#gideon writes

“We gotta go, you ready?” He grunts, not even bothering to look at you.

“Joel c’mon…” You respond, your voice a little hoarse.

“Just-” Joel snaps and then sighs, finishing the rest of the sentence in a slightly softer tone “Grab your stuff. Put on your boots”

He shoulders his pack and walks out the door, waiting on the porch. You mutter your frustration. He isn’t being fair and you’re pretty sure he knows it too. You want to understand why this is such a bad thing - the two of you - but he doesn’t seem to want to even acknowledge what happened.

You sit on the sagging couch and look once more around the old house. It’s always difficult to come to these places, but somehow it’s also difficult to leave them. Someone lived here, someone loved here, someone was happy here once – you hope at least. You look around the dusty living room once more and contemplate, as you always do. What has this place seen, what kind of people called it a home? What secrets does it keep?

Those thoughts bring you to your own home too, where you’d been until the outbreak. You’d never gone back but you’d often thought of returning, seeing if anything of your old life still existed. Since you’d lost your last connection to your past.

You shake your head and pull on the new boots lacing them tight, ready to put them to the test at least. Joel is waiting for you outside when you finally make your way to him and he’s already walking, apparently sure of the direction.

You follow in silence for a while. Your feet don’t hurt as bad as before and you’re grateful for that.

“Did you ever go home, Joel?” You ask eventually, hesitant.

“Huh?” he’s only half listening to you, looking around for any signs of imminent threat.

“You ever go back to your old home?”

“No” is all he says.

You leave it at that.

The last thing Joel wants to think about is home. Home is where his broken heart is. He’d never go back there, he’d pull the memory completely from his head if he could. 

There’s a lot of memories he wishes he didn’t have to have.

And now he has a new one; his head feels so all over the place because of you and your lips, your warmth, the disquieting solace he found in you. He knows he shouldn’t punish you for any of it; for what happened, for how he feels, for how he doesn’t understand his feelings. But he’s already punishing himself for everything else that’s ever happened, so you’ll have to take the brunt of this mistake.

And it was a mistake, he knows that. You don’t want him the way you think you do. He’s sure of it. It’s not about anything more than forgetting for you, for finding some distraction from your pain. He knows it too well. He’s been there. He’s still there in a way but at least after all these years he knows better than to chase that feeling. He has to keep away, help you know better too.

“Keep up” He mutters as he looks back at you, and he knows he sounds harsh but he can’t stop himself.

That deceitful monster in him wants more. He feels it. He won’t give in to it.

When you were younger you used to run free and happy in the green garden outside your house. You would spend all your time outside, climbing trees, scaling rocks, swimming in the lake by the forest. You had a treehouse in the garden and you'd climb up to it every summer night and watch the world from up there, free and happy and something more.

Alive in more ways than just surviving.

She'd been with you even then, you'd share secrets and tell stories cuddled up in your sleeping bags in the treehouse at night together. You lived for those moments when you and your best friend would live in your own world and everything else was just background noise.

Now you're climbing trees and scaling rocks but not for the same reasons the innocent child of your past would. You have to scope out the land, find a good place to stop. Joel helps boost you up to a branch so you can climb, to check out some noise in the distance of the forest, and when you snag your shirt on a twig you have this pang of gut-wrenching muscle memory of that time she fell from the treehouse and you thought for a moment of blind panic that you'd lost her.

You hate that every single thing reminds you of her. You despise the memories for making you misty eyed and weak. The more Joel ignores you as the time goes on, the worse it gets. The more you remember, the more everything reminds you of your dead best friend and the lives you'd lost to this world of horrors. Your life next, you know. That’s all there is now.

Just you.

And Joel. 

Joel, who was pulling away more and more with every passing second. His hesitant gaze on you lands regretful and forlorn.

Eventually up in the tree you're able to see far enough to know there's a camp of people further down the forest, so when you’re back down Joel decides on a detour that leads you both far in the opposite direction not wanting to take any risks. Your new boots are finally starting to rub after hours and hours of walking - nothing good lasts forever. You wonder if the person they belonged to before you ever got to wear them, if you shared the pain of blisters from the same shoes. If the people in that house used to go hiking in this vast forest every weekend. You wonder if they are dead now too, or just trying desperately to survive. Are they trying to make it back to their home, to find the memories they’d left behind?

You'd go home. You would. If you ever could. It's too far now, too dangerous and too much to ever think you could make it there. Besides, what would you do when you got there? Hope you had anything of yours left? Let yourself drown in the pain of distant memories, of things you knew you’d never get back? But there were things, all these trinkets you wanted to hold to your heart now you have nothing else. Photos; pictures printed and framed or posted on your walls with sticky tack since you were a teenager. Family and friends and pets and all the things you have lost. The things you’d never, ever get back.

The silence consumes you and you think you’d rather wallow in your grief and misery back at the place where you were once happy, instead of being here where your longing and guilt are driving you to insanity with every ticking second. You miss talking, you miss having a friend. She was everything you ever needed in life, she was the only thing that had made you happy in the years since the world ended. You need that, and you know Joel won’t give you any of the things you need. He doesn’t want to know you any more than he has now. You can’t see past his actions back at the house and he can’t see you in any way other than shamefully anymore.

You don’t even know what to say to him now. So you just walk, and ignore the aching and misery consuming you whole.

