#raider!carter

He holds the map behind you, folds it twice, and is studying a certain area. You put your head on his shoulder, and he pets your head, then rests his free hand on your back. You wiggle your hips and feel him harden under you.

He puts down the map and scratches one side of his beard. “Gotta think..."

“About what?” you ask.

“Shhhhh,” He quiets you. He mumbles something to himself as he picks up the map again.

Your lips are against his neck, and you suck a little.

He clears his throat. “Would ya gimme a minute, sweet pea?”

You sigh, then adjust your position so his warm, hardening cock is nestled right against your sweet spot.

"I don't want you to go anywhere," you say.

He doesn't react.

You rest, and you aren't thinking about it when you begin to grind yourself against him.

“Would ya cut it out?” He grumbles, reaching down to flick open the button of his jeans. He unzips with a sharp exhale through his nose, then murmurs, “That what ya want?”

“No,” you reply, “I want you to take me to the creek.” Your heart races at your own defiance, half expecting punishment, but he takes a different tack.

“So ya don't want this,” he asks, reaching between your bodies, his knuckles rubbing against your clit as he rubs himself over the denim.

“Of course I do,” you whisper.

“You gotta be quiet,” he warns. “You gonna let me focus?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod.

“You promise?”

“Yeah,” you agree.

“If you got anything else to say, you better say it now,” he warns as he helps you onto his cock. He nestles the tip inside and raises an eyebrow at you. You say, “just that i don't want you to go.”

"Mm hm," he acknowledges. Then spits on his hand and lifts you to wet his cock more. His thumb pushes the tip inside, helping himself into you: chubby and hard, but not fully erect. He nudges you down, and you sink onto his shaft with a sigh.

“I know,” he coos, and his cock swells and stiffens.

You hum, “Mmm,” as he adjusts your position, pulling you down to the hilt.

“Quiet time,” he announces and adjusts his glasses. You wiggle your hips to feel him growing thicker, more erect.

“Sit still,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” you whisper with a smile against his neck.

And you rest there, basking in the fullness of him as he reviews the possible routes.

A low, satisfied growl rumbles his throat as his cock comes to full mast in your warmth.

-

Carter shows up, out of breath, wiping sweat off his hairline. “Did you call?” He glances at you, clocking Joel's unzipped pants, which Joel doesn't acknowledge.

“Come on in,” Joel says.

Carter greets you, “I was lookin’ for ya, Peanut.”

“She's having quiet time,” Joel says, “But, uh, let's talk about this for a second,” He gestures with the map. “C'mere.”

Carter approaches and sits with one big thigh and half his ass on the desk.

Joel muses, “What about takin’ the old road east and around instead of goin’ through that whole patch with the bus graveyard?”

“How many are we talkin’ about bringin’?” Carter asks, “Cause on that road, you gotta worry about…” he glances at you like he doesnt want to scare you.

“Yeah, I know,” Joel says. “Shit, I dunno.

I reckon just a couple, at least while we do the re-con.”

Joel’s so smart. You feel a little swell of gratitude that he'll let you sit like this while he works.

“She comin’?” Carter asks, lowering his voice like you're not less than two feet away.

“Yes,” you answer.

“No,” Joel chuckles. Then, to Carter: “So I reckon you ain’t either.”

The map rustles as Joel folds it over a stretch of silence.

“What?” Joel asks, “you're stayin’ with her.”

“Yeah,” Carter answers softly, but you can tell he thinks it's not a good plan.

“What?” Joel asks again.

“I didn't say anything,” Carter protests.

“Yeah. What ain’t ya sayin’?” Joel prods and his hips shift under you, making you let out a little moan. Oops. Your lips form a straight line.

Carter starts, “All of us in the van, better than splittin’ up at this point.”

Joel’s chest expands as he thinks it over.

“Whatcha think, boss?” Carter asks.

“Shit, maybe you're right,” Joel concedes. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes with one hand as he puts his glasses down with the map on the desk.

Joel says, “Let's see what the weather does, next couple days. Let's finish gettin’ the van ready. We'll see how things look.” Joel nods slowly, searching Carter’s eyes for whether they're on the same page.

“Alright,” Carter nods. “Yeah, you got it.” The back of his hand gives Joel's arm a friendly tap.

Then Carter stands up off the desk and subtly adjusts himself. Your eyes pan down his legs. He's so tall.

“You want me to take her?” Carter offers, “To the creek, I mean?”

“Later,” Joel says.

You gently rub your nose against the vein of Joel's neck, and his cock twitches.

“Later,” Carter agrees with casual little two-finger salute as he exits.

-

-

-

He lets out a soft grunt and pulls you harder against him. Closer, tighter so his clothed cock is aimed at your wet little hole instead. He’s going to make you desperate for it. With Joel nudging you like that with his hard-on, your wetness begins to seep into his denim. The need to be filled is overwhelming. Will he fuck you right here? He’s done it in front of plenty of people, but normally it’s just men. It turns you on a little more, thinking about doing it in front of her. A private show, just for them. 

~//ofc pov//~

Carter and his girl--your friend--are only about two meters away, and she’s seated on him in the same fashion. They couldn’t help themselves after a few minutes of trying not to watch you and Joel and hearing the noises you’re trying to stifle. She’s heard you moan before. They all have. She’s heard it with her head between your legs, with her fingers knuckles deep getting soaked by your sweet little cunt. When the boys got home from their last hunting trip, the two of you were on the sofa, with your legs stacked together while she expertly massaged your tit, thumbing your nipple into a peak while you grinded on her thigh between your legs. Now she’s grinding herself on Carter as they make out. 

She can’t really help herself. He’s a good kisser, and he’s rock hard. What she really wants is Carter inside her, but rocking against him, feeling the stiffness and girth of his perfect cock is the next best thing. She rolls her hips slowly.

His mouth breaks away from hers to mutter, “Fuck, sugar,” then a cautionary, “Hol’on.” His hands on her thighs hold her still for a moment. She giggles and they look at each other fondly for a moment. His eyes always sparkle when he’s with her, but now his face is wrecked with arousal.

Carter has so much restraint. Sometimes she wishes he was more like Joel, giving it to his girl any time, anywhere.

They start kissing again, softer, less sloppy. 

~//🌸🫛//~

Joel murmurs into your hair, “You gonna come for me?” 

Your response is interrupted by a loud clap of thunder. When you jump, Joel chuckles.

A fat raindrop lands on your head. 

Carter gives his girl a kiss on the forehead and nudges her off his lap. He subtly adjusts himself before standing up and going to grab the tarp by the side of the trailer. “Guess we should try to beat the rain,” he tells her as he covers the unused firewood. 

You glance at her and she gives you a disappointed look. 

You put your hands around the back of Joel's neck, gently resting your thumbs just in front of his earlobes. He raises an eyebrow like he knows you want something. 

You bite your lip and almost laugh. 

“I'm listening,” he teases.  

“Can they stay?” you ask. 

“Whatcha want’em to stay for?” 

Heat rises to your cheeks “I just like hanging out with her.” 

“Uh-huh,” he says with teasing skepticism.  “I know ya do,” he reminds you. 

Another clap of thunder and it begins to pour. 

Joel clears his throat and shouts, “Come on in, it's early. Storm’ll blow over. ”

–

You’re all wet by the time you get inside. The dog gets to come in too, but he has to stay in the bathroom. In the kitchen, the men have another drink. The storm is picking up outside. You sit on Joel’s lap, side-saddle. He’s so handsome in the lantern light. Carter’s girl sits in the chair next to him, and he holds her hand in her lap. She yawns into her shoulder. 

“pull-out’s in there if ya wanna call it a night,” Joel nods toward the living room. Then he murmurs across the top of your ear, “You tired?” 

