily growled into the back of your neck as he pressed a kiss to your skin.

“I gotta finish closin’ up, Joel.”, you stated, keeping your voice as even and unaffected as you could muster.

Joel let out a frustrated sigh-turned-grunt and let you go, stepping back. He leaned back against the wooden shelf behind him, the wood creaking in objection to his weight.

“Fuck, you’re being-“, he started, before letting out a huff. “What has gotten into you?”

Turning around, you were met with something you didn’t anticipate – a dark, sullen, glaring Joel, eyes burning into you.

“Joel-“, you groaned, before he cut you off.

“Don’t fuckin’ Joel me.”, he snapped. “You got a lot of fuckin’ nerve. You know what you said in front of the people eatin’ their food out there? You said I wasn’t fuckin’ you right. And then, I sit here like a goddamned fool, waitin’ for you to finish so we can talk, and you turn your back on me.”

“Joel, I need t-“

“Shut up! I ain’t done talkin’!”

You close your mouth and swallow hard. While you’d seen him get mad before, Joel had never directed it towards you before, and lord almighty, it sucked.

“You think I’m a fuckin’ mind reader? Think I’m gonna know you’re not happy?”, he asked, sounding loud and desperate, as he stood up and stalked towards you.

As he looked down at you, realization of how much bigger he was, in height and weight, came over you.

“I have said someth-“, you tried to argue, but his large hand grabbing yours and tugging you against him stopped you.

“Don’t interrupt me!”, he barked. “You aint said shit! And now you – fuck! No. You know what? Ain’t worth it!”

His eyes glowered down into yours and you in turn felt your eyes begin to sting with tears at the loss of contact. This was the most emotionally charged you’d seen Joel, and you wanted that same energy and passion when he fucked you, not use it to berate you for needing him to give you the same time and attention he showered on the food you cooked for the whole community. You could feel your face getting hot from the anger that was boiling in you over how overlooked you felt, even if it wasn’t entirely true. You were in a heated, frenzied spiral and reason and rationale had abandoned you.

Before you could snap back and tell him how worth it you actually were, Joel’s eyes softened; he let out a deep breath and let go of your arm and stepped back.

“I’ll… I’ll see you at home.”, Joel muttered before he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

You stood silently and watched him leave, feeling your heart break and immolate in your rib cage and hot tears fall down your face. It hit you hard just how hurt you both were.

*****

The house was dark when you walked in the front door. Joel had left no lights on, and you knew Ellie would be at Dina’s house for the night. The only hint you had to deduce that Joel was in fact home was the dim light you saw through his bedroom window as you approached the house. You hung your coat and tucked your boots on the shelf before quietly ascending the stairs to go to your room.

As you tiptoed in the hallways, you passed Joel’s bedroom door and heard him moving around his room. You could see his shadow from the light slipping under his doorway and felt your stomach curdle and sour, your mind jumping to rash conclusions about what he could be doing in there.

Was he packing to move out and get away from you?

Was he trying to clean up to remove your smell?

Was he collecting your things that you’d left in his room so he could hand them to you and tell you to get out?

As the thoughts rippled through your brain, you knew Joel was more methodical than that. He wouldn’t just leave or make you leave like that… would he?

You stepped forward, forgetting about that floorboard. The creak that sang out made both you and Joel’s shadow stop. You kept still for a moment, but the shadow didn’t move either. You were suddenly thrust back into your childhood; the times you were trying to sneak down into the kitchen to grab a snack or watch a blue movie on cable television without your parents catching you.

That fucking floorboard.

The shadow moved slightly, signaling Joel was getting closer to the door, and you moved quickly to your room, no longer caring how much noise you made. As you reached to grab your door handle, you heard Joel’s door pull open.

“Darlin’?”

Your hand clasped the knob, and you closed your eyes, hearing his voice.

“Yeah, Joel?”

You were surprised how soft and calm your voice sounded; it was a stark contrast to the overwhelming, post-anger, anxiety-ridden mess that was your mind.

“Turn around and look at me, Baby.”

“M’tired, Joel… Just gonna go to bed and – “

“I said turn around.”

It wasn’t a request. His tone was gentle, but you could feel it in your bones that this was a command - a soft one, but a command none the less. Your skin prickled in a wave of goosebumps, up your body, culminating at the base of your neck.

Joel must have been able to see the effect he had on you, because the voice he used to speak almost melted the flesh from your bones.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna turn around and look at me. Now.”

You turned around and looked at him. His broad and hefty silhouette stood ominously in his doorway, backlit by the soft glow from his bedroom.

“You comin’ to bed?”, Joel said quietly, but there was an edge to his tone that made your skin once again pebble.

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at his question, then shook your head subtly.

“No, Joel. I figured we’d take the night an-“

“And what?”, he snapped, stepping out into the hallway and towards you.

When you didn’t answer, he took another few steps and growled in a lower tone, “And what?!”

Your eyes went wide as he got closer, and your fight or flight kicked in. Taking a step back, you hit your bedroom door, and stumbled through your words. “I… I-I thought… I figured that you’d wanna-“

“That I’d wanna what?”, he snarled, stepping close and his full belly pressed you further into your door.

“Th-that you’d… you’d wanna be… alone to-tonight…”

Joel’s hand came up and he grabbed your chin, forcing your face square to his. “And why d’you think that?”

“Because… because we fought-“

“And you think that gives you the right to not sleep in my bed?”

You were stunned; you had no answer for him, and you also hadn’t ever been this turned on by him with out him already being knuckle deep in your pussy. You swallowed hard and stared back at him. This was a feeling you couldn’t place; it felt like you were slipping under a spell that Joel was casting.

The only response you could finally give was a headshake, and Joel returned it with a curt nod and slight grin.

“Good girl.”, he purred and released your chin.

You followed Joel back into his room, and stood awkwardly as he closed the door. You’d been in his room countless times, and you’d never felt this out of place. You jumped when he put his hands on your hips from behind and pulled you back, the curve of your spine being the perfect angle for his heavy belly to fit against.

“You feel like I’m not takin’ care of you, Darlin’?”, he huskily mewled into your ear before nipping it.

“Joel, I’m sor-“

“Stop.”, he said, abruptly stopping you from finishing your apology.

“We’re past that, Darlin’. Both said things we needed to say, even if we said’em not so nicely.”

You could hear the small smile in his voice and couldn’t help the one that tugged at your mouth slightly. A whisper soft sound came out of you with a sigh. 

But then his tone dipped down, and as he rasped into your ear; one of his hands on your hip slipped to your front as he cupped your denim clad mound.

“You got my attention, baby. You feelin’ needy?”

Your mouth opened, and our flew a feather-light choked whimper. He gripped you roughly and pulled you snug against him, enough so that you could feel his thick and hard cock press against your ass.

“That why you had an attitude with me today? Needed me to fuck you? Fix that ache in your needy pussy?”

You breathed his name out as your brows furrowed and your eyes clenches closed. “Joel…” Your hand snapped on top of his over your crotch, forcing him to apply more pressure and squeeze.

“Need me to remind you that you’re mine?”, he growled before biting the crux of your neck and shoulder.

You nodded, breathing rapidly, then you let out a squeal as he shook your hand off his, then turned and shoved you against the wall. He got close and his hands made quick work in opening and shoving down your jeans. His eyes snapped up to yours and his hand dove between your legs.

“Fuck, baby…”, he sighed, eyes rolling back as he felt how wet you were. “My poor girl’s floodin’ the basement and it’s’all my fault.”

You grabbed his wrist, stabilizing yourself, and let whining pants out with each breath as his middle finger began to dip in an out of your hole. The tip of his thumb gently circled you’re aching clit.

“Yeah… I know I been neglectin’ you, baby girl… but not ‘cause of nothin’ you did… no, baby… you’re just keepin’ me too well fed and I’m fit to be tied by the time we get home… if I could fuck you the way you deserve every night…”

“Oh fuck… Joel, I need y –“

“But you always lettin’ me get away with being lazy an’watchin’ your perfect tits bounce while you fuck this fat old man…”, he rasped, his lids heavy as he watched your face contort in need. “Jesus, Darlin’, you got e’ry right to be cross with me…”

As much as you loved his voice, you needed more. Fisting his shirt, you pulled his face to yours and sucked him into a desperate and messy kiss, teeth and tongues colliding, and it was sharp and splitting. You didn’t need gentle – you needed him.

He finally pulled back, breathing heavily, same as you, and a grin tugged at his parted lips.

