#dilfistwrites

All of Jackson seems to need him. Be it his neighbours, with a broken faucet or be the council, for his skills in construction, or even Maria and Tommy, when they wanted some time alone and he got to be the fun uncle for a couple of hours. Even Ellie, who didn't need him, as she liked to remind him, yet he still found himself in her garage, where she moved despite his reluctance, dusting off shelves or the forgotten guitar in a corner, all to feel useful for the one who he cared for the most.

That spot was debatable, thought. There was his brother, his niece, maybe Maria, Ellie, recently Dina and well, you.

You. Sweet you. Town's favorite girl. A complete dream. The girl next door embodied. Looks that aim to kill. It killed him. So damn perfect he can't help but wonder why, of all Jackson, you'd choose brooding old Joel Miller.

The one you'd give your smiles to, because even if you shared it to the world, your reserved your best for him only. His patrol partner, the beauty of the snowed-in landscape barely rivaling your own. Who you'd give your hours, always appearing when he needed you most, eyes open wide with that shine of theirs it was impossible to resist, not to trust. He had been a faithless man for too long, wandering in the dark. Eyes closed. Then came Ellie, and it was gone, coming back the days when Sarah was his babygirl. But it returned when she pushed him away, but you had stepped in, not as a replacement but as an oath. Something to hold on.

To believe.

In anything. In you. In the us, silent but strong. Watchful, like the stars shinning above in the sky, twinkling as the sound of your laugh when you and him would watch them, sitting on his roof. He let this things happen, let his guard down and allowed himself to be childish and soft, even if his joints ached when he got up and he could fall. But you were there, and falling... It didn't sound bad.

(He knew you'd be there to catch him, anyway. Even if you weren't that strong and he wasn't exactly... well, featherweight)

Right now, he's working. Not for Jackson, but or you. Furrowed brow and shoulders slumped over his table at the workshop, concentrated, his glasses perched on his nose. He hates them, another reminder of the time passed by, yet there's no option. At least not if he wants to give you the very best.

Ah, yes. His latest project. A little wood carving. Doesn't have a shape yet, like your relationship. He chuckles to himself, feeling silly. What where labels anymore in this world, anyway? Still, he can't fanthom the nature of it. It sounded more like a perverted old man's fantasy, if he's being honest, the glances thrown his way from townsfolk a little cruel reminder. You're no good, you'd jokingly sing that one song and, despite the judgment, he'd smile. For you, anything.

Like the figurine. Joel finally sees it take shape. And then there's a knock in the door. Sharp. Same as yesterday, and as the year before ever since he's had you like this.

"Come in" he says, not looking up as you enter.

He's too focused, voice sounding gruff for the long hours of silence since he sat down with an idea in mind; pounding heart, trembling hands.

"Hey, Joel"

He takes his glasses off, placing them on the table, before standing up to greet you. He crosses the short distance and wraps his arms around you in a tender hug, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He smells like wood and sweat. His musk lingers, so does his tight embrace. As if you'd dissappear if he didn't.

"Missed ya', sweet girl" he mumbles, voice muffled.

You giggle a bit. "I was gone for an hour. Are you getting clingy on me, Miller?"

You loved to tease him. Bad habit of yours. He lets out a low chuckle that rumbles on his chest and against your skin. He pulls back from the hug, yet his arms now drop to your waist, because he's addicted to keeping you close.

"Too damn long" he protests, carrying his southern accent within.

"I love when that Texan drawl slips in" you sigh, poking his cheek. He leans into your touch, like a touch-starved puppy. You then look at him, pouting your lips with a small frown. "Hey, and your glasses?"

"Huh?" he looks at the pair, sitting on the table. Forgotten. "Over'ere. For?"

You shrug. Joel shoots you a suspicious look. "Darlin', why you so interested in my glasses?"

You avert his gaze. The floor is more interesting now.

"Honey... Look at me. S'okay if you don't wanna-"

"I like how you look when you wear them" you finally blurt out, too fast and too quiet.

He's taken back by that. Eyes wide, probably written all over his face. Yet you refuse to look at him. He tips your chin up, so you can meet his gaze. It's soft, making your legs wobbly.

"Is that so?" he asks, teasingly. He still can't believe you actually like them. "You like when old men wear them glasses, baby?"

"Hhm, yeah" you hum. "More if it's you"

His heart skips a beat at your response. Fuck. He's gone soft, too soft. He feels his face heat up, chuckling in an attempt to cover it. Then, runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the base of his neck, a tell-tale sign he's feeling awkward. Flustered, even.

"You gon' give me a heart attack, honey. 'M too old for ya' to say things like that"

"Aw, old man can't take a compliment?" you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck. Then, you stand up on your tiptoes to whisper on his ear. "You're cute when you blush"

Joel's sure his face has gone redder, breath hitching as well. Still, he manages to put his arms around your waist, holding you close.

"You're real bad" he grumbles, though there's no bite on his tone. He hides his face again in the crook of your neck. "And I'm not blushing"

You giggle, patting his head lightly as your fingers trace his now long hair. If it didn't drive you wild...

"Then stop hiding"

Joel relaxes under your touch. "You're trouble. I'm serious 'bout the heart attack"

"No" you exaggerate, rocking him slightly. "Don't die"

He looks up at you, smirking as he groans with fake annoyance.

"If you keep that up, I might do"

"Then who will I bore with my failed recipes and gossip?"

"Thankfully, not me"

You groan. "Oh, shut up you old man"

You're always calling him that. Not that he minds, he knows you're not doing it with malice, but sometimes it annoys him. For example, today.

"Well, you chose 'tis old man so don't go complainin', honey"

You huff. "Unfortunately, I love this old man with his old-man ways. Like your woodcarving"

After saying so, you take a small peek over his figure, still drapped over your chest and neck, to the table behind. "Speaking of, can I see what you're doing?"

He looks back, where he's left the figurine unnattended after your arrival. Lets go of you, taking a step back so you get a better look.

"Sure, darlin'. Go'head"

Joel thinks he's good at hiding the nervousness in his voice as you approach the table. He crosses and uncrosses his arms, anxiously.

"Your glasses" almost in a reflex, passing them to him before seeing what's on the table. "Can you wear them, Joel? Pretty please"

He takes the glasses from your hands, fingers brushing. It may be that or your request that make his heart jump. You can see some hesitation on him before he puts them on. Looking down at you, smirking, Joel smiles.

"There ya' go, sweet girl. Happy now?" he asks, a hint of huskiness in his voice.

"So much better" you tap them lightly, "and so is your vision"

Joel let's out a small chuckle, grinning like a fool. Honestly, he loves the attention.

(He's never going to admit it out loud, though)

"You do know how'da flatter an old man, huh"

You smirk, moving to the table again. "Oh, I love flattering him. Now, show me what you're working on"

There's a block of wood on the center. Cut sharp. Perfectly. He's been obssesive with it, maybe. There's a sketch, and the figurine only has been carved at the bottom, where a tail begins to take shape.

"I know am not an artist, but I tried"

You remain silent, making him a little nervous.

"S'a deer" he explains, gruffly, looking into your eyes for a reaction.

"A deer? Like, Bambi?" you ask in awe, softly tracing the wood. Your words get stuck, like honey. Sweet but sticky. "Joel..."

His heart swells a bit at your tone, expression soft as he recognizes admiration in your tone.

"Yeah, like damn Bambi" he murmurs, hands itchy. First, he shoves them on his pockets, just to take them out and place them on his hips instead, his jacket now open, the silhoutte of his tummy under his shirt showing, the flannel stretched on the middle. He watches you closel as you face him again.

"Is it- Is it for me?" you ask in that voice that, goddamn it, makes Joel want to give you the whole world if he could.

He slowly nods, a sheepish expression on his face.

"Yeah" he admits, voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "S' for ya"

Then looks away, feeling vulnerable for some reason. But your lips quiver, and before he can register, you throw yourself at him, hands around his neck, body practically swinging. He stumbles a bit, yet manages to catch you alright.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" you gush, peppering his cheek with kisses. "I know it's not even done but, wow. Thank you, Joel!" an adorable squeal leaves your mouth, and as soon as that is out, your lips find his to leave a sweet kiss on his mouth. When you calm down, your voice goes soft. "It's... No one had ever done something like this for me"

He's clearly taken by surprise by your affection outburst, his heart swelling at your reaction and giddyness. He's also a bit overwhelmed, kissed cheeks now a pretty flushed pink. There's something so warm and fond on his eyes as he looks down on you, cupping your cheek after your final kiss.

"S'nothin', sweet girl. You're welcome"

"You're so special, Joel. Did you know that?" you whisper, leaning into his touch while closing your eyes.

Good. He's probably a mess right now, his heart clenching on his chest, a mix of emotions washing over him. God, he hates getting compliments, but yours always stirred things he long ago thought dead.

"Special, huh?" he grumbles while sporting a half-smile. "I reckon that's you"

You smirk. "We can both be special, then. There's always room for two"

He runs his thumb over your cheek, chuckling a bit. "Deal. But you're a bit more"

"Oh, you want to compete?" you tease.

He smirks at the challenge, pulling you closer with a tight arm around your waist.

"Damn right I do. Y'know I like winnin'. 'Sides, 'm more than willin' to play if it means ya' get competitive 's well. You're cute when you challenge me, baby"

You feign hurt. "I'm always cute, how dare you"

"Oh, forgive me" he chuckles. "At this age I tend to forget"

"Don't worry. I'll beat your ass so bad, you won't forget it"

He archs an eyebrow, amused. "Now you abuse the elder? Bad girl"

Your face flushes and core pulses.

"I can be a bit of a brat if I want to" you tease, fingers roaming over his warm chest. "Will you punish me for that?"

Joel's eyes darken on an instant. There's a shadow of desire coating his brown when a low rumble escapes his throat. The air feels charged with a new found tension suddenly.

"Careful, sweet girl. You ain't know what you playin'"

He closes the gap between you, his body pressing against yours. His hands move from your waist to grip your hips, holding you against him.

"You're quite mouthy tonight, aren't 'cha?" he growls, his voice carrying a rough edge.

"Just to get what I want. Besides, your little project tug at my hearstrings" you quip. "And something else"

"Oh, yeah? You gon' tell me what's that?"

You smirk. "What do you think it is?"

He hums. "I'd rather hear you say it"

"That's not fair" you pout your lips.

He chuckles, "Nothin' ever is fair, I reckon. But you're a troublesome little thing, ain't ya'?"

You send him a little flirtatious wink.

"I am looking for some trouble tonight"

He's not amused by your words. You're a greedy insatiable little thing sometimes. So far, Joel's been able to deflect all of your attempts. The farthest you'd ever made it was when you straddled his lap on the old couch of his workshop, and even then, he limited his reactions to grunts and seeing you come. God. It had been tortuous waiting for you to go so he could piston his aching cock to the memory of your little sounds.

"Ain't that interesting?"

"Oh, but it is" you're quick to counter, "and I take you and your little friend are into it"

His breath hitches, eyes and cheeks burning alike with intensity. The heat travels down his spine, straight to his throbbing dick, the reason he's been caught red-handed.

"You surely are looking for trouble" his voice reduced to a rough gasp.

Joel's struggling to maintain the control he so prided himself in, you not making it any easier with your teasing. "Y'a temptress, doll. Know that?"

"Is my magic working?" you ask, batting your eyelashes.

He's resolve is quickly crumbling, self-control tossed to the bin in the corner. Joel loves as much as he hates your big innocent yet teasing eyes. No wonder he was carving you out a deer.

"Damnit, sweet girl. Y'know it's. You gettin' me all worked up in'ere"

"Take me upstairs, then. I'm sure we can find a solution"

He can feel the heat radiating off of you, eyes darkening at the invitation.

"Doll, you're playing with fire here" he warns, despite the obvious effect your words are having on him.

"It's fine. I don't mind the burn"

He knows he's done, Joel's growl an indicator of his control snapping completely.

"Damn it" he mutters before his lips crash against yours. It's heated. Desperate. His hands grip your hips, holding you tighlty against him while he devours your mouth like a starved man, as if you didn't kiss just this morning, before going on your patrol.

You moan into the kiss, Joel swallowing your sounds as if they were his own. Fuck. His mind goes fuzzy when you grab his face with both of your hands, deepening the kiss. He thinks he's backed you against a wall, by the small Thud sound. He's lost: on the way your lips move, on the way they taste, in the sounds they make.

You pull out first. Joel thinks you belong in a museum: with your lips, swollen and parted. It's too your dilatated eyes and chest, rising and falling. He can't resist and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his calloused fingers tenderly brushing your soft skin.

"Aren't you the prettiest man in Jackson?" you blurt out, adoring.

He's not used to being praised like this. Not even by you, even after months of doing so. Always feels like the first time. And then, he feels stupid: for blushing too much, heart skipping too many beats, chest clenching too hard. Like a damn highschooler. Joel's as embarrassed as content that you make him feel all sort of ways.

"Easy, sugar" he mutters, voice gruff. "You gon' give 'tis old man an ego"

"No need to blame me when you can look at yourself in the mirror" you're quick to reply. "I believe that's enough reason to give you some ego"

He's smirking at your response. Yeah, he definitely loves when you stroke his ego. Especially as of late, where he feels... rather, old.

"Oh. Oh" you begin to tease through giggles, playfully hitting his chest. He huffs, catching where this is going. "Do you like it when I call you pretty?"

Joel's cheeks flush a little at your question, his stoic nature faltering a bit at your teasing.

"Maybe" he mumbles, eyes avoiding yours. "But don't let it get to your head, doll"

"Too late" you murmur, wrapping once more your hands on his neck. "You're pretty, Joel. Especially when you flush"

Pretty isn't exactly a word he'd used to describe himself. But when you call him pretty, out of that sweet mouth of yours, his name along as well? You can call him however the fuck you want.

He can feel his body reek out vulnerability, and he hates himself a bit for getting weaker. He tried, really did, but his walls had been down for a while. His defenses had crumbled. He was pathetic, lonely, and sad. Yet here you were, looking at him with your big adoring eyes like he was the only thing that mattered. Joel lets your words sink for a moment, letting out a small sigh, not being able to deny it feels good. Maybe it does matter.

"You're too damn sweet, sugar. Y'know that?" he mutters, finger tracing lightly your hip.

You smile, sickenly saccharine. "I'm aware. Trust me, I have a cute grumpy boyfriend to remind me so"

His expression softens even more at your easy loving. He's so fucking putty in your hands, Tommy would laugh in his face.

"Y'got me wrapped 'round your damn finger, sweet girl" Joel whispers in his usual gruff voice, but it's laced with affection.

You raise a finger, moving it in front of his face like one would with a bone and a dog.

"You mean this?"

Joel watches your finger with amused eyes, a small smirk tugging at his lips. It scares and excites him how easy it's to fall under your spell. With soft movements, he reaches and captures your hand, bringing it to his mouth. He then presses a gentle kiss to your finger, eyes never leaving yours.

"Yeah, doll. This one" his voice is husky, "All of 'em. Y' got me good"

You gulp under the intensity of his gaze. "Don't do that..."

He smirks at your reaction, finally feeling like he has some leverage. He raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes as he holds you even closer, your chest pressing against his. You even feel the soft curve of his stomach over your own.

"Don't do what?" he asks, playing coy. "We're not backin' down now, are we, sugar?"

At your lack of answer, cheeks bright, he huffs, hand moving to gently cup your chin. Joel's brown eyes lock with yours when he speaks again.

"So, what now? Or did y' just come by to check up on your ol' man?"

"No. That's not what I want"

His smirk grows as the dark shade on his eyes. He's not dumb, of course he knows what you want. Just wants to hear you say it.

"What'da ya' want, then?"

You pout your lips, whining.

"Joel... Just give me what I want"

He leans in a bit closer, voice gruff and filled with desire. His thumb strokes your chin softly.

"Depends" he grumbles. "You gon' ask nicely?"

"On my very best behavior" you raise your hand, "I swear it"

He smirks, letting go of your face. "Good girl"

You stand on your tiptoes, leaning against his ear. His heart skips a beat, a small shiver running down his spine at your lips ghosting his skin.

"I am" you kiss his earlobe. "For you. Just you" you leave a little bite on it. A low rumble escapes his throat. You lick the red little spot to soothe it. "Your best girl"

"My only girl" he's quick to reply. You're up in the air in a minute, his hands supporting you as he carries you, your legs dangling at his sides. It amazed you how strong he continued to be, despite his age. Strong men make good times, you suppose.

You giggle a bit. "Oh, Joel. I'm so lucky"

His heart races at your words. All this banter fills him with a warm fondness, making him feel young again.

"I reckon that's me, doll"

Your noses brush after his comment, in silence. You close your eyes, as so does he. You break the aphony first.

"Joel"

"Yes?"

"I want you to have me"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his chest swelling with a mixture of emotion. No one has ever spoken to him with such tenderness, even with what your request implies. It's overwhelming.

"Ya' want me?" he asks gruffly, his voice hoarse with desire and emotion.

Fuck. It's happening. What he avoided so badly, but right now? His mind has gone blank, and when it starts working again, it's filled with lewd images of sweet you. Jesus. If he had doubts he was going to hell before, now he's certain. At least, he got heaven on Earth with you.

"Y' sure 'bout that, sugar?" he asks gruffly, his voice husky. "You're so damn young, deserve someone better"

You nod, slowly, caressing his cheek, your voice just barely above a whisper.

"I've never been more sure"

He takes a small moment to gather himself, his eyes never leaving yours. He's suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable, and it scares him as much as it excites him.

"I mean, would've I done all this if I didn't?"

Joel lets out a small laugh. "You little devious minx. I'll give ya' that"

"Give me what?" you tease.

His lips crash into yours as your hands find his face, holding as you deepen the kiss. His fingers dig in your thighs, making you moan and a spark of electricity run through his spine. He lets out a low moan in response to yours, pulling away from your lips momentarily, his eyes darkening with want. Joel looks at you for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

He lets out a low rumble, his voice gruff and rough.

"Yeah" he mutters. "Keep talkin' like that, and you'll get more than a kiss"

"So, I'll keep talking then"

"Y' little brat" he grumbles, voice dripping with frustration. "If ya' don't stop, I'm gonna..."

Joel trails off, his eyes dark with promises left unspoken.

"Say it" you challenge. "Or are you backing down?"

He takes a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of self control, despite loving your teasing and how it's driving him wild. He lets out a small laugh, his mind swirling with desire and frustration.

"Y' gon' pay for that later, darlin'" he threatens gruffly, his eyes locked on yours.

"How about now?"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your question, the idea sending a surge of desire through him. He can feel his self-control slipping away, your words pushing him closer to the edge.

He lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his hand tightening around your chin. His eyes lock onto yours, a mix of desire and anticipation in them.

"Sure you wanna know, doll?" he asks gruffly, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

"All of it" too eager. He can't help but smile, resolve unraveling. "Don't spare any details"

"And you gon' be a good girl?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

"Didn't I promise so?"

Those simple words are all it takes for Joel's resolve to finally crumble. Fuck what other people think. Fuck his own fears. He can't resist you any longer, the desire within him reaching boiling point.

"Shit, doll" he rasps, voice rough. "With words like that I'm just gon' give y'anythin' you want"

"Please, Joel" you utter his name in a little whimper.

"Please what?"

Loves to see you beg. Has imagined you squirming, like you did when his fingers would drift too close to your aching cunt. Straddling feels so stupid now, when he could've have sweet you like this a long ago.

"Fuck me"

The sound of your whimper goes straight to Joel's throbbing dick. He's completely undone, powerless against your desires.

"That's right, good girl" he rasps, his voice gruff and rough. You let a little whimper at the praise. "I'll give y'anythin' you want, angel"

He carries you upstairs while you giggle at his huffs, teasing him when his knees creak like the old wooden stairs. Still, he insists on carrying you when you offer to walk, maybe trying to prove his strength to you or something. When his face turns a deep shade of red, you can't tell if it's out of shame or effort.

"Taking me to your bed? I've never seen your bedroom" you muse out loud, once he reaches the final stair.

Despite the intensity of the moment, a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"There's always a first" he rasps.

Your nose brushes against his cheek. "Can't wait"

The door opens when Joel kicks it lightly. It's very him, you think, as soon as it comes on view. There's a guitar in the corner, you notice too.

"It's very you" you say out loud now. He drops you on the bed, making you giggle. "It's simple and cozy"

He's still trying to calm his racing heart, but it's difficult when he's hovering over you, so close to your body, he can feel the heat of it. Can even smell your arousal in the air.

"'M not sure simple's a nice thing t' say 'bout someone"

For a moment, the room goes quiet. He hesitates to continue.

"There's just... somethin' I need to discuss with ya' before we get carried 'way"

Your doe eyes look up to him. "Yes?"

Joel takes a deep breath.

"I've... It's been a while, y'know, since... I'm just used to bein' alone. In that sense. And I... I haven't been with someone in a long time"

His voice trails off, a vulnerability settling in his expression.

"Joel..." you whisper, sitting as he backs up a bit.

"'M not good with people" he admits gruffly. "I tend to scare 'em off"

You extend your hand to softly trace over his stubble. Joel leans into your touch, his expression softening, your presence providing a sense of comfort. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

"You're not scaring me. I'm here"

His mouth tastes like sand when he swallows.

"Yeah, but I-"

"Yes?"

He pauses for a moment, a hint of vulnerability in his expression.

"'M not exactly young anymore, sugar"

"And what's bad about not being young?" you look at him, voice soft. "Are you afraid your knees will crack when you go down on me or what?"

He lets out a clipped laugh. The tension in the room lightens a little, and he's grateful for your attempt to lighten the mood.

"Oh, very funny, sweetheart." he grumbles, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "And no, 's not that. I can eat ya' just fine" Joel spits, making you laugh at his cocky demeanor. But then he goes quiet again. "It's just... 'M not as young and good lookin' as I used to be" he finally blurts out.

Why is he even saying this things out loud. He didn't care before. He thought about himself better before. Yeah, before. What is it about the now that he cares, worse, admits out loud his insecurities?

Your expression morphs into one of sympathy. God, he hates it. Looks away from your warmth and pity. No, not pity. Compassion, like Joel was some sort of wounded old dog.

"Joel" you close the distance, tracing his face tenderly, drawing little heart shapes over his stubble. "That's not true. You're as handsome as back in the day, baby. I didn't meet you then, I know that, and this may be biased, but I'll choose the old you always, my pretty boy"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his expression softening even more. He's not used to such tender affection, and it's overwhelming.

He takes a moment to process your words, his eyes never leaving yours. He can see the sincerity in your eyes, and it touches him more than he can express. Words were never his thing, anyway.

"Y/n" he mutters gruffly, his voice rough with emotion. He even used your name. "You're too good fo' me"

"I just... I think it's because I love you"

He's taken back, almost falling in top of you, yet quickly regaining his posture. Still, his heart jumps into his throat, dangerously close to falling out from his mouth at your sudden confession.

It's been almost a year of being his and him being yours, yet those three words hadn't even been close to being said. Joel never thought he'd get to hear them again from the lips of a lover. Yet here you were, so damn young and sweet, letting them roll off your tongue in a soft echo of your loving. Safe. Like a home. You were his home.

He looks at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and vulnerability.

"Y'... Y' love me?" his voice rasping a bit as he questions you.

"It's okay if you don't say it back" you laugh quietly, probably to make him feel better. Always thinking about the others, you pure thing.

He looks you in the eye, his hand still cupping your cheek. There's a warm tenderness in his expression, despite his gruff tone.

"No. Don't think that" he goes quiet for a moment, as if the weight of your declaration was sinking him. He lets out a shaky breath, as if unsure if the world around him was real, his eyes locked on yours. "I... love you too"

Your eyes widen, a smile appearing instantly on your face as it lights up. His heart swells immediately at the sight of your happiness, and all he wishes for is to see it everyday. When he wakes up, to be first, and when he goes to sleep, your face the last thing to see. To be there, even as he closes his eyes and dozes off to sleep. Your giddy giggles are so fucking contagious, a rebellious smile creeps up his lips.

"You do?"

His chest tightens, vulnerable. Filled with an affection never known before.

"Yeah, sweet girl" he mutters gruffly. "I do. I love you"

Your smile is probably the most beautiful thing in the world, pleased and vicious like a cat's.

"Now, if you love me so dearly as you say, please" your lips part in a shaky breath, "have me"

So damn impatient. He may have spoiled you too much.

"Ya' want me t' have ya', honey?" he asks gruffly, his voice rough with desire as his hands slide down your thighs, tainting untouched skin.

You squirm, nodding eagerly. "Please. I want you so bad it hurts"

His voice, so soft and low, may have passed as a grunt. But you saw. Heard. Noticed. Like the way his face frowned, eyebrows furrowed as if you just told him you were sick. As if he wanted to be the cure to the disease he gave you.

"Tell me where it hurts"

Demanding in a tender way. Almost benevolent. Not even hurting you, but wanted to take every pain of yours away. You didn't deserve not even a scratch of this angry dirty world ruining your soft heart.

You point to the middle of your legs, parting them slowly open. His eyes turn glassy as he tugs your jeans down, and the first sight he gets, is your underwear, damp with your sticky arousal. He gulps, eyes darkening with desire.

"Please. There" you whimper.

"I've got eyes" Joel lets out a small, gruff chuckle. "You're impatient, know that?"

He cups your chin, eyes locked on yours. His breath is shallow, voice raspy and low.

"Don't worry. Lemme help"

He places himself in between your legs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties.

"Gon' show ya' what'a man with experience has to offer, al'ight? Now, spread y'r legs open for me" he commands softly. "Lemme see that beautiful, needy cunt"

He pulls your panties down, his throat dry when he peels the drenched fabric down your legs, revealing glistening folds. He can see how swollen and puffy they were. The sight makes his mouth water and his cock pulse with desire.

Joel lowers his head, knees and bed creaking, inhaling the sweet intoxicating smell of your arousal, his facial hear ghosting over your trembling skin until it tickles. Your nervous giggling get stuck in your throat when Joel buries his face between your thighs, tongue delving into your slick folds to lap up the sweet nectar that dripped from your cunt. He groans at the taste, as if savoring the best meal to exist on Earth.

"So sweet" he growls, voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. His mouth latches onto your clit, suckling the throbbing needy bud as his tongue flicks over it. "Too damn sweet"

It still hurts. It's across your face.

"Gon' help with 'tis. Just wait" he thrusts two fingers knuckle-deep into your cunt, pumping them in and out, curling them to stroke a spot that reduces you to a quiet muffled mess. "S' right, sugar" he praises. "Wanna see you come f' y'r old man"

The feeling of having you here, so needy and responsive, is doing things to him. Joel's lost on the way you beg, his name out of your parted lips in a secretive manner, as if reinforcing the nature of your desires and needs. How this moment was only yours, a whole new world past his door, creeping up the sweaty sheets, making way to his lonley heart, poisoned by the infectious warmth of your own.

He could feel your thighs trembling around his head, cute cries and whimpers serving as a motivation to bring you to the edge. Joel devours you, sucking like a starved man, flicking and lashing at your gushing cunt mercilessly with his tongue. It's experience, he made damn sure you knew about that. He also pumps his fingers faster, plunging deeper into your clutching heat.

"Come on, doll" he urges, voice a low rumble against your sex, "wanna feel 'tis tight little pussy spasm 'round ma' fingers"

"Joel!" you moan out loud, hands clawing into his arms for support.

He can feel your body tensing, your tight walls fluttering around the digits plunging in and out of you. Joel knew you were close, so he sucks your clit with fervent intensity as he curled his fingers just right, stroking that special spot that made your toes curl.

"That's it, y/n" he growls, eyes flashing up to meet yours, dark and intense with lust. "Drench me, y' sweet thing"

With a keening cry, you feel your body burst. Your back archs as your body quakes and shudders, your orgasm washing over you. Joel feels your pussy clench and spasm around his fingers, hot liquid gushing out to coat his hand and drip down his wrist.

Joel's a gentleman, languidly licking and suckling as you ride out of your high. Once your breathing slows, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth to clean off your essence. He meets your gaze, eyes hooded with the same hunger as your own.

"Like I said" he praises softly, making your spent cunt throb. "You're too damn sweet, sugar"

You giggle. "You're insane"

He leans in, planting a soft fluttering kiss to your quivering lips.

"Just f' ya'"

There's only one thing left to do. You know. He knows. You both know. But the way he takes in your pause, as if you're going to discover the most powerful secret, makes you believe there is so much more. His expression turns curious at your deliberate choice of aphony.