You remind him, “the roof leaks in there.” 

“Shit, you’re right,” Joel replies. 

“Bed’s big enough,” you whisper, then put your hand on the lamp’s handle like you’re ready to bring it to the bedroom.

“Hear that, Carter?” Joel picks up his glass to down the rest of his whiskey. He swallows and puts it back down, with his voice a little lower. “Fine by me.” 

~//flashback//~

After catching you girls together that time, Joel and Carter had talked. You overheard some of it and were surprised to hear Carter was the hesitant one. Joel was always far more possessive (than anyone, ever), but that was partly why he made peace with it: If something happened to Joel, he would rather you have your friend than someone else. He knew you didn’t look at her the way you looked at him. He knew she was just for fun. The thought of another man swooping in made his blood boil, but he didn’t want you to be completely alone.

Carter, on the other hand, was concerned. He was worried about Joel getting jealous and getting rid of the girl. Taking a sexual interest in you wasn't good for anyone's lifespan.

“I don’t get jealous,” Joel claimed. “Just don’t like men disrespectin’ my girl.” 

“snapped a girl's neck for puttin’ hands on her,” Carter reminded him.

Joel scoffed. “Snapped her neck cause she damn near killed ya, brother.” 

Carter was moved. After a few moments of silence, he agreed. “If it’s too much, promise you’ll say somethin'. I don't wanna lose her, man.” 

Joel nodded, and that was that. 

~//~

Now Joel’s fucking you from behind in the spoon position, holding onto your hip. Your friend’s face is getting closer to yours with every thrust from Carter behind her. Carter is holding her breast.

As the gap gets smaller and smaller between you and her, your erect nipple brushes against something hard - Carter's knuckles. His hand quickly moves out of the way with a quiet curse into his girl’s hair. But the split-second contact has already sent a chill down your spine that makes you twitch on Joel's cock. The deep growl Joel lets out gives you butterflies. 

Your bodies drift even closer until your breasts are smashed against hers, and you’re sloppily kissing. You’re floating in a cozy world of pleasure with her mouth on yours, her tongue finding yours after sliding along your lower lip. Her tits feel so good against you, moving to the beat of Carter’s hips. The power of Joel’s rhythm grinds you against her. You almost lift your leg so your knee rests on her hip, but think better of it when you imagine Joel’s balls grazing her. Your lips stop moving as you close your eyes and focus on Joel. You and she breathe against each other’s mouths, letting out sounds of pleasure with your tits still touching. You squeeze her side, then slide your hand to her breast and her nipple gets harder with your touch. 

Joel grunts and pulls you back against him, and off of her. The move feels more primal than anything. He probably didn’t think about her at all. He doesn’t think when he’s ravaging you. He only takes what’s his and bends you to his will. It’s the way he can’t physically get enough. Can’t be deep enough inside. Can’t have enough of your body against his. Can’t hold you tight enough.  Always hungry for more. 

He gropes around the front of your chest as he pounds you, his wide palm smashing your breast. Joel’s thrusts are sharp and deep, and his breathing is more vocal with every stroke of his cock through your tight, soft walls. He must be getting close. He bottoms out for two seconds and you let out a whimper, pushing back on him.  “That’s my girl,” he growls as his hips begin to move, and the slow, thick drag of his cock makes you forget everything else. His arm tightens, and his breath is hot in your hair. Your skin is slippery against his. You’re a humid row of bodies, writhing and sliding against each other under a quiet medley of heavy breaths, grunts, and sighs. 

“That’s it, baby,” Carter says in a husky near-whisper. 

“Ohhh--good girl,” Joel pants, grinding deep inside you. You let out a moan, and it’s echoed by one from her. Your eyes flutter open. 

Carter has slowed down. He's fucking her deep and smooth with a hand on her hip. A flash of lightning illuminates the room. Carter is kissing her neck, making her whimper, and a glimpse of his tongue on her skin makes you twitch. Her mouth is open, and her brow furrows with pleasure. “You like that?” Carter mumbles into her neck at a low octave before tasting her skin again, then marking her with bruising suction, drawing another moan. He releases her neck with a smack. 

“Whose are ya,” Joel murmurs. Your pussy gives his dick a little squeeze.

“Yours,” you reply. “always.” 

“Good girl.”

His. Always his. As much as you enjoy her. You could never be anyone else’s. You wouldn’t dream of it.

She tries to grope your breast, but Joel's hand is there. She breathes out a laugh, and when her hand doesn't move right away, you notice–even through the haze of pleasure. You pull back, pressing your back harder into Joel’s chest. You take her hand off of Joel's, and brush your chest with her fingers so she can feel the letters of his name. You interlace your fingers with hers.

“feel so good, sugar” Carter pants behind her. 

Another flash of lightning, and you see she's looking over your head. Your heart races. She’s looking at Joel. There’s no way he’s looking back at her, you reassure yourself, but you keep an eye on her over the next few seconds. The sight isn't as jarring in the dimmer lamplight, but her chin stays lifted upward, and so do her eyes. After another thrust of Joel inside you, she’s still looking at him. Your face tenses and tingles. You find your upper body trying to wiggle out of Joel’s tight grip. You put a hand on the back of her neck and pull her toward you at the same time.

Her neck still glistens with Carter’s spit as your mouth is drawn to it like a magnet. 

“Mm,” she moans as you plant your lips and suck. You widen your jaw, and your mind goes someplace else. 

"fuck," Carter breathes, "you close?"

The next thing you know, she’s wailing, with your teeth digging unforgivingly into her skin, not budging, only trying to sink deeper.

Carter groans with his release.  

Joel keeps fucking you, too wrapped up in the edge of his orgasm to even correct the gap that’s grown between your hair and his face. 

“Carter,” she cries, then chokes, “Carter.” 

“Shit,” he slowly comes back to reality, realizing what's happening.

Carter reaches around the back of your head and grabs a fist of your hair, trying to pry you off, but it only feels good to you. “Do somethin’, Miller.” His plea shakes Joel out of the spell enough to take you back, or try. 

When you resist the pull of his arm, Joel’s hand wraps around your throat. “C’mere,” he growls with a deep thrust. You tense up, squeezing his cock tight. 

“God damn” he curses, using the pressure of his forearm between your breasts, trying to pry you off, but not being rough with you, yet. “C’mere, sweet pea.” His fingers add some pressure to your neck.

With your mouth still on her neck, a modest climax ripples through your core, squeezing him tighter. Youre too numb to fully experience it- even the orgasm’s not enough to make you let go.

Joel sternly says your name. He tightens his grip, and you finally release her neck from your mouth.

He loosens his hand and pulls you fully back into his embrace with a groan, bottoming out and erupting. The warmth of his spend spreads like a blanket, soothing you along with the pulsing of his cock. 

–

You catch your breath and a hint of copper on your tongue. 

She’s blubbering. Looking for attention, when she should be apologizing and leaving.

“What the fuck,” Carter mutters, then tries to soothe her.  “Shhhh. It's okay, you're good.” 

“Crazy bitch,” she mumbles. 

You tense and Joel holds you tighter. “Hey,” he murmurs into your hair. “You’re okay.”

Carter's disapproving face turns to concern as he studies your face. "you good, peanut?" He asks you between heaving breaths.

She quietly sobs in unintelligible protest, hand on her neck. 

“Lemme see,” Carter says and retrieves the lamp from the bedside. He brings the lamp closer to her neck and his face darkens from shock to horror when he sees the damage. “Jesus,” he whispers.

The rain is really coming down hard. Bullet is whimpering in the bathroom and clawing at the door.  

Joe’s arms loosen around you. “Hey,” you grumble in protest when his cock slides out of you. He props himself up to have a look. Then he’s quiet. He lifts his hand and holds it like he’s about to touch her neck while examining the wound. You sharply inhale and he stops short. 