It’s a few hours later and your feet are starting to bleed through your socks, because all good things must come to an end in this empty horror of a world. Joel finally decides it’s time to stop and make camp. It’s getting dark after all and there’s the opportunity for cover while you’re still under the protection of the vast forest - you’re nearly at the edge now. 

“This should work” he mutters more to himself than you as he looks over the spot you’ve stopped at.

He briefly glances at you and it’s nothing but it’s more than he’s given you in hours so it makes you feel a little glint of that spark from before again. What if you just kissed him again, the way he let you before? Would he stop you? You know he likely would, but it doesn’t stop you wanting to try.

Like he knows, he’s stepping further from you acting like he’s inspecting the site he’s picked. There’s nothing to inspect - it’s a patch of mossy forest floor with a large rock on one side and what looks like an ancient tree on the other. You watch him momentarily and feel that misery all over. Touch would solve it all. His touch would solve everything just like it did before. The darkness above the trees could hold a secret if he could just give you something, a tiny thing to keep your sadness at bay.

And yet you are both wordless as you set up the small camp; no fire - that would potentially draw attention and the woods are never an entirely safe place to be - just your sleeping bags set up with an arm's length between the two like he’s worried you’ll somehow get the wrong idea if he gives you even the possibility of touching him again.

“Here” He mutters when you’re both sitting down and you almost laugh with the ridiculousness of how hard he’s trying to not even give you his gaze anymore. He hands you some of the jerky that’s been wrapped in his pack for a while. It’s dry and hard.

“We got all that stuff from the house” 

“Gonna split it, when we…” He mutters without finishing his sentence.

“Oh”

When we go our separate ways. That’s what he meant and he doesn’t have to say it. He’s gonna leave you. Leave you completely alone.

“You know where you’re gonna go?” Joel asks and maybe there’s the hint of guilt in his voice but more likely you’re imagining it.

Tears prick hot in your eyes and you try to blink them away. All this time you’d done so well at not letting him see you cry; the tears from your loss and your grief had only once fallen in his sight and now you were feeling them fall down your cheeks right in front of him all because he was finally sending you on your way.

Stupid. You’re so stupid. It was only ever temporary and he’d made it so clear he didn’t want anything from you. He was just doing a sad, lost person a momentary favor but you’d lost sight of that completely after these last couple days. The way he had kissed you…the way you know it would’ve gone further yesterday if there hadn’t been an interruption…but none of it means a thing in the wake of his words.

He’s looking at you now. Of course this would be the moment he finally decides to turn those beautiful eyes back on you - you can feel the weight of his gaze on your face and you want it to be dark and lustful like before but when you look over at him he’s frowning. You sniffle and clear your throat, and finally give him an answer.

“I- I want to go home” You say so sadly and his brow knits in confusion for a moment before he understands.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Joel sounds more judgemental than he probably means to. He’s still watching you, but he never addresses the tears that are silently falling from your sad eyes.

You shake your head and sigh. Chewing on the last of the jerky for a bit and it makes you feel sick. His gaze burns you now, like it’s melting through the cold of him ignoring you all day and scorching at your flesh. Why won’t he stop staring? Why suddenly is he so intent on giving you all this attention? Does he just pity you that much?

He’s still eating slowly when you lie down on your sleeping bag, staring up at the trees and the night sky just above them. You’d spent nights like this watching the stars before - your heart pangs at the memory and you feel bile rise up in your throat for a moment before you screw your eyes shut tight enough to see the dance of colourful light behind your lids.

“Do you remember what it’s like to be happy?” Your voice is a whisper, it shakes as you shove that memory back down.

You open your eyes and turn your head in time to see Joel's sudden pained look and the shake of his head. You can feel the misery around him like it’s an aura. That only makes your heart hurt more. Damn it, why does he have to make you feel more? It’s always those eyes; he can make himself as hard and distant as he wants but his beautiful brown eyes betray him every single time

“Yeah. Well, I do. I remember. I remember living” If it wasn’t clear you were crying before it’s obvious you are now, you sniffle and wipe tears that race from the corners of your eyes into your hair.

Joel remains quiet for a while after that. Perhaps he just doesn’t know what to say, or perhaps he’s trying not to comfort you. The trees above the two of you wave gently in a breeze that rushes quietly through the forest, and the stars above them shine like they always have - unchanged by the death of this world and the screaming of your souls. Between you and Joel there is a blanket of grief and despair and both of you seem to be wrapping yourselves tighter in it at every turn.

Eventually he clears his throat and there’s a slight shift in Joel’s body, angling more towards you. It makes you bolder - like before - and you reach your hand between your two sleeping bags. Just lay it there between the two of you.

“I don’t want to remember, Joel. Not right now. I just want to feel something else” 

He rubs his watering eyes and sighs deeply. He is wavering, you can tell. He’s holding back but there’s the twitch of his hands as he looks at you lying there and he slowly reaches out - rough, calloused and warm hand encompassing yours slowly. He lets out a long breath.

“It’s not gonna help. I- I’m not gonna help you like you need. Nothing’s that simple. I should know…”

“You’re scared”

“Maybe” Joel shrugs. 

His hand holds yours a little tighter. You’re still crying silent tears that glisten on your face in the starlight.