"Tell me what ya' want now. I could give ya' the world if 's what ya' want"

You avoid his gaze, playing with the collar of his flannel.

"I need you"

He lets out a clipped chuckle. "That I know, dirty one"

You roll your eyes, playfully.

"We're both aware. But it's not that, it's just..."

"Yes?"

"Can I see you, please?"

His eyes meet your expectant ones. His voice is gruff but soft, his desire for you mixing with a hint of vulnerability.

"Y' wanna see me?"

You nod as he gulps harshly, mouth tasting like sand.

"Can I take off your clothes?"

Joel's heart skips a beat again at your request, a mix of desire and vulnerability warring within him. It's too revealing and intimate, but God knows he just wants to give you all you want.

There's a hint of huskiness to his vulnerable voice. Unsure.

"Yeah" a beat. "You can"

You start unbuttoning slowly, licking your lips with eager trembling hands and pupils blown wide. Like a child on Christmas, knowing they're opening what they asked for. What they wanted. What they wrote at the top of their list. Your slow, deliberate unbuttoning has him practically holding his breath.

"Joel..." you bite your lip, removing his final button. Finally. "You're...."

Joel's heart stammers at the sight of your eyes on him, your obvious desire heightening his own. Yet, he avoids your stare as you reveal his bare chest, pose faltering a bit as if his strength succumbs to your hungry stare. He gulps under the intensity gaze, feeling so fucking vulnerable. It shakes him to his core, foreign to all this fuzzy things that make him sick.

He watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, his voice gruff and raw.

"Yeah…?"

"Perfect" you whisper out loud, his whole world crumbling down.

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his chest tightening with a mix of vulnerability and affection. Despite it, he feels self-conscious.

"Perfect…?" he teases, a hint of a dumb smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah" you hum. "So pretty"

A word that doesn't fit in Joel's world. Feels off-putting. He has never been called such, but once it falls past your lips, coated in adoration, it feels as if it's the only truth ever. His heart skips another beat, body responding to your words.

You can tell he can't believe you're saying those words about him by the hint of disbelief in his eyes.

"Joel"

He lets out a gruff huff in response.

"Look at me"

"Pretty" Joel repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't you believe me?"

Joel's heart skips another beat, the vulnerability growing stronger. He's still not used to hearing compliments about his body by you, by anyone at all. It's making his head spin a little.

He can't quite meet your eyes as he responds.

"Take it easy on me, sweet girl. I ain't exactly in m' prime"

"Joel. Look at me" your voice a little firmer this time.

Joel takes a moment, his heart racing. He can't resist your plea, even if he hates feeling vulnerable. Slowly, he meets your eyes.

His voice is almost quiet. "I'm lookin'"

"Good. Do you want me to know what I'm looking at?" you extend your hand to reach his face, brushing a strand of hair that's fallen to his forehead. "Your greys" then, you tug his bottom lip down, "your lips", you circle the wrinkles around his eyes, "your warm eyes" and afterwards, your fingers dwindle on his nose, "just... all of your face: scars, spots and wrinkles. It leaves me breathless"

Joel's heart races as you speak, your words sinking in. He feels seen, in a way he's rarely felt before. Its messing with his mind.

"You describin' what you seein'?" his voice hoarse with emotion. It sounds far away, as if it didn't belong to him.

His lips part as your hand moves down, grazing his neck and his chest before landing on his belly. The sincerity in your eyes is making him feel even more vulnerable, and Joel can feel himself crumbling under your intense stare and firm hands.

"No, I'm describing what I love"

He looks at you, eyes filled with vulnerability and uncertainty.

"Y/n"

It was like being peeled, layer by layer. He hated how he was built now. Rough. Too sharp around edges. Soft on ones he wished he wasn't.

"All of you"

He chuckles, but it's a defeated dying sound. Almost bitter.

"That's impossible, honey"

"What's impossible is not to love all of you"

He gulps, throat raw but unable to say anything.

"Please. Let me love you"

As if he hadn't already hand you his soul. Swallowed all of your words with a feverish desperation, placed them inside a space that had gone cold with time, now feeling like a warm home where he finally belonged.

"My sweet girl..."

You feel Joel pressing you up against the mattress, his bigger body pinning you in place with a hunger that takes your breath away. His hands are everywhere, roaming over your naked curves with a fevered intensity, a low growl of frustration escaping his lips when you break the kiss to take some air.

"You can do with me anything you want"

Joel's breath stops. With a trembling but sure hand, he reaches out, his calloused fingers skimming over the swell of your breasts, teasing the sensitive flesh until your nipples strain against the cloth of your bra. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as you feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against your stomach.

Joel leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers. 

"Anythin'?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire as you nod, desperate. 

But then, he's laughing, as if pleased with your eagerness. Amused.

"That much? Oh, baby, you that desperate for 'tis ol' man? That bad you want me?"

You whine, at loss for words, the throb too painful to think straight. Joel laughs again, but it's devoid of malice.

"No, don't just nod. I wanna hear you say it, y/n. Wanna hear ya' beg fo' me like the desperate sweet little thin' y'are"

You've never been one for begging, but something about the way he's looking at you, the raw, unbridled hunger in his eyes, makes you want to give him everything he wants and more.

"Please, Joel" you breathe, voice reduced to a needy tremor, "I need you so bad, Joel, please. I need you inside me. I want you filling me, claiming me, in every way possible"

"My sweet girl" he coos, followed by a flurry of heated kisses and desperate groping. You barely have a chance to catch your breath before he's pressing you up with more insistence, his body pinning you in place with a hunger that leaves you desperately aching for more. "S'pretty"

Joel's eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of you, drinking in every inch of your glistening skin. He smirks at the desperation written all over your face, something wicked and tender circling inside his brown eyes.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers huskily. "Ts' it, doll. Keep on beggin'. Lemme hear how much y' need ma' cock 'nside 'tis tight little cunt"

You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily as you feel his fingers slide down to brush against your sensitive clit, a wave of arousal coursing through you.

"Please, please, please, Joel" you whimper, your voice high and needy as you grind yourself shamelessly against his hand. "I'm so wet for you. Please, I'm begging you, make me yours"

He growls. "S'eager, huh? Who would've thought ya' were such'a dirty girl for 'tis ol' dick? Just had ya' bein' all lovey dovey a second ago and now y'are beggin' fo' me to ruin 'tis pretty pussy, baby?"

He quickly sheds what's left of his clothes, revealing to your wide eyes the thick, hard length of his cock, springing free and bobbing heavily against his soft belly. Alright, you had some thoughts about dating a much older man, even if Joel seemed the type of guy to be doted, given his energy. You're glad to be proven wrong in the very best way.

"Fuck, Joel" you breathe, licking your lips as you imagine the taste of him on your tongue. "You're so big"

His cheeks color a pretty pink, sweat beads adorning his forehead. The heat of his body envelopes you like a furnace.

"Now I truly believe ya' like what ya' seein'" he chuckles, "such'a greedy little thing" a beat. "S' fucken hungry for ma' cock. Don't worry, baby. 'M gon' give it to you, nice and slow, until you're screamin' fo' me to let you come"

Joel settles between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance as he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, effectively swallowing your needy whimpers.

"M' gon' take real good care of what's mine" in that southern drawl that drives you crazy. Hungry. Poisoned with a ravenous desire to possess every inch he can reach of your body. For everyone to see. Know. For all the prying stares. Judgeful. To appreciate in secret under the watchful gaze of the weak sunrays that filter through the courtains of his bedroom.

He then leans to take one of your nipples on his mouth, suckling and teasing the rosy peak, lapping the sensitive bud with his tongue, his hand kneading and squeezing the soft flesh of your breast. You arch into his touch, a symphony of moans and whimpers falling from your lips as he works your body.

At the same time, Joel begins to slowly, teasingly push forward, the thick head of his cock parting your slick folds and sinking inch by tortuous inch into your tight heat.

"Joel!" you gasp, your nails sinking down on the soft expanse of his broad back as you take in his girth, walls clenching and fluttering around his size.

Joel's breaths come in harsh pants against your skin as he fights the urge to bury himself to the hilt in one thrust.

"Y'are so fucken tight" he grits out, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Don't wanna hurt you, my little fawn. But ya' feel s' good, sweet girl. S' perfect 'round ma' cock."

You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, using the leverage to rock your hips up against his, taking him a little deeper with each desperate roll. He's impressed by your hunger, your desire fueling further his consuming own.

"Joel" you mewl, voice breaking with need, "I can take it, please, I promise. I just need all of you, Joel. Please, fuck me hard and deep until I can't think of anything but the feeling of your cock inside of me"

With a feral growl, Joel surrenders to your plea, slamming his hips forward to bury himself to the hilt inside you. A scream that sounds like his name tears from your throat at the sudden, intense sensation of all of him devouring your from inside, your body convulsing with the force of his thrust.

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that shake the bed frame and echo through the room. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin mingles with the sounds coming out of your mouths.

"Please, please. I wanna come, please"

Tears well in your eyes at the insistence that rocks your body. Joel's eyes widen, perhaps in surprise, this new and strange, yet, his cock twitching makes this all the more intriguing. Arousing even.

"S' you cryin' over my cock?"

You deny it, but the salty trails have started to pool down your cheeks, your prettu fluttering eyelashes damp. Joel gulps, feeling blood rushing to his cock again.

"Don't worry, little fawn" doesn't know why but his tongue runs across your tear-smeared face, the taste of your damp skin, musk and sweat strong, make his mind go numb. "I think ya' look pretty when ya' cry"

Joel feels your velvet walls starting to flutter and clench around his pistoning cock, signaling your coming climax. He doubles his efforts, slamming into you with a wild, primal intensity that steals your breath away.

"That's it, sweet girl" Joel growls, voice ragged with lust as he feels your body tensing beneath him. "Come for me, y/n. I wanna feel you comin' undone on ma' cock, screamin' ma' name as I fill you up nice"

You're a sight to savor in, like basking the first rays of sunlight on the morning. Like his bitter coffee on his favorite mug. But you're sweet on the inside and the outside, he thinks as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing merciless circles over the sensitive nub. Joel is lost on you, he's aware, as he leans down to capture your lips in a consuming kiss. He just wants to have all of you, day and night, body and soul, in and out, because just a taste, and he's gone down the deep saccharine trails of your neck and quivering heart.

Your back arches as the pleasure becomes too intense to bear, your body convulsing uncontrollably as your climax crashes over you. You scream his name, you think, lost in a sea of desperate pleas and incoherent whimpers spilling from your lips.

Joel hilts himself deep inside you as your walls spasm and milk his cock, your release triggering his own, followed by a grunt akin to surrender, perhaps. To you, now fully his. This is the end, he thinks. Now, he's truly yours. God help her, the townsfolk say when you tell them Joel's your man, but when a hoarse shout of your name comes out of his mouth, pulses hot and hard as he grinds against you, you think this is all you need.

Fuck it.

This is what it feels like.

Joel collapses onto you, his bigger softer body blanketing you as he struggles to catch his breath.

"My sweet girl" he coos, peppering your face with soft kisses, his hands roaming over your curves with a gentle, reverent touch. You can feel his heart pounding against your own, when he whispers, voice low and sated. "Mine"

You can't help but laugh in awe. "Yes, Joel. Yours"

He props himself up on his elbows, his brown eyes searching yours with a tenderness that makes your heart skip a beat. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on the delicate line of your jaw.

"I know I said I was scared, before. That I've tried to push you 'way. God, y'are stubborn, know that? 'M just glad you ain't a quitter"

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss that makes your heart leap. It tastes bitter like grains and whiskey, but sweet with love and devotion. It's not only a spark between your lips, another of many, but a promise, burning with the same intensity the old coffee pot heats his coffee in the morning.

"Y'are my everything, y/n" your name pronounced like never before. Now ever since.

A heart. A home.

"So are you, Joel" his name in a fervent whisper. Born to be said like a prayer.

And for the first time in so long, Joel Miller feels the same thing he felt when he held Ellie close. I've got you, babygirl.

dts: @joelscowgirl ⋆˚✿˖°

Hope.

Not because he was useless, quite the contrary: he had big hands that seemed to repair anything he came across and skills that still harbored that deadly strength from his smuggler days, despite the occasional strain on his back and being deaf on his right ear.

It was because he was such a dick to you.

Why? You just didn't know. You did know he had quite the temper and wouldn't talk more than needed with those he wasn't close. Being an unprovoked asshole to you? Totally unnecessary.

So, when Tommy Miller, his brother, came up with the brilliant idea of pairing you up for patrolling amid the harsh weather, you obviously weren't jumping about it.

"Couldn't you wait for it to calm down?"

"You mean spring?" Tommy snorts.

"Or change partners"

"Ah, there it is. That's the real reason, isn't it?" the younger Miller chuckles.

"Both"

He shakes his head. "Right"

"Give me a reason why you paired me with him and not Carol?"

Carol was your usual patrol partner. While not the closest, something akin to friendship had blossomed with all the time spent together.

You see his face remain still, trying not to give away anything.

"No" you deadpan. "Don't tell me it's some corny shit like wanting us to bond"

You didn't feel like trying to make supposed amends with a man who kept pointing out all your mistakes every time you interacted. Or not even mistakes, since everything you ever did seemed to annoy him so much.

You're too reckless.

You breath too loud.

You're not s'pposed to do it that way.

Can you focus and stop actin' like a child?

You oftentimes blamed it on the age difference, but when Franklin, the also sixty year old man who moved in next door quickly became the best neighbor you've had in your whole life, you've come to a simple conclusion.

Joel Miller is the problem.

"What? Can't believe a man for believing in Christmas miracles"

You huff. "You know it's going to take more than that for your brother to like me"

Tommy smiles like he knows something you don't.

"Joel is an easy man"

You cross your arms, bothered. "If words meant the opposite"

"I promise he'll behave. I'll warn him" he raises his hands in surrender.

"And how about you warn him not to come at all?"

"Nice try" Tommy sighs, albeit the amused smirk on his lips. "Two days from today. You leave early in the morning to avoid any storms. Be punctual, Joel doesn't like waiting"

"Is there anything he likes?"

Tommy doesn't answer, instead, flashes you a boyish grin before parting.

"Good luck, y/n!"

Yeah, you'll need more than that to stand Joel Miller for a whole day.

Despite your annoyance, you arrive on time like Tommy advised. It's no surprise Joel is already there.

"You're late"

You bite back the good morning you had reserved all your strength for.

"Maybe you're too early. It's seven"

"Seven and one"

God, why did he have to be so irritating? If being bothersome was a competition, he'd beat all Jackson fair and square.

"Rounded, still seven" you reply.

"Don't you know how to count?"

"Maybe your watch is broken" you counter, annoyed.

He doesn't answer to that. Slings his backpack and rifle in silence, then gives you his back.

"Let's go"

The trail is filled with tension, where any word that comes out of your mouth may end in needless nonsensical bickering.

When you do a stop to eat, you try not to stare.

Ever heard of the the more you hate someone, the more attractive he is? maybe you were just making up phrases to justify your reckless thinking. Liking Joel Miller when he did everything but treat you like a normal person? Right, cool.

But it's hard.

Because he's handsome. The worn type of handsome. Living in the middle of an apocalypse didn't give much time to discover what your tastes were like, but after living in Jackson and seeing Joel on the flesh, you realize, you may like older men: with their greying hair and weathered faces. And Joel didn't only have that but also big muscles turned soft yet still strong, intimidating rough voice and cold brown stare that turned honeyed if you were on the end of his affection. It could be that constant clash of the tenderness hiding under grief, trauma, rage and years of surviving that kept you on edge.

Maybe it was less spiritual than that and you just wanted to fuck him.

"Manners"

You leave your little train of thought. Almost choke on your food under his tone and cutting stare.

"Huh?"

"I said manners" he repeats, a bit sharp.

"I'm not eating with my mouth open?"

Maybe your flushed face gives you away. It would be so much easier to hate him with all that dry treatment, but no, you had to find this asshole attractive. The horses tied a few meters away neigh with disapproval.

"Don't ya' know it's rude to stare?"

So he had seen you then. Great. But you're not known for backing down, especially when it comes to Joel Miller.

"You should now. How else would've you know I was staring if you hadn't been staring back too?"

He looks taken back by your answer. But he's quick to recover.

"I'ont need to stare back. Jus' felt yours burnin' a hole on my back"

You avert your gaze, continuing the conversation a futile effort.

"Maybe you just want me staring back" you huff under your breath.

He doesn't answer to that.

Thanks to that little interaction, the rest of the road gets worse. You pretend none of it happened, eyes trained on the ground, and Joel pretends not to steal brief glances at you whenever he scans the surroundings.

"See anything bad?" you ask during one of those.

He just stares at you.

"Okay" you raise your hands in mock surrender, trying not to fall from your horse. "Felt right into that one"

The ghost of a smirk graces his lips before he returns his gaze to the road ahead.

After a few more hours, you finally make it to the cabin. Discovered a few years ago, there's a journal inside to log entries and a few things in case of an emergency.

"That would be all, right?"

He grunts in response. Bends to write his name on the journal and what you've patrolled, grunting again.

You can't help but ask: "Back?"

"Shut up" he replies without looking at you. "Damn young people"

"Geez, what a great humor you have" you snort. "Today's been an easy patrol, hasn't it? Relax"

"Relax?" he replies the word back like an insult. "That'll get you killed"

You hear the horses neigh loudly outside. Your muscles grow taut, pulling your gun out. He pulls his rifle too.

"See? Told ya'"

Even when you might be in danger, he just has to gloat on the fact he's right.

"Arrogant dick" you mutter when he walks ahead.

But the open door reveals to frightened horses all by themselves. So he looks around, and when his eyes land on the sky above, he clicks his tongue.

"You just had to talk, didn't you?"

A storm ahead. You should probably be worried but can only focus on the way the wind ruffles his greying hair and the deep wrinkles on his sun-spotted forehead as he frowns.

"Right, because I control the weather"

"No, 'cause you're bad luck"

There's no other option but going inside. You pull the horses to what used to be a garage and lock yourselves in what appears to a dreadful long night.

Next to Joel Miller nonetheless.

"I'm not. Everything was going well"

"Until y'opened your damn mouth" he bickers. "Always openin' it, you loud mouthed brat, without thinkin' on the consequences"

"What the fuck is your problem" you bark back, raising your voice. "Why are you acting like I sent the goddamn storm our way!"

He probably realizes how stupid this all is.

"I ain't wanna fight"

But you aren't taking shit. "No, Joel. Explain it to me. Why am I such a bother to you?"

"Look-"

Now he wants to be the bigger person? Fuck this.

"Don't pretend you aren't annoyed just by the mere existence of me" you argue with the intensity of the wind howling outside. "Because it seems all I do is such a bother to you!"

"Fine" he relents, standing up. He towers over you, and his voice is so sharp and cutting, all your body goes rigid; bracing. You don't know for what. Does he want to intimidate you? He's doing a great job at it. "You wanna know why?"

There's a knot in your throat and the beat of your heart yet you ask anyway.

"Yeah"

"Because you're fucking reckless, throwing yourself to danger. But's 'cause you're young, thinkin' you're invincible. And one day, God forbid, you'll get yourself killed" he makes a pause, like he's debating wether to continue or not. "And I'ont wanna see the day that comes"

You don't know how to answer to that, so you throw in a jab.

"Don't act like you'd care if that happened"

He chooses wisely and doesn't add more.

"We should get settled" Joel changes the subject. "We will be here for a while"

You nod, but you're restless, impatient. The proximity is suffocating.

"What time is it?"

He raises his wrist. "Broken watch"

You snort. "So I was right?"

Joel may not answer but he gifts you a rare smile.

"Don't get greedy. Might be the only time"

To your smile or to being right? You shake the thoughts out.

"I'll go check upstairs. Stay here"

"Let me come with you" he turns around to give you a stare. "What? No one is up there, c'mon. Maybe just the ghosts of those who lived and died here"

"Poetic" he counters, sardonically.

The creak of the old stairs is the only sound to be heard as you make it to the second floor. Joel opens each of the three doors slowly until the main bedroom is the only left. The knob is stuck, so he kicks it open.

You peak inside and-

"Wow. You were right" you walk inside. "There's only bed. So scary"

"It is the only bed though"

You don't know what it is of his tone that send shivers down your spine. He's just stating a fact: the rest of the rooms were raided long before Jackson found it. Only this bedroom remained untouched (as untouched as something in the apocalypse could be), probably due to the stuck door and how people were in a rush to be bothered to take it down.

"I can sleep on the floor" Joel says before you get a chance to speak. "There's some sleepin' bags on the closet downstairs, I reckon"

"I won't let you" you counter. "Not with that back"

He sighs, bothered. "Will you stop with the back thing?"

"We can share" you blurt out before you get the chance to think it through.

Joel gulps. Looks at the bed, then at you.

"M'... Would ya' be okay with that?"

You shrug, trying to pretend nonchalance when your heart beats so loud you're sure he can hear it.

"Positive. We can just... divide it. Each on our sides. Tommy said there were blankets too"

"Like he knew this would happen" Joel snorts.

"He isn't an oracle, Joel"

"No, he's just a damn manchild stickin' his nose where he shouldn't"

You're not exactly sure what he means but you don't ask either.

"It isn't completely dark yet" you glance out the window and the few view the storm allows.

What should we do? Hangs in the air. But you don't trust your mouth to speak, not when your brain is clogged and your common sense is drunk just with his smell: wood, sweat and his natural musk.

Dear God.

"Any idea?"

"Talking?"

Joel smirks. "With us, that means bickerin'"

You laugh, albeit the circumstances. "You don't have any alcohol on you?"

He looks at you then sighs, taking a flask out. Gives you an expression that reads How did you know?

"Now we can talk. Don't you see? Alcohol is the best mediator"

The flask is almost empty and the light is long gone. The light Joel set iluminates partly his features, and wether be the buzz on his veins or the fact you've been talking for three hours without fighting, Joel looks actually relaxed: shoulders dropped, posture open and one or two occasional laughs. You didn't ever think you'd get this sight for yourself.

Or an actual conversation: first clipped sentences, and now, a full blown chat. Joel talks, and drunk, a lot. About Tommy, Maria and Kevin. About his patrol partners or Dina. About Ellie, even if his voice strains a bit and he looks away from your face.

"I wonder why we always fight" as you stare at the ceiling, laying down, feet dangling from the bed. Joel sits on the opposite side, on the border, carefully on the edge, like any closer contact would mean trouble.

"Maybe 'cause we're so different"

"Don't opposites attract?" you ask out loud.

Joel coughs on his drink but regains his composture pretty quick.

"Yeah, but don't think you and I go that way"

You feel a little dejected at that. Jesus, get a grip.

"We have one or two things in common"

He looks amused at the opening debate. "Like what, bickerin' like an old married couple?"

"See? Love"

Joel looks away, but you swear you see red coming up his neck.

"You need help"

"So, fighting. That's one thing"

He passes you the flask. "Drop it"

"I will, but picture this" you take a sip and give it back. "You and me. On a fight"

"You think you can take me?" Joel chuckles as he takes a swig of the flask, the sound deep and raspy; unsettling for your nerves. He takes a look at you, up and down. "Nah, too small"

A drop falls off his lips. Joel licks it while still looking at you. This old motherfucker.

"I'm not a helpess twig who breaks in two" you huff, face heating up. "I've had my fair share of experiences"

"In Jackson?" he mocks with a snort. "Right"

"There's enough to find when you look for it"

"I don't believe you"

"Sounds to me like you're jealous" you're quick to retort.

He rolls his eyes. Takes another sip before passing it to you. You ignore the tingle down your back at just the brush of your fingers. Control yourself, you horny idiot!

"You wish. It's not happenin', told ya' already"

You are feeling rather restless today.

"Why? Is it the age difference?" you ask as you sit up, looking at him. "It's the end of the world, Joel. No one cares anymore"

He looks at his hands when he speaks again. "I reckon I told you is 'cause we're different"

You're feeling devious today. Full of boredom, mischief and oh, so needy. The weather should make you cold but you're hot: your patience for Joel Miller has run dry as you realize you've never wanted anyone else as much as you want him. Could be the odds against or how, despite fighting, the tension was nothing but a stretch of what could happen if you let the fire burn.

"Are we?" you take the last sip, savoring the burn of the aged whiskey. You let a drop fall over your lips. Then, smoothly and while holding his gaze, you roll your tongue across them, as if it were a lip balm you're applying.

You see his throat bob, breath hitching. That makes you gain some confidence as you crawl to the edge where he's sitting as you place behind his back.

"Because to me, Joel" you extend your hand, tracing his arm with light fingertips, "you're like every other men"

Joel groans when he feels your hand wrap around his cock. It grows hard under your touch, painfully tight under the worn jeans.

"So easy to arouse" you continue, pulling down his zipper. His breath turns ragged as his body tenses. Still, he doesn't stop you. "So easy to provoke under just a single touch"

"W-what are you doin', silly girl?" he grunts, words strained.

"Proving my point"

You palm over the cloth of his boxers. It's big.

"A-and what is that?" Joel asks, and you can see how he fights for some sense to bleed in the cracks of his desire. By the looks of it, maybe he just wanted you as much as you did right now.

A mischiveous smile adorns your lips. "That you and I do go the same way"

His hand shots out to grab you, and before you get the chance to react, he's grabbing a fistful of your hair.

"Then don't stop"

Heat pools in your stomach at his gravely low voice and the command spoken, making your body tingle. You pull down his briefs, encircling about half of his thick length, fingers struggling to meet the whole size.

"Told ya' so" Joel grunts, hips rocking slightly as he fucks into the hold of your hand. "Can't take me, sugar. I'm too big for ya"

He gets up, despite his erection.

"Joel-" you whine.

He chuckles darkly. "'S okay, sweetheart. I ain't going nowhere. Just be a good girl an' move for me, yes? Under me, that's right"

Once his body is over yours, he reaches down with his hand, roughly palming your cunt through the fabric of your panties. He feels your dampness, given away too by the damp patch in the middle.

"Does it hurt?" you nod, biting your lips to hide a whimper. "Don't worry, baby. I'll help ya' with that. Let's see if you're all bark and no bite"

Joel keeps rubbing your clothed slit with his touch, making you arch your back, hips bucking in the air to meet his thick fingers.

"But I'll ask, 'cause I got manners. Ya' want this?"

You nod, frantic.

"Words, baby" he clicks his tongue. Tugs your panties down, your dripping folds out in the open. "I wanna hear ya' say it"

"J-Joel" you whimper his name, hating how quick he's gotten control. "P-please"

"Please what?" Joel mocks, fingers delving between your slick cunt, his thick digits wet. "Want me to fuck this needy pussy until you can't breath?"

He circles your entrance, teasing you before the dive.

"Where's your voice now, loud mouthed brat?" it's like your brain has gone through a shortcut. "I wanna hear you beg for it, baby. Beg like ya' really want this dick to split you in half"

The rumble of his voice when he demands, along with his movements drive you insane.

"Yes, Joel. Fuck me please!"

"Good girl, doll. Don't ya' worry, you're in good hands" he smirks at your desperate plea. "Gon' stretch this tight pussy until I ruin you for any other man"

You squirm at his words and touch. He had a filthy mouth and skilled fingers: the older man was, if anything, a pleaser.

When this patrol started, the last thing you imagined was the storm outside and Joel Miller's sturdy body over yours as he circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, feeling every throb he elicits from touch.

"You think you're ready for the real thing now, honey? I hope you ain't backtracking"

He gets rid of his jeans and then his briefs, placing himself over you again. The pulsing thick head of his dick brushes against your entrance as his forehead clashes with yours.

"We shouldn't do this, should we?" he teases. You tremble beneath him, lips parted. "I'm supposed to be the bigger person here, call ya' out for bein' out of your goddamn mind" he purrs. "But you're so pretty, and you were right. I am a man after all"

"So now" his hand slides from your pussy, making you whine at the loss. He licks your juices with a quick move of his tongue, the rest cleaned against the soft part of his inner thigh. Then, he rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, wrist shooting out to grip your wrist tightly to keep you in place. "I want you to take a deep breath for me, 'kay? This might hurt"

He's so close you can hear all his grunts and groans of effort, hot breath ghosting over your eyelashes in a vapor of desire. He's so warm and broad like the wood he carries and sharp like the axe he uses to cut it.

His thumbs rub lazy circles into your skin as he lines himself up. "Ready?"

You nod, even if you aren't.

"Be obedient, doll, and hold still. Think you can do that?"