“Get her outta here,” Joel mutters. “Give us a minute.” 

Carter replies, “Where'd that come from–” 

“I’ll handle it,” Joel cuts him off. "Get her outta here."

A clap of thunder.

“Did you cum,” you ask Carter with a blank face. He stares at you with his mouth slightly agape, and you could swear you see him blush.

Saving both of you from Joel's wrath, Carter pretends you were talking to his girl. "She woulda."

"well, she wasn't--" you think about telling Carter his girl wasn't thinking about him, but think better of it. You don't wanna hurt him. "Nevermind."

As he puts his boxers on, Carter boldly tells Joel, "this was always gonna be trouble." Bewildered, he looks back and forth between you and Joel behind you.

Then, Carter helps his girl off the bed. "Alright, come on, baby."

You don’t look directly at her. You’re spaced out.

"i know, baby," he cradles her head as she stands up. He ushers her to the kitchen to look at her neck. 

-

Joel gets up from the bed and pulls on his boxers. 

Bullet is going nuts in the bathroom.

“Do you think Bullet’s okay?” you ask, but Joel doesn't check on him or let him out. All he does is close the bedroom door. As he’s slowly making his way back to you, lightning flashes. 

Joel’s jaw flexes as he stares you down from the shadow of his brow, fingers twitching at his sides. 

He reaches the edge of the bed where you lie. He stands there, facing you.

“That was...bad,” he scolds calmly. Your heart sinks. You would rather him be mad than disappointed. If you deserve anything it's to get smacked around a bit, not this serious face from him.

You sit up, sit back on your knees, and try to hug him. Your eyes water, and your apology barely croaks out. "I'm sorry, you repeat." He feels even taller than usual from this angle. You lower your head, with your arms still loosely around him, nuzzling your hair against his tummy. 

He pulls away a bit and lifts your chin to look at him. Lightning flashes. 

He takes a firm hold of your jaw. “Biting. . .is not okay.” His jaw clenches, and he reads your eyes trying to see if you got it. “Ever,” he adds. The look on his face tells you not to argue.

“Yes sir,” you mumble. 

"You okay?" He asks.

"Okay," he nods to himself. His glistening chest heaves. His neck vein is bulging as he looks down at you. "God damn," he whispers to himself, sounding annoyed. He cracks his neck with no hands, trying to relax.

“You're trying not to hurt me,” you observe. 

He takes a deep breath through his nose and slowly nods as he exhales. “Cause I know how much ya like it.”

You rub your lips together and look down and away. He lays a gentle hand on your head.

When you look up to meet his eyes again, he’s trying to suppress a smile. 

---

----

-----

The Wildman who’d taken you under his wing lived just inside the stone wall and iron gate. After a long journey home with him, this was where you got to rest. Krampus wouldn’t be back for a while, and there was time to get you settled into the community.

Carter’s home was a simple one. He built a fire in the hearth, sat you down on the sofa, gave you a blanket, and offered you a stiff drink, but you declined. He took a swig straight from the bottle before pouring himself a glass of whiskey like a civilized man, then making you some cocoa.

Bullet, the cat who’d helped the Wildman defeat your captors, went around rubbing on all the furniture, then hopped up on the couch and curled up next to you, purring.

When the hot cocoa was ready, Carter brought you a cup, then settled in on an armchair facing you, sipping whiskey.

After looking at each other for a while, you broke the silence. “Do you think he’ll get his gold back?”

With his lips loosened by liquor, Carter told you more about the robbery.

analnAt one point, he ranted, “and they did it on Krampuschnat…. While everybody was playin’ Krapuschlappe.”

You asked what Krampuschlappe was, and he described a game where the goal was to slap Krampus harder than Krampus could slap you. No one ever beat Krampus, but according to Carter, it was a privilege to be slapped. Apparently, men were competitive about who got to challenge him. “That's the real contest,” Carter said.

“Why?” you asked.

Carter shrugged. “Feels kinda good gettin’ smacked around sometimes, don't it?”

He tilted his head with a look that made you feel naked, even in his big coat on and a blanket over your legs.

His nose twitched like he could see it on your face. “Well, for me, anyway.”

“Alright, maybe a little,” you admitted.

“Attagirl,” Carter smiled.

“Ever get smacked around outside of Krampuschlappe?” you asked.

“Every once in a while,” he answered with wistful eyes, turning the glass of whiskey in his hand, still wearing fingerless gloves. “sometimes I’m askin’ for it.”

“What, like you've been bad?” You asked.

“Yeah…or I'm literally askin’ for it.” He raised his eyebrows, then downed the rest of his drink.

— - -

The next day, Carter took you to the beer hall and introduced you to the barmaids. They swooned when he came around, and he politely indulged their flirtations. When he excused himself to the restroom, one with red hair followed him, and he rolled his eyes as he felt her presence trailing him. Then, he turned around to face her. He lowered his voice and whispered in the same tone he used with Bullet. “What'd I tell you? We're done.”

Dejected, she watched him disappear into the washroom. When she looked at you, you pretended you were admiring a large portrait of Krampus on the wall.

“What do you think?” she asked, and you really studied it for the first time. You’d known approximately what he looked like, but was that *three* sets of horns? Pierced nipples?

“Uh,” you couldn’t peel your eyes away from it. His eyes glowed with a dark smile. He wore chains and leather pants, and the portrait was even larger than Carter.

“Is he that big?” you asked, with your eyes accidentally settling on the bulge in his pants.

“Bigger,” she laughed and posed next to the portrait. She trailed her hand down the painted chest and happy trail, sticking her tongue out.

-

There was room for you in their bunkhouse, and they were glad to take you in. Most of the girls had become unofficial ladies of the night, as it were. . . Groupies of Krampus and the wildmen. That left few on staff who actually maintained the tavern in terms of service and clean-up. It was the perfect job for you.

-

In your first shifts, Carter kept an eye on you, and you seemed to get along real well with everyone.

By day the beer hall felt like a dungeon, but at night, it came to life. By the time your shift started, peanut and chestnut shells already littered the tables and the floor. Rowdy groups roared with laughter and tales of misadventure. You’d have a mess to clean up when they retired to bed.

The wee hours of the morning were your favorite to work. Those were the most festive hours. Men and beasts were loose with their gold, and sometimes, their affections. Not just for the girls, but for each other. On some nights, the room felt delightfully enchanted.

—-

You watched the girls, especially curious about the ones who let the men and wildmen play with them. You knew this much: A nurse tended to those girls, dressed their wounds, and iced their bruises. Some cried, some giggled, some laughed through tears.

There was a streak of curiosity in you… Curiosity at best. Something in your gut yearned to know how it felt, but your survival instincts were stronger. So you simply did the work as described: You served the men, and cleaned up after them.

“I have a job to do,” you explained whenever a drunkard tried to get you in his lap. The first time you said this, you looked to Carter for backup, and he nodded, “that’s right.”

Whenever a man reacted poorly, to smooth things over, you’d offer, “let me bring you another beer.”

They would have been fools to mistake your soft energy for weakness, and they didn’t, for the most part.

-

The first night Krampus returned, he had a girl straddling each thigh, facing him. They grinded on him and played with each other as wildmen and raiders gathered around to welcome the big boss home.

Krampus regaled the men with the tale of his quest to reclaim the gold.

“Ohh, they ain’t gettin’ away with this,” a scraggly man chimed in. “Nothin’ gets by the man in hooves.” He lifted his pint, gesturing toward Krampus, and the men murmured in agreement.

“Oh, plenty gets by me,” Krampus admitted.