“Oh, Darlin’…”, he cooed, finger and thumb still working your cunt in tandem. He leaned in, ghosting his mouth over yours and asked in a voice so soft, you could have cried. “I need you to know how bad you got me, baby… tell me what I can do to prove it.”

Emboldened by his lust-blown eyes with heavy lids looking at you desperately, you put your hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle push down. A smile pulled at one side of his mouth, instantly understanding your silent request. He stepped back and groaned as he lowered himself down, joints cracking as he got on one knee, and he looked up as he pulled your jeans down further then helped you step out, one leg at a time. As he de-robed your second leg, he lifted it over his shoulder, and he scooted forward, and your eyes stayed trained on him, catching every detail, every twitch of his face as he breathed huskily and inhaled your scent. You watched his eyes flutter and roll back, like you were a buffet of fine cuisine, and he was a starved man. He pressed his nose in your crux and nudged in further, panting and swearing under his breath as he let your aroma and essence envelope him.

He took his time, as if he was making sure to catch every flavour, every note of your taste and smell, almost punishing himself for allowing you to feel unappreciated. His hands reached behind and pulled your hips forward into his face and you whimpered out a gasp as your shoulders planted against the wall behind you being the only thing keeping you upright.

“Joel…”, you breathed out, swallowing, trying to alleviate the dry mouth your open mouth breathing had caused. “Joel, please…”

He groaned into your warmth and opened his mouth, finally letting himself have a taste. His tongue licked out between your folds, starting slowly, but began to increase in intensity as he realized this was his favourite thing to savour. He grunted and panted as he lapped at you, his grip that held you so firmly to his face hurting you in the absolute best way possible.

Your fingers pulled his hair, aiding in keeping your core tightly affixed to his gaping maw, and you rocked your hip, mewling and crying out, begging him for more. Joel was in no position to deny you want you needed, not only because of the iron-clad connection currently created by both of your individual efforts, but he was eating his favourite thing. He’d denied you both for so long, he would happily suffocate between your thighs before ever taking a proper breath again if it paid the price of his sin. The noises he made as he ate and licked and devoured you sounded obscene - he sounded like a starved and feral dog, gnawing at a cut of meat tossed to him out of pity. You’re sure that if you saw his eyes, they’d be a black abyss like a shark’s as it bit down on its next meal.

The sounds he was ripping and peeling out of you were music to his ears, championing him further, pushing him harder to make you give him more of those delicious noises. He was rocking his hips in time with his mouth and tongue, letting his throbbing cock rut against the inside of his jean’s rough zipper. Between that, your taste and your fingers pulling his scalp taught with hair, he was in pure ecstasy.

He brought his hand attached to the shoulder your leg was propped up on and pushed two thick fingers into your core and began to pump them in and out - again, in time with his own hips’ rhythm. The white-hot burning coil that Joel had been slowly winding with his mouth finally sprung loose and snapped. You arched your back, silently screaming out as your body went rigid, and vaguely heard Joel growl. He continued to suck hard on your twitching and swollen clit and punched his fingers up into you as your rode out your orgasm. You heard liquid hitting the wood floor before you heard Joel let out a series of high-pitched groans.

His fingers slowed and his mouth was panting hot, quick breaths on your aching core. You looked down at him, chest heaving, to see him shakily pull his fingers from you and shove them in his mouth. Joel was a beautiful and carnal sight: breathing hard in grunts as he sucked his fingers clean. The act looked primitive, like he’d accessed his baser instincts, and he was satisfying a basic human need, a millennia in the making.

“Joel.”, you croaked, and he looked up at you with blurred eyes that slowly began to focus. He slowly pulled himself up, heaving his heavy belly. You helped him come back to his fully height and he leaned into you, pressing his forehead to yours. You could smell yourself on him as he kissed you softly before resuming your connection through foreheads.

“That was…”

“Yeah… fuck yeah… taste so good.”

“I wanna return the fav-“

Your hand cupped what you thought would be his hard cock, but stopped when you felt him softening and his jeans were warm and damp. You pulled your head back and looked at him, prompting a huffed laugh from Joel, pink flushing up his neck to his cheeks.

“You’re my favourite meal, Darlin’. You got me hooked.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

He pulled you away from the wall and onto the bed. He laid back and groaned as his spine relaxed. His full belly domed above him, moving gently up and down with each breath and you sat up, giving it a rub.

“You ate well tonight…”, you cooed, unbuckling his belt and opening his jean to access the mess he made.

He chuckled, supporting his head on an arm as he watched you with a grin. “Couldn’t help it… you serve food too good to not destroy myself on it, Darlin’.”

You shot him a look as you peeled back his damp and sticky underwear.

“Like I said, Darlin’…  you serve up a good meal.”

beef's glossary: The term "blue movie" is an old-fashioned slang term used to describe pornographic films, usually of the low budget variety.

The need to socialize was something you’d not anticipated to ever feel again. After everything ended, normalcy became fight or flight and socializing for fun was a thing of the past. That is, until you and Joel had settled in Jackson. Being that you now no longer had to wonder where your next meal was coming from or had to keep looking over your shoulder for another threat, things that hadn’t held weight in years were starting to make their way back into your life.

“I’m goin’ out tonight.”, you said nonchalantly as you buttoned up your flannel shirt.

Looking up at your reflection, you caught Joel giving you a small smirk as he hoisted himself up from the bed.

He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush with his big middle.

“Goin’ out? With who?”, he said in a hushed tone, pressing kisses to your neck.

“Maria, Dajana, Lisbeth… the usual suspects.”

 “Ah, ‘s a girls night out.”

“Yeah. ‘S why you’re not invited.”

Joel chuckled and playfully gave your ass a spank.

*****

When you’d gotten home from working in the kitchen, you’d quickly cleaned up and changed, nervously anticipating something that you’d long since given up on ever doing again. You ran down the stairs just as Joel walked in the door and saw you in a dress.

He let out a long, low whistle. “You sure you’re goin’ out, Darlin’?”

You smiled at him, did a spin to show off your outfit, and Joel licked his lips. He nodded his head at you, and crooned, “Get over here. Need a closer look.”

The clock on the wall read that you were already in danger of being late, so you shook your finger at him with a smile as you tried to pass him to get to the door. Despite his added weight, he was still quick enough to catch you.

“You behave tonight. And have fun.”, he said against your mouth between kisses.

“Can’t do both at the same time, Joel.”, you teased. Giving him one last kiss, you squirmed out of his grip and scampered out the door.

*****

You’d lost count of how many rounds your table had ordered at the Tipsy Bison, and you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Feeling the alcohol dampen your senses in a euphoric way, you found yourself lost in thought over how the luxury of letting loose was now something you had.

The conversation at the table moved easily through different topics, starting tame with things like the weather and town events and then slipped into gossip, giggled between sips of beer and bouts of laughter. The subject of sex came up and you sat back with a wide grin as the women went back and forth over just about anything and everything that could potentially fall under the umbrella of sex. One had a complaint about their partner that they expressed in a hilarious anecdote, another regaled the table with a story about almost getting caught by her in-laws giving a blow job. Tears were in your eyes from laugher, and when it was your turn to speak, you paused, keenly aware that Joel’s sister-in-law was sitting at the table. Instead of sharing how Joel pulled you apart with almost surgical precision before he fucked you into oblivion, you settled for one of your favourite things about him.

“I love his voice. The way he talks.”, you smile, looking at your half full glass of beer with a small smile.

“Joel is not what I would a talkative man. You sure we’re talking about the same guy?”, Lisbeth teased.

“The man knows exactly what to say.”, you chuckled, feeling your cheeks heat up. Realizing that everyone at the table assumed you were referring exclusively to Joel’s dirty talk, you saved yourself the embarrassment of getting sentimental and stated, “He saves his daily word count for nocturnal activities.”

The knowing looks and nods around the table followed by agreement and similar sentiments allowed your mind to wander to Joel. Sure, his bedroom talk was just something else, but his voice -  now that was what you loved. The non-verbal sounds he made: the grunts, the huffs, the chuckles, the sighs, the moans, the breaths, the whines, the whimpers, the growls, the hums…

You’d learned that Joel was more than the words he said long before you realized you loved him. Just the slight pitch change in a groan was enough to tell you it was safe to push or to retreat. Being allowed to get close enough to learn this about him was not just a point of pride, it was something you cherished.  In turn, Joel could read you well enough to know if he could move forward or let you take the lead.