He grinds his cock against your soaked folds, letting you feel every thick inch of him.

And then, pushes.

At first, you can't breath, and then the first gasp of air tears through you like a cut; shattered. You feel your body stretch around his thick shaft, every inch making your muscles tense as your tight walls try to adapt to his size, making space for him inside your warm folds.

But it's too much. He's too everything: too big, too thick and too deep inside you. Or maybe, that's just how it feels.

"Good girl" he praises against your earlobe in a low, approving tone. bites it softly before licking the area. It tastes salty, like the heat and sweat that start to condense on your skin and the room. You gasp for air, moaning a bit. "Easy, baby. You're doing so well, stretching this tight little cunt for me"

You wish you could speak and reply some sexy one-liner or snarky comeback, but it's like you've lost the ability to speak. All you can think off is the heat radiating off your bodies, the smell of your shared sweat and the inebriating smell of his arousal mixed with yours.

"Don't worry, I ain't impatient. Can wait for ya' to take me before movin' to the good part" he growls. "But you're such a needy little thing, aren't you? Need my big cock to feel good"

You feel your thighs trembling as you still try to accommodate him. You feel so full; he's everywhere.

"I- I just wanna keep warm" you manage to breath out, feeling every vein and pulse of his, throb and searing pain of your own as your cunt flutters with just the small shift of your body, trying to puff put some air.

"Warm?" he laughs, the grip on your hips growing tighter. You squirm at the sound and how the rumble echoes through your pussy. His cock then pulses inside you again as he pushes just a fraction deeper in you. He shifts above you, hips rolling slightly. "Wanna know what I think? I think you just wanted an excuse to get me to fuck you and got real creative"

You moan, hole clenching around the thick size. Joel's hips surge forward as he starts to drive his cock into your drippingcunt. It's too intimate: in the middle of the woods, his girthy dick buried inside you, unmoving. The pressure and the fullness, his closeness. You can see the grey of his beard or count the sun spots on his face and feel every breath he takes.

"Now, let's get to the good part" his hips roll in shallow thrusts, balls pressed against your ass.

He robs a breathless whimper out of you. God, the sounds you make and your lips... He might die if you keep up like that. And your walls, gripping him like a vice... Joel groans into your mouth, but still can't find the courage to kiss you.

Of course Joel would fuck you with powerful driven strokes, every pump of his shaft strong and deep. He grits his teeth, fighting the urge to come. God knows he isn't exactly active anymore nor young, and with your warm cunt, so wet and tight, it's becoming harder.

"Fuck, baby. You grip me like you don't wanna let go"

Joel feels his balls tightening, dick throbbing inside you with each pump of his cock, edging closer to his high. But he wants this to last, afraid the rational side of you will realize: What the fuck are we doing?

It's hard to remember you hate each other when you're sharing the only one bed there is and he's fucking you in it, dick nestled deep inside you.

"I wanna hear your voice, baby" he demands, his hips rolling faster. "Tell me how it feels"

Your walls flutter as he drives faster, yet Joel pulls back, leaving just the tip of his cock nestled inside you, edging you.

"Wait a little baby, I need'a feel you. Don't come on my cock 'til I say so" he instructs with the same steadiness you've seen him command around Jackson. No matter his age, Joel was a man who inspired and demanded respect.

"D-don't make me beg for it" you drag the words, huffing for air.

"Maybe only then I'll give you such. That way I know ya' really want it"

Joel groans, clenching his jaw as the knot on his tummy becomes unbereable. He needs to come inside you, a primal feral need to fill you silly and paint your walls with his cum.

"Please, Joel. D-don't tease me" your cunt squeezes his dick that grinds against your sensitive spot.

"I ain't teasing" he murmurs. "Jus' wanna hear you. Say it and I'll do it"

"I want to come on your cock, Joel" every word pours out of you, set ablaze with need. I want you to fill me"

"Perfect, baby. See? Easy" his voice is strained with the effort of holding back his release. "Now I'll give you exactly what you want, and ya' better not waste a single drop"

His body draws up close, pushing closer to the edge. He feels your desperation, hear it in the way your breath comes in short gasps for air. Joel feels his climax building and yours too, with his cock pulsing inside your fluttering walls.

"Please, Joel. I need to come" you beg with such a soft voice, his heart trembles. How could he ever deny you anything? When you're this high, needy and pliant. Pleading to be filled, asking oh, so sweetly for permission.

The storm rages outside, and inside the cabin, Joel delivers one final thrust, burying his cock to the hilt, hip crashing against your clit as your clenching walls spams around his shaft. Your back archs as you come undone with a whisper of his name, a silent scream buried in the regrets you'll have later.

Joel's own release comes as he feels your greedy cunt milk him. His thrusts become sloppy and erratic as your body shudders while he chases his own pleasure.

His orgasm leaves him feeling weak as his cock throbs and jerks, his seed exploding inside you with strength as he grunts, filling you spurt after spurt, making sure none of his release drips out of you.

"Joel-" you whimper his name amid your drowsiness.

"I'm here"

He sounds so sure when he says it. Like he means it.

"D-don't go" you say, feeling rather desperate for no reason, chest heaving and eyes dropping. Your head is dizzy and you feel your body shutting down, but you know that you want his warmth with you. Or maybe more. Him. All of it.

But the confession dies on your lips as his dick starts to soften inside your soft and warm walls. He makes no effort to move, and neither do you.

"Where? We got right what we wanted" he smiles lazily, removing strands of hair from your face. The world outside goes quiet, and the only noise inside your head full with question for later gets drowned with his soft, almost reverent touch. "To keep warm"

You walk into the set, cameras flashing bright and the band playing on the back. You hug Jimmy Fallon, and when he notices your body trembling he tells you everything will be alright. So did your manager before you stepped inside, but you can't help the nerves. You've never been this big before, and now it's all coming down together without letting you breath.

You take your seat and so does Jimmy.

"Hello, Y/n. This is your first time here, right?"

"Am I being too obvious?" you snort. The crowd laughs with you.

"Don't worry. It happens, especially when you're so young"

"Oh, please" you blush. "I can promise you there are kid actors who could handle this better than I am right now"

"Kid stars?" he lets out one of his famous cackles. "No need to be humble. You are great! Let's just talk about the year you've had: big breakout roles, ascend to fame, you're rocking it!" the crowd cheers, and you again turn into a flustered mess.

"Yeah, I suppose. It's hard to dimension when you've started as an extra for popular shows, to now being, you know, the main face of projects. But I could get used to it" you smile, "it's been a dream. I still can't believe it sometimes, look- I'm shaking"

The camera pans closer to the hand you're showing to Jimmy.

"Oh my God, even big stars like you get nervous"

"Big star? I wish I could feel like a constellation. I'm feeling more like a red dwarf star, baby"

The whole place bubbles in laughter. You feel better, your manager even giving you a thumbs up from behind the cameras.

"So, Y/n" Jimmy says once the laughter dies. "You just got casted in the upcoming Gladiator II movie, directed by Ridley Scott. How does it feel to be on your first big movie, alongside names like Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington and Pedro Pascal?"

You try to steady your heartbeat. "First of all, I have to say, it's such an honor to work with Scott. I grew up watching his movies. Like, Thelma and Louis is definitely my go-to movie. So, like, getting paired with such a talented cast is as awesome as terrifying" you answer with a laugh.

"Talking about that, you see" he leans closer, like he'll tell a secret. "I've heard things about you and a certain future co-star of yours"

You shift your position on the couch, your ring(less) finger itching. You have to avoid breathing in relief when Jimmy pulls out a picture.

"Oh. My. God"

He stiffles a laugh. No way. Has the room's temperature suddenly gotten hotter? Why is your face burning?

"Will you tell us the story behind this?" he asks, the camera focusing on the picture in question. The audience laughs, and you pray to God this is a nightmare, because it's too much embarrasment for a human to bear.

"Okay" you clear your throat, coughing awkwardly. "For my 25th birthday, I uploaded a bunch of pictures on Instagram, including ones where I was a teenager" you begin to giggle, "So. Um, there was this one, you see, that's, me, in my childhood home's bedroom, and my fans were quick to notice the poster above my bed"

"You mean, this one?" and Jimmy points it out. You cover your face with your palms. "It's a... Narcos poster" the audience laughs as you get redder. "A Pedro Pascal's Narcos poster"

"I know" you groan. "Picture this: me 18, and while my friends had posters of their favorite bands and artists, I was so different because I had a whole ass poster of a crime drama show about the world's most famous drug dealer on my bedroom" you recall with a laugh. "It was hard to explain to my mom. I believe she thought I wanted to sign for the DEA or something. When I told her I was going to be an actress, she was so relieved! She said: Oh, well. You'll die, but of hunger! Not a bullet in your head, at least"

"Oh. I'm so sorry. You proved her wrong though!"

"I did! Don't worry, Jimmy. She's my biggest fan now" you look at a specific camera before saying, "Te amo mami!"

"I see you speak spanish. I sometimes forget" he comments. "You've got one thing in common with Pedro, it seems. Think that'll make working with him less awkward?"

"I just hope he forgives me or I'm capable of moving out of the country and changing names" you giggle. "Pedro, lo siento!"

"Well, that's Y/n L/n, everyone! Pedro Pascal's number one fan" you burst out laughing in shame. "More on her lastest movie after the break"

mandoshoney: tell me i'm not the only one who started shipping pedro pascal and y/n l/n PLEASE can't wait to get content of them interacting ㅤㅤann-gell: mandoshoney y/n's pedro pascal's controversially young gf era starts now! i wonder how the press tour for #gladiatorII will go 🤔 unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they are dating ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess ptwt can never tweet like normal ppl…wdym you're betting your grandma?!!!?

You were never a fan of secrets.

But then Pedro waltzed into your life with his charming smile and iconic mustache, and before you knew it, you had married him off in some church in California one random sunday morning ("I love you so much, can't wait to marry you, cariño" "If you can't wait any longer, why not now?")

Flash forward, four years later, and you'd think such event would be plastered all over the internet. But there is a reason why only you, family, a selected number of friends and your agents knew: you kept it a secret.

To the world, he was Chile's most elegible bachelor and you were a young rising star. The public loved both of you for the same reasons: charming persona and acting skills. Yet inside the privacy of your home, he was Pedro and you were y/n, wife and husband; he was yours as you were his.

And of course, no marriage is perfect, and your first real challenge is rather funny: you both get casted in your first movie together.

It shouldn't be hard, but it is. Being inside the Gladiator II set during seven months, so far away yet so close at the same time, was torture. You were Rome's empress and he's Marcus Acacius, yet behind the scenes, the actual married couple were you both.

It was hard to pretend you didn't know what he looked like without clothes when he wore his bathing suit, or that you didn't know his favorite food when Paul asked, or acting like you weren't interested in dating when a local in Malta during your trip at the beach asked you out (he didn't know who you were. You were flattered when he called you pretty in such a hot European accent, but then Pedro appeared from seemingly "nowhere" and you remembered what your real favorite accent was. He immediately called you bonita after that)

It was so hard to keep hands to yourself when he walked by you, covered in fake blood. To not think about licking it all over and under his armour. So was to pretend the thought of dry humping him with his Roman skirt on wasn't tempting. Or that the urge to kiss him got harder and harder to fight each passing day, even getting to a point where you would envy Connie for being able to kiss your husband in the open more, a privilege you didn't have.

You were loosing your mental health here. But Pedro was no better.

It was so hard to see you, the Moroccan sun shining over your features like you were an angel. Otherworldly. That he'd see red when you'd finish filming a scene with Joseph, forcing himself to interrupt the small chat you'd engage in after. He too couldn't keep pretending he didn't want to tear off those silk dresses out of your body, and kiss you out in the open like Joseph did.

He almost failed once, cornering you in the hallway of the hotel you were staying. His hot breath lingered on your neck. I miss you, he had said. You felt his hard brush the inner of your thigh. We can't, you whispered in a dragged out voice.

It was hard.

So you gave him your used panties, and you swear you could hear him jacking off in the bathroom of his room, next to yours. He'd screamed your name, and your hand had found it's way to your dripping cunt, doing what he was supposed to do; touching you the way he did. And you came, drowned out moans against your pillow. But it wasn't like when he did it.

But God has heard your prayers.

For the first time in weeks, you're lucky. You find Pedro sitting alone in the cafeteria, his phone in hand. He's still wearing his armour and skirt, not bothering to change for the break. You aren't God's strongest soldier, but you're trying not to go down on him so badly right here and now.

"Hey" he raises his head when he hears your voice, smile adoringly. It only grows wider when he notices you alone. "Thought you'd never get rid of Paul. He's like, stitched to you"

"Same can be said about you and Joseph" you sit across him, and despite most of his tone being playful, there are still hints of jealousy behind. It arouses you deeply, and with this hot summer day above you, your skin isn't the only thing that's getting sticky.

"In case you haven't read the script, I'm his wife" you wink. "Sorry this is how you find out"

He laughs loudly, and God, how have you missed that laugh. Sure, it's been there when you've been out with the cast together, but it doesn't tingle your chest as when you're the cause of it; it feels like it's for you only, and that's what makes it special.

"I miss you so much" he whispers, his hand sliding across the table, finding yours. His thumb carresses your soft palm, and you melt under Pedro's tender touch.

"I do too" you sigh, but it's instantly replaced by what could only be described as a smug face. You lean closer, whispering on his ear, the warm meeting cold. He shivers. "Wanna know something?"

"I'm all ears"

"I just came back from walking. Guess what?No one is 'round here" you lean back against your chair, shit-eating grin on your face as all his body tenses up. "Made sure of it. The trailer zone is empty too"

Pedro gulps, his adam's apple bobbing as his eyes look at you.

"Y/n" calling your name as a warning.

"What? Can't a girl find ways to have her husband all for herself?" you snort. "Please say yes" you let go of his hand, but the free fingers now travel across his broad chest, taunting him. "C'mon, we both deserve a break"

He can't say deny you anything, can he? You know it, he knows it.

Before you register, his big hand engulfs yours as you run across the set. You giggle at his rushed steps, even more when you stand before his trailer and he's fumbling his slippery hands with the doorknob, sloppy movements erratic.

"But you told me to stop" you tease, and he doesn't even let you add more because he's pushing you inside, forcing you with rough calloused hands to a chair and then you to sit over his lap.

"Fuck, babygirl. I've spoiled you way too much" he groans against your lips. "Lo sabes, ¿verdad? Just can't say no to you"

Your eyes darken dangerously, the hunger on them mirroring his own.

"How could you ever say no to this?"

You press your chest against his broad one as your lip bites into his lower one, teasing. Pedro feels his underwear getting tighter when your tongue finds its way inside his mouth, even getting a glimpse of the taste of the strawberries you had earlier before.

He deepens the kiss, and when you pull away to catch your breath, he doesn't waste his lonely mouth and busies himself with the task of kissing your sun-kissed neck, licking and pressing his lips under your jaw. Pedro goes even lower, down until he's reached your collarbone, making you groan a bit under his wet sloppy needy mouth. He's enjoying how putty you are under his intense kissing, fingers in his curls, that have begun to damp under the ablaze of the small space and pleasure that fills the air.

"Kiss me again in my lips" you whine after a while of him teasing you with kisses that get only rougher. "Pretty please, papi"

You cup his face in your hands, and Pedro's back to kissing you in the mouth, tasting all of your insides as he hasn't had in what feels like a lifetime.

"Of course, baby. Missed this pretty mouth" he mumbles in between hot kisses, his now growing boner pressing into you.

"Baby" you giggle. The skirt he's got on may hide it, but your fingers refused to wait, pulling it up. His bulge presses against the shorts he's got under the skirt, and you can feel your pussy and mouth drool. "We have to do something about this big boy" your hands pull down the short, leaving just his underwear on. He's about to remove the skirt, but your demanding hands stops him. "This stays"

His brown concerned eyes make you laugh, but you don't give him time to think about it, rather grinding against his erection. Pedro's breath hitches when he feels your daring movements, bucking his hips against yours.

The friction is addicting, and he captures your lips once again to make you feel what he can't with words: how fucking good this feels.

You keep moving over his aching dick. Your husband throws his head back, groaning in pleasure at the way your hips move against him, knowingly. His hands find their way to your ass under the flowy almost translucent skirt you chose to change in, gripping the rosy skin tightly, hands almost covering all of it.

"You wore this for me, right, cariño? Knew I couldn't say no" he groans, firm hands on your cheeks, the grinding meeting his hips now harsher. "Less with you walking around with this slutty skirt of yours"

You make little sounds he's obssesed with, dripping out of your filthy mouth.

"Fuck" Pedro groans after a while, "I need to have you, mami. Missed you so much" eager fingers make it to your top. He growls, deep within him―guttural, ready to pull it off as he mumbles naughty wife when he realizes you got no bra on, chastising you for a "rushed" plan that seemed planned all along, when a sound cuts through the air.

You both stop.

The sound gets clearer.

It's a knock. A knock at his door.

A knock in Pedro's trailer.

And you are inside. Both.

While you're grinding him.

With his skirt on.

(It's time to build a bomb and kill yourselves off and whoever is stading behind that door)

"Pedro!" a familiar accent calls. Peudrou. It's Paul. "Hey, man. Just wondering if you are here"

He's debating on speaking up when he sees your red face and rising-falling chest before him.

"Answer" you whisper breathlessly. He tries not to groan when he fills you slip out of the spot in his middle while also trying not to think about murdering Paul as soon as he gets out.

Aside from the order, you're unexpectedly quiet, and Pedro quirks an eyebrow at you. He knows you better―you're his wife after all, and if there's something he's aware of, is your inability to loose.

"I'm here" tone clipped and annoyed. But no footsteps backtracking are heard: the Irish man is still there.

You bite your lip, watching the skirt with his legs spread, a sight too tempting. Also, he was still hard, as hard as the task to not go and keep doing your job.

Oh, fuck this shit.

Your devilish hand equals the grin in your face, fingers making their way toward his unattended bulge.

"What are you doing here?" Paul asks, but Pedro's attention has completely deviated, now focused on how they land right over his clothed dick, skirt pulled up by your other hand. "I thought you were at the cafeteria"

"Yeah?" but it comes out strained, yet the younger man doesn't notice or comment.

His hips raise when your fingers press his member, massaging it.

"Yeah" he uses a tone that equals a duh. "You texted me yourself"

Pedro rolls his eyes, wishing desperately he would go away, annoying him just as much as a fly hovering above fresh food. Talking about food, fuck, weren't you hungry? He tried to warn you, holding your wrist, but all resolve was lost the moment you looked in his eyes: he immediately pulled down his briefs, dick sprouting hard.

"Well, changed my mind" his tone falters in between words, member now free from the confines of his tight underwear.

"Are you tired, man? You sound tired" Paul comments on his tone. "Came to rest?"

You spit on your hand, and he gulps.

"Somethin' like that"

You start to jerk him off, leaving little wet kisses and licks just above his dick. Pedro's eyes are hypnotized, glued to every lick of yours across his girth, the spit making your movements smoother. Sexier. Fuck.

"Well, sorry to break it to you but rest time is over. They want us back on set now"

Your tight needy lips are wrapped around his his length and it's so hard to keep the talk normal when he justs wants to yell at Paul to fuck off. Your hand is there too; you are as of help as much as you aren't.

"I'll be there, Paul, just―Fuck!"

But his attempt to cover a moan doesn't go unnoticed.

"Are you alright in there?" he tries to enter, but Pedro locked the door. He's yelling he's fine, but Mescal doesn't sound convinced. "I can't go inside; it's locked. Are you sure you are okay, mate?"

"Didn't want you to take a picture of me drooling on my sleep" he manages to get out in a monotone voice. A real win if you take into account you've gotten to a point where you squeeze under his cock, massaging his balls.

"Smart move!" he chuckles from outside. "I guess I'll see you there"

Pedro covers a moan with his palm as he's throwing his head back in pleasure. He can feel his orgams looming over, minstrations growing sloppier around his pulsating cock, the need to fill your greedy evil mouth with his seed making him sick. He's a simple man: he just wants his pretty wife to fuck his cock silly and come in her mouth in peace. Is that so hard to get this days?

Paul seems to be finally gone as Pedro can't keep containing his grunts anymore, steps moving: until said steps sound closer again.

"Oh, I almost forgot, have you seen Y/n? I can't find her anywhere" it's coming. His orgasm is coming in the absolute worst moment. He can feel you gagging at his hard rock cock, hitting the back of your throat now. Still, your hands don't loose their grip on his cock and skirt, determination filling that sexy little body of yours. It was rather admirable the effort you were putting in this. "Think she went to the beach? She said she loved it. God, that little rebel. Anyway, if you see her, tell her-"

He leans his head back once again, seeing stars. No one knows him like his wife, truly.

The sight of you drooling from your chin, the wet sounds of him fucking himself onto your mouth as your spit-coated fingers pump his girth, you gulping down the precum from his tip, his fingers holding your face roughly by the cheeks...

"Yes, Paul, yes!" Pedro barks, barely hiding the moan that erupts from his ribcage, thick shots of his hot cum hitting your tongue and deep of the throath. "Fuck off and let me get ready"

"Jesus, mate, chill. I'm sorry. See you there"

And Paul Mescal's hovering fly ass is finally gone.

"Poor Paul" you say as soon as you pull off his length, voice raspy as you huff for air. Pedro lovingly cleans rests of your saliva and his cum from your chin as he chuckles at how much audacity, courage and horniness could fit in such a small young body. "You've ruined the friendship"

"You think?" he licks off some as you sit on his lap again, tongue directly on your face. You feel aroused again, but time's up. "It's your fault. That and this"

He points down.

"Just as you used that pretty head of yours to think of the trouble you just made, think of an excuse for Mr. Ridley about the skirt"

at0michips: wait wdym paul is sick??? ㅤㅤl-u-n-a-m: at0michips he's died vnightx: i'm wondering who'll do now the do you even know me interview with pedro now :( i was so excited!!! hope they don't cancel it :( ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: vnightx i bet my grandma it's y/n ㅤㅤat0michips: unhing3dprincess why do u keep betting ur grandma omg 😭😭😭

"You know what I think would be fun?" Pedro comments while you wait for the interview's set to be prepared.

Tour press has finally begun. That meant you could go home for a while after the filming wrapped, just to be back for the promotion of the film. You were excited of course, the experience new and thrilling. After much needed battery recharging and husband/wife time, you were ready to take over the world.

But then Paul got sick.

Today's interview was scheduled to be him and Pedro, but since he was unavailable, they paired him with you, since you both spoke Spanish (which felt slightly racist in your opinion), and because Fred and Joseph were already paired up for the other.

You leave your coffee, knowing he's about to say something stupid or endearing, perhaps both, brown liquid probably spilling out of your mouth. Or worst, nostrils.

"Tell me"

"What if we left little hints that we're together?" his smile is one of mischief. "Like you could wear my cap, or I could wear a chain with your initial around my neck, like Ryan Gosling did at the Barbie premiere"

"Or as Taylor Swift sang" you counter. "But Pedro, dear, you're underestimating our fans. You don't think they'll match it sooner than we think?"

"Maybe" he agrees. That's just what I want. "What's funny is we're about to do a type of interview where we could blow our cover"

"Maybe" you repeat, "or maybe you don't know all about me as much as you think, Mr. Pascal"

He fake gasps, feigning hurt. "Is this a dare, Mrs. Pascal?"

"No" you try to be mature for once, cutting the banter as much as you'd like to go on and kiss him right there. "Also, remember to answer incorrectly sometimes, you know..."

"There's no way I'm letting you win though"

"Pedro, no seas necio!"

The producers arrive just in time to let you know it's ready.

"After M'lady" he's back to being charming as he is, not as husband charming but just Pedro Pascal charming. The nerve of this guy to do it in front of the LADbible crew.

"Whatever" you grumble, the nerves getting the best of you as you realize this interview may or may not give away more than you've been allowed before.

"Hello, I am Y/n L/n" you present yourself. Wow, the camera is really close. This isn't going to end well.

"And I'm Pedro Pascal"

Hearing his voice soothes you. It's okay, y/n, you got this. "And this is Do You Really Know Me- No wait, it's do you even know me. Okay, let's start again: Hello, I'm Y/n and this is-"

"I don't even know anymore" Pedro jokes, making you laugh. "Do you even know me?" he asks while looking forward, now making the crew laugh.

"This is Pedro Pascal, that'll do" you sigh.

"This is gonna be sad, she's not going to know any of these" he says, but in reality, he's mocking you, the mischief in his eyes glowing as he only looks at you tauntingly.

"Same can be said about you" you tease, "we're like a million years away"

"That's not true!" he gasps, "I watch your every move" punctuating each word. God, you try not to make a face. "I have Google alerts on you"

If he was gonna play, so were you.

"Glad to know I have you alerted" with the sweetest voice ever, seeing how his friendly façade falters for a bit at the tone you've used. You laugh, and Pedro takes the chance to laugh it off too.

After the introduction, they ask one of you to keep score, and you offer yourself because, well, you don't trust Pedro.

"I'll go first" you say. "Which was my first ever role in the industry? As an extra during an episode of Stranger Things, as a voice actor in A dog's purpose" you can't help but laugh, "or as a back-up dancer in Hustlers?"

"In Hustlers?" Pedro inquires in disbelief. "You're telling me you were in Hustlers?! I didn't even know you could dance!"

Lies. You and Pedro sometimes put some bachata and dance in the kitchen. God bless Juan Luis Guerra.

"Jennifer Lopez and I are practically besties" you answer nonchalant.

You know the answer. He does too. But he chooses the last one for comedic purposes.

"I'll go with Hustlers. Now that I'm looking at you, you do have a... dancer face"

"It's okay, you can say the forbidden word. I'll take it as a compliment" you laugh, "you're wrong, though. The answer is Stranger Things"

"No way!" and it sounds as if he genuinely didn't know. Good lying son of a bitch; Jim Carrey on Liar, Liar would've been proud.

"Yes. If you look in the background of season two, on this one episode where Nancy and Steve appear to have broken up during a halloween party, you can see me drinking from a cup on a corner"

"That's so crazy"

"Yeah, I was twenty already, yet playing a highschooler" you giggle. "Wow, time flies by. Anyway, we're both at zero. Your turn"

"What film did my dad not let me see at the cinema when I was, uh, ten years old?" Pedro reads from his card. "Rambo: first blood, The Breakfast Club, Day of The Dead"

"I'm going to base this in the year you were born. Okay, so 1975. Let's see" one of the things Pedro loves about you is that you're like a film encyclopedia, but right now, that'll cost him a point. "They all came out the same year, and they were also R rated. Hmmh, I'll choose The Breakfast Club"

Your analysis was just mindless bragging really. You knew the answer the moment he started reading the question, because the anecdote came during a time he heard you listening to the movie's soundtrack ("Did you know that my dad...")

"You complain about Paul all the time, but you're just the same" he comments. "She's a real competitor, people!"

You flush in embarrasment. "Okay, that's one for me. Next question" you read the card in your hands. "What pet do I own? An orange cat named Louis after my favorite singer, a fish, or a Shih Tzu named after my brother"

The orange cat lives with you both. You're curious as to how he'll answer.

"You aren't naming a Shih Tzu frickin' Fernando" he laughs, so loud, it ends up catching up to you and the crew. "I'll go with the cat"

"That's correct" you lament. "How would you know?"

As if the damn cat doesn't love him more than he loves you.

"I follow you on Instagram" he defends himself. Clever. "We are, um, what do you call it-"

"Oomfs"

"I'm not gonna try to pronounce your made up language. Okay, my turn. Which of these characters I've played in Saturday Night Live? Naughty daddy, protective mom, or weird uncle who has a creepy sneeze" he reads out loud in a confused tone.

This is easy. It was all over your timeline.

"Protective mom" you answer on a beat.

"This isn't fair, that was really popular!" he complains.

"It's still two for me and one for you" you mock. "Now, what is the nickname the internet has given me? I won't give you clues because it's an easy one"

"Easy? You said we were million of years apart and now I'm supposed to know?"

"Well, you seem to manage Instagram so I think you'll be just fine" you tease, and Pedro just wants to rip that smirk off of you. So he caves in first.

"It's people's princess"

"What?!" your eyes grow comically large, shimmering with betrayal as you shout with an incredulous tone. "I can't believe you know" more like can't believe you said it.

"You're royalty! How am I supposed to not know that, internet darling? Besides, told you: I keep my eye on you" and he winks.

This motherfucker. Oh, he's totally sleeping on the couch tonight.