“But nothin’ gets by Alan Bradley. Get over here, Bradley!” Krampus bellowed, easily peering over the wildmen between him and the next table. “Come on,” He beckoned a normal man in glasses to join from a nearby table. The accountant was attending the festivities at the behest of Krampus, but it wasn't exactly his natural habitat: When he'd arrived, Carter had given him a tip: Lose the tie.

Bradley shuffled toward the rowdier group and paused. Krampus dismissed the girls from his lap. The men opened their circle to let the girls out, and Bradley stepped out of their way with a polite, “Ladies.”

One of the wildmen grabbed Bradley's shoulder to pull him in, echoing Krampus as he pushed him toward the boss, “Get in here, buddy.”

“Mr. Krampus, Sir,” Bradley nodded with a bright smile. He had a full, healthy head of graying hair. No horns.

Krampus patted his massive, leather-clad thigh, and Bradley hesitantly sat on it like a bench, facing the men.

“Tell’em how ya caught it,” Krampus encouraged him with pride.

Bradley's face lit up as he spoke about his security audit program. Carter tried to stifle a yawn. The other members of the small audience weren’t as discreet in their excruciating boredom. Krampus scanned their faces, then interrupted the story, “To Bradley!” raising his half-gallon stein.

“To Bradley!” The raiders and Wildmen raised their ales and cheered.

“Good man,” Krampus patted Bradley on the back and dismissed him back to the quieter table.

You worked in the kitchen that night and didn’t meet Krampus, which was just as well. His presence was even more enormous than his stature, and it made you shy.

-

It was a different shift when Krampus first laid eyes on you, and he couldn’t look away. He watched you work, entranced by the way you held your own and quietly commanded the respect of patrons.

Krampus sat with his thighs spread, eyes following your every move. Watching him watch you, Carter observed, “Looks like the big guy sees someone he likes.”

Krampus grunted and finished off his ale.

Your cheeks heated, and Carter ordered another round.

When you returned to the table, it felt like you were on stage, the way everyone watched you (and watched Krampus watch you). Your hands shook as you placed the heavy steins on the table. He crossed his arms and watched you. Without looking right at him, you turned to leave.

Krampus stopped you with a hand firm around your entire arm. “Did I say you could go?” His voice was deep and rough.

You stopped in your tracks and swallowed a tickle in your chest as you turned to face him. “I’m sorry, sir,” you offered with a nod and half a curtsie. “At your service.”

“It’s okay,” his voice and his grip on your arm both softened. “What are ya doin’ here, sweet pea?” he asked, and the nickname made your heart skip a beat.

“Just doing the job, sir.”

“What job?”

“Pouring beers, cleaning up…”

“Keeping everyone happy,” Krampus nodded, and a few men cheersed, with ale sloshing out of their pints as they clinked them.

“Good girl,” Krampus said, then he put his arm around Carter and stroked the Wildman’s hair. “Did this one bring you here?” Krampus asked.

“Yes sir,” you answered. “I hope it’s okay…”

“Tell me what happened,” Krampus implored you. He let you stand in front of him while you told the story. His eyes wandered down your body but always returned to your face.

Spellbound by your voice and the way your mouth moved, he idly fingered Carter’s locks as he listened.

When you finished, Krampus nodded, then scratched Carter between the horns and looked at him with gratitude, “Good man.”

Carter nudged his head into the larger beast’s touch, just like Bullet might.

-

— -

Krampus felt something low in his gut. Every time he saw you, a need in the pit of his core was roused by your presence, as though you were tugging on it from the outside. He couldn’t stop watching you, and you could feel it. The weight of his watchful eyes made everything you carried heavier.

You dropped two empty steins, and the men around you laughed.

Krampus stood up, and his nostrils flared. Carter’s eyebrows lifted at the shape he saw in the boss man’s leather pants.

The men who’d laughed at you composed themselves and picked up the steins themselves.

Standing tall, Krampus cracked his neck with no hands. “Put those down. Come here,” he beckoned you. A hush fell over the dim room as you made your way back to Krampus.

He loomed over you, so tall it would have been easier to look him in the pierced nipples than the eyes. He must have been two and a half meters, from the base of his hooves to the highest curve of his horns.

He asked, “What’s wrong?” and you realized you were cowering.

He cocked an eyebrow, with a flicker in his gaze that made you feel a little more at ease.

“N-nothing,” you stammered with a nervous but genuine smile.

Krampus raised both eyebrows, then adjusted his pants, pulling them up and letting the chains settle again. “Think this is a game?”

You looked down and backed away, just a smidgen, looking to gain enough space to see him better. Krampus stepped toward you.

You backed up again, bumping into another wildman, one you hadn't met who grabbed you and held you. “Here ya go, boss,” the wildman announced, and your skin bristled at his grimy touch.

“HANDS OFF HER, Harold” Krampus roared. Had fire shot out of his mouth, the flames would have fit the glow in his eyes.

The man obeyed, lifting his trembling hands, palms forward.

Krampus grabbed the wildman by the throat and threw him across the room, into the wall. Then, Krampus looked around the silenced room. “Hands off this one,” he announced, “Leave her be.”

The men murmured, “yes sir,” and other acknowledgements as Krampus looked at you like you were the only one there.

As his eyes feasted on you, they only became hungrier. The beast in him awakened.

You tugged your dress down, embarrassed by the attention, though grateful for the protection. You couldn’t wait to get out of the spotlight and catch a breath of fresh air. You didn’t know it, but Krampus had a similar thought.

As he looked at you, a sound rumbled from his throat, somewhere between the growl of a beast, and the purr of a massive feline.

And then, Krampus spoke one word: “Run.”

A cheer erupted from the crowd.

When you didn’t move, the crowd got quiet again, and Krampus raised his eyebrows as though to ask what you were doing.

Carter coughed, catching your attention, then nodded, urging you to comply.

So you did.

—--

—-

-

-

—-

—--

The revelers cleared a path, and Krampus stood with his massive arms crossed, making a show of his patience as he gave you a head start.

When you’d almost made it to the back of the bar where all the kegs were kept, he launched himself after you, crossing the floor in just a few steps.

His pursuit aroused your prey instincts. Even if you weren’t in danger of death, you knew the kind of damage he could do to your body, even if he wasn’t trying. Even if he seemed like a gentle giant, so far.

All this time, the Wildman had felt like a giant every time he was near, and Krampus was even larger.

Krampus chased you around the room, and the crowd cheered him on, falling over each other, spilling steins and pints, laughing and shouting. “Get’her!”

And then, you saw a clear path to the door.

Unsure if you were meant to flee, you only had a split-second to decide.

You found your feet moving under you, taking delicate, nimble steps, until you were out in the cold night, with your shoes falling off. You slipped them off and ran, taking silent steps with the balls of your bare feet on cold, dirt-caked cobblestone.

Heavy breaths and chains followed close behind.

Back in the beer hall, the crowd clamored for a look, but Carter kept them all inside as Krampus pursued his prey under the stars.

-

Soon, Krampus had you in his grasp with a hand firm on your arm.

“Turn around,” he commanded quietly.

When you were facing him, he let go of your arm.

“Don’t move,” he instructed, and braced his hands on his thick, leather-clad thighs as he crouched down to your level.

He caught his breath, muscles heaving, eyes wild and bright, then he grabbed your jaw.

His eyes held you like you might break, but his hands were a different story.

Those hands could break you in half with a fraction of his strength.

The grip he had you in was gentle, for him. You could feel him holding back.

“Know what happens now?” he asked, watching your lips tremble.

“What?” you replied.

“Well, you know what my job is, don’t you?” Krampus challenged you.

He let go of your jaw, then stood up straight, looming over you once more.

“I think so,” you whispered.

He held a hand to his ear and asked, “What then?” crouching over again, closer to your level.