You were shaken from your thoughts by Dajana nudging you with a laugh.

“Daydreaming about that dick, huh?”

You laughed and agreed, not yet ready to delve into the depths of how bad you had it for Joel. “Speakin’ of – I’m gonna head out.”

The women all half-heartedly tried to get you to stay as they one by one all decided to head home. You bid them good night and paid your tab on the way out the door.

*****

“You’re home early, baby. Everything okay?”, Joel asked softly with brows furrowed as you walked in. He was sitting in the armchair in front of fire with a small knife and a little wooden giraffe he was carving in his hands.

You said nothing, keeping eye contact as you took off your jacket and walked towards him. He watched you, seeing the telltale haze of beer in your eyes and held his hand out for you. You took it and crawled onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his head against your chest. He wrapped his arms around your middle and held you close, letting out a content hum and your heart swelled. The rhythm of his breaths was even and soothing.

You held each other for an indeterminate period of time, each relishing in the other’s comfort and yet existing as one. The pleasant cocoon was paused as Joel moved his head and nudged his nose against your chin, silently asking for you to look at him.

When you did, he gave a soft smile that traveled to his eyes and his brought his hand to your cheek. “You okay?”

“Keep talking…”, you hummed in response.

Joel huffed a laugh and eyed you, “Darlin’… you’re home early an’awfully cuddly.”

You smiled and a soft giggle hovered in your throat as you closed your eyes.

“Come on, baby. Talk to me. Somethin’ happen or one of th – “

“I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Joel pulled back and looked up at you, confusion written on his face. His brows raised and the confusion melted into amusement.

“Darlin’, you’re drunk.”

You let a laugh out, echoing through the house like chimes. “Maybe, but I know I love you.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you froze. You and Joel had never said it to one another. You felt Joel pull you into him again, coaxing your tense body to relax. The small sound he made in response, the pitch and tone and the timber, the way you felt the sound vibrate from him through to you more than you heard it… it was all you needed to know he loved you, too.

--------<3----------

They found you in an abandoned apartment building somewhere in the Midwest, and after being cooped up together – surviving – for few days, it was settled that the duo had become a trio. Joel came across as a gruff and emotionless man and while he made you feel supremely unwelcome at first, he grew to at least give you the impression that he tolerated you for Ellie. For the next several months, it was just the three of you, trekking through the ruins of America.

The three of you finally found Joel’s brother and were tentatively welcomed into Jackson. It had taken some time for you, Joel, and Ellie to find your bearings after you’d arrived being that, for the first time in a while, you were expected to act in a civil manner towards others in proximity instead of defending yourselves and fighting for resources.

You and Joel were not a couple. He had never shown any interest towards you beyond your uncanny fishing ability, while you tried to not think of him as anything more than muscle and reinforcement in your travelling party. You were attracted to him, and you did your damnedest to squash any and all thoughts of him being more than a survival companion. This was made worse for you as Ellie would not even discuss the idea of you not being under the same roof in Jackson as she and Joel. Maria and Tommy had set the three of you up in a 3-bedroom home across from them, and you did your best to find a homey-rhythm as a trio.

While you and Ellie had taken to this new life with a relative ease, Joel was almost fighting it. Ellie let her curiosity run wild and you tried to find a social group, but Joel fought back. He didn’t engage with anyone that weren’t a select few outside of sideways glares and grunts in responses to hellos. He declined to get new clothing and outright refused to sleep in a bed until Ellie threatened to spill his deep, dark secrets to you that she had learned through his sleep talking. Even with food, now that there wasn’t a food scarcity or a worry about the next meal, he still refused to stray from his food rationing way of eating. He didn’t go to the mess hall to eat, opting instead for keeping to himself in the house, picking away at whatever was on hand in the pantry.

That was, until you had been assigned kitchen duty due to your skills from working as a teenage line cook in a diner, pre-apocalypse. You’d brought some food home from the mess hall one evening, and Joel picked at it, grumbling that it was decent and wouldn’t be opposed to you bringing home more.

So, you did. And he began to actually sit at the table and eat, but he didn’t come to the mess hall until the following week when you’d told him you were making a beef brisket buffet on the Friday night. While he’d shown more enthusiasm than you had ever seen before (he raised his eyebrows), you were very surprised that night when the hall went quiet as he entered with Ellie at his side.

Your supervisor was so shocked that he showed up, he suggested you sit with him since more than likely no one else would. Ellie took off immediately to sit with kids her own age from school, and that had led you to sitting at a small table in the corner with Joel, watching him eat. And good god, did he eat.

His first serving disappeared before you could even begin yours, and he was back with his second helping with an actual – albeit small – grin on his face.

“I have never seen you look so… happy…”, you mused with a smile at him.

“Never had reason to be… but this is good… haven’t had food like this in… fuck… years.”, he grunted while shovelling food in his mouth.

He looked up at you and gave you a brief smile as he chewed before going back to eating and your heart skipped a beat. That was the kindest he had ever been to you, and you felt those walls you’d built up around those thoughts and feelings you had for him shake.

You’d finished your food and stood up to return your dirty dishes, but as you went to walk away, he called your name.

“Hey Darlin’… uh, mind getting me another helping?”, he asked with a full mouth.

You nodded with a dumb grin at the new nickname, dumped off your dishes, and returned with another plate for Joel.

****

Three months later, the food he was allowing himself was starting to make an impact on his waistline. Never shying from second or third helpings, whether in the mess hall or at home, his tummy was more pronounced whether it was full or not.

You did your best to keep yourself in check, to not let yourself daydream about how that belly might feel under your fingers, or let your mind get carried away listening to the noises he made as he soothed his bloated middle. He would occasionally offer you little grins or a head nod, something he only recently began since being in Jackson, and you assumed he was being polite now that death wasn’t around every corner; this was just his true nature coming out. You figured your time living under one roof was coming to an end, given that you, he and Ellie were safe, and you didn’t need to keep such close quarters while you built your lives back up.

Ellie was spending more time with other kids and less at the house, while Joel continued to patrol and work in the carpentry shop, and you worked away in the community kitchen. When you and Joel were home alone, he kept a respectful distance from you. If there were moments your bodies could touch, like when you did dishes after dinner or he needed help carrying firewood in the house, he generally made a point of not getting too close and stepping back from you and looking away. You took the hint and figured the conversation of your moving into a place of your own was on its way.

*****

One Saturday evening, Joel had really outdone himself on the pork carnitas in the mess hall. You noticed he shifted in discomfort and discreetly had his hand on his lap. It took you a moment, but you finally realized he was unbuckling his belt and opened his pants. You averted your eyes to not embarrass him, but not before you saw that his belly was pushing out on to his lap. Joel Miller was having his fill, damned be his pants.

After he announced he was done, his green flannel shirt was pulled so tight across his middle that you swore you could hear the seams creaking and there were spaces between each of his buttons, exposing his undershirt.

The walk back to your house was relatively quiet, save for Joel’s grunting and huffing every other step from the strain of his full belly.

“Fuck me… I made a real hog outta m’self tonight…”, he groaned as you walked next to him. “Sorry you gotta see me like this, Darlin’.”

You could hear the embarrassment in his voice, and you felt bad for him. His belly, while full and bloated and bigger than you’d ever seen on him, was still smaller compared to some of the other Jackson men’s stomachs, but you knew if he kept this up, he’d be matching them in no time.

“Oh Joel… knock it off… I take it as a compliment. You actually smiled tonight… nothing to be sorry for.”, you responded in a matter-of-fact voice. “You enjoyed yourself.”

He scoffed, as you reached your porch, and opened the door. You helped him into the house, then closed the front door, both of you kicking off your boots.

“Good god… when the hell d’we get all these damn stairs?”, he groaned as he got to the bottom of the stairwell leading to the bedrooms on the second floor.

“Come sit on the couch… you’re not making it up the stairs anytime soon, Joel.”

You patted the back of the couch, then headed to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. “You want anything else?”, you called to him.

You heard him bark a laugh. “D’you see me right now? You think I could get anymore in’ere?”

You heard him sit heavily on the couch followed by him grunting “Dammit!”.

Walking in, you saw Joel sitting back, knees apart, and his favourite shirt unbuttoned to his chest, his undershirt riding up and exposing a strip of his belly and showed his pants were pushed open by his stuffed middle.

“What happened?”, you asked, walking back in with a glass of water for you both.