"Talk about internet darlings" your snarky tone comes out, and Pedro knows he's pissed his competitive wife off. "I guess we have a tie. Your turn"

"What are the initials of my full name?" his brows furrow. "I forget. JBPP, JPBP, JBPP"

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite. "B, of course"

"But that's too easy, everyone with Google knows it!" but then he's leaning into your ear, whispering in a very low voice to make sure only you hear. "I'll let it pass, though. Love hearing you pronounce my name, mami"

Your face grows obscenely red. "I'm back ahead. Let's see if you can keep up. Okay, here it goes" you read the card, "what is the director I've stated I want to work with? Greta Gerwig, Pedro Almodóvar, or Quentin Tarantino"

"Pedro Almodóvar, no? You said you were jealous I had already worked with him" he playfully nudges you. Too much contact, face hot again. Maybe in group interviews you'll do better, because right now, you're doing a rather poor job at controlling yourself, even as an actor; you can already picture your agent pulling her hair behind the cameras.

"It's Greta Gerwig, actually"

"What?! No way, you told me this!" he grumbles. "This game is rigged"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still jealous. I just think working with Greta Gerwig is peak womanhood, and I gotta live that. So, Greta, if for some reason this silly video gets to you, call me. I promise I'm not that childish"

"She is" Pedro slips in, "don't call her. So unprofessional" in a mocking exaggerated tone.

"Whatever, you sore looser. Me three, you two. Next!"

"Fine. Which of these songs would I have played at my funeral? My Heart Will Go On, Purple Rain, Nothing Compares To You"

He looks at you, silently pleading you to not answer correctly. Your competitive side screams in agony.

"I have no idea. Why do I feel you've already said it somewhere, though? I'll go with Nothing Compares To You, because the first its too corny for you and the second too epic"

He scoffs, amused at the fact that you did obey, but at what cost? Pedro's well aware his princess can get as competitive, if not worse, than Paul.

"You're saying I'm not epic enough for Purple Rain? Too bad, because that's the answer" you grunt, crossing your arms. "That's right, I am cool enough to have it played. I guess we're tied again!"

"No, you don't loose a point. It's still three to two. This just gives you the opportunity to tie"

"W-wait a minute"

"Settle down" you pat his thigh, "you can still try, handsome"

He gulps when your hand meets his skin, despite the layer of clothes. It's still something that gets him on edge, no matter the years you've known each other. And handsome? You came here for blood.

"Okay, here's your chance: what image of me became trending topic on twitter? An image of me eating a typical dish from my country, an image of me watching Deadpool and Wolverine with glasses while Hugh Jackman's shirtless scene reflects on them or C, me meeting Taylor Swift at the backstage of the Eras Tour"

"The typical dish is tempting" he muses out loud, "but I'll go with the Taylor Swift one because that sounds like something that'd trend"

"You're right" you throw your card. "I'm not complaining though. Best day of my life"

"Does this mean I'm winning?" he beams excitedly. "Oh, in your face Paul! I will finally win something!"

"Slow down, cowboy. There's still some left"

He purses his lips. "Let me have this one thing, would you? Guess not. Here it comes" he starts to read his card, "At school I competed in state competitions, in which sport? Soccer, lacrosse, swimming"

"Swimming" you answer hastily, trying not to think on Pedro wearing tight little swimsuits, as you've only seen him wearing swim trunks.

"Okay, that's dissapointing. Please continue"

"I participated in which play while I was in highschool? Hamlet, The Iliad or Much Ado About Nothing"

You doubt he remembers. The only time it ever came up, was when you visited your parent's house and a photography of you during said play was showed to him by your dad.

"The Iliad, right?" you laugh. The answer is wrong: It's Hamlet. "What? I swear it was that one! It's just you have very..." beautiful is at the tip of his tongue but he refrains himself, "...very greek features"

You can't help but laugh.

"Why of course! This is a face people go to war for"

"I agree" your heart skips a beat, "but I don't think I'll make it that far, if we talk about a war"

"You big fat liar!" you slap his arm playfully. "You've played all sort of characters, from soldiers of all nationalities and places, and like, superheroes, f*****g Joel Miller, even a DEA agent. You at least learned something!"

"Wow, slow down, this isn't a filmography recount" he jokes. Liar, you mouth to the cameras. "Okay, last one: I became a viral sensation for eating what type of sandwhich in LADbible's snack wars: BLT, PB&J, grilled cheese"

You remember the video fondly. Even your brother had sent it to you, along a text that said: Isn´t this your husband?

"PB&J, I win!" you cheer, instantly getting off the chair to do a celebratory dance. Pedro doesn't say anything, just throwing the cards away while the fondness of his eyes betrays him.

pyramiidsf: i want someone to look at me the way pedro looks at y/n mybritishstyle: guys they're just friends 😭 he's like that with all his female co-stars ㅤㅤann-gell: mybritishstyle me when i'm delusional af mandoshoney: where's that girl that's always betting her grandma??? SHE WAS RIGHTFLKRGJ

"Hello, I'm Paul Mescal. I'm here with my friends from the cast of Gladiator II" Connie and you both raise your palms to greet the camera, laughing when you realize you'd done it at the same time, "and we are going to play a game about how well we know each other for Vanity Fair" the irish man introduces the interview you're filming today.

"Did they prompt you?" Pedro speaks up, "or did you just make that up on the fly?"

You laugh a bit too loud, hoping they cut it off in the editing process.

Paul goes first, taking up a card with the first question written on it.

"Okay. Question: What's my least favorite day of the week?"

"Tuesday" answers Joseph once Paul is done reading. "Oh, you're writing it down?"

"Yeah" he answers.

"You just wrote Tuesday" Connie points out, Paul's card on his legs. You laugh along the rest.

"Yeah" he repeats laughing. "I actually, when you said Tuesday" Yeah, he said Tuesday Pedro adds on the background of laughter. "I was like...I'm gonna give everybody a point for that"

"I think I deserve a point for being observant" Connie complains.

Everyone gets a point and Paul moves towards the next question.

"What was the name of my character in Normal People?"

"Connell" both you and Joseph answer, looking at each other before squinting your eyes playfully.

"Callum" Pedro answers out loud at the same time, and you laugh. He clearly had slept when you played it for a re-watch last summer.

"No, you're out" Paul pokes Pedro next to him.

"Connel" Joseph repeats, and Fred agrees to the same answer.

Paul then asks Connie what's hers after he confirms you three.

"Connor?" she asks, confused.

"Incorrect. Three points" while pointing you three.

"You got wrong" he tells Pedro, "Callum's a different character"

"See? You just don't pay attention when you watch things" you blurt out, stopping yourself before adding the with me. It would be harder to come back from that, but so is this as everyone looks at you, even your husband, subtle panic in his eyes. Where the cameras this close? How long had you been silent?

"It's just, quick funny story" you improvise. "Pedro didn't know much about Paul's career, and as I am a fan, I took the time to show him and recommend him your stuff" Paul smiles. "Clearly, my fanatism didn't rub on Pedro but a girl can try"

He laughs, before saying "So the answer is Connell" and you try so hard to remain normal like the energy hasn't shifted.

"He only plays characters with the letter C in the name" Pedro jokes, chewing on a toothstick he seemingly pulled out of nowhere. More laughs follow, and you are so grateful for how he's handling your little metida de patada.

"What's number one on my bucket list?" he asks next, "and don't look at my answer"

The marker is the only sound to be heard, and then Pedro jokingly tries to take a peek.

"No peeking" Connie berates as Pedro laughs.

"You're not gonna be able to see that" Paul replies in an anyways tone.

You repeat the same joke, before Fred blocks you. "Not you too!"

Paul finishes after a while, Connie commenting it was long. Joseph raises his hand.

"Yes, Joseph"

"Is it to see the Great Wall of China?" he asks.

"No, but it's in that-"

"It's close, isn't it?" you interrupt.

"...family of thought" he finishes.

"It's to go and see something" Pedro points out.

"Okay. Rajasthan" tries Connie. "Go to Rajasthan, for a tour"

"Travel to South America" Paul interrupts with the correct answer, "I've never been to South America"

"I'm from South America" Pedro comments, never missing a chance to shout out his dear Chile.

Paul jokes about him getting three points while the rest of you laugh.

"I was born in South America. 17 points for Pedro"

"I want points too" you jump on the joke. "I know Spanish, so I can take you there and avoid you getting lost, mi querido amigo"

"But who was born there?" Pedro counters, "you get no points"

"I think Joseph is the only person who gets a point there" Paul adds, "because everybody just jumped on the bandwagon"

"He said to visit the Great Wall of China" Pedro protests, "which is nowhere near South America"

"It really is not" Connie agrees.

"Qué gente tan tramposa" you complain. "That's unfair. I remove my offer"

"Think about bucket list, and he came up with travel to bit" he tries to reason Joseph's point.

"And by the way, where in South America?" Pedro questions.

"Don't fight, don't fight" pleads Joseph, the calm one. Fred just sits there, enjoying the chaos.

"I want, any, I want to do a big tour of everywhere" Mescal defends himself.

Pedro doesn't back down. "'Cause it's very different"

Paul starts to get angry too. Jesus, men. Competitive men of it all.

"I know it's very different" making an annoyed face.

"Well, different is nice" you intervene, a hand placing in Pedro's left shoulder. "If you stop giving points for free, I'll come with you to the big everywhere tour"

"Alright" Paul agrees. "When's my birthday?" is the next question.

"February" all of you say.

Joseph struggles with the date first, saying seventh, then fourth. Fred tries with ninth, Pedro with eight, and then Joseph starts counting from one to two. Fred counts from eleven to twelve.

"Second" Mescal reveals. "Point to Joseph"

"Oh my God, you guys are good" Connie mentions.

"That's all my questions" and it's time to move on the next one: which happens to be your dear husband, Pedro.

"Paul is like" he brings up while the toothpick dances on his teeth, "Paul is motivated to catch up on points. He's coming for you" to pick on his competitive side as Mescal looks deep in thought.

"He's coming. He's coming" Joseph repeats as Fred laughs.

"What is my full name?"

"Oh! Pedro-" Paul tries in a blink. "Something, J? Jose? Juan?"

"Pedro Pascal, something, something" says Joseph.

"Nope"

"No?"

"Pedro Maria, Jose Maria Pascal" Paul struggles.

Pedro is about to answer when your voice cuts through the air.

"It's José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite.

"It indeed is!" he says, smiling a bit too much. "She gets a point"

"Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" your husband repeats in a more english-friendly pronunciation, looking at the camera while toying with his toothpick.

"I said Jose, I said Jose" Paul protests.

Pedro shakes his head. "You said Jose, but then you put it-"

Connie takes Paul's side. "You did say Jose"

"But then you put it behind Pedro which eliminate- which disqualified you" he replies.

Paul gets angry. That sore looser.

"That's absolute bullshit"

"Don't worry mate, the game has just begun" you joke, making the man more irritated. "Think you can get ahead of me?"

"Joseph is still ahead, y/n" Paul counters, still irritated. "Besides, wouldn't it be cheating? You can speak Spanish!"

"So? Not like speaking a language allows you to know every person's name Paul" you mock. He just snorts, despite still being half angry. Pedro is allowed to continue, trying not to make a face at yours and Paul's banter.

"The question is, who is my favorite actor?" he reads. As the cast members laugh, he uncaps the marker with his mouth, and now you have to try not to make a face, thinking about those teeth sinking into your flesh.

Quinn raises his hand. "It's me"

"That you're my favorite actor?"

"Yeah. You said that to me once" the bald man sounds sure of it.

Paul tries to think in the background. So do you. How can you not know this? he must've brought it up at least once.

"Do you remember?" Joseph insists.

Pedro finally remembers. "I said you were- I said I thought you were special"

"Oh" he sounds rather dissapointed.

"And special can mean a lot of things" he jokes, laughing by himself. Fred laughs with you as Joseph makes a face, your laughter turning even louder when you notice Paul all moody, trying to get this point.

"Who's your favorite actor?" Paul asks, "I think we just have to shoot from the hip here guys"

"Marlon Brando?" Connie guesses.

"Is it Harrison Ford?" Fred guesses.

"Let's go with Harrison Ford just because he's my favorite actor..."

You can't believe you didn't know this. You've re-watched and watched so many Star Wars content together. He gives you a brief look, knowing you're embarrased at your lack of answer.

"As a kid?"

"He's most influent, yeah" Pedro agrees.

"What job did I have before I became a full-time actor?" is next.

"Dancer. You were a great dancer" Paul aswers. Both Fred and Joseph repeat it, adding he was specifically a go-go dancer.

"Oh, he is" you add. "Videos of you dancing are lovely. Ever thought of getting back in the bussiness?"

He laughs, what appears to be a light blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Sure, darling. When you ask me to dance, I'll be there"

Nobody comments on this, too busy waiting for Pedro to say yes or no to the answer they believe to be right. But he isn't saying it is. Now you remember why.

"Come on, come on, come on" Paul begs.

"Can any of you guys remember?" Pedro pleads.

They insist that he danced in Spain, then New York, then settle with Spain again, even Pedro confirming so. But it still isn't the answer written on the card, no matter how much the boys insist.

"Connie?" he tries. She just looks confused.

"The answer in the card is-"

"Waiter" you answer. "You were a waiter"

Now you have three points under your belt.

"Why do you always say the answer at last?!" Paul grumbles. "You are cheating!"

"I'm not" you laugh the accusation off. "You just can't accept I'm better"

"Si que lo eres" Pedro agrees. "Es divertido hacer que se enoje Paul"

"What did you say about me? It's not fair, you're probably sharing the answers!" he's still adamant on insisting with the supposed cheating issue, making you laugh.

Now it's Connie's turn, who starts with: "How many languages do I speak?"

You put a puzzled look.

"You speak seven, eight maybe" Joseph guesses. Pauls says she speaks french, "but most likely seven"

Pedro points his finger at him. "Once he gets going, he's on a roll"

"Joe's got it" Connie agrees.

"Paul, end this reign" Pedro jokes. He looks rather frustrated.

"And the bonus points" Connie offers. "Okay, bonus, what are they?"

"This is an emperor's reign" your husband adds.

Joseph answers: Italian. Danish. English. Swedish. French. Spanish. Norwegian.

Connie agrees she speaks Spanish, making you jump in excitement.

"Oh, I didn't know that!" you beam. "Wait, does that mean you did get what Pedro and I gossiped about you?"

"What?" Joseph asks.

"Nada" you quickly correct yourself. "Yo no dije nada"

"Not that much. I just speak a bit of Spanish. I mostly dominate my own language, German and English"

"You blew our cover!" Pedro nags, hitting your bare leg, yet its devoid of anger.

"He needs a bonus" comments Connie, surprised at Joseph.

"This is horrifying" Pedro says when Joseph gets another point and a fricking bonus on top of that. "This is a slaughter"

"Oh, for which film did I have a gym built in my garage?"

Both Joseph and Paul answer the question correctly, saying Wonder Woman. The latter is quick to state they both get that point.

"That's one for me" Paul says, then looks at you. "And none for you"

You stick out your tongue at him as Connie reads the next card.

"If I were to take this cast on a vacation where would I take you?"

"Ibiza" answers Joseph. Connie agrees in Spanish, with a cute and excited correcto.

Your husband feels the need to crack a joke at Quinn's expense.

"Somebody was paying attention to Connie Nielsen very closely during the shooting of this movie"

"Okay. What is my favorite curse word in Danish?"

"Fuck" Pedro tries.

"No"

"Nobody is going to get that, Connie" Paul bickers.

"Oh, I don't know any Danish" you lament.

"At least now you know how it feels" Mescal drops, making you snort. You playfully kick him on the ribs with your shoe.

"It's very simple" Connie gives as a clue. "It's the same word in every language"

"Shit" Paul tries.

"Satan" she reveals.

Everybody is laughing in confusion at that, saying there's no way you could use that.

"Vos Satan!" Connie curses.

Now it's Fred's turn.

"What is my weirdest on-set habit?"

"I haven't noticed you do anything weird on set" Paul tells.

"I have" Pedro interrupts.

They all get on a small briefing about what could it possibly be, that it was weird, and wasn't part of his character, as you ponder. It was funny before, but now Paul is behind you by a point. So think fast.

"Yeah. I would say being yourself" Pedro jokes, but surprisingly, it works.

"Me! Five points for Pedro" he celebrates as you all laugh. "Love Fred. Oh, Fred"

"Oh, oh, okay" he moves to the next question. "What is my favorite reality TV show?"

Joseph tries with Survivor and Paul with Alone. Truth is, you don't watch any show of said kind, only vagely hearing about Love Island.

"You and I have talked about reality TV" Pedro reveals, "It's just that we never identified one"

They keep guessing shows that sound like a foreign language to you.

"You know what's offensive? That I'm the second youngest of this cast and I have no idea what are you all talking about"

"She's not to be trusted" Pascal quips, "can't trust someone who doesn't appreciate the art of reality TV"

You huff, annoyed.

"Is it A&E stuff?" Pedro asks.

"Yeah, it's the competitive cheapskates" Fred answers. "It's people that really save money on everything"

Pedro gets the point because he mentioned the A&E bit.

"There's like this amazing guy that made a stew out of fish bones, and I just thought it was incredible" he shares. Then, moves to the next question. "What is my go-to crafty snack?"

Nobody remembers eating snacks on set, and Fred gives the clue that it's a drink. Joseph says it's a smoothie, and he does remember it but it isn't the answser.

"I'm thinking of something specific. That Emerge-C that you put in the water"

"Oh, that's very good" you agree, so does the rest, even discussing the best colors

"Who in the cast would I ask to bail me out of jail?"

Everyone even Pedro agree its him. Everyone gets a point, yet Joseph remains ahead.

It's Joseph's turn. "What is my favorite sport?"

"Skateboarding" Paul is so quick to answer, earning him two points for both being correct and time.

"What celebrity do I get mistaken for?"

"Daisy Edgar-Jones sometimes" says Mescal. Of course he had to bring her up.

"No, she gets mistaken for me" Joseph jokes. "Yeah, poor Daisy. But I'm writing it down"

"That was the two letters?" Pedro notices. Still, no one gets it.

It's fucking Justin Timberlake. You'd never guess that.

"What is my favorite film franchise?"

You've probaly named all the existing franchises to no avail. You think fo your dad, a huge geek, trying to remember if there is one missing.

"Oh- Lord of the Rings!" you both answer with Paul at the same time.

"C'mon!" his celebration is short lived when he realizes you tied to him.

"What is my favorite British slang word?"

Pedro says it can't be said, but Quinn insists they can, even adding it's his favorite one too.

"We can say bad words? We can say-?" but the camera beeps over it.

The answer is Bellend. What even is that? Joseph feigns sadness and Pedro keeps apologizing, even as you sit on the chair.

"Okay. I'm last"you wiggle your eyebrows with interest. "Let's see. Okay, first question: what did I take from the Gladiator II set?"

"You took something?" Joseph asks on disbelief.

"Why wouldn't I take something?"

"Is it like an item or memorabilia?" asks Connie.

"It's an item" you uncap the marker, scribbling down the answer.

"It's a short word" Fred points out, but still can't provide a guess.

"You took the rings home" Pedro answers. You snap your had on his way, probably obvious. "What? You told me" he says.

Of course Paul complains. "Hey, that isn't fair! He knew the answer before!"

"Well, if you payed more attention to me, you'd know it"

Lies. Pedro knows because it's sitting in the jewelry box inside your house.

"See? I do pay attention" Pedro playfully hits Mescal.

"I could pay you more attention" he looks at you.

"Alright, then do. Ready? Next question: what is my go-to movie? Oh, this is a good one. I'm always changing it, but most of the time I end up choosing the same one"

They all give you a puzzled look as you scribble.

"C'mon, guys! I've said it on interviews before too. Paul?" the man shrugs. "Thought you said you'd pay me more attention. Heads up, you're doing a terrible job so far!"

"Hey!" he protests. "It's not fair if the answer's changing. Give us a clue"

"You didn't give any clues to yours!" you giggle. "Besides, I don't want you to win"

"Hey, that's against the rules!"

"I'd say it depends on the season" Pedro speaks up. You quirk an eyebrow. "Like, if it's changing, I don't think your Christmas go-to movie is the same as your summer one"

"Actually" you smile fondly, "that is true. On summer, it's Mamma Mia. So I suppose, if you can't guess the one, that'll do"

"No" he smiles, cheeky. "I know it too"

"Yeah?" you challenge, "what is it, then?"

"It's Thelma and Louise" he answers, and your heart beats fast.

"How do you know?" Paul inquires. "Somebody was paying attention to Y/n L/n very closely during the shooting of this movie"

Ah, his joke from earlier. Joseph giggles behind him. Karma, he supposes.

"She said it on an interview, guys. C'mon, learn your sources!"

"Okay" you clear your throat. "What movie got me into acting?"

"Thelma and Louise" Joseph tries.

"No" you laugh, "you're just recycling the answer"

"Is it an old or modern movie?" Connie asks.

"Hmh, old" you pause, "just not... I don't know if you'll ever guess it"

"Is it a Pedro Almodóvar film?" you shake your head. "What? You're always mentioning him!"

Pedro looks into your eyes amid the others' discussion, and you can tell he remembers the conversation.

"There isn't one"

You smile, chest pounding at his soft tone.

"That's correct"

"A trick question?!" Paul yells. "I quit"

"When there's just one left?" you tease.

"Yes, because you've been hiding it all the time but no more" he counters, pointing both you and Pedro. You feel the space getting smaller, breaths going from even to noticeable. "You are sharing answers"

You try to make your breath of relief pass as a chuckle.

"I'm not even gonna win, relax. And drop the charges, please. Loose like a man"

"You didn't explain it though" Connie speaks. "What did Pedro mean?"

"While I have many movies that are inspiration to me, they aren't the reason I chose this path. I did it because I saw an Oscar's ceremony when I was 11" you explain fondly, feeling warm at the memories. "I still remember when they handed the award to Diablo Cody for best original screenplay. I don't know, man, it moved me. What it meant for young artists who came from nothing. I guess I wanted, one day, to be the one standing there, for other dreamers to see it's possible"

"Wow, that's beautiful" Connie says.

"Thank you" you get flustered. "Suppose it was worth it, you know, to do interviews about not really knowing my cast mates" and laugh.

"How does Pedro know, though?" Joseph asks.

"We talk a lot" you clear your throat. "Last one: what indie horror movie did I make a small appearence in? I'm feeling generous because it's the last so I'll give you a clue. It's a Stephen King adaptation"

Paul is the first to speak. "You where in a-"

"Yeah but it wasn't such a huge role. Don't make yourself any ideas"

"I have no idea" Connie surrenders. "Other clue, as in how many words?"

"It doesn't even have any words" you laugh. "You give up? It's 1922. Was an extra as well. Made me think Netflix had my name highlighted in the extra call sheet, because I did so many minor and background roles during that year. Grateful, though, because now I get to be Rome's empress and not fortune teller or highschool #6"

The interview ends, and the camera may or may have not captured the last seconds, Pedro's gaze fixated with you the entire time.

elysyannemimi: we all saw that right? GET PEDRO AND Y/N IN A ROMCOM ❗THEIR CHEMISTRY IS INSANE❗ at0michips: love paul and y/n so much 😭😭 gimme enemies to lovers RN ㅤㅤbobgirllll: at0michips wait what if paul and y/n are secretly dating 😳 ㅤㅤann-gell: bobgirllll quick question are u dumb unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they're married. it has to be. trust me ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess BESTIE U ARE BACK

You arrived in London today. The premiere will be in a few days, and things have been, well, hectic.

Lux couldn't stop talking all the plane ride, but your mind kept going back at the email your manager had sent you before you had boarded the plane.

It's catching upon you, read the haunting message. Attached below, a TMZ article that claimed a regular church attendee had seen you both getting married. It also used a lot of the noise fans had been making on social media, connecting dots or just hyping up the undeniable chemistry. It ended with a little paragraph saying it was obvios, and they're just hoping you'd confirmed it.

You came to realize you didn't care about it anymore. Sure, the pushing around annoyed you, but the thought of still keeping your marriage under wraps feels pointless now. Why wouldn't you shout to the world how in love with your husband you are?

Yet, when you arrive at the hotel, you keep the same protocol of arriving after Pedro, who has already checked in with two keys, claiming its for him and his sister, while you ask for the key to Lux's actual room. After you swipe cards with her, you head over the room you'd be sharing with your husband.

His face appears in your frame, everything happening quickly.

"Get inside. Now"

Your body is dragged inside the hotel room, not even giving you time to swipe the key for yourself.

"Pedro!" you exclaim, between surprised and confused. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Did you read it?"

"What? The article?" your tone is filled with annoyance. "Yes, I did. Why?"

"What do you mean why?" he snaps, voice raising higher. "Don't play dumb with me. You know fans have fuelled the rumors, and tabloids have started digging every corner in fucking California"

"So, what? You're acting as if people finding out is the worst thing in the world" you roll your eyes.

"It is, yes!" Pedro bursts out, caving in to the stress.

It feels like you've been hit across your face.

"Excuse me?" you seethe, hurt etched all across your features. "Would it be the worst thing in the world to admit you're married to the person you supposedly love the most?"

"I love you, y/n. It's just-"

His voice softens, trying to reach for you, yet you pull back, his hand falling to his side in an akward manner. He sighs in frustration, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"I love you" he repeats, sounding much more sure this time.

Your frame seems smaller as your voice comes out hoarse, filled with emotion, appearing to be in the brink of tears:

"Then why do you act like you're embarrassed of me?"

He hates himself for making you feel this way, making you think things that aren't true.

"I don't. Never" he emphasizes. Then, tries to reach once again when you move a little bit closer to him, recognizing that's your way of letting him know you're ready. "You're the most precious thing in the world to me, don't ever think the opposite" then he sighs, heavy. "I'm just scared"

You silently ask him to explain, rubbing his thumb soothingly across his tattoo.

"You're so young, and I'm, well- I know we're aware of it, but people are cruel and the press is ruthless. I don't want to see your name dragged across the mud because you decided to marry me. Your career is starting, and I'd never forgive myself is something happened to you because of me. Not trying to make this about me, yeah? But this industry is fucked up. You've work hard to get to where you are, and it'll be unfair if you'd loose it. I'm scared because us..." he wavers, words trailing off. "I want us to be. I wouldn't want to live in a world without you, i-it would kill me not to have you be my wife"

You desperately want to kiss off the worry on his face, but let him finish.

"N-not saying our love is weak, or anything! That a couple of opinions or tabloids will- you know? Just, I-I don't want them to break us apart. Mi vida, you're the light of my life. Please, forgive me, I-"

He feels his throat closing up, words failing to come out. You sense the grip on your hand to be stronger, immediately letting loose of it.

"Hey. C'mere" your voice is tender, allowing him to bury his face in your stomach as you comb his messy curls with your fingers. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere"

He lets himself melt under your touch, his mind loosing itself in the soft of your digits and your perfume up his nostrils. He's again breathing normaly, hands now hugging your waist.

"There you go. Better?" Pedro nods, still not being able to talk. "That's okay, take all the time you need. We have all day"

"Do we?" he raises his view, his eyes soft yet there is something else to the brown shade.

You hum as to nod. "We agreed to join Lux for dinner. It's barely 1pm"

"Tell me you're thinking it too" his voice cuts throughout the air, boucing off the tapestry on the walls.

You laugh, nervously. "I don't think I do"

"Hmmh, I see" he stands up, towering over you. "You sure you don't?"

"You sure you want this?"

Before you know it, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, cutting off all words to be said. What a waste of air, anyway. You are quick to reciprocate, whimpering against his lips.

Pedro picks you up like you're as light as a feather, his arms flexing as he carries you and places you on the bed, frame hovering over yours. He breaks the kiss to breath, but you're pulling him back in, his hold on your hips tighter and the wet spot in your panties wetter.

"Look at you, pretty baby. So needy" he whispers against your face, hot breath lingering above your lips. "And mine. Mía. Only mine"

"I am, yes. Yours only. Need you so bad right now, papi" you answer in a rush. "Now shut up and fuck me"

"Con gusto" he chuckles darkly, "gotta keep the wife happy"

"Happy wife, happy life" you recite, stripping him off of his plain shirt, revealing his toned torso, bulging biceps defined by the movements. You gulp. "Fuck, papi. Gotta thank Marvel for this. I love all of your versions, but I can work with this too" you dreamily stare at him, your hands cupping his face.

He strips the rest of his clothing, but a cute blush adorns his cheeks.