“Don’t you feel alone? Don’t you just feel so fucking alone all the time? Why do we have to feel alone, when we’re here together?” You’re actually pleading now. It’s pathetic really but you just need the incessant heartache to stop for even a moment.

Joel hums low and gives you a long stare. His eyes soften more. There’s a shred more sympathy than there has been and it’s enough for your body to ignite with that burning hope just like last time.

“Fuck” He mutters, and then “Come here” and he is letting go of your hand and laying on his side on the sleeping bag, it seems reluctant but he’s inviting you to him and you’re almost embarrassed when you move in a heartbeat and close that gap between you and him.

Your breath catches when you lie beside him on your side and his body curls around yours, his arm over you and he holds your hand again. He’s warm like a comforting blanket - it feels almost like he’s protecting you the way he holds you close. It’s the closest you’ve ever been; even when he’d kissed you, when he’d touched you he’d kept a distance. You had never gotten to feel all of his body against you like this. Only in your hopeless dreaming. His breath tickles on the back of your neck and the warmth of it lingers, his heart beating steady where his chest presses against your back. He lets out a nearly silent sigh that makes you think he’s feeling the same thing as you. 

You are not alone.

For a while it’s nothing, and Joel starts to think you’re sleeping. Your breathing is steady just like his and those sweet little sighs could just be the slumber taking hold. You don’t move and he’s so afraid to make even the slightest change to the position lest he starts you on that downward spiral again.

He knows it’s a mistake. Such a big mistake to let you feel close to him. It is only going to make everything worse in the long run but your words ring so true in his mind - he has been so damn alone. Ever since…for too long. He’s been alone. You draw him in like a magnet; a strange and shameful comfort that he’s denied himself all these years.

Maybe it’ll be fine. Maybe it’ll just be this, nothing more and nothing less. No guilt. No attachment. Maybe you’ll leave willingly and he’ll never once think about this moment again and neither will you. Maybe. 

He murmurs your name softly and buries his face against your neck. He just wants to feel. Something. It’s wrong. He’s leading you on. But he wants to escape his loneliness just as much as you want to escape your pain.

He hears the smallest moan escape you like a breath and it makes him tighten his arm around you a little, because it brings him back to what happened before. How he’d touched you, how he’d felt you. There’s a stirring in him at the memory. You both feel it.

Joel knows you’re not asleep now, your breathing is less steady and your hand squeezes his a little.

“Don’t let me feel alone” You murmur and fuck Joel wants to let that base part of himself take control all over again.

He hesitates but only for a second. 

“I won’t”

And then he’s turning your head, and he’s kissing you.

There’s a moment of guilt that rises from your chest slowly, but it’s gone again the moment your lips meet his.

It's not like the first kiss. It's not even like the kisses in the kitchen when he'd pressed you up against the fridge and touched you. It's not like any kiss you've ever felt; it's urgent and desperate but not forceful or rough - there's a subtle tenderness behind it like he's really genuinely trying to give you that feeling of togetherness you crave so much.

It makes your mind go blank after a moment, when you feel his tongue and he’s asking for a permission which you grant without a moment of hesitation. It makes you forget where you are, who you are, what you've been through. 

He's good at that. Making you forget.

He's good at it all.

He kisses you harder when you open your mouth to him and it turns from tender to intense. It becomes more. More and more of him and you and it's what you've thought about all day. Like he really wants you. You're still on your side with your head turned and him over you, your back pressed against his chest and his subtle shift of hips against your ass makes your breath hitch. 

Oh, he wants you. And you want him. 

And what else matters?

“Joel…” you whimper. Sickly sweet and full of urgency. 

“Yeah, I know,” He says. 

There’s something else there, something you don’t want to hear. Something he doesn’t want to share. He shakes it away in a moment of a blink. He’s well versed in brushing away those moments. You need to learn it from him.

“I know” He says again, and he kisses you once more. Your lips lock in a moment that fans the flames that have been burning all this time; these weeks the two of you have been traveling together, these moments you have been sharing that are more than just moments. He stokes the coals of your desire with his mouth on yours and then down, down. To your cheek, your jaw, he’s over you and pressing you on to your back half on the cold ground as his lips meet your neck and you keen in some kind of desperation to be alight with his touch again.

Your hands traverse the broad expanse of his chest, clinging to the rough fabric of his shirt as he kisses the spot right under your ear that makes your soul leave you for a moment.

“You won’t stop this time?” You ponder, looking for a promise

“No”.

Simple, straight. Joel. He needs it. You know it’s been a while, you can tell by the way his hot mouth latches on to your soft flesh as he ruts against you like he’s already chasing a release he’s waited too long for.

“Doesn’t mean anythin’, right?”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” you repeat. 

He means it. Do you?

“Fuck” He groans, deep and guttural when your wandering hands reach lower. It’s all so urgent. There’s no moment for softness. It’s lustful and intentional and greedy. Teeth and nails and need. No moment to waste as your nimble fingers find the opening of his faded jeans and make their way inside.

He’s still exploring with demanding grunts of appreciation at the taste of your skin. He’d liked it before. He likes it more now, after the long day of toil. You’re intoxicating in all the ways he never knew how to resist.

You think he feels the same as you. It’s been so long. You can’t remember the last time you felt such intimate touch, before Joel. It’s more addicting now than it ever was back then as his fingertips dance with burning brushes against the skin under your shirt.