“You’re supposed to punish people,” you said.

“Punish the naughty ones,” he corrected you. “You been naughty, sweet pea?”

“N….no,” you answered, prompting a soft laugh that shook his whole chest.

“You think runnin’ from Daddy’s not bad?” he asked with soft mischief in his tone.

His eyes sparkled as he waited patiently for your answer, with genuine interest in what you had to say.

Krampus must have played this game countless times before, but you were different. Unpredictable. You’d taken him *outside*, and kept running. “Hmm?” he prompted you and lifted your chin.

You looked straight up at the hulking beast.

He thumbed your bottom lip and tilted his head.

“Sorry,” you said. “I didn’t know what to do.

His tail swished around, then caressed your cheek. He laughed to himself, then murmured, “Even the best girls can be naughty”, then bent down and picked you up. “What are you doing?”

“It’s for your own good, sweet pea,” he murmured.

He lumbered back to the beer hall, humming a tune as he held you over his shoulder with a hand on your lower back. You were so high in the air. His steps slowed as he reached the beer hall, then he paused in the entrance.

The men had dispersed back to their usual antics, gathered around tables, drinking and eating.

As the men took notice of your feet dangling in the air, the room erupted in another cheer.

-

“Spank-ING, Spank-ING, Spank-ING,” they chanted as Krampus looked around with pride, ever the showman.

“Alright, settle down,” Krampus boomed, and the crowd complied, except for a drunkard who blurted out, “Use the switch!”

Krampus sat down and put you so you were standing between his knees.

You tugged at your dress, drawing a subtle smile to his lips.

“What do you think?” Krampus asked. “Do you deserve a spanking?” His eyebrows flashed upward.

“I dunno,” you shrugged.

Amused, Krampus asked, “You don’t know?” The crowd’s response was scattered laughter.

You searched for Carter and found him sitting back with his arms crossed, knees spread, enjoying the show. The trusted Wildman gave you a reassuring wink.

With a surge of confidence, you answered,

“I guess Daddy knows best.”

Carter whistled, and the crowd broke into hoots and hollers.

Krampus looked around the crowd, nodding with an impressed frown. Then, he laid a massive hand on your head. “Smart girl,” he praised you.

—-------

Your heart pounded as you were bent over Krampus’s knee, but you grounded yourself by looking at Carter and his big, bare biceps, pumped up with visible veins. The Wildman’s face darkened with a smile as he gazed upon you laid out over the boss man's lap.

“It's okay,” Carter mouthed.

Your face got all hot as you focused on the stone floor in front of you and tuned out the surrounding faces.

Krampus pulled back his hand, and you braced yourself as the crowd counted down, “Threeee, twoooooo,”

The first pop on your rear set your skin on fire and echoed off the walls. His broad palm had hit both cheeks at once.

Blurry in your peripheral vision, Carter leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Doin’ good,” he encouraged you.

Scattered voices counted down again, “Three, two…”

The next smack was numbed by the heat of the first and didn't reach your ears over the noise of the crowd, but your eyes stung and your lip quivered.

Krampus adjusted your body, pulling you in close, sliding your dress against his leather pants, closer to his body where you could feel the heat of his crotch.

“Three, two….” After a longer pause, you flinched, and he chuckled. Then, his hand came down again.

Watching your ass jiggle, he hummed, “Mmm.” He grabbed your bare ass, took a deep breath, and let out a satisfied sigh, then put the skirt of your dress back down before resting a massive palm across your buttocks.

He let you down off his knees and you stood between them again as he admired you.

Your butt tingled with heat, and so did your face.

The men crowd went about their night, and for a moment, it felt like it was just you and Krampus. You and the King of… whatever this place was. Having his attention and approval felt so special that you didn’t even look for Carter.

Some of the other barmaids looked on with envy as krampus fixed your hair. Then he kissed you on the head, and murmured just above your ear, “You take it good, sweet pea.”

He adjusted himself, fixing the obscene leather pants that were thin enough to display every vein in his hard cock. With a palm on your back, he said, “Good girl. Back to work.”

At the end of the night, Carter was the last customer there, and you were one of the last barmaids. You were taking your time in hopes that some of the girls would go to bed before you got back and you wouldn't face too much teasing or questioning.

Carter watched you sweep. You finished the rest of the room first, getting closer and closer to his table.

Once you were there, he didn't back out of your way, so you swept between his massive feet and felt his glassy eyes pouring over your barmaid dress.

"You good?" he asked with the twang of whiskey in his voice.

"Yeah," you replied and felt heat rise to your cheeks.

"He likes you," Carter said.

“I guess that’s good,” you replied, looking at the broom handle as you swept.

“Everything workin’ out okay in the bunkhouse?” he asked. “Sleepin’ alright?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Thanks again.”

He nodded, then tilted his head, watching you.

As you stepped back, your dress fanned out, and Carter was holding the hem of it. When you noticed this, he smiled, drunkenly pleased with himself.

He lowered his voice and tilted his head forward, casting a shadow over his eyes as he said, "You know where to find me."

Carter dropped the hem of your skirt and gave a friendly nod, then let you turn around to go.

Every part of you under your skirt was hot. It was hard to know what was from the spanking and what was from the Wildman's penetrating gaze.

“G'night, peanut,” he murmured as you walked away.

-

-

-

Thank you so much for reading and for your comments! If interest continues, I do have more to share. Happy Holidays to all ❤️

@milla-frenchy @cosmickid-inmotion @aurorawritestoescape @megangovier @rarachelchel @tateypots @mabelmiller @professionalpromqueen @ppascalrain @dark-scape

When you're there, you're walking through the mall and notice Carter's head turn all the way toward a particular storefront as you walk by. You wouldn't have noticed it otherwise. He keeps the same stride, but you slow down to look.

It's a lingerie store. Most of the mannequins are bare or have clothes hanging off them, but there are huge, fading posters with women of all shapes and sizes sporting lace teddies, babydolls, bralettes, strappy garters, and the floor is littered with them. 

Carter sighs when he realizes you've stopped at the store. 

As he slowly walks back to you, scratching the back of his neck, you ask, “Do you think Joel would like it if I had something from here?” The question feels almost rhetorical, but there's that bit of insecurity, too. 

“Uh, I dunno. Sure, I guess.” Carter doesn't seem comfortable. He agrees to let you go in for just a minute to see if you find something, but you have to stay in view. And you think you do. It's a two piece with a sheer, strappy top. The bottom is more modest than a thong, but it has a slit in the crotch that makes you clench your thighs together thinking about Joel.

—-

When you get home, you put it on in the bathroom so you can look at yourself in the mirror. You think it looks good, but it's not a full-length view. And you're not quite sure if it's fitting right. How much tit is supposed to be showing? How tight should it be? You put the flannel back on, but leave it open when you come out. You feel a little more covered than you are, since the nature of the fabric shows a lot. 

Carter's sitting at the kitchen table casually shuffling a deck of cards.  He looks at you for only a split second before his face hardens, and he abruptly looks away. “Jesus,” he drops the cards on the table, and the chair groans against the floor as he stands up. “The hell are ya doin’?” he awkwardly turns around, pulling up on his pants a little. 

“I just wanna know if it looks-”

“--'m sure it looks great,” Carter runs his hands through his hair in distress as he looks out the window.  Then, he tightly crosses his arms, and they stretch his sleeves even more. “Now get outta here,” he tells you. He rocks forward onto his toes, then back, waiting for you to leave. 

Is he mad? You step further into the kitchen and try to meet his eyes in the reflection. 

His voice is stern. “Go put some goddamn clothes on.” 

“Sorry, I wasn't–”

“Now.” He means it. You stand there stunned for a moment with your lip quivering. He's never been angry at you before. 