"Yeah, well, it's Scott's fault too"

Your impatient fingers reach the middle of your panties to rub your clothed pussy, letting out a sound that darkens his hazel orbs.

"Fuck that guy" you mutter. Pedro laughs.

"Thought you said you loved the guy"

"Until I learned what he said about your body" you groan, still rubbing. "Connie told me"

His hands now travel to remove your clothes, almost ripping them off.

"Who cares? I just want to fuck you now" he breathes out, practically drooling at the sight of your damp panties. "Lemme take this off too"

He unhooks your bra, seeing the hard nipples. The urge to lick them is so bad, but his desire to fill you silly to the brim is stronger.

You see his hesitation, which is why you grab him by the neck to pull him in for a kiss. He kisses back fiercely, labored breaths as he struggles to focus on your lips, his wet mouth darting to your jaw, neck and collarbones. His hands roam all over your body, needy.

"Gotta be inside of you, mami. Can't wait any longer"

"Then stop waiting" you plead, tugging at his boxers with urgency.

Seeing you so cockhungry, lips parted and pupils blown wide makes his hard dick twitch with anticipation.

He mutters a labored fuck, aligning himself to enter your sticky folds. Pedro enters your tight pussy with a low groan, burying himself deep inside of you, used to his length by now. You're basically begging for it, nails digging and eyes supplicating.

He can't deny you anything, can he?

A messy whine leaves your widened mouth as you adjust, pleasure mixed with pain.

"Mhmm" you moan.

"Mhmm what?" he mocks. "You asked for it. Now take it, cariño"

He thrusts deeper into you, watching in awe how his dick enters your pussy; it was always perfectly, your pussy made for him.

"You're drippin' baby" his rough voice caresses your cheek. He kisses the are, giving a lick to the sweat starting to form. "S'fucking tight too"

You move your hips towards him, trying to augment the friction. The overstimulation starts to cloud your sense, reducing you to a whiny mess as you grip his steady arms.

"I can't think of anything but you, baby" he confesses between grunts, "filling up your pussy to the brim, you dripping with my seed for days"

You moan at the filthy words.

"Love how you take my dick, amor" stretching you as Pedro moves in and out. "S'made for me"

"Yes" you moan, skin slapping sounds bouncing off the walls. "Fuck, I love your dick..."

His pace picks up, and it comes to a point where he's just fucking you silly, his grip on your hips surely to leave a bruise as you keep spilling obscene sounds of pleasure from your lips.

"Your pussy's mine, yeah? No one else gets to have you like this"

"N-no, just you, Pedro. My h-husband" you manage to squeeze, more moans vocalizing the pleasure you felt with each thrust, his big dick inside of you moving in a a steady rhythm, making your eyes roll back further and orgasm closer.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, and he finds impossible to resist the urge anymore, licking the sensible skin and hard nipples, your hands moving to his back, scratching him harshly, both chasing your release.

"Please!" you whine out loud, not caring how desperate you sound.

Harder. Faster. Rougher.

But your husband knows you, so he indeed starts to fuck you harder, heavy breaths and slippy kiss noises hanging in the spaces between each thrusts. He pants with every motion of his dick, a knot forming on his belly.

"Shit, baby. I think I'm gonna cum. Gonna come so hard"

"Do it. I'm on birth control, remember?" you groan, feeling your high approach as well. "Fill me up, please. Give me all your cum"

Your bodies move as one, precise thrusts hitting exactly that sweet spot of yours repeatedly, chasing your orgasm. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with his and then he's saying:

"I love you, y/n. So much"

Your heart skips a bit, his dick twitching inside as his gaze glimmers with adoration and possesiveness, teeth grazing your skin with marks for him to call you his.

"I love you too, Pedro. More than you know"

A final thrust is delivered. Fuck, feels so good you think you hear him say. Just like promised, he fills you with his release, shots of his thick, warm cum inside your sticky walls. You follow soon, back arching, toes curling, and both head and eyes rolling back. Pedro falls on top of you, his broad body collapsing over yours, as you both pant hard, trying to steady your pulse and breath. He then removes himself and positions you to be the one on top now, lazily throwing the covers over your bare bodies. We need to shower, you said, but he argued you'd do it later before going out.

"I needed that" and you happily hum in agreement at your husband's dragged out words.

Your head falls and rises, with the movement of his chest, silence settling on the previously filled with sex noises room. That until he speaks up:

"One day, I'm gonna fill you up so good until you have my babies, mami" he murmurs, just then realizing what he said. But you snuggle closer, hand and legs drapped over his bare body. You look at him closely, seeing nothing but certainty on his eyes.

I choose you. I'll always choose you.

"Whatever it is with you" your nose brushes his, a small sweet kiss on his lips, "I want"

His eyes shine, probably with tears or the glow of affection.

"Let's do it"

"What?" you look into his eyes for any sign of doubt, bull all you see is love. "Pedro, are you serious?"

He nods. "Wouldn't you want that?"

You feel the corner of your lips pull up.

"Never have I wanted anything more"

poppysplayground: Y/N AND PEDRO RED CARPET DEBUT AT THE LONDON PREMIER OF GLADIATOR II WTF I JUST WOKE UP ptwt is in SHAMBLES mostannoyingbillioner: UM HELLO pedro showing up with two hot women on his arms LUX GIMME A CHANCE pompeiianbollockr: WAIT WDYM THEY ARE MARRIED?!??! ALL THIS TIME?@?#? HOW???! NEED BIGGER CAPS TO SCREAM I'M GOING INSANE at0michips: that article better come out now or i'll burn the TMZ building ann-gell: not me thirsting for a married man 😭😭😭 how they kept this a secret for so long?? we should've noticed ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: ann-gell i did. knew betting my grandma was the way all along ㅤㅤpyramiidsf: i'm gonna start betting my grandma too

Black coffee, the usual. Bitter. White, like the background of the clock that always rang at five in the morning, not because he needed but out of habit. It had long been since Joel last drove Sarah to school; bought her a car now that she was in college. Black like the dark inside his room, lights turned off earlier than needed, because there was no one else to see to keep them on. White like the faded paint of his porch. He hadn't sat there since the divorce.

Enter a storm of colors: you. Sarah's friend from college.

Joel still remembers the first day he saw you. Pretty young thing, two ponytails for the summer and a floral dress that fluttered too much with the breeze of the Austin night. He should've felt embarrassed, fawning over his daughter's friend, but he made sure to wash that shame away in the pitch black of his room, cock hard and leaking. He didn't bother to clean the mess away, licking it thinking it was yours.

You were a goddamn rainbow. Entered his life like a trainwreck. Two years later, his daughter's bestfriend and his best kept secret. The one who spends half of her time on his house, walking around like you own it.

(He likes to think you do.)

If Joel could pick a color to describe you, he'd choose pink.

Pink.

Like the overly sweet frosting you'd use to decorate your cookies. He'd walk into the kitchen, stealing some, only for Sarah to berate him for the sugar. You'd smile sheepishly, always leaving two trays behind.

Pink.

Like the tongue you'd stick out because he kept bothering you girls, making his daughter groan embarrassed about her overbearing dad. It's girl time, she'd complain, yet you never kicked him out.

Pink.

Like your nails. He loved how they were always the same color. Soft. You always made sure to lightly nudge him during his kitchen raids, your touch electric. So he kept coming back for more; needed your touch like a drug.

Pink.

Like the small dust covering your cheeks when his gaze held a little longer than needed. Something on my face? you'd ask, so sweet and innocent. He'd just chuckle, color darkening a shade.

Pink.

The best part: not the smell, not his daughter's laughter, nor the trays on the fridge. Your underwear. Cotton, he'd guess. The soft material's peak he'd get when you bent to open the oven. Would you ever know he didn't give the old appliance any mantainance so you'd take longer trying to push the door down?

Pink.

Joel could swear your heart was like no other. Shaped like those pink heart-shaped cookies of yours. Coveted in the same color and that saccharine nature of yours that bloomed out of every part of your body. Made you impossible to resist, as one would think of the best dessert there is.

And yet, you don't know. You sweet, pretty, naive little young thing. Walked right into the lion's den, smelling like the perfect goddamn prey.

It's alright, Joel Miller is a patient man. He's just waiting for the right moment to sink his teeth on your tender flesh.

Three knocks at his door. Joel gets up faster than he should. He may not be as young as he used to, but Joel often likes to think there are some things about him that haven't change. Take his senses, for example. Those three knocks: soft but sharp. Decided. Like the person behind the door was determined to fulfill the task they had in mind.

Opens the door and there's you: all sweet smiles and pink cookie batch clutched to your chest. Weren't you always so driven?

"Hi, Mr. Miller" with such familiarity it makes his chest ache. With such sweetness for a random hot Austin day. With such a frail little summer dress he can spot the strawberry pattern of your bra. "Is Sarah here?"

Joel notices how you avoid his eyes, a shy little quirk about you this two years hadn't been able to shed. But he loved that about you. The idea of you intimidated by him hit places a good man shouldn't be going.

Good thing Joel was a bad man, then. A sinner. He wasn't a criminal, but he was the type of man your parents would warn you about. A cautionary tale that smelled like cigarettes, wood, sweat and whiskey.

No responsible father would lust after his daughter's friend. He loved Sarah to death and tried to be the best version of him for her, but goddamn, he just couldn't resist you.

But you're too sweet to notice, the kind of naive that makes men like him weak. Bad men.

"We've been over 'tis, sugar" in that thick drawl of his. "Jus' call me Joel. We familiar 'nough for them Mr. Miller thing"

"Sorry, Mr. Miller" you laugh sheepishly. "Joel it is" and his pants tighten a fraction.

"See? Easy. That better"

"Is Sarah here?" you repeat, a bit louder this time, like he didn't listen the first time, hanging on every little word out of your glossy pink lips. His gaze falls to the container, clutched in your arms. You little jumpy thing. It's your trademark. He feels warm, fuzzy and something more primal.

"C'mon in" before he can stop himself. And you? Pretty and obedient doll do as told. More blood rushes to his tight sweatpants, and Joel wishes you'd glance a bit down his way.

"Sarah?" you ask into the empty house.

Joel grips the doorknob as he closes the door, fists white. If you ask one more time about his daughter, he'll lose it. Nothing personal, he'd rather just have your attention for himself only.

"She ain't here" he drops, no point in lying anymore.

Your turn around, red and confused. "Oh... Well, I'll just leave these here then"

Before you can move, his big hand grabs you by the wrist, tightly.

"You don't need'a rush, sweetheart. What's the matter?" you flush at the nickname. "Ya' don't expect me to eat all 'tis by myself, do ya'? Have a bite with me"

You don't correct him that, technically, the cookies are for him and your bestfriend.

"I'm not sure-" you falter.

His grip doesn't. Joel Miller is persistent, you think. "C'mon, 's bad manners to leave someone's invitation hangin', don't 'cha think?" he presses.

You gulp.

"But I came here for Sarah" you offer, lamely.

Weakly. Not convinced. He smirks, satisfied. You just need a little more pushing.

"Then stay for me"

The way you raise your head up, so quickly a bone snaps in there, is almost comical.

"Easy there, doll. I ain't going anywhere" he chuckles. Why on Earth is the sound so grave and the effect on you so disarming? It's unfair a laugh can be this deep, rich and sultry.

Though, this isn't the first time you've think of Sarah's dad like this. As a menace to your sanity.

The man was attractive. The type of attractive one can tell from the very first moment, choking on your own spit when Sarah introduced him to you. Long curly hair, warm brown eyes and a tanned worn skin that spoke of hard years of work. So did his body: broad shoulders and strong arms. His smell reeked of sweat, ashes and something like wood or leather. Beer on his breath most times, especially on the summer. His soft stomach confirmed his liking for the drink as well. Yes, he was a dream.

But he was also incredibly... intimidating. Joel Miller carried this sort of menacing air to his presence, clinging like a shadow, trailing behind the soft crunch of his worn boots. You often ended up looking at your feet, arm, Sarah even, when he entered the room, unable to meet him in the eye. He stayed, like he knew it got under your skin, reveled on the fact he made your nervous and reduced you to a meek scared little thing. And when he talked to you? His voice alone could subdue you. Just like his laugh: that gruff, husky tone that made your legs wobbly in fear or something else.

It was, maybe, his persistance. Demanding. Insisting. Suffocating.

He seemed the type who wasn't used to a no. Or one who probably just wouldn't allow it. It was on the way he spoke softly yet gave no signs of another option, like right now.

In his dark stare, waiting for you to glance on his direction, almost a dare yet it felt like a trap, one you couldn't fall for: you were sure you wouldn't be able to escape.

You have an idea already of what it would be like as you sit across from him, eyes fixated on the cookie in your hands. Freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, Joel Miller taking sips with his plump lips.

"S'it good?"

You haven't even touched your mug. He's basically telling you to do so. You place your cookie down and hold it with trembling hands, sip to try even if it's burning.

"It's lacking a little sweet"

He snorts, like he already knew it and was just trying you. "'F course"

The chair creaks as he leaves. When he returns, he appears from behind you, his larger figure practically towering over your smaller sitting form, placing a jar with a loud thud.

"'S honey okay?"

You can't help but smile. "I always use honey"

"Figured"

You take one spoon of honey and mix it. "Am I that easy to read?" without looking at him.

"'M trynna figure that"

You blush under the intensity of his gaze. Take another nervous hot sip, make a face.

"It's still bitter" as you reach for the jar.

"Black coffee" he says, to supply an explanation.

The chair creaks again. He's behind you so fast, you barely register his scent up your nostrils before Joel's leaning forward.

"Lemme help ya'"

His larger hand envelops yours, practically swallowing it, roughness abrassive to your soft skin. He takes your hand and pour two spoons in a tortuous manner that feels longer than it should. He then places the spoon back, his hand leaving yours. It burns-- lingering.

"That's better"

Your throat goes dry. "Better?"

Joel just chuckles, sitting again across from you. But this time it's different: the air feels charged, with an unspoken force that sends shivers down your spine.

"So, Sarah..." you trail off, unsure where to stand or what to say, anything, to fill the asfixiating crushing silence full of uncertainty.

Joel takes another loud sip, clearly unbothered. If you were reaching, you could even say he seemed to be enjoying it.

"Her mamma took 'er out to dinner"

"Oh, I see"

"You wouldn't have known" he offers, lamely.

You bounce your legs on the floor, feet tapping anxiously against the wooden floor. If he notices, he's kind enough to not say anything. You wonder if it's pity or nonchalance. Poor little girl, I just touched her hand and she's a mess.

"No, I wouldn't"

"It was a surprise. She ain't know 'bout it"

He's trying so hard to keep a conversation, you can't help but feel a little guilty. Still, you don't offer much, hands clammy and shaky as you grab another cookie, just to busy yourself.

"'Cause tomorrow's her birthday"

"I know" maybe more cutting than necessary, nerves on edge.

You instantly cringe. That was rude. This poor man is trying to make you feel comfortable, and while he was a bit overbearing, Joel hasn't done anything bad so far. You're anxious and he's making it hard with his imposing cologne and burnt cigarrette smell.

"And what else do you seem to know, sweet girl?"

Your face goes red and the tapping against the board off the charts. He's clearly noticed, hell, heard, now.

"Easy, doll. No need'a be scared" you feel a sudden touch graze your legs, those exposed by the sundress. "Tell me, 'tis big ol' man makin' ya' nervous?"

Your heart stops beating for a moment, your body tensing up, taut muscles making it impossible to react.

"Quit the bouncin', baby" his palm presses against your knee, softly but insisting. "I don't bite" a crooked grin adorns his face, "unless y' wanna"

Your throat goes dry. This is the same man who has opened his door for you, given you a bed to sleep. The father of your bestfriend. How is this even real? Why is he looking at you like he could eat you whole?

Why are you thinking you'd let him?

But you should've seen it coming. Wasn't he clear enough before? His actions were enough for the lack of words.

"C'mon, doll. Cat ate your tongue?" he mocks, like he knows he's got you cornered: he, the cat. You, the mouse.

"N-no, Mr. Mill- Joel, sorry. No, Joel" you ramble, tongue tied as your stomach in knots.

His hand slowly moves up your thigh. You swallow. Dry and hard. A shallow breath escapes past your lips.

"Forget 'bout it, angel. No Joel. From now on, you gotta call me sir. Understood?"

You're about to protest, probably to ask what the hell is going on and how a simple cookie delivery has you with his hands over your thighs under the table.

"I asked somethin', sugar" he chuckles lowly. A drowned gasp falls off your mouth as he digs his fingers into your skin. "Understood?"

"Y-yes"

Joel applies a bit more pressure into his hold. "Just yes? Thought ya' were smarter than that, baby. Don't 'cha know how t' follow summ rules?"

"Yes, sir"

Joel's touch becomes almost light-weight, leaving your thigh where you're sure a bruise will show up in a few days.

He smirks, pleased. "There ya' go. Easy, ain't it?"

You nod, feverishly.

He pats you, almost mockingly, and let's you go. You release a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"Yes, easy" you chuckle, nervous. "Sir"

Joel smiles. "Don't let it get to y' head, doll, but I'm gettin' real used to the sound of that"

The chair creaks again, and every bone in your body shivers, body anticipating. He stands above you, were you can see every wrinkle and facial hair of his stubble.

"Y' know" he reaches out. You cower at first, but he's quick to grip you by the chin, and yet, despite the force of his hold, his finger runs smoothly across your lip. "If ya' beg so sweetly, I might just give ya' what 'cha need"

He examines you like he can see right through you, those cold brown eyes looking at you with fascination.

"Upstairs" is all Joel says.

This is how you find yourself in the current situation: on Joel Miller's bedroom, inches away from his bed.

It's ridiculous, really, how you decide to notice, him towering you at the moment, but your eyes take in his room, anyway. You may not know Joel that well, but you decide it's very him. Texan, with the old handmade furniture, the chipped wood and the single horse picture above his bed. A pair boots, forgotten by the night table. An ash tray and a pile of clothes on an old chair, signs of years of leaving in the quiet comfortable solitude. After some time you come to realize he may have built most of the furniture you see.

"Like it?" as if he can read your thoughts.

"It's... nice. Lived in"

"Appreciate your thoughts, darlin', but It's kinda lakin' somethin', don't 'cha think?"

"Oh" you chuckle nervously, "and what can that be?"

"You"

Of course. If his crooked smile and hungry eyes raking you up and down didn't give away enough. A tight knot forms in your stomach.

Joel wets his lips with his tongue. "Now, we're gonna have real fun, you and I"

He waits for you, yet you don't move at all. Joel lets out a tired sigh, probably dissapointed by your lack of cooperation.

"Here doll, lemme help"

His rugged hands get rid of your dress, pulling it over your shaky body.

"We've talked about this" another sigh going past his lips. "S'al'ight. I won't hurt 'cha"

"I-I know that" you hold your tongue. "Sir"

He smiles, eyes darkening with lust as he takes in your body, that lingerie he imagined now under his fingers as he traces the cotton with his thumb.

His starved gaze lingers until it gets under your skin. "Do you?"

You whimper as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly.

"Ain't ya' the prettiest little thing? Knew that the moment ya' walked in" Joel growls, voice thick with want. "And y'gonna look even better naked 'n under me"

He continues the tortuous descent of your strawberry panties, sliding down through your bare legs, the filthy pathetic drowned out noises from your lips against the softness of your skin and the sweetness of the pattern of your underwear making blood rush to his already hard cock.

Joel's eyes shimmer with a hunger so raw, it makes your heart race, heat creeping up your neck.

"Y' like the idea, sweet girl?" he smirks. "'M gonna explore every inch of this sweet sweet body of y'rs and take ma' time, 'cause finally" he inches closer to your neck, breathing in your scent before licking his lips wickedly, "y'r mine"

His hot breath fans over your flushed skin, beard scratching, marking you. Your core throbs involuntarily, pulsing stopping like a swallowed breath when his fingers graze your entrance.

"S'all wet down'ere" Joel chuckles with amusement. "S' much for sayin' ya' don't want me. Don't be shy, angel. I think y' don't wanna admit it, but you do like the idea" his words accompanied by a low, sinful purr, almost threatening.

"N-no" you whimper, "please-"

His lips press firmly together as if irritated. Your walls clench when he removes his finger from your core.

"Sir"

"Please, sir" you whimper.

Joel just chuckles, like making fun of you. He raises his fingers, the one he rubbed you dangerously close to his lips, taunting. As if you were spellbound, you find it impossible to tear your eyes away as it dissappears inside his mouth. He licks it, obscenely, your lips parted.

"Look at that. Sweet as y'r cookies"

His hands now slide down your ass, his calloused digits digging into the skin, bruising, as he pulls you flush against him. You can feel his throbbing, thick length pressing against your stomach.

"Don't be ashamed, sweetheart" Joel growls, the rumble so deep it vibrates through your body. "I just wanna hear ya' say how badly ya' want 'tis"

It's like your mouth's gone dry. He throws your body against the bed, your muscles going taut with fear. Maybe anticipation. Joel then leans over you, hovering like he's trying to cage you under his weight. You look at the night table, eyes lingering on the burnt cigarrettes, sleeping dead on the ashtray, holding onto anything, all to avoid looking into that gaze which threatened to consume you.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asks through a low tone, his erratic breath ghosting over you.

It's like a wave of clarity heats you. There, laying over the old wood, another portrait: curly loose hair, toothy grin, a purple t-shirt with a rainbow, and that unmistakable eyes that hadn't changed a bit.

"Sarah" you whisper.

The shame, guilt and fear hit you all at once. The hesitation from before becomes nausea over the idea of letting your bestfriend's father so close to you, let alone being in bed with him.

"W-we can't, Jo- sir" you bite your lip, anxiously chewing. "We can't-"

He follows your gaze, landing on the picture. He sighs softly, hand reaching out to place the frame down.

"Don't worry, doll. She don't need'a find out 'bout what we'll do"

"It's not right-"

"I think y'r body's not agreein' with 'cha, baby. So don't give me that crap"

You close your eyes, body ridig. You hear him click his tongue, then let out a heavy sigh. Next, his fingers caress your cheek softly as he removes some loose strands from your face. You open your eyes, only to find him smirking.

"Sarah won't find out, I give ya' my word 'bout it. But you gotta keep the end of y'r bargain, sweetheart" then, in a low voice, borderline meneacing, says: "Ya' keep your bestfriend and I get a taste of 'tis sweet pussy. Just gotta earn it"

His big calloused hands dissappear into your middle, making your thighs press together. He chuckles, parting your legs with ease. It's like your whole body has forgotten how to act on its own, so easily spreading for him.

"Atta girl"

A moan dies in your throat at the sensation of his fingers back in your pussy, rubbing the area like he knows it. Your body betrays you, you know it in the way you feel your walls clenching in anticipation at the feeling of his fingers. It's so much better than when you do it yourself, and even if your mind is against it, you can't find the pleasure that's started to sweep in through the cracks of your ressolve.

"See, baby? No use in denyin' when she's tellin' me otherwise" there's an agonizing tease in the way Joel drags the pad of his middle finger across your pussy. "Tell me, no boys back at campus to help ya'?"

"No" you begin to answer, voice hoarse.

"No what?" he asks, plunging two fingers inside of you, making you squeal. Your hand holds to his forearm, almost like an instant, nails leaving little crescents on his sunkissed skin. You can feel him smile at the pain, more at the thought of you holding to him and the feeling of more of your skin against his.

"No boys sir" you manage to choke out.

Joel lets out a rumbling growl of satisfaction at your admission, his eyes flashing with a possesive glint that makes your throat go dry.

"Good girl" he crooks his fingers, a pathetic whine that sounds like his name escaping your lips. "Makes 'tis even better. Now, lemme take real good care of ya', baby"

You suck in a gasp when he starts moving his fingers. He drags them along your cunt until he finds your sweet spot, making you squeal. Your cheeks feel hot, and when Joel notices, he chuckles.

"Don't hold 'em back, baby. You don't know how long I've been waitin' to hear all those lil' sounds outta ya" he rasps, voice rough with desire. Joel rolls your nub between his digits, your treacherous hips moving to meet his rapid movements. "Been dreamin' of 'tis day for a while" 

"An' now here ya' are, bein' so good to me" he praises. His rough fingers delve with more intensity into your soaked folds, stroking through the slick evidence of your arousal. He pumps faster, harder, plunging in and out of your soaked, clinging walls.  "Just mine"

His hand cups your jaw now, thumbing over your swollen bottom lip.

"So pretty" Joel mumbles in your ear. You part your lips as he starts fucking you faster. "Told ya', easy. Y' give, and I give ya' as well. Imma giver, baby"

He chuckles, beard scratching against your neck as he nips and sucks at your racing pulse. "So don't 'cha worry, sweetheart. I'm gonna give y' exactly what 'cha need. Just sit back and look real pretty" Joel says, feeling your walls clenching around his fingers, "which you doin' a great job on"

He adds another finger, the wet sound of your eager walls bouncing off the wall. You stil try to refrain from voicing out loud the traitorous satisfaction Joel's making you feel, but you squeal around his thumb, eyebrows tightly furrowed with how much pleasure you're getting.

"You cummin', aren't 'cha? Ya' want that, doll? Bet you do. So fucken' easy to break" you moan in desperation, body rigid no longer from abstaining but from chasing your impeding orgasm. "Look at ya', so eager, ridin' ma' fingers like a slut. I know ya' want it. So easy t' read"

Your whole body tingles, vision going white. You come all over his fingers, walls clenching as you close your eyes, nails clawing at his arms again, orgasm washing over you. As your climax crashes over you, Joel drinks in every second of your surrender, relishing the way your body became so pliant as you moan his name.

"Good girl" Joel praises as you go limp in his arms, legs trembling. He places a sweet kiss to jaw, his fingers still inside you, still moving yet slowler. "Next, 'm gonna fuck 'tis sweet cunt so hard and so deep that you'll be feelin' me for days, baby"

Joel's hand slides up to wrap around your throat, calloused fingers curling possessively around your delicate neck. "Beg for it, baby. Ya' know how to"

"Please, sir" you choke out, brain fuzzy. It's pathetic, really, but all you can think now is how bad you need him inside of you, walls throbbing in need.

He presses his thumb tighter into your throat. "Words, baby"

"Please. Too much" you whine. He removes his hand from your throbbing pussy. You shake in his arms. "I need you, Joel"

Joel's eyes carey a triumphant gleam to tengo upon hearing your desperate plea, a crooked smile twisting his rugged features. Then, he smacks right into your sensitive clit. You writhe, another whine falling off your lips.

"Told ya' to not call me that, but I can't lie and say I don't like 'da way ya' say ma' name, sweet girl" as he lets go of your neck. "I'll let it pass 'tis time"

He captures your mouth in a devouring kiss, tongue plunging past your lips to claim your lips as if he wants to make himself a home inside the warmth of your mouth. He breaks the kiss, a wicked grin breaking in his face at your disheveled state.

"C'mon, sweetheart, don't be shy now" he taunts. "I know y' got it in ya'. The way 'tis greedy body responds to me... Y'r jus' dyin' to he used, ain't 'cha?"

A pool of shame forms in the pit of your stomach. You know this is wrong, your mind fighting against it, yet, the desire that consumes your body overrides the sense your brain is begging you to have.

It's embarrassing, really, but it's almost as if Joel knows exactly what to do to numb your body, head fuzzy.

He knows.

Joel's hand fists in your hair, pulling your head back as you yelp in surprise, forcing you to meet his burning stare. "I'll take that as a yes"

He exposes the vulnerable column of your throat, attacking he flushed skin with bites for kisses, his teeth sinking into your flesh hard enough to leave bruises to bloom.

"J-Joel" you mumble, pathetic.

He yanks harder, forcing your pleading eyes to meet his predatory gaze as he looms over you, a dark grin spreading across his face. "I want to hear ya' beg f'r it, baby. Beg for my cock like the desperate, filthy slut y'are"

His other hand slides down to your thigh, gripping it tightly as he hitches your leg up around his hip, opening you wider. He licks his lips to te view: your dripping, aching core, bleeding with a wet need. All for him. 

"Jus' tell me how ya' want it, sweetheart. Tell me where you want me to fuck you first"

You close your eyes, writhing. "H-here. It hurts. Please, sir"

Tears pool in the corner of your eyes out of desperation, a treacherous one falling down your cheek. Joel lets out an amused chuckle at that, wiping it with his thumb.

"No need'a cry, baby. Imma give ya' what ya' need. Ya' know I wanna"

He withdraws his hands, reaching for that thick belt he's always wearing. The sound of his zipper bounces in the quiet room, every hair in your body rising un anticipation as he slides his pants down, taking them off.