“Damn fuckin’… Jesus…”, he muttered, his cheeks blushing in deep scarlet. He noted you were still looking at him for answer. “My fuckin’ buttons popped. Wrecked my favourite shirt.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Joel, the hardened, battle-scarred killer who shot first and asked questions later, was blushing.

“It’s a good look on you.”, you teased as you sat in the chair next to the couch, leaning back and feeling emboldened by his vulnerability.

“What is?”, he sheepishly looked up at you.

“A big dinner.”, you smirked as you took a drink of you water, eyes on his.

He stared at you a moment then down to his round stomach, and he huffed a laugh and smiled to himself. You sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before he spoke.

“Didn’t know you could cook like that, Darlin’. Probably a good thing I didn’t know till we got here, too… couldn’t outrun shit with this full gut…”, he said, eyes still cast down and hand on his belly.

“Thank you.” It was your turn to blush, and before you could stop yourself, you said quietly, “Didn’t know you’d look so good like that.”

Realization hit both you and Joel about what you’d said, and you wanted to crawl in a hole as you saw his eyes go wide.

“Joel… oh my god… I am so…”, you started, covering your face and you didn’t see the grin that grew across Joel’s face and the look in his eyes as he watched you.

“I’m just findin’ all sorts’a things ‘bout you lately, darlin’...”, he teased in a low voice. “And here I thought you weren’t interested… and leavin’ me hanging.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed hard before you had the nerve to look up at him. His brown eyes were dark and looked hungry? He trailed his stare up and down your body as you sat and subtly licked his lips.

“Joel… I…”, you stuttered, paused, then finally asked, “Wait… what did you say?”

He gave you a lopsided grin and sat back with a smug face and stated, “I swear, darlin’, I thought you weren’t interested.”

You just looked back at him with wide eyes while his smug demeanor shifted into a gentler and warmer gaze. He smiled and patted the seat next to him.

“Come over here, baby.”, he spoke softly.

You stood slowly and his eyes never left yours and he raised his hand to take yours as you sat next to him sideways to face him fully. His hand went to your waist, his thumb stroking you.

“You drunk or something?”, you questioned teasingly with a smile.

He sighed a small laugh, his eyes again trailing up and down your body. “Nope, darlin’. Just felt like it was ‘bout time I was honest since I’m learnin’ so much ‘bout you lately.” He sucked in a breath and licked his lips again when his eyes watched your chest move with your breathing. “You look good, darlin’. Real fuckin’ good.”

His eyes moved up to yours and you could see the want, the need you held back for so long, burning in his eyes. You moved forward, your hand cupping his face.

“So do you, Joel.”, you breathed as you kissed him.

You heard him sigh into the kiss and push into it, his grip on your waist tightened, fisting your shirt and pulling you closer. You instinctively ran your hand over his taught, full belly and he shivered as you did, his grip trying to pull you onto his lap now.

“Get up, baby… can’t bend that way right now… get on me…”, he instructed you in a breathy tone as you moved to staddle his lap. 

Your smaller frame was now right up against his swollen belly as you frantically made out on the couch.

“God damn… fuckin’ hell, darlin’… if weren’t so damned full, I’d do this properly in bed upstairs…”, he panted as you moved your kisses to his jaw and neck and began to rock your hips. His hands grabbed your hips and pulled them down to put more friction on his denim-clad cock. “Make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

He roughly jammed his hand between the two of you, cupping your heat as he began to make lude promises in whispers as you whimpered kisses along his neck.

“That’s right, darlin’… makin’ those pretty sounds… bet your pussy tastes better than your cookin’… how many nights I fucked my fist wishin’ it were your mouth…. Never thought you’d want an old fat fucker like me….”

You finally worked up the ability to push yourself back from him, and you looked down at his dark, blown-out pupils and his parted, panting lips, knowing you looked the same, while his hand stilled on your jeaned heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you, Darlin’?”, he breathed out, eyes pinned to yours.

You nodded as your hands moved to his shoulders and you pressed your mouth to his. He deepened the kiss for a moment, the pushed you up gently.

“Darlin’…”, his voice needy and almost desperate. “Baby, take your pants off…”

You stood up and removed your shirt and jeans, leaving you in your bra and panties. Joel huffed as he moved himself up off the couch, dropping his already open jeans, the grabbed your arm pulling you towards him.

“So fuckin’ pretty…”, he smiled before kissing you.

His arms wrapped around you and your hands went to his hair and around his shoulder. Unlike the previous kisses that were hasty and desperate, this one was slow, methodical, and carried over a year’s worth of unspoken emotions that neither of you were brave enough to put words to.

Joel pulled back first and softly smiled at you before he said is voice far too soft for the words he spoke.

“I’m gonna fuck you into this couch, Darlin’.”

His mouth is back on yours, hungry. Teeth and fervor, clashing between you. All that soft, gentle kissing was gone, Joel had given into what ever primal urges you had unearthed in him. You moan into his mouth as his hand grips your hair, pulling your head back.

“Joel… please…”, you begged breathlessly. “Take it... take me…”

He smiled darkly at you and pushed you face down over the arm of the couch, his hands going to the waist of your panties. He paused as if waiting for confirmation that you wanted this. You nodded and gave a strangled “uh-huh” and he pulled them down.

Joel let out a noise that you can only think was one from a starving man looking at a banquet feast. He dragged his thick finger through your slick folds, making you squirm and whimper.

“Oh, baby, you’re so fuckin’ pretty… bet your tight little cunt’s just waitin’… your pussy’s droolin’ for me, Darlin’... I’m gonna wreck you for any other man… wanna bury myself in your tight little cunt… so fucking pretty, baby.”

“Joel, please… fuck me… please… don’t tease!”, you cried out, unable to get any further friction from his fingers given the way you were splayed out on the couch arm.

“That’s right, baby… gonna take care of you, Darlin’… gonna make you feel good… patience, baby…gotta work you open for me.”

He removed his fingers and spit on them before he pumped one into your cunt, his thumb gently rubbing your neglected and throbbing clit. His finger was thick, and you could only imagine how big his cock was; you’d once got a quick glance at the outline before Jackson and if that was any indication, he was doing you a favour getting you primed and ready for him. He pulled back and added another finger after a moment, picking up his pace and you cried out and called his name as you gripped the couch cushion.

“So tight, Darlin’… tell me how bad you needed this, baby… tell me… tell me you need me.”

“I-I need this… Joel… need you, Joel… so bad… wanted this for so long… oh god… yes… there… right there, Joel… please, oh fuck!... Joel... Joel… keep going!”, you panted with a whine.

He pushed a third finger in, and you cried out and clawed at the couch cushion.

“Shhh, baby… come on, Darlin’… need to fuck you after this and I gotta get you open for me… need it to feel good for you… doing so good… I can feel it…. you’re close, Darlin’… let go for me, baby… come on.”

You could feel your orgasm building up, and when he curled his fingers and hit that sweet spot buried deep in your cunt, you came, crying out like a beaten dog.

“There you go… that’s it, Darlin’… sing for me, baby.”

He worked you through your orgasm, and when you felt like you could breathe normally, you tried to push yourself up. Joel’s hand rubbed in between your shoulder, and he gently pushed you back down.

“Darlin’, I’m too full to fuck you the way I outta… but you look to fucking good to pass up… you gonna let me have you here, baby?”. His tone was pleading and needy, but gruff, while his harsh, calloused hands gently rubbed you on you back where he pushed you down.

His words and the way he said them had your insides turn to mush and you could feel another gush of arousal slip from your puffy cunt.

“Please…”, was all your fuck-drunk brain could muster in a pathetic, breathy whine.

“Too good to me, Darlin’… too fuckin’ good to this fat old man.”, he groaned as he pushed his aching, hard cock into your tight, slippery cunt.

The feeling was too much. For a moment, you thought it wasn’t going to work, but he soothed you. He kept pushing himself in slowly, offering words of praise while his fingers dug into your hips.

“Takin’ me so good, Darlin’… that’s it, honey… so good… feel so fuckin’ good…”

He pushed in as far as his length could go and his tip kissed your cervix. Your lungs felt like they couldn’t fill with air you were so full, and you needed him to do something.

“You gotta relax, baby… I can’t move shit unless you relax…”

“Joel… please move… need you to move… so full… move, please…”, you whined, trying to catch your feet on the floor so you could push back into him.

He panted a chuckle and began to move, slowly at first, then increased his hip’s speed and intensity until he was ramming into you. The couch was squeaking on the wood floors from Joel’s weight repeatedly being forced against it. The couch’s rough material was rubbing harshly against your hip bones, but it was worth it for the sweet sting of Joel splitting you open as his heavy, full belly hitting your ass cheeks.