“NOW.” He points toward Joel's room, veins bulging on his hand and arm. He doesn't turn around to look at you, but you see the flush from his cheeks creeping onto his neck and ears.  

You go to your room and sniffle as you button the flannel. Then you put on a pair of shorts, curl up on the bed, and cry. 

–

After a few minutes, there's a soft knock on the bedroom door. “Ya’okay?” 

You only sniffle, “I'm sorry,” in response. 

Carter sighs. “I shouldn'ta snapped at ya, darlin’. But ya just – can't do that, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Shit, you're a pretty girl, okay? But it ain't my business how ya look. . .in somethin’ like that.” 

“. . .I know, I wasn't thinking.”

“Now, if you're dressed and wanna play rummy, I’ll deal. . .”

You smile to yourself through your tears. 

—--

You dry your eyes and come out to the kitchen, but something in the air is different as you pull out a chair and sit down.

“Carter, please forget it,” you plead and try to get him to look at you. It feels like you broke something.

He finally makes eye contact and forces a little smile. Then he concentrates on the cards as he deals. “Two, two, three, three,” he counts the cards out loud for each of you as he deals. He finishes, and while you're studying the hand you’re dealt, it's quiet. In the corner of your eye, Carter's gaze falls to your now fully-covered chest, but he quickly pulls his eyes away and looks straight down, fidgeting with his cards. You feel awful. What if he can’t look at you the same? It was stupid to try to show him. Of course it would look good to Joel, he likes everything on (and off) you.

______

When Joel gets home, you're in the bedroom alone, sitting on the bed in the lingerie and flannel. As he enters through the kitchen, his boots are heavy on the linoleum. Your heart races with a moment of doubt - how are you going to explain this? But he bursts in the room grumbling, “goddamn Harold, tryin’ to get us all killed.”  He takes his shirt off over his back, tosses it to the laundry, and looks at you. He pauses and devours the view for a few seconds before he slowly approaches, chest heaving.

He looms over you as you sit on the bed. He uses both hands to nudge the flannel off your shoulders, and it pools behind you. You take your arms out of it. He grabs a tit and rests his other hand on the nape of your neck, thumb brushing the curve of your skull. His chest lets out a low growl as he feels you. Then his fingers trail up the strap on one shoulder. He plucks it and it snaps against your skin.

Joel’s face darkens as he asks, “Where’d it come from?” When you don’t answer fast enough, his hand traces up your throat. A chill spreads across your chest. His thumb brushes the side of your neck, then slides over to lift your chin and make you look at him. “Where.”

“I wanted to do something you’d like.”

“Where,” he repeats, then clenches his jaw, waiting. 

“You said the mall wasn’t far, so–”

He raises his voice. “You went to the mall? Where was Carter?”

“It’s okay, he was there, even found a part for the van in the parking lot.” 

Joel’s nostrils flare, and he grips your jaw. “Carter took you to the mall.” 

Your eyes water with panic. “No, it wasn’t his idea--”

“To buy somethin’ like this.” 

“I wanted to get you something. I didn’t know they had this stuff —”

“He's got no business takin’ ya anywhere. And sure as hell not somewhere sexy.”

You're worried for Carter and grateful he’s not around. “I swore the mall was okay, that you wouldn’t mind. I didn’t know there was somewhere sexy,” your voice trails off. 

Joel shakes his head, nostrils flaring. “You don't say what's okay. You don't KNOW what's okay. Get up.” 

He forces you to your feet then turns you around.

“I thought you'd like it,” you sniffle. “You always do things for me.”

“He grabs your ass, lifting your butt cheek and lets it drop. He clicks his tongue. “well, I sure don't like how ya got it.”

“I'm sorry”

“Think ya need a reminder who's in charge here.”

“I know,” you sniffle in agreement, sensing what's coming. He sits down on the bed and manhandles you into lying face down over his knees. You feel a twinge of arousal even before he shifts your position and your hip brushes the hard shape in his jeans. 

You hold your breath as he brings his hand back, then it lands with a sting and you yelp at the force. You bury your mouth in your arm as he brings his hand back again. He repeats it on the other cheek and you let out a muffled whimper that sounds more aroused than you should be. 

“Like bein’ bad?” He asks, then spanks you again. 

“No.” 

His hand lands with a sting one more time and stays on your skin to grab the plush of your burning skin. “Ya like this?”

“. . .I dunno,” you whimper, unsure of the right answer.

He feels between your legs, his thick finger finding  a damp slit in the cotton crotch of the lacy underwear. He slips a finger inside the garment, giving you a shock of need when his knuckle nudges your dripping hole.  “Ya do, don't ya? Get up.” He grabs your arm and stands up, forcing you to your feet. He holds your hair and stares you down sternly. “This ain't for fun, baby, it's your safety” He lets go of your hair and looms closer. “Understand?”

You nod and reflexively back up. Something tells you it's not just about your safety. 

“AND Carter's. You tryin' to make me hurt’m?” He asks. Joel gets closer and you keep backing up toward the wall. 

“No,” you sob. “Please don't. He’s good, so good, he wouldn't even look at me. He respects you so much”

A new rage flashes across Joel's face and he lowers his voice. “He wouldn't . . .even . . .look at ya,” he mutters too calmly for your comfort. He takes a deep breath, looks you up and down again, puts his hand on your chest, fingers spread wide, and walks you harshly into the wall. His bare chest heaves. ”But ya gave him the chance, didn't ya,” Joel nods. You've dug your hole so much deeper. 

“I was only thinking about–” Joel’s hand comes to your neck as you croak out, “--you.” You don't know what you were thinking. Joel doesn't either. He slowly shakes his head, nostrils flaring. 

He pins you with his hips, and his hard cock digs into your front, making you gush.  

“Forget who ya belong to?”

“No,” you whimper. “I’m yours.”

He pulls his hips back and quickly unfastens his pants. You bite your lip to keep from moaning at the sight of his cock. It nudges under the bottom hem of the lingerie top to reach your body. You feel his skin hit your lower belly, and it makes you weak with desire. “Only wanna be yours.”

He kicks your feet apart to spread your legs, and he brings his lips to your hair. “Then ya do what I say. Understand?” 

“Yes sir,” you whisper, then he shoves his hand between your legs, using two fingers to spread the slit in the fabric of the crotch. 

“‘s’for your own good,” he adds. 

He nudges the slit with his cockhead. The fabric doesn’t open wide enough, so he rips the slit more, then you feel his tip at your wet little hole.  He holds his cock in line, then grabs your ass and shoves up into you all at once, bottoming out. The force makes your back and shoulders drag up the wall. With your feet now off the ground, your knees bend, cradling his hips. He holds you by your ass, adjusts your weight, and your back is against the wall. You balance your arms around his neck. His thick cock retreats then punches into you again. 

He's so thick, each time he pushes in, it feels like he’s taking up your whole body. He’s not looking at you; he’s looking past you. The grip of his fingers hurts enough to feel good, to feel his desperation, how much he has to have you–for him and only him. 

He grunts and growls and breathes heavily, stomach heaving against you. “You're mine, sweet pea.”

“I am,” you agree. 

“No one else can have ya.” His words get broken with the force of his thrusts.  “No one else can see ya.”

“I know.”

You moan as he buries his length in you roughly, and he mutters “goddamn,” tightening his grip on your ass. You’re overwhelmed by the fullness of his cock, his skin against yours, his breath in your hair, his body pinning you there. All of it makes your insides swell with mounting pleasure. 

“I love being yours,” you pant. 

He fucks you in relative silence for about two minutes, the room filled only with the sounds of his brutish grunts and unbridled sighs, your little moans and whimpers, and the squelch of his stiff cock pumping in and out of your dripping cunt.