Never, in a million years, would you imagine the sight for you to behold.

His cock, springing free of its confines: long, thick and angry at the tip. Red as your face. It slaps against his lower soft stomach, precum in display.

Joel leans down to whisper in your ear, nipping your earlobe sharply. "Can ya' feel it? All 'tis for you, baby. 'S how ya' make me feel ever since ya' first waltzed in here with y'r pretty little ass"

It slaps against your stomach, hot and heavy, length pulsing with need. You catch your breath, eyes wide.

"Don't 'cha worry, doll. It'll fit" with a crooked smile. "And I know you'll be of help"

Joel reaches down, gripping your thighs and spreading your legs wide, opening you up for him. Then, he settles between your thighs, positioning himself at your entrance.

"Now, be a good little cocksleeve and take my dick like da' good girl y'are"

A familiar pressure settles in your cunt as his tip begins to enter you, your breath catching at the stretch.

"Feels good?"

Before you can answer, with one brutal thrust, Joel slams his hips forward, burying his cock balls-deep inside your tight cunt.

"S' tight" he grits. Your vision goes blurry at the sensation of his dick stretching you, trying to adapt to his size. So you focus on his touch, the heat irradiating off his body, and the raw desire in his brown eyes. Tension turns to pleasure, where there was once pain now a delicious numbing sensation. You hate how easy your body has surrendered to him, how effortless is to feel satisfaction at his minstrations.

Joel sets a rapid pace. Brutal, punishing. His hips slam against yours, making the old bed wobble and creak. 

"Fuck, doll. Takin' my cunt so well" he sneers with pride and praise. "Look at y'r tight cunt, squeezin' it jus' right" 

His breath comes in harsh, ragged pants. His hands go over to your hips, his fingers digging into the skin, keeping you in place to meet his thrusts. On top of you, Joel Miller is a rare sight: sweaty, flushed honeyed skin and carnal eyes bleeding with a need so primal it takes your breath away. It just then hits you how much he had been holding back, how long he'd been wanting this, stalking and calculating from afar, like the most tantalizing game of cat and mouse there had ever been. It's obvious too, in the way his gaze drinks your body: pliant, soft, flushed and needy, watching your every reaction-- from the small gap between your lips and the involuntary sounds falling from your mouth, to your nails on his biceps and the way you hold to him like you're scared to fall.

"Don't 'cha worry, sweet girl. I ain't never lettin' you go"

He angles his hips, slamming his cock, trying to find your sweet spot deep inside your tight walls with every thrust, determined to make you fall apart in a sweet plea. Joel's really trying, tiredly resting his head near your shoulder, breath warm against your skin. You cling to him, your nails digging into his back to ground yourself. The room is filled with the sounds of his grunts and your moans. It's like outside his bedroom walls, the world is nothing but everything happening on Joel Miller's bed.

"That's it, baby" he whispers, a silent reverence in his voice. You whimper at the pleasure. "You're perfect. Jus' like 'tis"

"It's too much, sir" as you shift beneath him with a trembling voice, drunk in pleasure.

Joel's hands find yours, and with a newfound softness, his fingers intertwine with yours to steady you as he stares down at your tear-streaked face, blood pumping to his cock at the sight of the fat tears streaming down your cheeks.

"S'okay. Relax and lemme handle all'at"

When you instinctively tighten around him, his thrusts become more erratic, his balls slapping against your ass as he chases his release.

"If ya' keep that up, I might not last any longer" you meet his gaze, flush rising to your cheeks, breath coming out in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure builds. "That's right, I'm gonna fuckin' give this pussy exactly what she needs. Jus' focus on me, doll"

"M' close-" you manage to croak out. "I-"

Joel's voice is rough when he speaks. "Then don't hold back"

The pace frantic, a sloppy mess as you both chase your release. It's crazy how your bodies meet in perfect sync, like made to be. With a groan and a cry for your name, Joel slams his hips forward one last time, burying his throbbing cock to the hilt inside your dripping sex as he comes, flooding your walls with his hot, thick seed.

Joel collapses on top of you as he catches his breath, his softening cock still buried deep inside your cunt. "No need'a cry because 's over, baby" he rumbles, his voice a hoarse growl against your neck. "We can always have a round two"

He licks the tears that have escaped your eyes after your orgasm, and while your brain is still fuzzy, trying to grasp the stakes and problems to arise in between the numbness of your orgasm, you hear him say:

"'Sides, a little sweet dove left some cookies downstairs. In case ya' wanna charge those batteries of yours"

Nevarro? The place that was nothing more but a meet-up for the Bounty Hunters' Guild? Now being anything other than that?

A home.

And if they told you that wouldn't be the only thing to change, well, what would you expect?

Certainly not the famed Mandalorian being that home for you.

Once rivals at work, then hasty allies due to unforeseen complications involving a certain little green alien. Among the stars and the quietness his stoic nature provided, you found a place within the beats of a heart that had just learn how to feel again. Where before stood nothing but darkness, a body on auto-pilot, now lay a man who you could read: in his pauses and stances, in the tilt of his helmet, in the slight cracks of his voice if an emotion was hard to hide under beskar and indifference.

The Mandalorian, living legend, was more than the beskar warrior that had defeated Moff Gideon and wielded the Darksaber: underneath, he was Din Djarin, your lover.

And you, the Guild's second best: who kept winning his jobs, who he once deemed annoying and reckless. Who almost put once his life to end if it wasn't for Grogu changing your heart. Now his cyar'ika.

The universe worked in mysterious ways: the way fate had intertwined your lives with duty and heart, a soul and warrior pride. A house, a baby to raise as one of your kind.

The very same one that's cooing right now as you play with his hands.

"We should definitely get him a bed"

Din's head turns around, stopping whatever task he had in his hands.

"He likes to sleep on the floor"

You gasp. "Why are you talking about him as if he was a Massiff? That's your son!"

He returns his attention to the gun he was cleaning, losing interest in the conversation. "Then Grogu can sleep on the bed with us"

You carry up Grogu before walking up to him, forcing him to turn by his shoulder.

"He'll eventually grow it out"

"It'll take years, probably centuries. Didn't you hear the Jedi?"

"I did, I'm not deaf. Maybe you are, or just empty brained"

To prove said point, you knock on his helmet. The beskar makes an echoing sound that bounces off the walls.

"Stop" Din warns, although his voice sounds remotely angry. Bothered, if anything.

No matter the love, some things don't change: him finding your antics annoying.

"Do you want your son to remember how stingy you were?" you balance him on your hip, "How daddy didn't spare a few credits for a decent crib?"

You raise Grogu to his face, aligning it with his visor. The child babbles, as if he truly understands the role he has to play.

"How can you say no to that cute face?" you taunt with a baby voice, moving Grogu. "To those cute big eyes and large ears?"

He stands up. "Put him down. You're going to drop it"

You narrow your eyes. Then, pretend to. Din instantly goes alert-mode, arms raised and ready to catch him.

"It's not funny"

"You're not fun"

He sighs, probably rolling his eyes under the helmet.

"You're such a child, cyar'ika"

You turn Grogu to look at you, his big eyes rooted in your face as he giggles.

"That makes us two, eh?"

Without telling you, Din proceeds to take him from your hold.

"Hey!"

"It's time he rests" It's all he says, walking towards the bed.

You cross your arms. "You just did that to take him away from me"

He gives his back to you, focused on Grogu and his fingers wrapped around his.

"Maybe"

You huff. "I'm going to cook something. For me"

Din doesn't grant you a reply this time.

"Suit yourself" you bite back.

The thing about being rivals for about two decades, is the petty banter never seemed to die out.

It's rarely serious, probably only when you chastise his suicidal tendencies when he's piloting, so of course it doesn't last.

Which is why he's right now coming from behind you, hand on your waist. Din wasn't much into physical contact as he was into proving his love through actions, so any small touch was highly appreciated by you.

"He fell asleep"

You stirr the pot, "In the floor or the bed?"

His reply is curt, "Floor"

You sometimes forget he's not much of a talker.

"You're bent on proving your point" you flicker his signet, "stubborn as a Mudhorn once they pick up a fight"

"Maybe..." his voice dwindles, not before going out with a rasp. You recognize the pattern of his breathing, the way it hitches, "...maybe I wanted the bed to be free"

You turn the stove off and take a better look at him, desperately wishing to see his face.

The last time you saw it, he did it for Grogu. You understood, but can't say it didn't sting even a bit.

Would his eyes be a darker shade, crowded with lust? Would he sport a grin or a smirk? Is he looking at you with desire, with need? And where those same lips still as kissable as they looked that day? Would they eat you, devour, like a starved man if he let you see? Leave marks; bites, to show everyone around what to him belonged?

"That's raw" he whispers, voice croaking.

Your voice breaks, too.

"Who cares? We're not eating anymore"

"Not that" he agrees.

Din gently pressed you against the soft sheets of the bed, your breath hitching as he placed himself on top.

His hands tremble slightly as he touches your skin, a contrast to the stoic, effective and unbreakable warrior he portrayed: this powerful, quiet man was trembling in your arms.

No matter the time that has passed since his confession back in Maldo Kreis, when he thought you'd find death at the hands, well, teeth, of giant spiders. He had, since then, been completely undone by you, and each time he touched you―such reverence on every tip of his finger that grazed your skin, he made sure to prove nothing had changed since then.

He's quick to get rid of his garments, not without a little help from you to quit most of his armor.

"Din" you breathe as soon as his body is free―everywhere but face, your fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders. You tug him closer, encouraging. "Don't stop"

He lets out a strangled sound that's half a groan, half a sigh of relief at your command.

"You have no idea," Din murmurs, voice thick with adoration, "how much I need you"

He pulls back, and even though you can't see his eyes, you feel the vulnerability ooze from them. The way his breath picks up a quick pace, as if the effort of letting you see him like this is almost as consuming as the sight of you, underneath, ready for him. For a moment, it's like he's seeing through you, trying to commit every detail to memory.

You extend your hands, letting him take them. You caress them until the trembling stops, guiding them to your hips. His hands grip the skin of your hips like you were his anchor.

Din was, if anything, willingly, desperately, surrendering to you.

"Don't be afraid" you softly coo, voice barely above a whisper, "it's not our first"

"Please" he whispers, pained. It was a plea, asking permission to let the mental armor off so he can fall apart in your arms.

"Let yourself go, Din. Let me help you" you whisper. "Now, tell me: what do you want?"

"You" he answers without missing a beat, trepidation laced in his breath, "just you"

He grabs your shirt, jacket long discarded on the floor without caring; it's a miracle you didn't throw it over Grogu's sleeping form.

"Can I?"

You nod, breathlessly. "Yes"

He pulls the fabric over your head, fingers fumbling with your pants.

"Why do you carry guns inside the house?" he protests, undoing your belt.

"When you take the knife out of your shoe, I will"

Suddenly you're only in your underwear, shivering because of the cold.

"Dank farrik. We should've bought that heater, the fireplace barely feels there"

"Don't worry" he crawls down, between your opening legs, "I'll make you warm"

He looks up at you.

"Can I..." he starts, cracking in the last word, "...can I taste you?" Din's fingers slide to the waistband of your underwear, "please"

"But, your face-"

"You're right" he backtracks, "I don't know why I-"

You cut him off, "I can cover my eyes"

Din lets out what seems like a sound of pure relief, probably at the solution around his creed or the fact he'll get to taste you. Maybe it's the lust speaking over his rationale, but he's saying:

"Why hadn't we thought about that before?"

"I think fighting Imps and trying to keep Grogu safe took all the time"

He sports a crooked grin under the helmet. "This is the way"

You click your tongue, "You wouldn't be too happy if I was the one saying that"

You don't waste more time.

Your hands reach out to his helmet, slowly pulling it off. He stops you before you get to see more than his chin.

"Close your eyes" he mutters with a quiet, vulnerable, raw voice. It is equally thick with desperation, more than before.

"I will"

The helmet comes off with a hiss. All you see is dark, hands holding to the beskar.

"I have an idea"

You hear Din's breath hitch, a small yelp dying on his lips. Lips you'd die to see.

The helmet feels heavy on your head, and you wonder if he feels so too or it's used to it at this point.

"Don't worry" you throw your head back, "eyes on the roof"

You sense his hesitation, "I'm not looking"

It takes some minutes for him to reply, "I know"

"Then" you extend your hand, "what's wrong?"

You feel him draw closer, search the warmth of your hand. And then, it happens.

Your body freezes, feeling him place his cheek on your palm, rubbing against it. You cup it on instinct, the rough of his stubble tickling. You giggle, fighting back tears.

"You haven't cut it"

"I know you like it"

You laugh with glossy eyes he can't see, your heart swelling with the intention.

"But I can't see it"

The bed cracks as he lowers himself. "I'm sorry. I just... I really wanted to taste you. I've thought... about it, for so long. What your lips would taste like, how you-" he cuts his rambling off, whispering his thoughts out loud. "I'm not an... expert. I have never done it before. But I know I can make you feel good. I'll be so good for you, I promise"

Heat runs straight to your core, making it clench around nothing.

"Yes" you breath, giving him permission.

Din's hands grip your thighs as he hooks his fingers into the sides of your underwear and slowly pulls them down.

"Cyar'ika..." he breathes, "you're so beautiful"

And then his mouth's on you.

It's a bit clumsy, slow enough to feel both deliberate and unsure. It may be just Din, maybe having him like this for the first time, anyone, but its devastating.

The way he explores you with his tongue, learning every fold, sensitive spot, taking his time, dragging the flame that's set in your belly, knot tightening as your toes curl. It's overwhelming: the intensity of his focus, the way he seems hellbent on putting your pleasure first―making you feel something.

"Din" you call shakily, hands falling to your sides into fists curled on the sheets as the pressure builds higher and higher, a tight coil ready to snap. It becomes almost unbearable, your knuckles turning white. "I-"

Without thinking, your hands fly to his hair, feeling the brown strands you once saw at Moff Gideon's ship, fingers curling as they pull on locks that have grown longer since then.

Din stops. You gasp at the loss, forcing yourself not to look at him.

"Wh- What happened? Did I hurt you?" you ask, voice laced with urgency and panic as you try to catch your breath.

His voice is rough, "Do it again"

You falter, unsure if you heard well. "What?"

"Please, do it again" he rasps, drunk in pleasure. "Pull my hair. I... I liked it"

Devoid of the helmet, his voice rings much clear, intentions even more obvious.

The confession sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. Hesitating, you reach for his hair again, consciously this time, feeling it in your fingers, playing with it until his breath rags softly and you feel the damp of his sweat pour through your tips. Finally, you tighten them again, pulling harder this time.

A low moan falls from his lips before he dives back in, mouth more demanding, hungrier.

In response, you grip and pull another tug that evokes a ragged, beautiful sound from his throat. His body trembles with intoxicating pleasure as his mouth dives into you yet again.

Every movement of his tongue, every suck of your cunt: he wasn't trying to just get you off, Din was, like everything he did, trying to prove his loyalty and love with actions; no words were easy, but showing you he was yours, his devotion, like this, he could do it.

You can feel his moans vibrating against you, little whimpers of pleasure that he can't hold back every time you tighten your grip.

"Din" you gasp.

Your hips start to move against his face, chasing friction as the pressure builds within.

"Are you close?" Din rasps, and it takes all of you to not look at him. All you can do is imagine the sight of his glistening lips, pupils blown wide. How undone he might look, just by testing you.

You can only nod, a half cry getting lost in the air.

His movements become more focused, determined. His lips seal around you, and it's the closest you'll get to a kiss.

Your vision begins to blur. You pull his hair again, harder this time, with a sharp yank that makes him cry against you.

The coil snaps, pleasure crashing into you as the vibration was the final push to fall into your orgasm, the waves of pleasure crashing over you, blinding you.

He laps softly as you ride your orgasm, like a starving dog until you're left limp and trembling, legs barely able to hold you up.

"Din"

Like hypnotized by your voice, he stops the kisses on your inner thighs and looks at you, feeling his gaze burn over your spent body.

"Yes?"

"Kiss me"

There's silence where you sense both his discomfort and insecurity.

Your chest aches. "I won't look. Kiss me, please"

You hear him sigh. "You won't look?"

"No" you gulp, throat dry, "but before you cover yourself again, let me know what it's like to kiss you"

"Cyar'ika..." he warns.

"I'll be a good girl, Din. But I- I need to do it. I haven't stopped thinking about it since I saw your face. I won't even look at it. Just let me... let me kiss you"

He stays, still.

"Okay" he whispers, voice hoarse. "I'll do it"

You only manage a breathless nod. "Okay... That's okay"

Any price to pay would be worth it if it meant getting to kiss him for the first time.

A fine tremor still runs through him as he removes the helmet. When he lifts it off your face, you hear him sigh in relief at the sight of your closed eyes.

"Good girl" he mumbles, reigniting the fire in your belly.

"Can I... Will you ay least let me touch you?"

He stops, and you know he still hasn't put his helmet on.

"If I can't see you..." you swallow. "I want to touch you, Din"

He doesn't refuse nor allow it.

"Don't deny me" you plead.

"Will it-" he stops, dragging out the words, "will it make you happy?"

You nod.

Then, his hand finds yours, interlocking his fingers with your own. They land on his face, eyes softly tracing through his skin, rough little hairs, and swollen lips, while his breath stutters with desperate hunger.

"Kiss me now"

He leans in, unsure at first, until he's all over your mouth. You feel him stop, heartbeat picking up.

"Do it again"

He locks your mouth onto his, messy, and hungry, like he had a taste of you and now it isn't enough. It will never be.

Like he wants to devour you, memorize the inside of your mouth for something that'll probably never happen, the violation of something so sacred―but your love might be the only religion he will bend his knees for tonight.

The kiss feels like a dying star: exploding, but a light that never goes out. It only fades, into a memory you'll fall yourself asleep too, hidden within desire and the echoes of your heart, chasing that feeling, that high, you'll never get back. Putting your fingers over your lips, to remember his kiss, to feel something. A pressure, to suffocate the one over your heart.

But for now, it's enough.

Because Din bending the rules of his creed for you is proof of his unyielding heart.

And it belongs to you. All of it, tonight.

"Please" he whispers against your lips, the word a needy sound. "I need to be inside you. Please, I need to feel you. Show you you're mine"

You call his name in a cry as he crawled up over you, body covering yours.

"Cyar'ika" he whispers with raw devotion.

The helmet locks. You look up.

"Din" you whisper, looking at the man you love.

He settles between your legs, hips pressing forward, hard length straining against his pants.

Din's breath comes in harsh, uneven pants.

"Do it" you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down, guiding him to your entrance. He slowly pushes inside, a broken whine coming out of his mouth, "make me yours"

He fills you completely in an aching stretch, but it burns so good.

He doesn't move, just stays there, buried deep inside you, breath in harsh, uneven puffs under his helmet. he was trembling, his breath coming in harsh, uneven pants.

"Please, don't let me go" he whispers, voice muffled against the beskar. "I love you"

"I won't" you promise, "I love you"

Something breaks by the way he looks at you, even through his visor. You feel the intensity of his stare and his moves, slow at first, then with a little more confidence. His thrusts were deep and messy, not fast but laced with desperate want.

Every sound Din makes is a broken whimper, some sounding like your name. He was also clingy, hands never leaving your body, one in your hip, the other laced with your fingers. Even if you can't see his face, the intimacy of everything is overwhelming.

This isn't just sex, but a confession: Din, laying himself bare, every scathed piece under the unbreakable beskar. And you take them as they are, holding him close, meeting his thrusts, whispering words of encouragement against his helmet.

"Say it again" he pants, voice hoarse with emotion, "that you love me"

"I love you, Din" you whisper firmly. You bite back a scandalous moan, "as long as the galaxy stands"

The words seemed to fuel something raw in him, unraveling a desire that makes each thrust deliberate, with an edge: he's desperate to claim you, to mark you as his own.

"Mine" he croaks out, rhythm faltering as his own release starts to build, "all mine"

You come first, a soft cry falling from your lips. Your walls tighten around his length, and that's what makes him come. He looks at the roof, letting out a gasp while his body shudders under the force of his release, a broken call for your name spilling from his lips.

Before his body gives out, you feel it: the strain of holding back, of being the first time.

A single tear rolls from under the helmet and falls over your body.

"Din-"

Wordlessly, he collapses on top of you, body weight pressing you into the mattress. It feels lighter, somehow, than the nights cuddled in the cramped space of the old Razor Crest.

His body, scarred and soft, still trembling through the aftershocks, pale from not seeing the sun and flushed because of earlier events―it's yours for the night.

Din's face remains hidden, yet you can tell he looks at you with quiet, tender, loving eyes.

"Please stay"

You reach up, pulling him closer by his neck.

"I promised I would"

He makes a pause before speaking again.

"...Forever?"

"Well" you look next to you, where Grogu is fast asleep still. It seems nothing can wake him up, "you guys need me"

"That's not what I meant-"

"...as much as I need you too"

He chuckles softly, and you can picture a smirk drawn over those lips you touched moments ago. Kissed, for the first time.

"Din, look at me"

He turns towards you. "I am"

You find his hand, pulling it to kiss knuckles that have killed many men, that have pulled the trigger to end lives. The same ones that pull you closer as he lays next to you, bodies seeking each other's warmth.

"I'm here" you whisper, as faithful as a prayer. Your own creed, "and I'm not going anywhere"

How did you ended here, Joel holding your thighs firmly in place, in that low voice of his, partly rough with desire and the other as to keep it quiet, shy of the neighbors' presence as if he didn't have his nose deep buried in your cunt and your house was the last on the road?

It started with patrol. The horses weren't suit for going through the cobblestones in the river nor that one sudden cliff your patrol partner had missed when mapping the area, which meant more trail on foot than high on a horse. By the end of the day, your muscles were sore and all you wanted to do was lay down.

You didn't tell Joel. Instead, waited until the next patrol to continue the hellish trail and finally map the area. Secured, but at what cost?

MaybeJoel always knew, from the very moment he saw you cross the door perhaps.

"How's my girl doin'?" he'd asked, placing a soft kiss to your temple, the rough of his stubble ticklish against your skin.

"I feel I could rest for a whole week" you sigh, feet aching inside your boots.

"Tell me 'bout it" like he didn't know. "You should rest, darlin'. C'mere"

"Joel-!" you yelp, feeling him pick up your body even if he does a little huff of effort due to that strain on his back. He no longer hides them, ashamed before of the sounds, a small embarrasing reminder of the age difference between you two, looking away as he picked you bridal style. But then you had wrapped your arms around his neck and your lips brushed close to his ear, where wild greying curls kissed his skin. That's my strong man. His face went red and you never brought it up again. That was the first night you spent at his house. Now, you lived here.

"Hush. Don't wanna ruin the surprise"

You quirk an eyebrow, hands hanging around his neck. "It's not my birthday. What's with you?"

"Can't I do a nice thing for my girl?"

A lazy smile forms in your lips. "You may"

He lets out a chuckle. "Thank you for your permission"

"I'm kind"

"You're annoying"

You pout, toying with him as he starts to move. "You're annoying"

"Don't forget I'm holdin' you" he fake threatens with a smile.

He's joking: your boyfriend was a caretaker at heart. So he takes you upstairs before opening the bedroom, gently placing you on the bed.

He grunts, kneeling. "Boots. Up"

You giggle, raising your feet as he gets rid of the shoes, socks and then-

"Your idea is fucking me?" you ask with a laugh, but your cheeks turn a faint pink and your body starts to tingle with heat.

He looks up, choking.

"Jesus- language, doll. No- that's not" he sputters. "Unless that's what Aibileen taught me"

You laugh, unguarded. "You mean the old woman that lives on Copper Street? Right. I wonder what she taught you"

He pulls down your pants, the cold air hitting your bare legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

"You'll see"

"Can't wait. Because elders are so freaky and sexy"

"You sayin' I ain't sexy?" Joel narrows his eyes, mouth serious yet twitching at the corners. "Be careful, sugar. You're sleepin' with an elder too"

"She's seventy"

"That'll be me in a lil' bit over ten years"

He's still joking, yet you can hear the underlying currents of familiar insecurity creeping up his tone. Joel would never be with someone young like you. But this is the apocalypse, and things happen. Still, town got bored from time to time, and even if the talk had died down, your holding hands and the kisses you pressed on his lips when you thought no one was watching gathered unwanted stares and whispers behind your backs. Which is why, no matter how much you assured him, that'll always be there.

Doesn't mean you get tired of reassuring how much you want him.

"And I'll still be here"

Joel gets up, knees creaking yet he doesn't groan this time.

"You sure 'bout that?" as his hand rests on his hip.

"I solemly swear I'll stay by your completely grey curls and wrinkles" you raise a hand. "Unless a clicker kills me"

He shakes his head, muttering under his breath. "You're impossible"

"But that won't happen" you hum, grinning cheekily. "Because my boyfriend is such a skilled survivor, strong and capable. He'll protect me"

"Tell your boyfriend if he can shut ya' up so I can do what I wanna do"

You pretend to zip your mouth, raising your hands in mock surrender.

"Lie down on your stomach"

The command sends a jolt through your body. Joel's voice always kept you on edge. There was something about that deep gravelly southern rumble that made your walls clench. He was a man used to commanding and leading, albeit the nature of his relationship with Tess. When you, not weak but not as strongminded as the latter woman squirmed into his life and showed him you trusted him to the point of blindly following anything he said, he made sure to harness that power his given authority by you gave him and took the lead.

You shuffle up to the bed, moving up until you reach the pillows to lay your head on your cheek. You close your eyes, biting your lip as a rush of adrenaline courses through your veins.

"So now you're fucking me"

You hear him move around the bedroom, opening a drawer.

"Quit that" he breathes heavily. "I'm gonna..."

"Yes?" you open an eye to peek, expecting to see him pulling his worn jeans down.

But Joel's standing in front of you, a small bottle on his hand.

"I'm gon' give you a massage for God's sake. Dirty girl"

You choke on your spit, propping yourself up with your elbows. Your face flushes with shame. Or maybe the way he chastised you last.

"I-"

"Just shut up" his face flushes too, and you don't know if it's the situation what brings him to this or what he's about to do. "I wanted to make somethin' nice and here ya' go, makin' it 'bout sex. S'always 'bout fuckin' with you"

"N-no"

His hand comes to grab you, holding your face by the chin. His rough fingers press softly into your skin.

"Tryna give me a heart attack with that greedy pussy of yours..." he grumbles as his touch leaves you. He takes off your shirt slowly, making your heart beat like crazy.

You yelp when he flips your body all of the sudden, exposing your back.

"There. That better" you bite your lip as the bottle cap comes off. "Lavender. She... she said the smell's relaxin' or sum bullshit like that"

"You seriously learned to do massaging?" you ask, laughing with disbelief. You hear him cough up behind your back, imagining the heat creeping up his neck.

"Well, ya' had sum tough patrols. Wanted to do somethin' nice for those muscles of y'rs"

His hand reaches tentatively, as if he's scared of his own force.

"You're too good to me" you hum, burying your face on the pillow. "Don't worry. I trust you. I know you won't hurt me"

Joel takes a deep breath before pressing down firmly on the muscles of your bare back. You let out a barely contained moan, bitting your lip at the sensation of his hands moving up and down, calloused digits hot against your cold skin.

This should relax you. Not turn you on. He's being so considerate and here you are, only thinking on the feel of his hands touching you with strength but delicacy, as if a little too rough movement might hurt you.

"Hmm, that feels good. You really know how to use your hands, Joel" you speak, voice a low hush. "I can feel the stress leaving me already. You're a good student"

"And you're a real good client" he mumbles, smiling softly. "Now, stay still so I can take all the stress outta this pretty body. Any discomfort or pain you feelin' will be gone real soon"

"So good of you. Taking my pain away"

He smiles. "Always"

You feel the stress that started when you climbed the cliff starting to dissipate as Joel works up and down your back. Althought it hurts a bit as he zeroes on a knot, the relief that comes after is priceless. When he gets to the back of your neck, you bury your face on the pillow to avoid a sound out of his touch on the particularly sensitive area for you.

"Your touch..." your voice cracks. "It's magic"

"I know" he smiles, proudly. "And it only took two classes"

Joel is soon done with your back. He then moves to your calves, touring the road with light presses as he reaches your thighs.

You squirm.

"Easy, babygirl"

But it's hard when he keeps getting closer to the spot between your thighs. You can't help it and close them shut at just his light touch.

"Sorry"

"S'okay" he soothes.