There are no memories. No pain. No distant threat. No trees. No breeze. No stars. Just him and you in this blank space you have created for yourselves - outside of time and reality. It is a kiss that takes away life, that takes away loneliness. His touch breathes hope into you that you’d only ever felt with…no. It’s just him and you and nothing else.

Just that.

Your fingers trace down, past where buttons are undone and the zipper is open. You touch him, a slight squeeze that makes his breath hitch so damn gorgeously you feel it in your core.

He’s big. God, he’s big and he’s hard and it’s for you. It’s for you.

He breathes out and grits his teeth as you feel him, he has to stop kissing you for a moment as you ease his pants down and free his hardened length from its confines. He’s not gonna tell you to stop. Neither of you are going to end this until it has to be ended, you know that when you look in his eyes and they are dazed with lust and desire that he’s been holding back for too long.

There’s no call for modesty here in this darkened patch of forest floor where the only sounds are the rustle of leaves and your panting breaths. He watches you with a knitted brow trying so goddamn hard to hold on to at least a bit of himself when you lewdly spit into your hand and wrap it around his thick length.

“Shit” Joel grits his teeth, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. He murmurs your name. It’s never sounded as good as it does when spoken by him like that. Your hand moves, thumb swiping his leaking tip to smear on him. He feels good in your hand, heavy and smooth and he’s already shaking.

“I…sweetheart, I can’t…”

“Yeah, you can” You shush him with your lips against his, oddly soft and caring in this moment of heady lust.

“No I mean it’s…fuck” Joel pants out, his voice a gruff whisper that tickles your skin and makes you clench “Haven’t had- I can’t fu-” words tumble from his lips to the side of your neck as he devolves into mumbles you can’t quite make out. He trembles and bites back a loud groan, before spilling warm and sticky onto your fingers.

“Sorry” He murmurs with heavy breath and it’s the sweetest fucking thing in the world from this man who has been pushing you away for what feels like eternity.

Ah, you make sense of the words now.

“Haven’t had anyone touch you in a while?” You say, biting your lip as you look at him - he takes your breath away as the moonlight catches on the glint of his eyes, the trickle of sweat down his brow. His eyes are big and brown and there’s an apology in them that you don’t need.

“It’s okay. It’s okay” You assure with a soft smile. You kiss him, a sweet peck on the lips which he returns with another. It feels almost too intimate and you know you’re falling to somewhere you can’t crawl out of.

For a beat there’s a silence; Joel zips his fly and is catching his breath after his release whilst you drag your lips from his and down to his chin then his jaw. Drowning in the scent and taste of him. He is like nothing you’ve ever known and you want to be devoured by his presence.

You’re making do with wiping your hand off on your trousers when he moves you, pressing you down on to your back fully. There’s a hunger in him. He is starved and he craves. You shiver at that; he can slip from one moment to another like a changeling. His demeanour seems to shift with the wind.

“Gonna make it up to you, darlin’” He whispers with a dark desire as he goes back to kissing your neck and his hand moves down your body and to the button of your pants. Your mind flashes back to before - the way he’d made you shake back in the house - and your cunt throbs with need for that again. For him to take away your mind and your breath and your sanity if he wants.

You need him in ways you cannot fathom.

“Oh god”  You moan as he cups you through your underwear, mouth still attacking the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. 

You’re ready to feel that way again. And you’re about to beg him not to tease you when he pulls his hand away and detaches from your neck.

“Joel” the whine is so needy you should be embarrassed but you’re not capable of feeling that at the moment.

He shushes you softly and finishes unfastening your jeans, as he kneels between your legs. And then he’s taking them off; your jeans and underwear pulled down to your ankles and off, tossed to the side. He’s a man on a mission, and he licks his lips as he nudges your legs apart further and looks down at you.

Fuck. You might come from the sight alone. God…is he going to…

Joels calloused hands slide up your thighs and to your lower stomach and he settles himself right between your spread legs. You can’t look at him down there like that.

“This okay?” He asks, holding on to your thigh with one large hand while the other slips up under your shirt to palm at your warm skin.

You have to let out a huffed laugh at that. It’s definitely okay. It’s more than okay.

“Mhm” You answer, lips pressed together and you look up at the stars instead of the beautiful man currently kissing your inner thigh. Before he had wanted nothing to do with you and now he seems to want everything with you, you’d have whiplash if your brain wasn’t slowly melting out of your ear at the feel of his lips dragging higher.

He’s taking it so. So slow. Palming your breast now and kissing the other thigh You’re going to combust and be left nothing but a pile of embers if he keeps this up. You need so deeply that it hurts.

You card your fingers through his hair. It’s surprisingly soft and the sensation adds to the tension in you. He grunts as you give a little tug, but you think he gets the message without you having to use your words, your words probably wouldn’t make sense in this moment.

“Oh!” you gasp. 

Yes, he proves that he got the message loud and clear as he’s parting you with his tongue and licking a stripe that ends at your clit and makes your eyes roll back. He’s good.

He tastes you and moans deep at it. His tongue swipes again against your clit and your grip in his hair tightens a bit again but he doesn’t seem to mind or even notice as he explores and delves deeper. He swirls against your entrance, and then presses in for a moment and you’re going to lose it completely.