“Oh god… Joel… yes… yes… k-keep going… yes… fuck…”, you panted, tears in your eyes.

“So good… baby… you gotta come… come on, baby… you’re close, Darlin’… come on…”

The white-hot burn of your second climax crept down your spine and built up as his finger went to your clit, rubbing circles, pushing you over the edge. Your vision went blurry for a moment your body went rigid, your mouth open and high-pitched pants and moans escaped from it.

Joel’s hips sputtered as your climax pushed him to his own release. He let out a few deep, guttural grunts as he thrusted a few more times, spilling his hot seed into you.

He tried to not collapse onto you as he pulled out. He stumbled back into the armchair as you pushed yourself up off the couch’s arm.

“Fuck, Darlin’… wish you could stay bent over like that… sucha pretty sight…”, he huffed in a laugh as you got up. He patted his leg. “Come’ere, baby…”

You clumsily moved over to him and held your hands out. “No… up, Joel… Ellie could walk in the door at any moment and the last thing she needs to see is you stuffed to the gills with your dick out in the living room.”

“Sucha fuckin’ mouth on you!”, Joel grinned, and moved his hands to yours. “Better get a move on… let’s go to bed.”

You collected your abandoned clothing that was strewn throughout the living room and got Joel upstairs into his bedroom. You went to your room to clean yourself up and change, and there was a knock at the door. Upon opening it, Joel saw you and pushed his way in, closing it behind him.

He pulled you close to him, his belly pressed against your middle. You touched his face softly, gently running your fingers through his scruffy facial hair.

He smiled and kissed you tenderly and said softly against your mouth, “I got you, Darlin’… tell me you’ve got me… please…”

“I got you, Joel.” --------<3----------

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--------<3---------

You had both been so wrapped up in your work lately. The stress of your jobs made the time you were spending together strained; arguments leading into tense bedtime routines had become more normal, and that intimate connection had become something neither of you could bring yourselves to admit you needed from one another. It had been over a month since he’d fucked you, let alone touched you like that and it sucked. You missed your sweet, soft, gentle, fuckable Frankie, him being replaced with an irritable and short-tempered grouch, although you did see the odd fleck of his old self come though occasionally. And you knew he missed his Mouse; you’d become an overly emotional and temperamental silhouette of yourself. That’s why this weekend was so important – it was your reset, your chance to reconnect. You’d suggested it, knowing that Frankie would jump at the chance to go camping.

You could hear Frankie swearing in the garage as he collected all the camping gear while you packed the food in the various coolers and bags.

“Mouse? Need your help.”, he called out.

As you started to move towards the garage, his calls out to you became a little more panicked.

“MOUSE?!?”

“I’m coming, Frankie!”

Opening the door to your garage, you tried not to laugh aloud at the sight before you. Frankie was wedged between the wall and your spare fridge, trying to reach the packed-away tent on the shelf above and had caused several other stored boxes to come dangerously close to toppling on his head from the top of the fridge.

“What are you doing?”, you laughed as you pushed the offending boxes back into place with a broom handle.

“I don’t know what happened! I guess I bumped the fridge too hard or something....”, he grumbled as he unwedged himself. “I got in there no problem when I put the tent away last year.”

You smiled and patted his belly, straining against his now-too-tight t-shirt. “Well, I would say that there’s a bit more to you than last year, honey.”

He looked down at your hand on his tummy and huffed a laugh as he gave you a blushing smile. “Yeah... I guess so.”

You helped Frankie collect the rest of the camping gear and load up his truck for the morning.

*****

Pre-dawn departures were Frankie’s specialty, not yours. Despite him not being a morning person, the prospect of getting out of the city and on the open road, along with years in the military, had him all sunshine and rainbows at 4:30 am, while you were trying to keep your eyes open long enough to get from the bed, into your jacket and into the truck. Frankie already had your air Pods, a blanket and pillow in the passenger seat for you, knowing that it would be a lost cause to ask you to bring them yourself.

By the time Frankie backed out of your driveway, you were back asleep and didn’t answer him when he asked if you wanted a coffee as he turned into the McDonald’s Drive Thru. Even without an answer, he got you one, as well as enough breakfast sandwiches to keep himself entertained for a good part of the morning.

You finally felt rested enough to open your eyes by 9:30 am to see Frankie humming along with his music, tapping gently on the steering wheel.

“Hey... have a good sleep?”, he asked smiling when he saw you pull your air Pods out.

You nodded and groaned as you stretched and yawned. “Not a bad sleep... where are we?”

“About an hour or so from the lake.”, he responded with a grin.

Frankie was about to be in his element; in the outdoors, his survival instincts kicked in high gear, and he loved every minute of it. You, on the other hand, felt lost without cell service or Wi-Fi, and detested with every fiber of your being the creepy crawlies that seemed to come out in droves at your arrival. But part of Frankie loving the outdoors was trying to keep you as comfortable as possible so he could enjoy you at the same time.

*****

Arriving at the secluded and private site was the easy part; setting up was not so much. Frankie was trying to get the tent set up, and since it was put away in a hurry last year and he didn’t check it when you got home or when he pulled it out the day before, everything had come out of the bag in a jumbled mess, and you had made the mistake of pointing out his folly right after he’d realized he’d forgotten his hammer.

"If you would just let me help, Frankie!”, you pleaded with thinly masked frustration at his inability to take your help.

He grunted as his eyes narrowed at you from under his ball cap and you stared right back at him.

He broke the stare first with an eyeroll and a huff, returning to the tangled mess that would hopefully be your tent and you turned and started to unload the truck. By the time you’d unloaded, gotten the bags and containers arranged, and set up the chairs around the vacant campfire, Frankie had gotten the tent up and was crouched down, hammering the pegs into the ground with a rock. You couldn’t help but watch as his broad back moved and flexed under his t-shirt, while his thick, beefy arms were bursting out from the sleeves. You longed for those arms to toss you down onto whatever surface was available and have his body pin you down and fuck you senseless. God damn it, you missed him in a debilitating way that made you feel hollow.

He caught you staring and briefly gave you an unreadable look then went back to hammering more pegs, and you could feel the flush of heat wash over your body. God damn it, you needed him.

It was well passed noon when Frankie got the fire going and you’d gotten the stuff out for hot dogs. Maybe you could ease yourself into his arms with food? You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn’t realize your mouth was open and you were staring at him again until a bird flew far too close to you and snapped you out of your thoughts. You quickly tried to look like you knew what task you were trying to complete, but Frankie saw the whole thing. His eyes met yours for just a moment and you gave him a small, forced smile, trying to play it off like it was nothing, like he didn’t see what he thought he saw. Your eyes went back down to the cutting board on the picnic table and the onions you were slicing up for the hot dogs.

Getting the metal rods out, you pierced the hot dogs on their ends and started cooking them. Frankie set up the air mattress and set out the sleeping bags. You were tempted to tell him yours could be left in the truck so you could share one, but you kept your mouth closed and focused on the hot dogs. Once ready, you silently plated them in the buns, dressed exactly how Frankie liked them and you placed the plate in front of him. You forwent your own, your stomach in knots, and started cleaning up, knowing the lecture you would get if it weren’t done properly because it could attract bugs and god knows what else to your site.

Frankie sat and ate his hot dogs, and after he finished one, his irritation cooled down. He watched you, his desperation for your touch had increased after he caught you ogling him. He knew he’d been completely out of line as of late, his frustration at his work dog piling on you for no other reason than you were in the line of fire. Your back was to him as you dug through a bag, and he watched the way your lithe body move. He imagined the sweet noises you would make for him as he railed you against the truck. God damn it, he needed you in a way that should have made him feel filthy.

He realized you were looking for his pajamas to put in the tent for him. His heart skipped a beat when he looked in the tent and saw his toiletries and swim trunks laid out on his sleeping bag; you were taking care of him, and he felt like a complete asshole. God damnit, he missed you.

*****

For the rest of the afternoon, the two of you moved through a slow dance of silent, touchless fore playing, catching one another giving once overs and longing stares, while trying to break the other’s resolve with movements. By the time you pulled out what you’d planned for dinner – two big cans of Chef Boyardee ravioli and garlic toast – you’d decided that he was going to fuck you, whether he knew it or not.