Yet you can feel Joel hesitate too, a loud gulp from behind as his throat works up. You feel your breathing get slower.

"Am I being good?" you ask with a bit of a flirtatious tone.

"Yeah, you're doin' good. Jus' quit movin'. Now, turn 'round"

Oh. You hide your disappointment as you follow his command.

"Good girl"

That suffices for now: the fuzzy feeling that courses through you at the praise.

Your breath hitches when his hands pin you by your wrists. Then, slowly, his hands crawl up until his fingers slide between yours.

"You've been grabbin' the horses handles and your weapon all day" Joel says as he turns and twists them. Then goes back to your wrist, flexing it. "Your hands must be real tired"

You nod through fluttering eyelashes, dumbly.

Joel chuckles at that. "You're doin' real good. Don't sleep on me"

He works a bit on your arms before moving to your shoulders. There's something almost sensual in the way his body hovers over your own as his fingers cross your collarbones, his touch lingering as he presses lightly. He reaches your neck, stopping.

You smile mischievously at him.

Joel just sighs. "No, we ain't trying that again"

"Tomorrow?"

"No. Never again, you dirty girl"

You huff. "Fine, now what"

Joel snorts. "Impatient girl. S'over"

Your gap your mouth open. "What?"

"I said it's over. I'm done"

Yet he makes no move, body still over yours. You can see the hairs of his stubble, more grey than brown now, all the sun spots in his skin, the permanent wrinkle of his frown present even when he's calm like now, and the rise and fall of his chest and how his softened middle brushes your stomach when he exhales.

"But, you haven't massaged here"

You know Joel's trying very hard not to stare right where you're pointing at.

Your breasts.

"Sweetheart..."

"They're so tense..." you mumble, feigning innocence. "Can't you help me there too?"

"Don't go lyin' on me, brat"

You can't help but push, feeling restless and pent-up. Fuck if you get sore muscles again.

"Use your hands, Joel. You're good with them. They're like... magic"

You see Joel take the oil bottle again.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. So good" You stiffle a moan as he clears his throat. Getting impatient, you grab him by the wrist, placing his hand on top of them. "Don't be shy" as his hand goes tense; still. You move it a bit, feeling his big size swallow your breast as a whole. Your nipples go rock hard at the touch. "I know you love them"

"You brat" he grits his teeth. "So fucken dirty. Had to make it 'bout fuckin' again, had you?"

"Can't help it" you arch your back into his touch when his oiled up digits starts moving. "I tried, I really did. But then I imagined your fingers..."

His voice turns into a deep rumble. "How did you imagine them? Use your mouth and tell me, sweet girl"

Joel keeps rolling your nipples between his fingers, cupping your breasts until the lavender is so strong, it gives you a faint headache and dizziness.

"Massaging" you spill in a breathy whisper, "kneading, playing with them..."

He leans his head down, words rolling off his tongue slowly, dripping and sticky like honey.

"And my mouth? Your pretty head ain't imagine that?"

You shake your head.

Joel chuckles. "Silly doll. Don't ya' worry, I know how to treat my girl just right"

You swallow harshly as his cock presses hard against the denim, throbbing at your breathy exhales. Joel then leans down and takes the hardened bud between his mouth, teeth grazing slightly before his tongue starts tracing slow circles around it, the wet feel of his saliva and the laps around the nub making you arch your back again.

"Good girl. Showin' me how you like it" he exhales softly, almost with reverence even if his honey eyes darken. "Feelin' better?"

You nod, but he clicks his tongue.

"Words, baby. Tell me, is it helpin'?"

"V-very" you choke out. "J-Joel"

"Good girl" he praises. "Now, tell me. Where else does it hurt?"

Your hand manages to point the spot between your legs that had been damp since the first touch against your back. Joel can feel himself salivate and harden more at the damp spot on your underwear.

"Oh, babydoll. Look at ya'. All wet since the beginnin', haven't ya´?" he chuckles darkly as one of his hands massages the inner space of your thighs he had ignored before, slowly spreading your legs. "Don't worry, sugar. I won't punish ya' for bein' greedy and dirty, my naughty girl. I said I was gonna help, didn't I?"

You see him push himself down until his breath ghosts over the damp spot of your underwear. He looks at you as he takes them off slowly, hooking his thick fingers on the waistband as he tugs them down.

"So ya' better behave and lemme help ya'" he orders while drumming on your thigh. "That right?"

You nod again, completely drunk on your need.

"Good, doll. That's my girl"

Joel smiles darkly before he leans down, giving you a last look before his face dissappears between your thighs.

"Then watch"

His facial hair tickles against your wet cunt, and Joel growls at the sight of your sticky walls.

"Lookin' real good darlin'. She's ready for me, all wet" he mumbles, hot air making you clench. "Gon' treat her good jus' like she likes"

Finally, his mouth closes around you, mustache making you arch your back. With one long, slow stroke, you fall apart, a breathless moan slipping past your lips at the first contact, incredibly wanted by your expecting fluttering cunt.

Your head tilts again the pillows, trying to drown the sound. Joel's rough grab on your hip startles you.

"No. Lemme see you" he commands, his voice sending vibrations through your core. You force yourself to pull away from the pillows. "Atta girl"

He hums against you, pleased, his grip tighter as he licks again your folds, slow and teasing. "Fuckin' sweet" as his saliva traces a sleazy trail. You tremble. "And so sensitive..."

Joel's hands grip your thighs, holding you open as his tongue moves with slow, deliberate strokes. Your body squirms under Joel's mouth minstrations, thighs threatening to close around his head, yet his strong hands keep you spread wide.

"Don't move, doll. Y' said you would behave. Now be a good girl and quit squirmin'"

He laps at you with more purpose, tongue flickering over your clit with teasing stripes.

"Good girl. Gon' reward you, sweetheart, jus' wait"

He laps a little more, testing, before sucking gently, making you arch off the bed.

"Joel" you whine his name, voice breathless, almost pleading. Your hands grab out to tug his hair, tightening around his messy hair as you feel it start to dampen around the nape of his neck and his ears.

He raises his head at that. His pupils are blown wide and traces of you are all over his mouth, coating his lips and stubble. He looks, if anything, so ridiculously handsome.

"Kiss me, Joel" you plead, a light tremble in your voice.

"Just 'cause you asked nicely" he reaches your mouth with a grunt. "Can say no to my sweet girl"

He tastes like you, mouth sucking on your bottom lip lightly. He pushes himself off only when your lips are swollen and he needs air. Then, Joel smirks, proud, before diving back down as his lips kiss your core, making you whine. He brushes the sensitive skin again, body burning with desire.

This time, Joel moves with more urgency, tongue drawing tight circles, slow but deliberate, teasing yet firm, all deep strokes that make your breath stop.

A moan tears from your lips as your hips buck against his mouth and Joel groans, enjoying how responsive you are and always have been.

He flicks his tongue over your clit again, eating you like a man starved each time he sucks, harder, sending tingles up your squelching cunt.

"Well, I was wrong-" you whimper. "Elders are freaky"

Your head tilts back, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure starts to build, a tight knot forming in your stomach.

He pulls back just enough to murmur. "And you gon' learn to respect them"

You know you're about to come. Joel does too, trying real hard not to bust inside his pants. But your sounds are so needy and sweet as you start to fall apart, and you taste so delicious...

The heat inside you becomes unbereable. Like a fire: burning, hot and consuming. Your skin feels ablaze as you blabber things that sound like a plea for his name, and if this calling was a prayer, he'd built a religion around your body teetering on the edge.

So Joel pushes you closer to your climax, mouth working with the precision of someone who knows you therefore loves you, grip on your thighs so tight to keep you on place, it might leave bruises on your trembling body.

"Come, baby. I wanna see her come undone for me" he commands in a low rasp against your cunt. "Let me have a taste of ya'"

You shatter with a cry past your lips and a final lick of his.

Pleasure crashes over you like the current of the river you trailed through, washing over the stress from earlier and any other thing you've been holding on to. Because now, your mind is filled with Joel: Joel, your sweet boyfriend who learn massaging to help you. Joel, who ate you out because you asked. Joel, who made you fall apart with his mouth like it's a life and death matter. Your back arches and you call his name again.

"I'm here" you hear him murmur, tight grip now turned soft as his thumb brushes over your hips. You feel him groan, licking your juices as if that's the only thing that'll remove this undying thrist for you, letting you ride it out while he keeps drinking everything you give to him.

Joel finally pulls back with a grunt, his knees almost giving up as he stands up. You see the stain on his pants, and while other times you would have teased him, you don't have the heart too. Instead, all you do is extend a lazy hand as he crawls over to you. He sighs with relief, the blush in his neck and flushed face still there nevertheless while he avoids your gaze.

"How was I?" you ask while panting, trying to even your breath.

Joel's eyes crinkle, crow's feet on display, orbs going from dark to that warm deep brown woods you often got lost in; safe. Secluded from the rest of the world, in a place where it was just you and him, wrapping you with his musk and big strong arms.

Like right now, as he cages you, pressing your limp body against his.

"Good" he murmurs finally, kissing your jaw. Pulls you in closer, hand tangled on your hair. "S' good to me. Always"

"Always" you repeat, akin to a promise. Then, a beat. "Because I'm yours" you utter, so simple yet so sure, making his belly flutter and heart beat steady. Like that could be the answer to all.

Your hand finds his, holding tightly. His free hand craddles your face, afraid you'll vanish as if you were a fragment of his imagination. Too good to be true.

"My sweet girl" he coos, pulling you even closer. Joel can't help but remember the first night he had you like this, holding you like a thing so sacred he'd go to hell and back again to find it. A piece to make his broken heart beat again. A smell he now recognized as yours. Hands that brought him back if he ever lost his way.

Home.

When Joel first saw you, he never thought he'd had you; a second chance. Call it fate, or call it karma: the possibility of having his heart broken again. Yet he knows, when he looks at your droopy eyelids and soft breathing, his heart is safe with you.

"Next time" you mumble lazily, snuggling closer, "I'll do something for you"

Joel groans when your leg brushes against his strained dick with your movement.

"I think I've got an idea or two"

"Pero, es que lo hubieras visto, Beni" you laugh. "Se mandó tremendos pasos en el Airbnb con Ana y conmigo, para luego salir todo tieso en la casita" (you should've seen him. he danced so well back at the airbnb when we were with ana, but then he got all stiff on stage at the casita)

Your boyfriend doesn't seem to find this as funny as the pair of you.

"Míralo, to' enoja'o" Benito teases. (look at him, all grumpy)

"Ignore him. He's jealous I displayed all my best dance moves" you quip. "God, when EoO started playing, I lost it. We were supposed to leave by then, but I couldn't. La Gasolina played and I swore Daddy Yankee was showing up on stage. Pedro filmed it all"

"By lost it she means she went down on me when she thought no one was looking" he places then a hand over his chest, proud. "And yes, I have everything in record, including you meeting Karol G"

"I was seeing stars" you fawn. "Viste, Pedro se tomó literal el Debí Tirar Más Fotos. His storage is the strongest hero on earth" (see? pedro took the i should've taken more pictures name of your album literally)

"I am very loved, so it works for me" he defends himself. Pedro then gets closer to Benito, wrapping an arm over his shoulder. "But, yeah, y/n's right. This might be the best superbowl ever. I promise it isn't my bias as a latino and your friend"

He shrugs, humble. "I just wanted to do my best. Get the message spread"

"No, seriously" you add, "I got chills when you named every country in America. Like, how did you even remember them all?"

"I guess I got good memory" he smiles shyly.

"Aw" Pedro pats him in the back as Benito lets out an oof at the unexpected hit, "take the compliments, man, you deserved it"

"Yes! You represented latino culture in such a beautiful way and most importantly" both men look at you expecting a thoughtful answer, "me cumpliste el sueño de perrearle encima a mi marido en cable nacional gringo" (you made my dream of dancing explicitely over my boyfriend on national us cable come true. *marido=husband, but it's also used for long-term partners you live with)

"You had to make it about you, don't you?" Pedro rolls his eyes but it's all teasing. "Damn, baby, you're such an exhibitionist sometimes"

"No, I'm not!" your cheeks flare up. "I just like the idea of being able to broadcast my privilege to the word: I'm dating the second hottest latino in the planet!"

Pedro smiles until he processes your words.

"Second?!" he asks, between desbelief and offense. "Who is supposed to be hotter than me?"

"But I was told I made everything about me" you sigh. "Beni, of course"

The mentioned's eyes widen. "Me?"

He probably looks more surprised by the confesser than the actual confession.

"Oh, c'mon. Aren't you?" you argue. "I mean, I knew it a while back but that Calvin Klein photoshoot from last year? God. I was- I passed out. For real"

Benito looks at your boyfriend, probably expecting a discussion (he doesn't want to be the cause or take any part on; you're his adoptive parents, his favorite couple) to start or a snide against your behavior. Instead, he's met with the last possibility he expected:

"What?" Pedro peacefully chews his gum. "I agree"

"No sé qué e'tá pasando" (i don't know what's happening)

"Easy, Beni buddy. We're not blind" you wink his way. "If we like what we see, we say it"

Pedro then finds his spot by your side, hand around your waist as he gently strokes the area of your exposed skin between your skirt and top.

"My lady's right" he smiles, tone borderline flirty, "even if that means giving my hottest latino title to another"

"You're number one on the Top Dilfs of the Year, amor. Twice" (love)

He knocks on your head lovingly. "You need to leave that app. It's ruining your brain"

Benito, still in shock at the interaction happening and partialy in daze by the half-time show, asks out-loud:

"Are you open?"

Pedro's caresses stop and your eyes open in surprise. Benito startles himself when you both laugh out loud.

"No!" you wipe fake tears after your laughter has calmed down, "we're- no, we're not open. We just think you're hot"

He still can't believe this conversation is happening at all. Nobody was on the other side of the door, right?

"We? Both?"

"Yes, both" Pedro happily clarifies. "Got a problem with that?"

He's quick to correct himself.

"No, señol'. Cada quién ama a quién quiele" Benito adds sincerly. (no, sir. love is love)

Pedro smiles sweetly at his disposition.

"Alright" he chuckles, "but lets drop the love card. All I said was I think you're attractive"

"Ah, you gettin' cold feet?" the younger man teases.

You intervene with a smirk. "Don't test him. He gets feisty"

"'Cause I love dares" he adds, loudly chewing his gum.

"No, 'cause you're a sore loser, amor" you tease lovingly, cupping his cheek.

He rolls his eyes without being mad. "I see what's happening, you are teaming up against me"

"No, we're not. This started as a compliment shower for Beni, you just had to make it about you, huh?"

"Alright, I'm leaving this room if all I'm getting is insults. Me and Ana are getting drunk on the Airbnb and you're invited if you stop going at me"

"¿Qué dijo?" (what did he say?)

"Que es un viejito aburrido que ya se va a dormir" (that he's an old boring man who needs to go to sleep already)

"Enough" Pedro's cheeks flare up. "You said you liked old men, don't bring up your youth on me!"

You chuckle, kissing his chin. "You're so easy to rile up! You know I love you like this. Besides" you trace his chest, that flushed skin his open shirt lets you see, "it doesn't affect your performance at all"

Benito's ears turn red at the tips. It's almost adorable how shy he gets as if he didn't write and sing explicit stuff.

"Please, you can't get shy if you wrote Safaera" you joke. He only flushes more, "you make a living out of it!"

"Yeah, but-" he tries finding his words, "seeing you two... I know you two. It's, different"

Pedro decides to have some fun too. "Good or bad different?"

"I don't know, man. Sex is sex. This is your life, just- don't tell everyone about it"

You leave Pedro's side, who makes a little snort when he sees you walk up to Benito. He remembers earlier conversations, some drunk, some after the bedsheets of your home stick to your body during the aftersex haze. Because he knows that walk of yours, the flare in your eyes: no one would notice the difference, but he knows you. Oh, you're plotting something, that dirty imaginative mind of yours doing cartwheels.

"Lo dice el que cantó si tu novio te mama el culo" you make fun of Benito while you ruffle his hair. "Besides, you aren't everyone, Beni. You're one of our closest friends" (says the one who sang if your boyfriend doesn't suck your ass)

"Still..." he tries to get off the topic.

"Alrighr, how about this" you sit on the couch backstage. Pedro follows, patting his lap. You move there, finding your spot among his legs but without breaking eye contact with the singer, "tell me the nastiest thing you've done"

He looks even more shy, if possible. "No. I can't say that"

"I'll tell you mine"

You're persistent. Bored, or maybe just annoying, overall.

"We joined the High Mile Club, last year. It was before the Fantastic Four premiere in London"

Pedro kisses your neck, then playfully hides his face there. "Stop exposing us"

"I've done that too" Beni adds to your surprise.

"Oh, you're saying it's not special? Okay, let's level up"

"Te queja' de tu novio pero ere' igualita" (you complain about your boyfriend but you're the same)

You laugh as Pedro drops an I know!

"Okay, enough. Question: what would be the nastiest thing you'd do?"

Silence follows your question, a strange thick sense of tension seeping into the room. You feel the faint smell of sweat now stronger. Even Pedro seems to ponder the question, hand resting thoughtfully on his chin.

"What would you do?" Beni asks.

"Hey!" you complain, "don't turn this on me. I asked first"

"Well, I'm asking now. Quielo' ideas" (i want ideas)

You relent. "Fine, I'll tell you, but you can't tell anyone else"

"Who? TMZ?" he jokes.

"Shut up" your cheeks flare up not at the joke but at the confession incoming. "I'd... I'd have a threesome"

You close your eyes after having revealed what you consider your darkest deepest sexual desire. When you open them, the younger man stares pondering while your boyfriend rubs the small of your back.

"I thought so too"

You look at him with disbelief. "Really?"

"Yeah, that's why we're soulmates" Pedro laughs. "What? I had a crazy life before meeting you. Everyone wanted a piece of me"

"So that Vanity Cover headline wasn't a coincidence, huh?"

Pedro laughs, cheeky. "What can I say? True story right there"

"Okay" Benito cuts off. "Un trío. ¿Con quién?" (a threesome. with who)

"See? That's why I haven't like, even thought about it that much" you explain. "I have no clue who I'd trust"

"For what?" he presses, although it's fairly obvious.

"To fuck me from behind" you drop, crudely.

"Well" he clears his throat, less shy but still not completely confident, "a while ago you said I was hot"

"Yeah, I remember. Your point?"

"Is your secret desire also a threesome?" Pedro asks.

The younger man shakes his head. "Not really my thing" he looks both of you up and down, lingering on Pedro's exposed chest and the soft flesh of your legs the skirt can't cover. "But now that you brought it up, I might be into the idea"

You look at Pedro with subtle panic and a deep carnal desire you can't quite hide.

He smirks. "Oh no, don't give me that look. You started this, kitten. Curiosity kills the cat, remember?"

"Ya sabe' lo que dicen" Beni speaks, making you look back at him, "pa' reforzar la amistá'" (we should reinforce the friendship)

You look back at Pedro, probably for confirmation or an out; a last call for your sanity.

"I'm in if you are" he pecks your lips. When he speaks again, his hot breath tickles your parted lips, exhaling heavy quick puffs of air at the sudden rush. "Besides, we both said he was hot, didn't we?"

Pedro flickers the lights. Just hours ago, you were laughing in this very same place, making fun of his dance moves. Now, you got the biggest singer in the planet, maybe next to Taylor Swift even, ready to fuck you with your boyfriend.

Life and its crazy twists. It was the year for latinos, that's for sure.

"I told Ana to leave. She went to meet up some friends" Pedro explains the third guest's abscense, or why your friend wasn't there, more having to do with a quick text Pedro sent on the ride back than an actual plan that wasn't originally there.

"Wow, I think you're more eager for this than me" you tease.

Pedro rolls his eyes. "I won't remind you who the catalyst for this whole thing was"

"Okay, pero no actúes como si te tuviera forzado" (don't act like you're being forzed to do this)

"I see. This is a shennanigan I'll later be solely blamed for"

Benito, behind you, clears his throats at your couple antics.

"¿Empezamos?" (should we start?)

"Good you reminded me, actually"

Without waiting to waste any more seconds, Pedro takes you by your legs, picking you up bridal style. You squeal as Benito laughs at the sudden move.

"¿Qué haces?" you giggle, "¡bájame!" (what are you doing? put me down!)

"Nope" he refuses as you giggle louder. "Bedroom, now"

Pedro walks up to your shared bedroom, still carrying you. Benito trails behind as your boyfriend places you gently in the bed while you laugh, kissing your neck. He then runs his fingers along your legs, making your body tremble. God, doesn't he know you? What you like, how you like it. All the teasing that comes before, how just a light touch can make you squirm and so eager for it.

Softly, he parts your legs, seeing how damp you were already by the wet spot between your legs, right in the middle of your favorite laced underwear, hidden by the small skirt that's been driving him insane ever since you left the place earlier.

He turns around, looking at Benito, who's eyes have gone a darker shade as well. Oh, so he has noticed it too.

"I heard you're an eater, Beni" your boyfriend speaks through paused, heavy words. "But, do you know how she likes it?"

You see the younger man gulp at your boyfriend's daring words, eyelids heavy and lips parted as heavy puffs of breath come through.

You lay your head back on the pillow, closing your eyes when Pedro grabs you by your thigh, lightly squeezing the soft flesh.

"Don't stop watching"

It's like Pedro always wanted an audience. He dives into your cunt, nose burying itself in your tight folds. He feels your pussy clench and the bed sheets move as your fist closes around them. Your stomach and legs tense as he continues to make a mess out of you, mouth attacking your slick cunt while his nose keeps hitting too damn close to your spongy spot. He finally finds it, the hairs of his mustache tickling the rest of the sensitive skin.

You gasp, back arching.

"Este cabrón" curses Beni under his breath, a small groan afterwards. (this bastard)

You see him walk closer, hand over his pants, squeezing his cock. You'd seen the pictures of that concert during his residency in Puerto Rico, how the silhouette of his dick against white shorts went viral, people even baptizing the move of it while dancing as "dwerking". You gulp at the though of its size and texture, if it'd fit in you as easily as Pedro's, already used to his girth.

For a moment, your boyfriend's mistrations, sloppier and more urgent, get you close to your climax. For that second, you forget Benito is there.

That until he whispers, hot breath tickling your ear as he levels to your height:

"You sound even prettier than I thought, mami. No pares" (don't stop)

With a final cry, his words send you over the edge, thighs squeezing around his head while your fingers bury themselves on the messy wet curls on the back of his head, nails and silver threads woven through the chesnut.

"I-" you try to speak, but it's all mindless blabber as you try to breath evenly again.

"'S okay, baby. You did so well" your boyfriend kisses your inner thigh. Then, gets up, looking at Beni as your slick covers the bottom half of his face. His gaze stays there, at the sticky transparent gloss over his licks, chin and facial hair. "Wanna try?"

He nods, wordlessly, but before he can get near you, Pedro cuts him by taking in his lips, kissing him with your juices on his mouth. The older man pulls away with a devilish smirk, probably satisfied with his move and how he took him by surprise.

"Now you know how we taste"

You shiver, body spent and aching but still conscious enough to know what it is that's happening.

"All yours" as he steps aside.

Beni walks towards you. You don't expect him to start sucking your skin, tentatively, his teeth nipping into the flushed warm expanse of your body, attacking your neck, making you moan out loud. He bites the same spot again, harder this time, as you cry his name.

Pedro hears this, cock twitching painfully in his pants at the thought of you whimpering a name that isn't his.

Benito sucks with expertise, sucking love bites first in your neck, and then down your collarbone. You grab his back, his shoulder blade and then hair. You don't know what to touch, what to hold on to, or was it the fact your body is still drunk from pleasure that Beni's touches make you shiver.

"Creo que está lista" (i think she's ready)

He moves his legs so Pedro has access to your lower body. Your boyfriend tugs the sweaty skirt and sticky panties down, until the only article of clothing you had on was your top.

"You're being a good girl, mami. Real obedient for us" he licks his hand, from the bottom of his palm to the tip of his fingers. "I just don't like hearing you moan names that aren't mine"

He then smacks your throbbing pussy. The slap makes you jolt, yelping out loud. Beni smirks against your skin, satisfied with the sound.

"Ah, te gustó eso?" he teases, eyes flying to your chest. He pulls up your top, unclasping the bra and freeing your nipples pressing against it. Pedro notices too, of course he does, his hand twitching until he pinches it. (did you like that?)

You moan out loud as he keeps pulling and rolling the bud. Benito reaches for the other neglected nipple, hand spread over your breast, squeezing the doughy skin, nipple cuaght between his ring and middle finger. You whimper when the cold of the metal on his fingers makes contact with you.

"See?" Pedro teases, "she loves when we play with her breasts. Such'a little minx, so easy to rile up"

You whine at your earlier words being used against you.

Another slap lands on your clit, a loud cry piercing through the air.

"Good thing Ana isn't here. She'd hear what a slut you are"

His thumb then soothes the sting, circling your clit as he plants a kiss on your head. Dirty talking is not new to you, nor this, but the thought of it happening while someone else watches sends a current through you.

"Can I eat her out now?" Benito asks with a perfect english. Men truly learn what they're interested in.

Pedro nods as he takes place between your legs, but then, he stops the younger man.

"Wait" he smirks, "do you think I'm just gonna sit here and do nothing?"

He points the edge of the bed. You obey in an instant, knowing exactly what he wants to do.

"Look at you" he teases, giving a small playful slap to your ass as you crawl to the spot and lay down, head hanging off the bed, "so eager to have your throat stuffed with my cock"

By the time you blink, he has his cock out of his white pants, hanging free on the air. You feel your mouth drool at the familiar sight, and, when you look at the other side, Benito is already on briefs too. Yes, the Calvin Klein ads did him justice. So that story he posted once with only a towel covering his tattoed body, the same your boyfriend had liked and seen (several times).

Speaking about him, his index fingers is sinking knuckle-deep inside your pussy, rings getting covered in your slick. You moan, feeling the rough pressure of his thumb down your clit.

Pedro gets back you attention, snapping his fingers.

"Will you be a good girl and suck my cock?"

You nod, eagerly. "Yes, papi, please" as you stick out your tongue.

"Look at you, so eager for two cocks" Pedro chuckles darkly.

Benito nods while adding another finger, curling both inwards to brush against your g-spot. You shiver, bucking your hips against his fingers for a bigger sense of pleasure. He's taking his time, fingers brushing but not quite. You whine, impatient, but the singer holds you in place, hand firm at your lower belly.

"Tranquila, mami. Hay tiempo" (easy, we have time)

As Pedro's cock pushes past your lips, Benito finally goes down on you, lips sucking harshly your clit, teeth nibbing softly on one of your lips. It makes you moan, vibrations tickling your boyfriend's cock. He groans, pushing in until his tip reaches your throat. You hollow your cheeks out, swallowing around him whenever it hit.

You inhale heavily through your nose, trying to even your breath, but it's not that easy if Benito has gone back to pumping in and out of you with a faster pace, tongue flickering around as well, both men intent on your and their pleasure.

Pedro's hand finds your throat, pressing lightly on its center with his thumb. God, he's so large, you can see his eyes go dark at the sight: feeling his cock against the tight area, loving every inch you take. It's involuntary, really, but you gag as his thumb presses the skin. He pulls back as you gasp for air, only to thrust his cock back in: he's so big it's hard to get used to, even after all this time. You feel your jaw open so wide, it'll crack; lungs so tight, they might snap.

Benito slurps your pussy like it's a drink, the sound loud and obscene. You gasp against Pedro's cock as the Puerto Rican grabs your thighs and pulls them over his shoulders, all to get you closer.

"Look, baby" your boyfriend says, almost proudly, "eso es un hombre que resuelve" (that's a reliable man)

As Pedro fucks your mouth and Benito ravages your clit, you feel closer to seeing stars. Tears run down your cheeks, body overwhelmed with pleasure as none of the men hold back, intent on making you gush both spit around your boyfriend's cock and juices over your friend's mouth.

"Shh. Don't cry, pretty girl" Pedro hushes, a long calloused finger caressing your cheek tenderly, "you're almost there"

He pulls out, leaving you in a coughing fit. His dick was coated in spit, hard against his stomach.

"Where do you want me to come, baby?" he groans, unable to contain himself any longer. You point your mouth with a tired, trembling finger. "There?" Oh, greedy baby, you don't have any shame"

You lick your lips, anticipating, making them even more of a wet mess.

"Here, mami. Have it if you so badly want it"

He plunges right in, straight to it. Your boyfriend's a giver, after all.