The noise of your whines and whimpers increase, a muffled cry against your hand as he moves up again and sucks against your clit with a softness which quickly becomes much more fervent when you respond well. You buck your hips against his face, so he holds one strong arm across you as he continues to alternate between using his tongue and his mouth to bring you closer.

Your mind is all but scrambled with the way you feel. You haven’t had anything like this in so long and he’s fulfilling needs you had almost forgotten you had. He’s not just giving you pleasure, he’s giving you back something you thought you’d lost. He’s making you feel on fire in every way possible; burning skin on burning skin, scorching heat between your legs and deep in your belly.

You're winding, tightening, as he continues. He delves a thick finger in to you and then another as he focuses his mouth on your sensitive bud, listening to the sounds of your heavy breath and knowing he’s doing right.

“Joel…Joel you’re…yes, like that…” You moan too loud, Joel grunts against you with a light slap to the thigh. Keep it down. Even now he’s aware, does he ever really let himself go fully?

Right, you’re out in the open. It feels like you’re in a world of just you and him…you have to try and keep some kind of sanity as he makes you see the stars behind your lids. It’s almost impossible, biting your lip to try and quiet yourself.

It’s…it’s incredible. The way his tongue moves. The crook of his fingers inside you. The pressure in you when he purses his lips around your clit. Your body is too hot, alive, more alive than you’ve felt in weeks. Too alive, all at once.

“Oh god…I’m…it’s….please…” babbles of incoherence which earn you a pinch to your skin, but he doesn’t let up on his ministrations. He doesn’t give you a chance to calm down.

Suddenly, your body ignites as the tight coil in your stomach snaps and it’s like there’s no yesterday, no tomorrow. You writhe, hips bucking, Joel holding you down and continuing until the very last moment of your orgasm. You’ve come before, of course, even if not with a partner in a while you’ve known this feeling many times and yet it’s like something you’ve never fully had before. He’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

Fuck, your eyes are shut tight as you ride out the waves. Little aftershocks that make your body shiver. You can feel him - a final kiss to your clit, another to your inner right thigh and then he’s raising up, moving away from you and you can hear him catching his own breath like he nearly drowned in you.

“Jesus” You groan, limp and a mess. He breathes out a quiet, pleased laugh and you finally open your eyes and try to adjust them to see his face again. 

He’s looking at you. He’s all lines and splotches and coloured lights but he’s looking at you with something like a smile. 

Everything is blurred.

The lines are blurred. What does it mean? What does that soft kiss he places against your lips now actually mean? You feel sluggish from the climax but somehow your mind is racing still despite it. The lines are so damn blurred and it’s going to make you crazy, it’s going to make you lose it all.

“Alright?” He asks softly as he helps you put on your underwear and jeans again. Where did all his uncaring gruffness go? When will it come back and how will you live when it does?

“y-yeah…I think…yeah” You mutter dumbly. “Joel, I-”

Whatever you were going to say is cut off. He lays beside you again, arm going right around you pulling you flush against his chest. Your heart won't stop racing.

“You still feel alone?” Joel whispers in a deep grumble against your ear. You can feel it come from his chest. You shudder helplessly.

You shake your head. There’s a feeling of exhaustion from the day's movement settling in and you succumb to it swiftly, resting your head down on him and letting your breathing match to his. Letting him take you over completely.

No, you’re not lonely.

This fate is worse than loneliness.

The moment he see's you in that meeting room, his new employee, he feels quesy with it. You...the person who had come in to his life one evening and left it without a word the next morning. He had thought about seeing you again, too many times to count...but hell, not like this. 

Definitely not like this.

When he had woken up that morning to find you already gone from his bed, from his home and from his life his first feeling had been quite reasonably one of disappointment. Marcus hated waking up alone, no one to talk to, no one to kiss good morning - in the past he had even chased relationships just to not be alone. After a breakup he would wake unfulfilled and lonely in bed, unable to shake the feeling for weeks. After Teresa it had been worse. 

Maybe he was naive but he had assumed you would at least let him make you breakfast, after what you had let him do the previous night. But you hadn’t left even a note, not your number pinned to his fridge or a ‘thanks for the memories’. Not even a quick cup of coffee and a kiss on the cheek. Had it been too much to expect? Was he just not well versed on the one night stand anymore? Maybe he really was just still making mistakes over and over again…just like before.

Now he thinks back to that night. Before you’d gotten home - before you’d gotten in to his bed. You’d mentioned a new life - a new job and a fresh start - in that hopeful but melancholy tone that had drawn him to you in the first place. God, he had never thought for a moment the job could be here. In his department. Working with him. Maybe he should’ve asked more but then there hadn’t been much talking after the bar.

So Marcus stands in that meeting room shell shocked and feeling sick. Not just that…he feels anxious and unsure and he doesn’t even think there is protocol in the HR documents for this kind of thing.

He stays silent for just a beat too long and someone in the room clears their throat. He’s just standing there barely through the doorway, staring at the new hire.

The prettiest new hire he could've ever imagined.

Damn he was screwed.

****

You give him a smile, hopefully something professional and not something that says ‘oh god oh god I slept with my boss’.

"Nice to meet you, Agent Pike" You say confidently, saving him from his freeze as you stand up to shake his hand. If you can just keep everything professional you’ll be fine, right? It was one night and it didn’t mean a thing, right?