“We can just have hot dogs again, baby.” Frankie’s voice, although softer and gentler than it had been in a while, cut through the silence between you, but you didn’t want to look up to him, you wanted him to come to you and make you stop. So, you pretended you couldn’t hear him while you stood with your back to him and the fire.

You had no idea he’d gotten so close to you when he gently put his hand out and took the can opener from you, placing it on the picnic table. He held your hand in his, feeling your body tremble with just his touch, and turned you around to look at him. This was the gentlest with one another in over a month, and you could barely contain the utter arousal and excitement at this small, sweet act of intimacy.

He pulled back from you, and you looked up at him. His soft brown eyes were screaming in need, scanning your face and begging for you to say something. So, you did.

 “I miss you, baby, and I – “

Frankie cut you off abruptly by smashing his lips onto yours, his mouth fiercely fighting to get any kind of barrier between you gone. Your body melted against his as he pulled you further into him. His tongue ran along your lips, looking to deepen the kiss further, and when he was granted entrance, he moaned into your mouth and his hand ran down your side and hitched your knee up onto his hip.

Finally parting, and both panting to catch your breath, your lips still almost touching.

“Fuck, Mouse… baby… I miss you, too…”

He kissed you again and as you both found your rhythm again, his belly grumbled loudly, telling him it was time to eat.

“Fuck…”, he grumbled as he pushed his forehead against yours, and you smiled at him.

“Let’s get you fed, baby.”

*****

Almost a full pack of hot dogs later, Frankie was getting full. Sitting back into his camping chair, he stifled a burp and smiled at you.

“You want any more?”, you asked, holding up one of the metal rods.

He raised an eyebrow at you, then grinned. “No, princess… I gotta have room for dessert.”

Frankie stood up slowly, and as he reached his full height, his full tummy pushed up his t-shirt. He stood in front of you and cupped your jaw, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he looked down at you. Your lips parted and your breathing quickened, anticipation of what he would do or say at an all-time high.

“You got any marshmallows, princess?” His voice was low and thick with need as his eyes looked into yours.

It took you a moment to realize what he’d asked you, not anticipating that.

“W-what?”

“Marshmallows.”, he spoke slowly with a dark grin on his face.

You turned and reached for the grocery bag of marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate. He removed his hand from your jaw and took it, then reached for the metal rod. He winked at you and returned to his chair by the fire. As he got few marshmallows onto the rod, you stared at him, confused and horny.

“Frankie?...”

“Better get those clothes off if you don’t want to get s’mores all over them, princess.”, he said in a nonchalant voice, not even looking up at you.

You hesitated but remembered that you’d specifically booked a private site, and other campers would only be able to hear you. Once fully naked, minus your slider sandals, you stood off to the side of Frankie, and he looked over at you.

“Fuck, baby… missed you…”, he groaned slack jawed, his eyes racking over you. He reached out for your hand and pulled you to straddle one of his legs, and his sticky fingers tweaked one of your nipples.

“Frankie… fuck, I need you…”, you moaned as you shivered at his touch.

He grabbed one of the toasted marshmallows off the rod and a piece of chocolate, squishing them together between his fingers and dragged the warm concoction down the valley between your tits. You yelped and his other held you firmly in place.

“Told you I needed room for dessert, princess.”, he said huskily, then licked his wide, flat tongue up the chocolaty trail and sucked on your neck.

“Please, Frankie… need you so bad… don’t tease…”, you begged in a breathy, desperate voice.

You began to rock your core against his rough denim as he smeared more s’mores on your nipples and chest. He licked and sucked the sugary residue off you as your weeping, aching cunt drooled, and you grinded your core into his jeans. Every time the rough denim texture hit your clit in just that way, you arched your back into his mouth and moaned, while he repeated his smearing, licking and sucking. You needed more so you reached your hand down and began to palm his crotch and could feel the weight of his thick, heavy cock coming to attention. He whined as he held your nipple between his teeth and his hips bucked, pushing his full belly into you.

Your bodies were screaming for the other, too long since you’d touched one another like this, and the need and desperation was heavy in your breathing and grasping of each other.

He dropped his head back and grabbed your arm, pulling you hand away from his rock-hard cock, but your hips grinding against his jeans kept going.

“Mouse… gonna come in my pants if you keep that up… wanna fuck you… please baby… gonna come on my jeans? Huh, princess?... So fucking needy… Jesus… missed this body… come on, baby… keep going…”

He watched you, his hands only holding you in place and not assisting with your movements. You could feel you were close, and his words just egged you on to your climax. You cried out as you came but didn’t break eye contact. Frankie’s grip on you tighten, and his hands began to move you to keep your hips grinding his leg, and he groaned at you while you came through gritted teeth

“Atta girl… good girl, yeah… make that pussy weep, princess… that’s it, baby… soaking my jeans… can’t wait to fuck your sweet little pussy again… been too long…”

Before you could fully come down, Frankie had you standing and was bending you over the open tailgate to his truck, then ran a finger into your glistening, swollen folds before plunging it into your weeping hole. You cried out and arched your back, but his hand rubbed between your shoulders, coaxing you down. His hand splayed out on your back and held you firmly in place as he added another finger and increased his speed.

“Yeah, baby… pussy missed me… I missed her so fucking bad…”, he panted, his eyes focused on watching his thick wet fingers disappear over and over into your cunt. “Never want to go that long without you again, princess… fuck you look so good getting fucked on my fingers… so fucking wet and warm… come on, baby… know you’re close… I can feel it… let go… come on, princess… be a good girl and come on my fingers then I’ll fuck you raw…”

His final words shot through you, and you came loudly and squirting all over his hand and arm. You could hear the liquid splashing onto the dirt; it was obscene, and it was perfect.

“Good girl…”, he praised breathlessly, pressing a kiss to your back before sucking his fingers clean.

You could hear his belt being undone and then heard his jeans being tossed onto the ground. He grabbed your hip with one hand and used the other to line himself up with your entrance. Slowly pushing in, he moaned, and you whined, trying to push your hips back into him to make him go faster.

“So fucking impatient… So fucking needy.”, he grunted as he held you in place and buried himself to the hilt into you, and you felt his full, heavy belly resting against your ass.

“Frankie… please move, baby… need you to move…”, you begged, crying out pathetically.

He huffed a laugh and gripped your hips hard in his large hands.

“Need me to be rough, princess? … need it hard?”, he grunted as his hips began to move slowly. Frankie wanted to savour this with you, he didn’t want to rush it, didn’t want to spoil it.

“God, please, Frankie!”, you cried out, his slow movements agonizing and leaving you needing so much more.

“Promise me, princess… promise me you won’t let me go that long again from burying myself in your gorgeous pussy…”

His hips started to thrust at the same pace but harder, and you panted a whiny “uh-huh!” in response to him. It was enough of an answer for Frankie. His hips began to snap into yours faster and harder.

The weight of his bulk behind you mixed with the momentum he was building pushed him deep into you each time he thrusted and forced out a loud cry from your mouth. You’d more than likely have bruises on the front of your thighs from the tailgate, but you didn’t care.

“Oh fuck… Mouse…. Baby… missed this… god damnit, your pussy’s like heaven… fucking Christ… yeah… oh fuck, fuck, fuck… baby, not-fuck!... not gonna last much longer… need you to- ugh - come…”

“I’m cl-close… oh fuck… oh god… Fr-Frankie… please… please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!”

You came with a loud cry, arching your back again and Frankie pulled you flush with his belly and he thrusted into you.

“Frankie… please… come in my mouth… wanna eat your… your come…”, you panted, and he groaned, pulling out of you.

You turned around and he grabbed your hair, pulling you down on your knees, and he shoved his hard, glistening member into your mouth. He fucked into your mouth for a moment, and his hot spend shot in ribbons into your throat and mouth, spilling out onto your chin and chest with each thrust.

He finally stilled and grunted as he stood back and watched you run your fingers over your chin then suck his come off your digits, humming in satisfaction.

“Fuck…”, he groaned as he watched you, moving backwards to sit in the camping chair again.

You stood up and walked towards him; leaning forward, you pressed a messy kiss to his mouth, sharing your combined taste with him and receiving a hint of chocolate from him. You pressed a hand down on his full belly and smiled.

“You still got room in there for more dessert, Frankie… What can I get you, baby?”, you asked with a wry grin, lifting his shirt and rubbing his stomach.

He looked up at you, eyes looking glazed over in desire. “You, princess.”, he breathed back.

--------<3---------

TAGLIST:

“Frankie… oh fuck… baby… I-I can’t!!”, you cried out as he pounded into you.