The licks in your cunt stop, or maybe you've felt them stop as Pedro's hot thick seed comes down your throat, making you moan.

You try so hard to open your eyes, but the haze starts to catch upon you. Still, you manage to open up your eyelids, right in time to see him: Benito, standing in front of you, eyes glued to the mess and heave of your bare breasts, the sticky feelong of your juices and your sweat, on how Pedro's soft dick pulls out of your fucked put mouth, gaze dark and wild.

No, you didn't stop feeling it: he just stopped everything to see Pedro come inside your throat.

"Don't worry, Beni. We ain't done yet" your boyfriend pants. "We... You'll have your part. I love to share what's mine"

You see him move, opening up the discarded messy luggage on the corner, ruffling through the suitcase until he pulls a small bottle. His fingers soon are coated on the liquid.

"Lubricante?" Beni asks out loud. (lube?)

"I come prepared" is all Pedro says, shrugging. "We get, freaky... on vacations. Sometimes"

Benito quickly thinks of poor Ana and hopes her room is far, or at least, that the walls are soundproof.

"Okay, less talk and more work" Pedro spreads some through your rim, lube cold against your skin. "It's fine, baby. It'll get warm, I promise. You got to relax, your hear me?"

You hum, becoming practically non-verbal.

"Now, when and where do you want who?"

Your throat feels so sore from all the fucking, but you still manage to croak out a raw: "Both"

Both's eyes go wide at your confession, or well, request, by that firm and determined look behind your glassy dazed eyes and the drying tears that make your eyelashes look bigger.

"At the same time?" Pedro asks, stunned. He slaps your pussy, softer but the sting still makes you whine. You bite your bottom lip to drown the sound. "God, you're such a fucking slut I swear"

You clench at nothing, both at the words and the idea of what could happen.

Pedro notices. "My baby's so spoiled she's lost all shame. I've indulged you too much, haven't I? So needy" he purrs the last words, a wave of heat coursing through you. His hands find your hand as he helps you sit on the bed. Both remove what's left of their clothes and join the bed, making it creak.

"Nobody has to find out about this" your boyfriend says as he parts your legs, sitting infront of you. Beni places behind, sandwiching you. You finally feel his length, girthy against your ass. Pedro smirks as the singer leaves a kiss on your shoulder, his cock against your stomach throbbing at the sight of his lips against the flushed spot.

"Ready, mami? To indulge in your darkest desire?"

Pedro's lips crash into yours, messy, as he guides his cock into your awaiting pussy, sliding inside in one thrust. You throw your head back with a moan, Benito capturing with a kiss the exposed skin of your neck as you arch into him. The older man groans when he feels your hand shoot out and grab his arm, nails digging into it.

Your other hand, however, slides to grip your ass, spreading it with slowly, waiting for Beni to go inside. His tip brushes against your rim, length pushing in slowly as you stretched around the head of his cock. At the sensation, you cling to Pedro's cock.

"Fuck" he grumbles, his cock warm and heavy between your clenching walls. "Hurry up"

"No quiero lastimal'a" Beni says. "Relaja'o" (i don't want to hurt her. calm down)

Still, he slides in the rest of his cock. Once it's in, you moan, loud. Pedro kisses your moan off, biting your bottom lip with a satisfied grin.

"That's my baby" he praises. "Atta girl"

You feel so full, stretched from both holes. It's a new sensation, so hazy and so burning, you officialy go numb as they start to move. Breathing and sounds mix into the thick humid air, groans turning into vapor and sheets becoming a mess as the bed creaks under the shared weight.

The build-up for pressure starts to burn in your lower abdomen as your boyfriend holds you by the waist, pulling you closer until your breasts push against his torso. In turn, Benito gets a better angle for your ass, hand resting there as you rock your hips to match both of their thrusts.

They pick up a pace: faster, rougher. Drool starts to drip off your open mouth, body focused on only one thing: taking all they're giving. You moan when Pedro hits your g-spot with his cock this time, your ass and pussy clenching around both cocks. 

"So tight, fuck" Pedro curses. "So good for us. You wanna cum already?"

You nod, eager, a series of babblering falling out your mouth.

"Vamo', mami. Ya casi" Benito groans. (keep going, almost there)

"Just ask, baby" your boyfriend commands. "You know how it is" he groans, speaking between thrusts. "Talk to me. Use your words and tell me what you want"

"You" you mewl, "y-your cum"

Benito places a hand over your ass, rubbing the area. "Mami, se te olvida la palabra mágica" (you're forgetting the magic word)

"I ne- I want" you cry, "please"

"There it is. Eso mami" he praises. (just like that)

It's like your body was waiting for permission before giving it. You snap, your orgasm ripping through you. Pedro holds you by the waist as Beni keeps you in place by your hair, fucking you through your orgasm, holding your spasming body upright. Your walls flutter on them so hard, it grips them like a vice, the feeling warm around their cocks.

Pedro comes first, shooting his load inside you. You clench around him, desperately.

"Good girl. Don't waste a drop. Show me who you belong to" he speaks, voice a low hoarse rumble.

Probably those words or the twitch of your whole, but the singer follows soon after. He groans, louder than your boyfriend. He's the first to pull out, cum dripping from your ass as he sits back on his thighs, trying to breath regulary.

"Damn"

Your thighs quivered, still feeling the intense post-orgasm. Talking about them, they're a mess.

"Wait" Pedro says. He may feel a little tired, due to his age, but as your partner, he makes sure to get off the bed, dress with his brief and grab a towel to clean you up. "I'll be right back"

Benito traces random figures on your skin as you go in-and-out. Suddenly, a warm, damp cloth presses against your heat. Fingers threaded through your hair, as he goes down on you, kissing your cheek.

"You did so good, baby. I'm proud"

You think you manage a smile as he finishes to clean you up.

"Beni, ¿podés cargarla un momento? Voy a quitar las sábanas" (can you carry her up for a bit? i'm gonna take off the sheets)

The younger man nods. Pedro does it quick, finding a pair of panties on the suitcase and slipping them on you, as a shirt belonging to him.

"Esa camiseta es una guerrera" Benito laughs, seeing the familiar yellow Lakers shirt. (that shirt's a warrior)

Once you're all as clean as possible (Benito even took a quick shower), you lay all in bed. It didn't feel right to cuddle, but nor to kick him out (which is funny given he just fucked your ass).

You whine, extending your arm at your boyfriend. Pedro pulls you closer, spooning you on his side. You bury your face on his chest, feeling more at ease. Sleepily, you open an eye slightly, looking for Beni.

"You know" you yawn as Pedro combs your hair with his fingers, "this should happen again"

"A latino superbowl?"

"No, this" you emphasize with a lazy smirk. "We make a good team"

He chuckles under his breath, face red. "Shut up"

"No, seriously. Teams of three are great" you insist. "Team Rocket. Jessie, Woody and Buzz. Alvin and The Chipmunks..."

Pedro laughs, kissing your forehead.

"Oh my God, I think we re-wired your brain or something"

"It's not funny, I'm serious!"

"Please, go to sleep" Benito pats your back, laughing. "You need it"

Though, when they think you're asleep, Benito says: "Tal vez si debamo' repeti'lo" (maybe we should repeat it)

Years of weariness, trust and spirit broken by things that would kill anyone else, and overall, just surviving, you'd think that a man that was hardened by a rough past and of his age had seen it all.

Joel liked to think he was prepared for whatever life threw at him. Enter Ellie: how she had managed to break his shell, from cargo to soothing balm to heal old open wounds he refused to even speak of. But he was ready to burn the world for her, picking guns and taking lives to bring her to a home. His home. He settled, filial terms silent but felt, ready to take the second chance life had given him. Until the bond that united them turned fragile, loose ends tensing the silver string of found family.

He fell down the path of a familiar ache he hadn't felt in a long time, dormant, waiting for him to fuck up to show again with it's dull and hollow torment. He always did. So now he's spending too much time at the Tipsy Bison nursing a glass that could have his name by now, all to avoid going to a eerily quiet home where the room at the end of the hallway lies empty.

And then life decides to startle his track, albeit destructive, with a third chance: you.

Just thinking about you brings a certain tingle that an old rugged man like him should be embarrased about. One he shouldn't even feel.

But Joel loves you, he thinks. From the moment you showed up on his front door, rambling about some reparations at the school, were you volunteered.

"They were all scared of you" your sweet voice had said, some of that unreasonable fear laced within it, "so I came"

He scoffed at Jackson's ridiculous antics. Rumors spread fast in the small town, and suddenly, the hanging threat of who he was followed him everywhere like a shadow, which, given the dark nature of his now put to rest violence, seemed a proper description.

"They sent 'cha?"

You were clearly intimidated, given your shaky frame despite spring and the light tremble in your tone. But you were still here, gaze set on him as a determined child who wants to win the best prize.

"No. I chose to come"

His stomach does a flip at the stillness of your words, security etched in the statement as if you hadn't been in the verge of stuttering seconds ago.

Like you wanted to show him this is what it is, and whatever that was, you weren't running. But he testes the water, skin prickling intensely.

"And you ain't scared, kid?"

He laughed, the type of laugh that shakes your body with unease, but the one that shot across you didn't come from a place of distress, rather a more hidden one, between a pulsing press between your ribs, like it'd swallow you whole if you kept thinking about it too much.

"I am" you answered truthfully.

Something about your quiet admission made him falter the tiniest bit. Maybe it was how you had no problem voicing out loud any of your thoughts, or how you weren't afraid to be seen for what you were, the quiet of your answer out of a gentle place and not dread.

"Then why are ya' still here?"

Brows furrowed, like he, for some reason, expected you to yell at him for all the sins that colored his calloused hands red. Instead, you had looked at him as if he had all the answers in the world, big sparkling eyes staring deep into his tainted soul.

"Because I need you"

Yet, when you said it, Joel felt you weren't talking about the creaky drawers and old stairs anymore, but of the anchor you just found for yourself in the shape of Jackson's most respected and troubled resident, unknowing that, in that moment, he had chosen you too.

So, Joel may have forgotten about what feelings that feel too before world-ly feel like, but the quiet steady beat of his heart, mingling into a peaceful symphony with each soft breath past your rosy lips, head laying over his rising and falling chest, warm, feels exactly like love is.

He knew from the very first time you were his. Yeah, he loves you.

Joel just wants to give you the world, his world: the quiet afternoons, his rough limbs and aching joints, his face covered by spots and sun kisses that compliment his wrinkles, hair that gets curlier and softer and greyer, every figure he makes in his little shop and, of course, his bed.

Your Joel isn't exactly a pleaser, used of doing what he deems best without asking, yet, the moment you uttered those three words, he knew it was because he hadn't met you.

"Be my first"

He remembers the surprise on his face, how it grew red as the silence stretched on. The door bursting open, bed creaking under combined weight and your giggles. He too remembers the sweet cries past your lips, your taut muscles, the little strained breath you let out when he slipped inside of you. It all belonged to him because you let him, and that day, Joel Miller became the luckiest man in the world.

And yet, he still hadn't been as surprised as he was today.

The routine was the same from the past year: pick you up from the school after he was done at the office, taking some minutes to watch you with the toddlers, making voices as the same tender hands you used to jerk him off booped noses and carried children who made him think of getting one of your own, one with your grace and beauty, getting him painfully hard at images of filling you silly and your body changing to carry his seed. Fuck. He was a psychopath for such lewd thoughts on a place destined for education and infancy innocence, and here he was, cock uncomfortable inside his pants.

But then your mouth gets too greedy when your sickenly honeyed voice whispers his name, robbing him of air and only pulling away when his lips get swollen and his face a little flustered.

"Need help down there?"

There's always that problem and you're always the solution.

"Let's go home, sugar. Then ya' can help 'tis ol' man fix it"

Walking back home is always a hassle, hands intertwined, Jackson seeing a cute couple. But you're both aware of the throb that settles in between you like the tension, nobody noticing how hard you're trying to not just fuck on the middle of the street like two eager bunnies.

It's his fault, he thinks as you push the door of his house open, for making you like this.

The truth is, after taking your virginity, Joel's taught you things your unexperienced mind couldn't even imagine, and this past six months, you've complied with that sweet disposition that clung to you like the floral of the soap you used. And Joel loved that: how, despite having his dick stretching your tight pussy, you looked at him with those big eyes from the very first night, still round and innocent, like a doe and not a siren.

Which was surprising, because Joel, in a way, had corrupted you. Tainted the naive angel. And still, it was like he couldn't get rid of quiet shy you. Worst of it all was, instead of filling him with shame from robbing pieces and pieces of your integrity everyday, the older man felt some wicked sense of satisfaction and pride, to see how, despite his age and your soft nature, he was yours as you were his, and that he had taught you exactly how to enjoy that.

He knows you like the palm of his hand and the littered scars across his chest. The pattern you call stars, holding into a beauty only you see in the ugly marks, yet make him feel with each delicate trace, making such blunt and rough marks a galaxy; exorbitant. The same ones he thinks hide behind your adoring warm eyes. Joel just knows you, so even when things go the same way they have for a while, he's aware something is different when your fingers fiddle with his belt, trembling hands now struggling to free his aching cock.

He knows better than to think it's your arousal and impatience. No, this is something else.

"Sweetheart..." he warns. "Somethin' wrong?"

You shake your head, hands ready to take his underwear down.

"I'm fine"

He won't take that clipped sentence for an answer. Instead, his hands slowly remove yours from his hips before going to grab you by your chin, fingers pressing not enough to bruise but to make a point. His thumb presses lightly over your mouth, your bottom lip tugged down, parting your lips. You let out a little sigh, closing your eyes, eyelashes kissing your cheekbones. What a damn sight, he thinks.

"Talk to me"

"I want to suck your cock"

He almost chokes on nothing. Joel coughs a little, red painting his cheeks as a surge of lust and desire crashes through him. His eyes go wide at your bold and eager request, because one: it wasn't like you to talk like this, and two, you had never done it before.

Sure, you had jerked him off so many times he's lost count, but your lips wrapped around his length, mouth swallowing his aching cock? Just the image of it going past your pretty lips, the sensation of your spit mixed with his liquids... He already has a special place in hell, the blood rushing to his already hard member.

"Fuck, sugar. You wanna have this dick 'nside y'r mouth so bad? That eager and needy y'are?" he asked, voice reduced to a low rumble.

You nod, a little too excited as he sits in the edge of your shared bed, letting out a huff of effort. Old man sounds, you would tease. But not today, it seems, when your eyes are too busy looking at the pulsating silhouette under the grey cloth. He smirks, removing the layer, and he swears you begin to salivate like a starving dog.

"Y' think y' can take it?" his hand wrapped around his sensitive cock, giving it a few slow pumps as he watches you with a drowsy gaze. "Ain't it too much for a pretty lil' thing like y'rself?"

Wordlessly, you fall to your knees, looking up to him with those eyes of yours that drove him crazy. You caress his thigh, and despite being the one in control, Joel's eyelids feel heavy, fluttering at your soft and tender touches on his thick muscle, every hair rising at the reverence of your every move. You leave a little kiss in his inner thigh, making his heart skip a beat, breath a little ragged.

"I can" sounding so sure. Oh, his little angel.

"You gon' be a good girl then?" he whispers, voice hoarse and thick, looking down at you.

You nod, slowly.

"Let me taste it" you murmur, voice soft and breathy.

Your tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe up his shaft. You savor the salty taste of his arousal, moaning softly at the flavor. Joel's brown eyes darken in seconds.

"Quit 'da teasin'. 'M too damn old for that"

You smile a bit. "Impatient"

"Minx" he replies, voice thick.

It is indeed big, especially now that it was hard, and you do wonder for a second if you're biting more than you can chew.

"Y'asked for 'tis" like he can read your mind, "don't grow shy on me, doll"

He groans when your hand wraps around his length, stroking him slowly, teasingly as you always do. He feels the heat building in his gut as you work him over, letting out a little groan.

"F-feels so good, sugar" he voices out, strained. "But I need'a know if y'r made fo' 'tis. C'mon, princess. Show me what'a good lil' cock slut y'are"

You lean in, warm breath ghosting over the sensitive head of his big cock, making him shudder.

"Let's see what y'r pretty mouth can do" while tracing your lips, idly.

For the first time ever, the warmth of your mouth takes him. He can see it dissapear past your lips, stretching around his girth. Joel can only watch with a breath he forgets to take how every inch of his thick cock is gone past your lips. Entranced, like this was a magic trick of some sorts.

"S' that all?" he lets out a tense chuckle. You narrow your eyes, feeling a bit of a gag and spit drool past your lips. "Don't worry, princess. I can be of help on that"

He moves a bit, groin almost on your face as he's dangerously close to fucking your face. Instead, you feel how it reaches the back of your throat, making you pause at the feeling of your eyes watering slightly as you adjust to the intrusion.

"S'okay, sweet girl. I know ya' can take it deeper" he encourages, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. "Relax, baby. You're doing so good-" his voice cuts off with a strained grunt. Then, he voices out in a more huskier tone. "Use y'r throat and take my cock like'a good girl"

You push forward, taking him deeper until Joel feels the head of his cock bump the back of your throat. He throws his head back, curls combed slicked now starting to dampen and fall disheveled, drops of sweat sliding down his forehead, muscles of his thighs taut with trepidation.

You gag slightly yet quickly recover as if to prove something.

"That's right. Why did we wait s' long to do 'tis? Fuck, baby, ya' were born for 'tis. Keep goin'. Y' mouth's drivin' me crazy"

Joel groans as you take him deep, nose pressing against his groin, his fingers tightening in your hair. Your throat constricts around him all while you fight your gag reflex. Then slowly, you pull back, lips sliding along his shaft until just the tip remained in your warm mouth.

"Don't be such'a tease" his voice reduced to a hoarse rasp. You just give him what appears to be a shrug and an apologetic smile, right before diving back in, taking him to the hilt once more. His hips rock involuntarily at the feel, your head bobbing. A guttural moan cuts through his throat, the only other sound in the room aside the wet sounds of your suckling. "S' real bad girl, hun. Wouldn't think a docile lil' doll like ya' would be s' mean"

But he watches you with such adoration in his eyes, completely captivated as you work him over, that you know his words carry no malice behind them. Without a word, he takes your hands, guiding them to pump what you couldn't fit in your mouth.

"Let's give 'em somethin' to do, don't 'cha think?"

Suddenly, the pressure ties his stomach in knots, his belly strained under his flannel shirt, slightly protruding in the middle, buttons as tense as his muscles. Joel feels his legs become shaky, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He looks down at you, taking in the sight of your sweet disposition. If he wasn't one lucky man.

"Y/n" he gasps your name in a choked breath, followed by a strangled grunt, his release building fast as he doesn't dare to . "I'm gonna..."

Joel tries to pull off, thinking having you wrapped around his shaft is enough sin for the day, but then your hands find their way to his legs, keeping him grounded. His eyes widen slightly at the insistent glaze in your determined eyes.

"God damn, doll. What're ya'-"

He doesn't get to finish, his words dissolving into a low, animalistic growl as his orgasm crashes over him. His cock jerks and pulses in your waiting mouth, spilling thick ropes of hot, salty cum down your eager throat, painting its back white.

"Baby, don't" Joel says through a worn down rasp, trying to pull out, but you, his sweet little girlfriend, grips his thighs with an unknown force, keeping him buried deep as you greedily work to milk every last bit of his cum.

"'S 'tis what ya' want, huh? You dirty dirty girl" his voice grows lower, a filthy snarl as his eyes darken a bit more. "Swallow it, then. Take all ma' fucken seed"

He holds your head in place, fingers tangled in your damp hair as he rides out the intense waves of his release. Joel's so inside of you, he can feel your throat working, gulping down every drop he had to give.

Finally, as the last spurts of his climax taper off, he releases you, his chest heaving with exertion. You pull back, a strand of saliva and cum connecting your bottom lip to the tip of his spent cock.

"Like that, dirty girl?" he grabs you by your chin, thumb wiping some of your saliva and his cum off. "Did ya' like the taste f' ma' cum?"

You lick your lips, savoring the taste of him. "I did"

"'S that right? What happened to my angel?"

You laugh, the sound tired and hoarse. "I'm still here"

He pats his thigh, so you sit in there, wrapping your arms around his neck. With a free hand, you remove some curls that have fallen over his worn face.

"Hard'a believe"

You click your tongue. "You were never a believer, Miller"

He lets out an exhausted chuckle. "I believe in you"

Joel revels in the delicate pink hues coating your cheeks. He's so weak for you.

"Now, doll. Be honest with y'r ol' man" he brushes a stray strand off your face, tucking it behind your ear with a delicacy so contrary to the roughness of his hands. "I know when ma' girl's goin' through somethin'"

You seem to grow shy all of the sudden. "You'd be right"

Needless to say, he's intrigued now.

"Care to tell?"

You hide your face on his shoulder, inhaling his sweat and natural odor, even the faint traces of soap. He combs through your hair, lazily.

"Promise you won't laugh" you say as you pull back, to face him.

He raises a hand, expression curious.

"I'd never make fun of 'cha, doll"

"I want you to cum inside me"

The room grows quiet for a minute, an by each second of silence that stretches so is the red across your face. Joel blinks slowly. Once and twice. By the third time, the crease between his brows has become prominent.

"What?"

Your face grows hot as you try to run away, but he stops you.

"Woah, hey. Where ya' goin'?"

"I told you you'd laugh" you pout your lips, flustered.

"I ain't even let out a goddam laugh" he defends himself. "'M just tryna process in here"

You huff. "What's so hard to understand?"

Joel looks at you like you've grown a second head. "Y' really gon' ask me that?"

"Maybe I want to try different things" you play with your fingers, avoiding his gaze.

He obligues you to look by taking you by your chin, gently. A small warm smile adorns his face.

"Different's good"

You reciprocate his smile. Maybe it's that or the fact he can still see his cum glistening your lips, or the thrill of his seed seeping out of your tight walls. Either way, Joel surrenders.

"Ya' know I'll give 'cha anythin' you want" he says, voice low. "Just say da' word"

You gulp. "Yes"

Joel lets out a low, animalistic growl at your breathy acceptance. It was all the permission he needed. He crashes his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, pouring every ounce of his pent-up desire as he grabs you by your hair, right at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and tighter. His other hand roams your body greedily, slipping under your shirt to caress the smooth, warm skin beneath.

"We gotta take 'tis out"

He shoves the fabric up and off, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head and toss it aside.

"It's my shirt"

"It's a nuissance"

He pauses for a moment, drinking in the sight of your naked torso, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each anticipating breath.

"Told ya'" he murmurs, voice rough with desire. "'S fuckin' perfect to be hidin' all that"

Joel leans down, capturing one rosy peak in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud, suckling and teasing until it pebbles under his touch. You let out a breathy choked moan, loving the wet of his tongue against your warm skin. Then, his hot breath ghosts over as he utters a simple word that has your core clenching at nothing.

"Mine"

His hand slide down your stomach, slipping under the waistband of your jeans. Joel can feel the heat of you, the damp patch that had formed on the fabric of your panties. He groans against your breast, his fingers sliding lower, brushing against your clothed sex.

"Can tell she missed me. That ya' weren't lyin', baby. She's fucken wet" he rasps, his voice muffled against your skin.

Joel's fingers slip under the fabric of your panties, feeling the slick heat of your arousal coating his fingertips. He groans, his cock hard again, throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his jeans.

"Fuck, sugar" he mutte4red, his voice rough and low. "S' ready for me already"

He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, feeling it swell under his touch.

"Ain't she know me s' goddam well..."

Then, he dips a finger inside your tight, clutching heat, groaning at the way your walls flutter around the intrusion.

"God, you feel s' good" Joel says, voice strained. "S' fucking tight and perfect. I can't wait to feel ya' wrapped 'round my cock, doll. Can't wait any damn longer fo' y'r sweet lil' cunt"

He pumps his finger in and out, thumb still circling your clit. He can feel you getting closer, your hips starting to buck against his hand.

"That's it, baby" he encourages, his voice a low, filthy rumble. "Fuck yourself on ma' fingers. Show me how much ya' want it"

He adds a second finger, then a third, making you yelp as he stretches you open.

"Relax, doll. We've done 'tis before. 'M just preparing her to take ma' dick. You gon' be a good girl and stop fucken squirmin'?"

You nod, pliant, your body starting to tense.

"'Tis ya' reward. Come on ma' fingers like a good girl, and then I'll give 'cha what ya' really want. I'm gon' fill 'tis greedy cunt with my cum an' pump 'cha s' full of it 'til 's drippin' outta ya'"

Joel curls his fingers inside you, rubbing that all too well spot that brings you to tears. He feels you clench down hard, crying out as you come undone. Your orgasm crashes over, body convulsing as your pussy clenches rhythmically around his fingers. When he pulls his fingers out, he's bringing them to his lips, sucking off your essence from the digits, groaning at the taste of you.

"'S sweet as always"

After that, Joel is quick to shed what's left of his clothing, nearly tearing the old flannel in his haste. He lays you down on the bed, covering your body with his own, his tummy pressing lightly over your abdomen, his weight sinking you down on the mattress.

He then looks down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, glistening parted kiss-swollen lips, and heaving chest.

"I love ya', sweet girl" Joel blurts out, eyes are dark and intense.

He settles between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance.

"Say y'are mine" voice a low, demanding growl. "Say ya' belong to me, y/n, baby. Say it"

He pushes forward slightly, just the tip of him slipping inside your tight heat. He groans at the feel of you, at how your walls stretch to accommodate him. You let out a small whimper, yet still unable to form coherent sentences.

"I want to hear you say it, angel" Joel presses nonetheless, his voice strained.

He rocks his hips slowly, pushing a little more of his thick length inside you with each thrust. He can feel you getting wetter, core glistening as if your body yielded to his.

"Please, y/n" he begs, voice rough and desperate. "Please, baby... say it. That 'am your first an' last. The only man who ever fucks 'tis sweet cunt"

"I'm yours, Joel" you choke out. "Only yours"

With a final, hard thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head at the feel of you, letting out a long low groan.

"Fuck, doll" he gasps, hips starting to move, pistoning in and out of you. "She's just made f'me, ain't she? Gon' make ya' feel good. Give ya' what y'asked for. Lemme take care of it. I like to take care of's mine"

He hooks your legs over his shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he pounds into you. The bed creaks under you, headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust.

"Take it, sugar. Just like ya' wanted. 'Tis dirty mouth n' greedy pussy" Joel growls. "Take ma' cock like a good little girl. Fuck, y' were made f'r 'tis. Made't be fucked hard and deep and full of my cum"

He feels the tight coil of heat in his gut winding tighter and tighter; knows he won't last long.

"Please, Joel" you mewl, desperately clinging to him.

Joel lets out a feral growl at your plea, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He can feel you clenching down around him, body trembling as another orgasm builds deep inside you.

"Ya' want my cum, baby?" he snarls. "Want me t' fill her 'til it's drippin' down y'r legs?"

You nod, too eager.

"Look at that" he chuckles, pounding harder into you, forgetting for a moment he's sixty one. "Such a slut, beggin' for me to flood 'tis sweet pussy with ma' load. 'M gon' give ya' s' much you'll be leakin' for days. Gon' fill her up nicely. I know you gon' make sure not'a single drop goes to waste"

Joel reaches down, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles.

"Come with me, doll" he demands, growling. "Come on my cock like a good girl n' milk every last drop 'f cum. Show me just how much ya' want it"

With a final, brutal thrust, Joel buries himself balls deep inside you. He throws his head back, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as his orgasm rips through him.

"Take it, baby. Let me make ya' mine" His cock jerks and pulses inside you, spurt after spurt of hot, thick cum painting your insides. "Atta girl"

He collapses against you, hips still rocking slightly as the aftershocks of his release roll through him. He can feel you coming around him, pussy clenching and milking his spent cock, trying to pull every last drop of his seed deep inside you, just like you asked for.

Joel's chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath, heart pounding against yours as he cradles you close.

"Not so bad for an old man"

He snickers, rolling onto his side, pulling you with him until you're tucked against his chest, head pillowed on his arm.

"Brat"

He wraps his other arm around your waist, holding you close as he nuzzles into your hair, traces of lavender up his nose.

"But you love me"

Joel sighs softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, then temple and finally shell of your ear. In that moment, he knows he'll never let you go.

"That I do"

You softly comb his hair, his eyelids fluttering.

"I love you too, Joel"

A beat of silence goes by.

"So..."

"So?"

Joel offers a tired smile, glint of mischief laced somewhere.

"Any other ideas ya' wanna say outloud?"