The contact of his hand on yours sends a spark of memory right through to your brain and you have to blink sharply to stop seeing that same hand disappearing beneath the hem of your dress not that long ago.

"You alright, boss?" One of the others, Michael you think, says to him.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Busy morning, just trying to catch my thoughts before we go over this case" Marcus clears his throat and finally moves to sit down at the head of the table.

"So..." he takes one more moment, a breath, before pulling some papers from a binder.

There’s a syndicate of art forgers operating out of Chicago. Marcus talks the team through it as you try so, so hard to listen and not think about the things your mind is apparently determined to make you think on. This is your new job and your new life; you can't screw it up just because you screwed the wrong person.

Not again.

You want to think about work. You’ve uprooted your whole life to be someone new, someone better. But how the hell can you be that when your boss is a man with huge brown eyes and a soulful stare and a kiss that could stop time?

Somewhere in the distance you hear someone saying your name, but you're pretty damn lost in whatever the hell is happening in your mind.

"Huh?" You say, and see eight expectant faces staring back at you.

"Did you want to...can you introduce yourself to the team?" Marcus is speaking, of course it's his voice.

His voice had moaned your name just a few short weeks ago. If it wouldn’t look completely nuts you’d slap yourself just to get that damn thought out of your head.

"Oh. Yeah. Of course” You mumbled, trying to get your thoughts back on track. You sit up straighter and try for that air of confidence.

“I just transferred from New York - Organized Crime division - going for a bit of a change after…” After I got my heart broken by my partner… “After closing off one of the biggest cases. I needed something uh, different”

Not a lie, although not the whole truth. You’d worked with your partner for years and you’d loved them for years and then they’d met someone else. Just like that. After the case you’d been chasing for years was finally put to an end you’d had to get out of there and never see them again. But your new team didn’t need to know that. Your new boss definitely didn’t need to know that.

You look at the team. All of them pleasant, all of them welcoming. But all you feel is this pit of dread in your stomach. You don’t look at Marcus. After a few questions about your work, and an introduction to the others' roles they’re leaving the room before you even realize the meeting has ended.

And just like that it's you and Marcus in the room together. 

You clasp your hands together and stand awkwardly from your chair. You should look at him but god you don't want to look at him. How could you have let this happen, why did you have to go home with him that night? Why did you have to keep making these stupid decisions? 

"So...new job huh?" Marcus finally breaks the silence with a weak voice and you look over at him, steeling yourself. You will not be taken in by those warm brown eyes, you will not.

"Yeah. New job" You start, not sure what exactly to say 

“We should probably talk-“ He begins but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

"Look…Blank slate? Lets just- We’ll pretend we’ve never met before. It was only one night, it’s not like we know each other” 

Perhaps in your dream world, you’d like this to be different. He’s handsome and kind and you had really enjoyed your night with him. But this is the real world, and life isn’t a goddamn fairytale where you can make eyes at your boss without consequence.

“This job is really important for me. It's really, really important I don't screw it up" You explain and look at him with pleading eyes. Marcus looks disappointed? Upset? You're not sure. You don't like his expression.

"Blank slate, yeah, that's fair. I wouldn't want to start you off on the wrong foot here…. It was just the one night. Right" Marcus's voice is a little quiet, like he's not sure he believes those words as he looks at you - you feel like his eyes are searching yours for something. You try very hard to not give him anything to find.

“Well…" He finally gets up, saying your name as he opens the door for you.

“Welcome to the team. It’s nice to meet you” 

A man whose touch can be tender and rough. Whose beautiful brown eyes reveal so much but keep secrets hidden. One whose loquacity spills every dark desire yet teases with each word. All at once Ezra is capable of leaving you both overwhelmed and aching with desperation.

Paradoxical in many ways, and yet never in his love to you.

Even now as his hand holds steady on your neck tugging at the dainty little collar you wear for him his expression is gentle and admiring. His lips curve in to a pleased smile when the small chain of the jewellery bites at your skin and you gasp, until he releases in favour of running his thumb down the column of your throat then circling the small aurelac charm attached to the collar. Aurlec he had mined himself. You knew how delighted it made him that you wore it on you always – like it was a part of him belonging to you, and a part of you belonging to him.

Ezra admires the gem for a moment longer before leaning down and offering his lips to yours in a sweet but demanding kiss, while he fumbles with the button and zip at the back of the simple dress you wear.

“Ezra, let me help” you whisper gently and pull away from his kiss to reach back so you can help him. For a moment a flash of shame makes his smile drop—he has struggled with missing his dominant hand, particularly in times like these—but he looks at you gratefully as you unbutton it so he can pull down the zip.

He presses his lips to the corner of your mouth in a bashful thank you that makes your heart flutter in your chest and then you’re letting the dress fall down and off your body, stepping out and allowing him to see you. He’s seen you so many times and yet his eyes widen in awe, the slight catch of his breath and the way he admires makes you tremble in anticipation. He looks at you like the devout would regard a seraphic being, like you are made of pure gold almost too precious to touch.

“Kevva weeps...You are an enchanting vision” he drawls in his distinct tone; voice straining as he moves his fingers over your soft skin.