He adjusts your weight and looks down at your body from time to time, letting your upper back rest against the wall as he rails into you. You’re reassured that he likes the fit, at least. Your legs wrap loosely around him. 

The pressure in your lower belly builds with each grunt, each thrust of his cock. Soon, his breath becomes shaky and the drag of his cock quickens. Then he bottoms out sharply with a groan, drawing a sigh from you as he begins to pulse. He thrusts into you slower, more controlled, and you rock slowly against the wall. The rhythmic swell of his shaft within your walls and the warm seed spilling from his tip make you clench around him. You moan his name, tighten your legs, and he sighs as your cunt chokes his cock. 

When his balls are empty, he slides out, and the fabric pulls with his cock as he withdraws and lets you down to the floor.

—-

Joel sighs, crams his wet cock into his pants, and fastens them again.

“You okay?” He asks, catching his breath. 

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Where are you going?”

“Gonna pay Carter a visit, down at the house.”

“Please, Joel, it was all my fault,” you beg. “Don’t do it.” 

“Ain’t gonna kill’m. This time.” You still don’t like the look on his face. 

You follow him across the room, reach for his arm, and your fingers land lightly on his inner elbow. He pauses, still without his shirt on, and looks down at your hand on his elbow. He turns around, reads your face, then goes over to the bed without a word. He sits and manspreads.  “I was desperate to make you happy,” you plead, fidgeting with the hem of your top.

Joel scrunches his face. “Ya do make me happy, sweet pea.”

“He didn't even wanna take me,” you insist.

“Then he’s gotta learn to say no.” 

You hesitantly come closer, unsure if he’ll turn you away, but he lets you between his legs, then you sit on his thigh and keep fidgeting with the hem of your top. 

“He says no all the time,” you assure Joel. 

“Does he,” Joel mutters skeptically.

“I made it like he would've been saying no to you.” 

Joel shakes his head, looking at your mouth. “That ain't right, but he knows better, baby.” 

“He yelled at me,” you offer, hoping it doesn't make things worse.

Joel's brow furrows and his tone sharpens. “Ya gotta stop lyin’, now. It's pissin’ me off.”

“I'm not! He was mad.”

“Oh yeah? What'd he yell?” 

“Told me to go away and put on some clothes.” 

Joel’s chin lifts to look at the ceiling and he takes a deep breath, then looks at you. “What the hell got into ya, huh?”

“I dunno,” you mumble. “Feel like I'm going crazy, stuck here all day.” Joel looks at you. “But you take good care of me,” you clarify, “and I love it here.” 

But that’s not what Joel’s thinking about. 

“Wanna fuck him? Suck his dick?”

“No!” You're on the verge of tears again. “God, Joel, please don't talk like that.” Your face is scrunched up in pain. 

“Then don't act like it.”

“I was–okay, I get it.”

Joel is quiet for a few seconds, then asks, “What if I told ya to suck his dick?” 

“No!”

“You'd say no to me?” 

“I’d ask if I really have to.” 

Joel's face slowly softens, like you found the only acceptable answer. “And why’s that?”

“Cause I only want yours.” 

“Hm,” Joel nods. 

“Please, Joel. Stay here, don't go to him. . .you can talk to him tomorrow.”

You put your arms around Joel's neck and study his pensive face. Then you bury your head in his neck and whisper “Sorry.”  His hand slowly comes to your back. You dip your head and lightly brush your lips against his collar bone, then return your face under his jaw, and he nestles his head over yours. Your wet lashes blink against his skin, and his hand slowly slides on your back. Somehow, it feels like more comfort than you deserve. 

“Ok, baby,” he whispers and wraps both arms around you.

----------

if you wanna know whether Carter sees sweet pea that way, check out he's only human.

----------

Their present-day story will continue, but I don't have an ETA, sorry. Unless the next one gets split up, it'll have fluff, two moods of smut, angst.

I appreciate all your comments that let me know what you enjoy and what curiosities you have. Thank you so much for reading, and thanks for your support. Love you all.

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He opens his mouth wide, tonguing you hard, mapping and claiming every crevasse of you, thirstily taking every drop of you he can find, nosing your clit, kissing it, sucking, thumbing it as his tongue gathers slick from your entrance again and he palms your breast. There’s nothing else in the world right now. His world is between your thighs.

“Joel,” you whimper. His cock twitches dangerously close to climax and he stops moving his hand. 

“I want it,” you beg. God damn, it’s the prettiest sound. 

Joel pries his mouth off your cunt and catches his breath. 

—Carter—-

Carter comes up the hill and sees the fire roaring with two big pots of water. The dog growls quietly at him, but quickly goes back to working on — is that a duck head?  Carter walks up to the fire and peeks into the pots—hot damn, a duck in each. As he approaches the trailer door, he’s probably a little quieter than he needs to be.  He hears you and Joel both moaning.  Joel’s moans are muffled, and yours are unrestrained. Carter’s cock twitches when he realizes what Joel’s doing. Blood rises to his cheeks and he swallows, but doesn’t walk away just yet. 

“Ain’t done,” Joel growls and Carter’s heart jumps, thinking Joel’s addressing him. It wouldn’t be the first time Joel kept going with Carter right there. Certainly not the first time in earshot. But the first time doing this. Carter could look if he wanted to right now, but he doesn’t, not even when you completely unravel as you moan Joel’s name. He can picture you writhing in bliss, even if he doesn’t want to. 

Shit. Carter adjusts himself.  He should go. As he turns to leave, it’s a quick, involuntary glance he takes. A split second but it sears the backs of his eyelids.  Your spine is arched, nipples jutting toward the ceiling as Joel pushes his length into you. Carter’s heart races and he doesn’t linger. As he begins to walk away, Joel sighs, “ohhh, fuck.”

Carter’s quickly gotten hard, too hard. This is too much, it’s not gonna go away. He shouldn’t let himself get like this, too easy to turn on. He hasn’t relieved himself in too long. The old magazines are so faded and wrinkled by now, they just remind him of the outbreak. He thinks about how all the models are probably dead, the men and the women. His mind sometimes drifts to you, he can’t help it.

Alright, he’s got to do this quick. The woods, the edge of the woods. Like he’s just taking a leak. Carter palms his hard cock over his pants on his way to the forest. This damn dog better not snitch on him after Carter kept his mouth shut earlier. 

When he reaches the woods, he urgently undoes his pants, takes his cock out of his boxers, and spits in his hand. He sighs when he wraps his hand around it.  He tries with all his might to pry his thoughts away from what he saw, but he keeps coming back to different scenes of you and Joel. He really can’t really help it, it’s the only sexual content he’s seen in years that doesn’t depress him, and Joel isn’t shy about it at all. He knows Carter would never do anything. If Joel knew some of Carter’s thoughts, though. . . 

He tries to think about an ex, but he thinks of you in Joel’s lap. He thinks about the last girl who sucked him off, but he feels ashamed, he shouldn’t have let her, she was desperate. He thinks about you in Joel's lap again. Carter thinks about you in his own lap—no, fuck no, he squints his eyes shut and shakes his head trying to force the thought away. He thinks about Halle Berry in James Bond, she wasJoel's favorite Bond girl too.  Carter thinks about you writhing under Joel right now–NO! 

He thinks about the goddamn preview of Jessica Biel in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2003, with her low rise jeans and tank top that never got to grace the big screen--he's tried to construct this movie from scratch in his mind on long treks. He thinks about Jessica Biel cresting the hill begging him for help, nipples poking through that tank top, raising his rifle, looking for Leatherface, Jessica Biel's jeans riding so low, but somehow still hugging her body. Then he thinks about your body, and Joel grabbing your ass, and god damn it, he tries to think about nothing at all. 