Friday nights were usually reserved for cuddles on the couch with a good movie, but after a shit day at work and then being stuck in traffic on your commute home, you needed a release. Frankie, your sweet, gentle, soft, chubby guy, was now fucking that into you on the couch in your den.

“Come on, princess… give me another one… you can do it… come on, Mouse…”, he growled through gritted teeth.

He’d already pulled three orgasms from you, twice with his mouth and one on his cock while he fucked you from behind. He then changed positions; now you were under him, his weight pinning you down, as you gripped his shoulders while begging and pleading.

He continued his relentless pace as he leaned down, putting his full weight into every thrust, making you see stars. Circling your clit with his middle and index fingers, you arched your back, crying out as your nails clawed into his back, your fourth and final release ripping through you body.

“That’s it, princess… oh fuck… I got you, baby… so fucking good… so good… fuck… FUCK!”, Frankie moaned as he came into your tight, warm pussy.

He collapsed on top of you, both panting. You ran your hands up and down his back, feeling the raised marks you left from your nails.

*****

Will and Hannah were hosting a barbeque at their new house the next day. Given that it was going to be one of the hotter days on record, you were thankful that their new house had a pool, ready to be christened with a summer patio party. You had a cropped, loose t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts over your swim attire, and Frankie was in a white t-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and chest along with his chubby middle and his swim trunks sat low on his hips to accommodate his protruding belly and muffin top.

You and Hannah had gone shopping for new bathing suits last weekend; when you modeled the neon pink string bikini you’d gotten yourself for Frankie, he had expressed his appreciation for it in the best way possible – slowly untying it then devouring you. Hannah had chosen a baby blue one piece with cut outs, and she already told you that Will showed as much excitement as Will could when he saw it.

Arriving at Will and Hannah’s around noon, you were ready to enjoy the sun and the cool water with your friends and family.

“Fish! Mouse!”, Benny called out from the pool when he saw you. Benny was splashing around, trying to soak Santi while he sat pool side. “Come on in - the water’s fine!”

You walked to the poolside to dip your toe in the water, feeling the perfect temperature for a day with that kind of heat.

“I’ll get in if you do.”, Santi said, looking up with a grin, thumb then pointing at Benny. “And we can take turns dunking this stupid fuck.”

You laughed and walked back to Frankie, taking off your shirt and shorts. A wolf whistle came from poolside, and you heard Benny yell, “That’s my fucking cousin, Pope, you perv!” at Santi.

Frankie glared at him, then saw Benny yank Santi into the pool with a loud yelp and splash. He shook his head and saw you smiling.

“Look at those big hands. You wanna help me with my sunscreen, big guy?”, you crooned, poking his belly teasingly.

“Mouse…”, Frankie warned as he looked you up and down, a blush creeping up his face.

“What? You want me to burn?”, you whispered close to his face as you ghosted your mouth over his lips.

“Oh, baby girl… what am I gonna do with you?”, Frankie growled, pulling you to close the distance between your mouths and kissed you, his hands gripping your waist.

Will cleared his throat behind Frankie as he came out of the house, causing you to step back and place a chaste kiss to the end of Frankie’s nose.

“Hey Fish… how’re you doing?”, Will said, looking just as embarrassed as Frankie as he clapped him on the shoulder. Turning to you, he continued, “Hey Mouse, how- Jesus, that’s not much of a swimsuit!”

You rolled your eyes, “Hey Will. It covers what it needs to.”, you jibed back.

Shaking his head with his eyebrows raised, he sighed and waved a pointed finger at you. “Make sure you have sunscreen on, because… yeah.”

Frankie got the tube of sunblock, pulled you to sit on the lounger in front of him, and began rubbing it into your back. When he finished his application – and groping - of your body, he grabbed your waist, pulled your back into his chest, and chided you quietly. “You’re a bad girl, princess. Wearing that and teasing me in front of everyone. You sure you wanna play this game?”

You batted your eyelashes at him and stood up. Smiling at him over your shoulder, you walked to the pool.

After about 20 minutes of having your fun in the water with Benny & Santi, Frankie wandered poolside with a beer in hand.

You looked up at Frankie and hopped up to sit on the pool deck, legs dangling in the water. Hannah came out in to join you, sitting down with her own beverage.

He squatted down next to you, offering you a sip of his beer.

“You look fucking amazing, princess. You ready to go yet?”, Frankie whispered as he wiggled his eyes brows.

You shook your head smiled at him, as Santi started calling out.

“You comin’ in for a swim, Fish?”, Santi cackled, splashing at Frankie.

“FISH! DO A CANNON BALL!”, Benny screeched.

Santi and Benny both splashed and chanted CANNON BALL! CANNON BALL! at Frankie. He shook his head and laughed. “Fucking children, you two!”

He stood and walked back to his chair, then removed his shirt with his back turned to everyone. You heard Santi bark out a loud laugh and Benny hollered out, “Jesus, Fish! You get mauled by a bear or something?”

You head shot up and turned to look at Frankie. Mouth agape, you saw the deep red marks you left across his wide back and shoulders as Frankie railed you on the couch last night. Your face went beet red; Frankie whipped around and looked at you, his face the same shade.

While he was a little worried about any potential teasing he would get about his growing belly or how much he ate, he was not prepared for this. He would have preferred they poke fun at his increased weight than point out your claw marks.

“It’s always the quiet ones! Atta boy, Fish!”, Santi called out, fist pumping into the air.

Hannah gasped and with a wide grin, nudged you. “Mouse… oh my god! You’re a fucking animal!”, she laughed with her eyes wide.

Will walked up behind Frankie, eyeing his back in confusion. “Fish, what did you do to your back? It looks like-“, Will stopped, realization hit him and his eyes went wide, staring at you. You wanted the ground to swallow you up whole.

Regardless of his strong friendship with and his respect for Frankie, Will still regarded you as his little, young, innocent cousin that he needed to protect. Benny, on the other hand, was a free spirit with sex and was the first person you told when you lost your virginity - nothing was too sacred with him as long as you were happy. Will was glad that you found that happiness with someone he knew and trusted, but it didn’t make it any easier when there were blatant displays of your sexual escapades in front of him.

“Fucking hell… Mouse…”, Will finally huffed with a headshake as he walked over to the barbeque to start cooking hamburgers.

“Girl. Really? It’s that good?”, Hannah giggled, leaning into you.

Before you could answer, a huge wave of pool water washed over the two of you from Frankie’s cannonball, followed by hoots and cheers from Santi and Benny.

Frankie popped up from under the water and swam over to you, hands on your knees and looked up. “Hey princess. You good?”

You were still red with embarrassment and Hannah laughed next to you. “Frankie, please tell Will what ever you did for those marks of honor. I need that in my life.”

“Hannah!”, both you and Will yelped in unison.

Frankie groaned, sinking into the pool, leaving only his eyes and nose peeking above the water line.

Santi and Benny swam over to Frankie, shit eating grins on their faces.

“Mouse… what the hell did you do to our Fish?”, Benny teased.

“Yeah, what did he do to you to deserve this abuse?”, Santi barked in mock-seriousness.

“Guys, come on!”, you whined. “Drop it!”

The guys pulled Frankie back out into the water, splashing him, and demanding he answer their crude questions. Frankie laughed, but the blush on his face remained.

“Seriously, Mouse.”, Hannah whispered to make sure no one else heard. “He’s that good? Hands, mouth, dick? Tell me everything! How many times did he make you come?”

Frankie watched you and Hannah giggle as Benny and Santi continued their barrage of questions. While he didn’t know for sure what Hannah was asking, he did see you respond with four fingers up on your hand before you hopped back into the pool. He had an overwhelming sense of pride at the shocked look Hannah gave you as you bobbed in the water.

“Four times, boys!”, Frankie shouted as he flopped back into the water. Benny and Santi cheered.

____________________________

TAGLIST:

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You were so excited. You’d finally been invited to a work-related function in recognition of all the hard work you’d done, and the night was finally here.

Frankie had even gone out and bought an outfit for this evening and gotten a haircut.

He looked amazing in an all-black outfit, the top button of his shirt open, no tie. You’d opted for a cocktail length, black bodycon dress with a plunging neckline.

When you walked out of the bedroom to the den, Frankie looked at you from the couch and stood up abruptly. His eyes bugged out roamed over your body and he swallowed thickly.

“Give us a spin.”, he crooned, walking towards you with a dark look and his hands in his pockets.