You shiver slightly at his touch but your body warms everywhere he goes; gently moving from your clavicle and down, over the curve of your breast, tracing one nipple and watching as it hardens and then repeating the action on the other. Then further; down your side and lightly mapping the dip of your waist, over your stomach and to your hip on the other side where he softly squeezes your flesh. Every action is tortuously slow and meaningful, taking you in even as he has done many times before. Like he is a pious man at worship, fervently devoted to only you.

You feel heat spark within you at the way he admires you so openly and how much he enjoys the sight of your body. Ezra has always been able to coax your lust with every small gesture.

He is the man you will always want.

As you think on his love Ezra is taking action—in a fluid motion moving you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed behind you and then easing you down on to the mattress. He follows swiftly to kneel between your legs at the end of the bed. He gazes down until you sit resting on your elbows behind you and let your mouths meet again. This kiss is wanton, rough; tongue and teeth and the beginnings of eager moans as you grip his shoulder and try to pull him forward and on top of you.

Oh how you want him.

“Need you” you rasp, sitting up with him and pressing against his neck with the lightest scrape of teeth on flesh.

Ezra hears your pleads but shakes his head. You should know he is not done in his worship yet. There is more he wants to see and to praise. There is always more.

You whimper when he pulls away from you, before he’s holding your chin up and tapping his thumb on your swollen lips. You open your mouth and he groans guttural as you suck on the digit, tongue swirling against it, maintaining eye contact when he makes his request.

“Lay back and touch yourself, angel. I want to watch” he pleas lowly with an eager flash in his eyes. It has been a more common request lately, as he adjusts to the use of one hand. Eager as ever your stomach flutters with heat at the request. Your gaze lingers on his even as he presses you back down on to the bed with a hand on your shoulder.

Ezra once more grazes his fingers down your body enjoying the quiet moan when he takes a moment to pinch a nipple between two fingers. Slowly and surely he makes a path to your thighs and encourages you to spread your legs for him.

He can’t help but let out a groan of pleasure as you reveal your already glistening centre to him. You bring your own hand to palm at your breasts, needing to relieve some of the pressure you are beginning to feel building, as you watch him take in what he sees of you.

There’s a moment of rapt silence as he’s leaning over you purposefully, steadily. Ezra makes eye contact with you in the moment that he spits on to your cunt. You gasp and clench around nothing at the sensation, almost entirely overwhelmed at the lascivious gesture.

“Now, let me see” Ezra says, almost a growling demand.

You look up at him. Make sure he’s watching as you run a hand almost teasingly slowly down your body and to your slick coated core. He shifts and is straining already as you tease yourself for him, his smile is enthusiastic and his breath ragged. You’re soaked and dripping with your arousal as you part for him and dip a finger in to yourself, crooking it slightly and pressing until you rub against the spot that makes you inhale sharply.

“Like that?” you ask, drawing out then taking the same finger up to circle your swollen clit.

He nods and lets out a deep breath but says nothing, too rapt in interest at every ministration you make; wetting his bottom lip them biting down on it as you buck your hips up when you push two fingers in to yourself this time.

To him you are divinity incarnate in this moment and he does not want to interrupt such celestial toil.

You’re trying your best to keep your eyes on him through your pleasure as you alternate between fucking yourself with your fingers and toying with your sensitive clit. He’s clearly enjoying this but, Kevva! You wish he’d touch you. At the least touch himself and relieve the ache you know he must be feeling.

You can tell that every shred of his attention lies on the way your digits traverse your cunt, he is practically salivating at the obscene noise of your wetness mixed with your shaky breaths and desirous whines as the coil of your orgasm begins already to tighten within you.

“Ezra” you puff out his name, covetous. Touch me you want to say...feel me. But you do not say it because you want to give him what he wants and oh, this is what he wants.

This is about you and your pleasure but it’s also about how Ezra wants to experience it. Control it maybe, but it’s not quite that. He wants to see you writhe and call for him as you reach your peak. He needs to feel your need for him as he kneels between your legs and watches you make yourself come just for him.

You close your eyes as you start to focus on your clit again with your heart pumping fast as your circle tighter around it. You part your lips and whimper out a chorus of almost impatient longing, feeling the tension inside tightening and almost ready to snap.

“Look at me.” Ezra says so tenderly, soft; such an innocent tone in comparison to the heady air around you. You open your eyes again to gaze deep in to his. It helps to anchor you; seeing him.

“Good girl” he praises in a near whisper and with a loving smile at you as you continue to move fingers against your clit, arching in to your own touch as you reach so close.

The words of genuine praise are almost enough on their own to finish you and in a moment you feel the built up pressure snap as pleasure starts to crash through you tempestuously. You cry out for Ezra and reach towards him, he takes your hand on holds on tight as your body trembles on the bed while you feel every nerve in you spark in to flame.

When it subsides in to release you press your head back against the pillow and let your breathing steady for a moment. Satisfaction washes over you.

“Oh...Ezra...I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard with my own hand before” you admit with a light laugh as you beam up at him.

“It was beautiful” He grins, still breathless himself.

“You were like a coruscating spirit in rapture” Ezra effuses as he leans forward to kiss your damp forehead. You toy with the patch of starlight blonde in his hair with a pleased hum as he kisses your forehead again, and then the tip of your nose. It’s sweet, and calming, after your exertion. Really though you’d like to wrap your legs around him and feel his weight on you.