He focuses on his cock. He spits on it again. His eyes follow the veins as his hand glides along his light tan shaft. He’s blessed, he knows it.  He moves his hand faster, cups his balls with the other hand. He pumps his stiff shaft, closing his fist over the pink head. It's a nice dick. Maybe he’ll have someone to give it to one day. He thumbs the precum at his tip.

He thinks about you sitting on Joel’s cock in the van that day you ran, only a foot away, the way the sex smelled, he pictures Jessica Biel cresting the hill again for a split second then remembers Joel is splitting you open on the table right now, just right over there, he can still see it, he can hear it, and you’re probably falling apart right about now–oh shit–no, fuck, uughhhhhhghhh—his cock begins to pulse. He angles it onto the leaves in front of him. “Ahhhhhh,” he sighs as quietly as he can as he empties himself.  He feels a rush of guilt. 

He can so vividly picture the barrel of Joel’s gun right between his eyes right now. More vividly than what he just saw in real life. Carter would never, ever do anything. Honest to God, he doesn’t want to, he really doesn’t. It’s just that he’s only human, and you’re there, and sometimes it feels like Joel can’t go even a few minutes without touching you in places that shouldn’t cross Carter’s mind–your thighs, your ass. Joel makes sure everyone sees you’re his, and sometimes that just. .. .does something.

You are Joel’s. Carter loves you and Joel together even if you make Joel a little crazy, even if it’s caused more friendly fire than Carter ever thought he’d clean up. You make Joel a little crazy, but you also make him a little better. You’re Joel’s, that’s how it should be.  But you’re also a pretty girl, who makes pretty sounds, and that’s hard to ignore sometimes. 

-------

With the unlit cigarette still in his mouth, Carter looks up at Joel’s face. Joel flips his zippo open for Carter, then takes a cigarette from behind his ear and lights his own. He squints as he sizes Carter up.

“Shit, Man,” Carter says. “Every time y’all talk I gotta come out here for a smoke.”

Joel smiles with half his mouth. “So you’re the lucky monitor, huh?” 

Carter scoffs and runs his hand through his hair. 

Joel takes a seat next to Carter. Their knees brush. “Hey, thanks for givin’ us a break, man,” Joel pats Carter on the back and affectionately squeezes his shoulder. 

“You two are a match made in heaven,” Carter mutters wistfully.

“Ya know I got a titty bar ‘cross town if ya ever wanna stop by for a dance,”  Joel offers.

“No shit,” Carter says even though he already knew. Joel was a legend–a hot young male entertainer wrongly locked up for years, beloved by fellow inmates.  

“Hell yeah,” Joel says, “I owe ya, man.” Joel gets up to leave, and before he does, he faces Carter. They exchange names, and Joel gives him a friendly slap of the arm, grabs his tricep while he’s at it, and raises his eyebrows like he’s impressed. 

“Carter, huh?” Joel takes a short drag of his cigarette. 

“That’s me.” 

Joel squints as he exhales and nods. “Remind me of a guy I used to dance with.” 

A blush creeps up Carter’s neck, and Jojo gives him a wink before walking away. “Come by around one,” he shouts over his shoulder. 

—--

Carter has some liquid courage before showing up at the club.

Mabel greets him, “Jojo’s in the back, hun. c’mon.” 

In a dim, private hall, Joel emerges from his office and looks Carter up and down. “Boy, have I got the girl for you,” Joel  raises his eyebrows and greets him with another pat on the tricep.

The hungry look on Joel’s face emboldens Carter to step into Joel’s personal space, with Joel's hand still on his arm. 

“Maybe a girl ain’t what I’m here for,” Carter mutters, then steps toward Joel until Joel’s up against the wall. They lock eyes, then Joel breathes out a chuckle through his nose. Carter braces his hand against the wall and looks down at Joel as he lets his crotch gently press against Joel’s hip. Joel growls under his breath. They glance at each other’s mouths. 

“I’m workin’, Carter,” Joel says. “And not like that.” He wets his lips then pushes himself off the wall, letting his hip push Carter backward. 

As you begin to wake up, he remembers about periods and feels bad for making a big deal of it if that’s what’s going on. He cups your face and breathes a sigh of relief, but he still has to ask, “Are you hurt?”

You begin to stir awake. "You okay?" He asks. As you gain consciousness you register his wet finger on your cheek and put your hand over it. You feel how wet you are and squirm, then when you turn over to face him, you look down to reach down for the sheet and you see blood. It startles you, too. Then you register the familiar ache in your abdomen, and you never thought you’d *want* cramps but for some reason it makes you emotional to have it back.

You reflexively apologize, “Sorry, I think it’s just. . .it must be back,” you whisper. “My cycle.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay, right?” His heart rate is still elevated but he’s starting to calm down.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m sorry, it’s been gone for so-”

“It’s okay, you’re okay.”

–

I think he’d do his best to take care of you but would need some guidance. He’d probably ask you what you need. As much of a big tough guy as he is he does take his role seriously in taking care of you so I imagine he’d run you a bath and tell you to wait there. Maybe he’d send Carter to try to find some pads lmao.

-

Joel would jog down the hill to the stash house to get Carter. Joel would almost rather Carter just stay with you guys, but someone's still gotta keep an eye on things. Carter would still be waking up when Joel barges in asking for help. Carter's like, "easy, what's goin' on?"

"She's bleedin', I need you to-"

"What happened, is she okay??"

"No, yeah, she's got," Joel awkwardly gesticulate as he explains, "She's got her cycle"

"Her period?" Carter breathes a sigh of relief and chuckles. "made it sound like life or death, man. Ya know they're s'posed to get it every month right?"

"Can ya find her somethin'?"

“Joel, I dunno anything about-”

“Carter, please–can ya figure it out?”

Carter swallows and looks around. “Yeah. Sure, boss.”

(I guess this falls under "other duties as assigned" - taking down human scarecrows, finding menstrual products)

–

And yes, Joel has the drug connections and might offer you pills if you feel bad, or even if you don't. He might even try to help by washing the sheets while you're in the bath and Carter is out trying to find supplies.

–

Sexually, Joel has no aversion to your period. But maybe you’re still self conscious of the mess at first. He’s pounding you from behind, and you’ve just finished coming. He moans deeply as you squeeze him with an aftershock.

“Joel,” you look back at him.

He grunts and sighs as he buries his length in you, a mess spreading in his pubic hair and between your legs. He pants, “yeah sweet pea”

“Can i swallow it”

“Can ya —”

“Please?"

He sighs, wanting to slam into you and spill it already, but thinking, ok whatever. He pulls out, lays back on the bed, and you lick him clean before he cums and you swallow. Seeing you do it is such a turn-on, it might become a thing he wants you to do.

–

And then after, you suggest, “maybe I should swallow all the time from now on.”

His brow furrows “Why?”

“If I can get my period, i can probably get pregnant." It goes without saying neither of you would consider that a good things in this world.

“oh,” he mutters, then he’s pensive for a moment. “that ain’t gonna happen, sweet pea.”

“how do you know? are you ... fixed?”

He's short, but his tone is gentle. “yeah, it just ain’t gonna happen okay?” You feel bad for accidentally stumbling onto something from his past, but feel relieved at the revelation.

“okay,” you whisper as you put your head on his chest. “sorry.”

“’s'okay, baby. 's'a good thing, ain't it."

"Yeah," you sigh. "really good."

—

We don't know exactly why she doesn't have it, either malnourishment and/or stress conditions could be viable, I've tended to HC malnutrition but if she were to get it, maybe that'd be a sign of kind of settling into a (relative to the situation) normal-ish life there. At least she started picking dandelion leaves and stuff and foraging for mushrooms, and maybe they found some produce like with the apples and pumpkins HC.

—-

---

he's snipped that's why he can't

---