You moved slowly in a circle and looked at him doe eyed. “Do I look okay?”

He reached a hand out and tugged you by the waist closer to him. “Princess, you look good enough to eat.”

*****

The venue was gorgeous, and you quickly found your fellow invited co-workers while Frankie went to the bar and ordered drinks for you both.

The evening was going well; presentations had been made and you were all taking your seats as the food was going to be served. You and Frankie chatted with your co-worker Elise and her newly minted fiancée, Maggie, through dinner, and as they discussed their upcoming wedding. Frankie’s hand gently caressed your thigh under the table, and you took it as nerves given you rarely did anything like this and the current topic of marriage.

Little did you know that Frankie already had a ring hidden in his toolbox in the garage – somewhere you would never look - waiting for the right moment.

Frankie watched as you listened to Molly explain the reason for their wedding colour scheme. He took in how your hair sat in your updo, and the freckles that sat on your shoulder that he would kiss as he held you in bed at night. He listened to your questions and laughs as you talked, and watched your hands move with your conversation, imagining the ring he picked just for you on your left ring finger. He loved you, probably more than he thought possible, and he couldn’t wait to give you his life, soul, and last name.

Not knowing the deep thoughts Frankie was swimming in, you turned and excused yourself to the washroom and asked if he needed another drink.

“Uh, sure, baby… just another whisky, neat.”, he said smiling, clumsily returning to reality.

After visiting the ladies’ room, you went to the bar, waiting for your turn to order. You suddenly felt a hand touch your waist and turned to see a man you did not know at all. He was Frankie’s heigh, but slimmer and much more angular and sharper looking; nothing gentle about his gaze that washed over you.

“Can I help you?”, you asked, trying to move out of his grip, but he pulled you in tighter. You could smell the alcohol and cigars on him.

“Yeah, sugar, you can. Tell me your pretty name so I know who’ll be sitting on my lap the rest of the night.”, he purred, his southern accent thick.

You pulled yourself out of his hold and stepped back. “I’m here with someone, my boyfriend.”, you said curtly.

“And who might that lucky fellow be?”, he drawled as stepped closer to you.

You looked towards your now empty table, seeing Frankie walking across the room towards you. “Him.”

You nod your head towards Frankie, and the man turns.

*****

Frankie watched for you to head to the bar. He was nervous in these kinds of things, fancier events. He was a blue-collar guy who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, and most of the men there looked like they hadn’t seen a hard day’s labour ever. While he felt he was dressed the part for this evening, he could help but notice the stares you got as you walked through the venue. He watched the eyes rove over your body in your dress, and then saw the wide eyes that followed when they saw who held your hand.

He looked at the bar and saw you there, backing up from a guy whose hands…

No. No no no. Hands off, fucker. Frankie thought angrily as he stalked towards the bar.

As he got closer, he heard the guy laugh and say, “The fat guy? Baby, he’d probably get grease stains on your pretty dress.”

Frankie felt like he got the wind knocked out of him. He looked at you, seeing your body language morph from defense to attack mode.

“Excuse me?”, you snarled at the man, eyebrows high.

“Honey, a cute little thing like you deserves to be on the arm of someone who knows how to say ‘no’ to seconds.”, he smiles, then points his thumb to Frankie. “Him? He’s a fat guy with a gut that needs some fucking discipline drilled into him. Not worth your time, kitten.”

Your jaw tightened and your eyes burned. “How fucking dare you…”, you growled, feeling your first tighten and pull back.

Frankie stepped in front of you, his back to the man, and gently putting his hands on your sides to guide you away. “Not worth it, baby. Remember, you’re here for work. I’m okay, Mouse. Walk away.”, he said in a hushed tone, eyes trying to connect with yours, but you kept moving your head shooting daggers at the man.

“Did you hear what he said about you?!”, you barked, trying to get around Frankie to get back to the man, but he held you back. “No, it’s not okay, Frankie! Let me go!”

You ripped Frankie’s hands off you. Stomping towards the man, Frankie desperately tried to get another grip on you.

“What’s your problem, huh?”, you bark at the man, jabbing his chest with your finger.

“Baby’s got a temper.”, he cooed, then sneered at Frankie. “She a lot to handle, fat boy?”

You felt flames burning through your veins and you wanted blood. “Call him that again. I fucking dare you.”, you snarled.

The man’s grin started to fall, the feral look in your eye caught him off guard, and he spat, “Crazy whore. Hey, fat boy, get your bitch on a leash when you’re in public next time.”, then turned to walk away.

You went to lunge at him, but Frankie caught you.

“Mouse, stop. Come on… you need to cool down.”, he said in calm yet stern tone while he held you back. He could feel you trying to pull out of his grip, but he held firm.

You hadn’t caused a huge scene but there were some spectators still watching you both, and Frankie needed to get you out of there.

Elise and Molly had witnessed the whole thing and informed you that the man was no more than a temp filling it at one of the other firms. It didn’t help. He’d insulted Frankie – your Frankie. You were furious.

Frankie thanked the ladies, and as you walked down to the parkade, he looked dejected. The words had gotten to him and you could not allow them to sit and fester in his mind. Your fists were balled so tight you thought you might break your fingers at the thought that those words made him feel as bad you felt angry.

Getting down to the parking lot, he unlocked the passenger side door for you and went to open it, but you slammed it closed and pushed Frankie up against the truck, caging him in between your hands.

“Mouse? honey… what’s-”, Frankie asked, confused.

“I love that you love to eat. I love feeling your weight on me when you fuck me.”, you growled aggressively between deep breaths.

 “I love knowing that this,”, your hands grabbed his belly, giving it a quick, firm shake, and Frankie let out a small whine. “This is because you love to stuff yourself on the food I make you.”

“I love knowing that when I’m done with you, your jeans don’t fit. I love knowing that no matter how much you eat, you will always have room for pussy.”

Frankie’s lips were parted, and he was panting. You were like watching a tornado – sublime, terrifying; he was awestruck.

“I love knowing that when you fuck me, I’m your princess.” You leaned in and ghosted your mouth over his. “Now get in the fucking truck, fat boy.”

Frankie crawled in the passenger side, and you hiked up your dress to your hips and crawled onto his lap, slamming the door behind you. You kissed him roughly, and Frankie moaned into your mouth, and you started to grind your hips into his.

You pulled back, hips still grinding, and ripped open the buttons to the dress shirt he had on, your heated gaze burning into his abdomen.

“You’re so fucking hot, Frankie…”, you panted, and your hands went to his belly, kneading and gripping him.

“Belly’s all for you, princess… getting fat for you.”, Frankie whined as he grabbed your waist with his large hands and ground up into you.

“Put the seat back.”, you moaned, continuing your gyrations and your fingers pressing into his chubby tummy.

Frankie adjusted the seat, you shifted back and opened his pants, pulling his leaking cock out. Frankie hooked a finger in your thong to pull it to the side, and you shifted over him and slid down on his member slowly.

Frankie watched your face as your adjusted to his size and held you but the back of your neck, pulling you in for a gentle kiss.

“Yeah, my feisty girl… look so fucking hot, ready to fight… no one fucks with my baby.”, he whispered against your lips before he opened his mouth and pushed his tongue into yours.

You started moving up and down, and you sat up from the kiss. You looked down at Frankie and saw his lust-blown eyes shaded by heavy eyelids, his reddened kissed lips and his belly marked red from your fingers and framed by the de-buttoned shirt. Your hands went to his stomach, and you started to ride him faster, holding on to him as you bottomed out on him repeatedly.

“Oh fuck… Mouse… oh my god… keep going… fuck… fuck… you feel so good… my fucking hero, baby…”, he cried out.

Your walls started to tremor, and your orgasm hit you. “Frankie… I’m…. oh god!”, you wailed.

“Close… pr-princess… m’close… oh fuck… fuck…”, Frankie whined followed by a strangled moan.

You could feel your mixed spend seeping out and coating his lap and your thighs as both panted. No doubt the truck had been rocking and it certainly wasn’t soundproof, but neither of you cared in that moment.

You flopped on top of him, he hands went to your back, and rubbed soothingly, while he planted kisses in your hair and whispered, “Sucha good girl… love you so much, princess… deep breaths, honey… deep breaths…”

You felt completely fucked out and were ready for bed. Once Frankie was able to get into the driver’s seat, he turned on the truck and right before he pulled out the of the stall, he saw the man sitting in the car parked across from you, eyes wide.

Frankie smiled and winked at him before he exited the parkade.  

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