You’re distracted by the way he plays with the small gem around your neck once more before and kissing just below it. His brown eyes remain excited and spark with mystery when he pushes up after a moment before you can make your own move. He brings his hand back between your thighs and pulls at one slightly before speaking.

A wicked and provocative grin paints his features.

“Now, my good girl... let me see it again”

It’s a quiet gasp so unlike Ezra’s usual cadence. His voice low and his eyes darkened with desire as he kneels before you in sweet supplication.

Your starlit man is a vision; already begging for you, working himself to desperation. Worked up all because of you and your lips. Your touch. Your devious delight in toying with him.

To see him like this - so completely at your mercy - invokes some unseen power deep within you and sparks your lust until your whole body is humming with the electricity of it.

“Ask me again” you smirk as you look down upon him, letting that feeling fill you.

Ezra regards you in sudden consternation, but answers you quickly.

“Please, stardust” he starts with that beautiful voice, “Let me touch you. Let me worship at your altar. I can be your servant, and I’ll make Kevva herself jealous of you”

He looks up at you, brown eyes wide, and reaches out for you. He is a man dying of thirst. You are his saviour, but a look from you and he stops halfway. He licks his lips, his cheeks are flushed. He is gorgeous. And oh he’s good at this. How swiftly he becomes desperately pliant to you.

If you didn’t know each other inside out perhaps you would’ve laughed at his dramatic disposition. But you know he means every single word.

And Kevva knows that if you give him the chance, he’s going show you just how much he means them.

***

It had started with nothing more than an innocent kiss. As many things with Ezra started. A tender moment of quiet between the two of you as you had the sudden and simple urge to pull him to you and press your lips to his.

That’s all it was, a kiss.

But of course with Ezra a kiss is never simply a kiss. It becomes more, it means more. It means every word and need flowing through his mind. It means every small thought he has ever had of you. It can be sweet, it can be loving. Or it can drag you down in to a pit of intoxicating passion.

He had certainly dragged you down. He had grasped at you, feeling your touch so warm almost where he wanted you. Needed you.

“Don’t stop. Never” He had muttered with hot breath against your skin.

And you had had no intention of stopping...until he moaned out the most desirous, needy “Please” against your mouth. Please like he had only one hope in the world and it was you.

The word reverberated through you and set this new part of you alight. Something unexpected, sudden and strong.

You pulled away.

That please! The word was aching and hungry and as if you were an addict to it you wanted nothing more than to hear it over and over, to drag it from him a thousand times.

You had watched Ezra’s face fall in sudden confusion as you untangled yourself from his embrace. The man was left sitting on the bed slack jawed and dizzy from the swiftness of your change in temperament.

You let out a breath. He breathed it in.

“Again. Say it again” you demanded, keeping your voice steady as possible.

Your body had tingled as his eyes widened the moment he understood your intentions.

And then...such a good man to play his part so dutifully he slowly fell to his knees on the hard floor, while red hot excitement burned in you.

“Again”

***

“It’s not enough. Again” you tell him now, teasing and toying with him. You smile as he grinds his jaw in frustration, while you stand before him with fingers softly playing in his hair.

“Oh, you’re cruel” he practically whines, raising his eyebrows in surprise. But he’s never been one to turn away from a challenge. Definitely not one like this, one the glint in his eye tells you he enjoys so much.

“Stardust, let me kiss your perfect lips again...Let me feel you. I swear to make every single second worth your while. I will make you feel things you’ve never felt before” he rasps out impassioned. He’s straining, a sheen of perspiration covering him from how frantic he’s getting. You feel your fervor building with a growing warmth inside you as he continues, and you can tell from his obvious arousal he’s enjoying this as much.

You pull on his hair gently. Just enough to elicit a gasp from him. As you gaze upon him you spend a wicked moment contemplating some torture – the though of making him watch you touch yourself. The idea of his hands tied as you bring yourself off in front of him not allowing him to touch you at all. The ultimate torture for Ezra; a man who would rather forgo pleasuring himself for several cycles than spend one day not being allowed to touch you. It’s a tempting thought and you ponder on it for a moment more with a devious smile.

As if he can read your mind Ezra let’s out a helpless whimper before starting again.

“Every day...fuck…every day I ache for you. I live and breath for the softest graze of your skin on mine. I crave you...I’d be a damned, starved man without you. Let me show you” he leans forward, just a bit, “I’ll make time stand still, if you let me have even one single touch”

His pleading, his yearning, it’s enough to set the world on fire. The way he delivers it makes you quiver with desire. You can feel your resolve breaking down by the second.

“Please. Please” you hear Ezra keen out again and it ruins you. You are both so weak for him and so full of control over him at once. It is an unparalleled feeling. You lift his head, pulling on his hair with more force until he is looking at you. He looks with complete awe, his lips parted, his breath heavy.

As intoxicating as it is to make him beg and worship ultimately you will always want to share your rapture with him.

Slowly you kneel down to meet him on the floor. You lean forward, touching your forehead to his. You both close your eyes and breath each other in like it’s the first time you’ve ever been this close before.

And time stands still

You can’t spend a second longer not letting him show you his love, the way he wants to.

“Kiss me, Ezra” you beg this time with a whisper. Your lips almost touching his.

“Make me feel everything” you demand.