#soft joel

You are nearby, organizing screws and handing him tools when he needs them, trying to keep up with Joel’s quick pace. Despite the mundane task, you can’t help but be captivated by the way he moves, each gesture so deliberate, a precise balance between delicate and powerful.

You accidentally knock over a can of nails, which scatter across the floor with a clatter.

"Sorry," you squeak, embarrassed as you crouch down to pick them up, but Joel’s voice suddenly cuts through the noise.

"Don’t worry about it, I’ll grab ‘em," He offers.

Joel kneels beside you, his presence close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. His hands, rough but gentle, brush against yours as he gathers the nails. The accidental touch sends a flutter through your chest, and you try to suppress a blush.

"Thanks, Joel. I should’ve been more careful."

"Happens to the best of us," he says easily, comforting.

His smile is so disarmingly charming that it makes you forget what you were doing for a moment. You fumble with the nails in your hands, trying to avoid meeting his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess so," you laugh nervously.

Joel stands up, handing you the collected nails. His fingers brush yours again, sending a rush of warmth through you. You quickly pull your hand away, but not before you feel your cheeks flush.

Joel’s gaze lingers on you, trying to decipher what has you so skittish today. He resumes his work, but his casual demeanor makes him more endearing.

"You’re doin’ good, you know," he reassures you, wanting to ease whatever might be worrying you. "Not easy work, but you’re stickin’ with it. Youve learned a lot these last few weeks."

You smile, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. His praise, so simple yet sincere, makes your heart race. You focus on your task, trying to steady your hands.

Flustered, you respond, "Just trying to keep up with you."

Joel chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that seems to vibrate through the room. It’s impossible not to be drawn to the warmth of his voice.

"No need, you’re doin’ just fine."

As you continue working, Joel inadvertently keeps charming you with every casual comment or gesture, completely oblivious to his effect on you. He leans in close to demonstrate something, his breath warm against your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

At one point, Joel hands you a tool with a lingering touch, and you nearly drop it, your hands shaking slightly.

"Thanks. I think I’ve got it now."

"You sure ‘bout that? Might need to double-check," he jokes.

His playful tone and the warmth of his gaze make your heart pound even harder. You nod, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Yeah, I think I’m good."

Joel’s eyes soften, and he gives you a reassuring smile before returning to his work. Despite the focus on the project, the air between you remains charged with something that Joel seems blissfully unaware of.

As the hours pass, the two of you work seamlessly together, the occasional brush of your hands or shared laughter making the task seem almost like a dance. The project becomes secondary to the unspoken connection that grows between you, a testament to the unexpected and delightful charm that Joel Miller brings into your life.

Later in the day Joel is adjusting the legs of a wooden table, his brow furrowed in concentration. You’re sitting cross-legged on a nearby stool, sanding a piece of wood with careful precision.

"Careful with that sander," he instructs thoughtfully, "Don’t wanna end up with splinters in your fingers."

"Got it. Thanks for the tip," you say as you adjust your hold and try soft, even strokes.

“Good girl,” he praises, “just like that.”

You damn near fall out the chair at that. Cursing under your breath you try to ignore the way something pulses between your thighs. Head out of the gutter, you think to yourself.

Joel’s gaze occasionally drifts to you, his attention seemingly split between his work and the subtle way you react to his presence. There’s a moment of quiet as you both focus on the tasks at hand, the soft hum of the sander and the occasional clink of tools the only sounds in the room.

Then, as Joel reaches for a tool on a high shelf, his arm accidentally brushes against yours. You freeze, the unexpected touch sending a jolt through you. You try to mask your reaction, but your hand trembles slightly as you place the sander down.

Joel’s eyes narrow slightly, confused before a flicker of realization crosses his face. He watches you, noting the way you quickly look away, your cheeks flushed pink. There’s a moment of introspection as he connects the dots.

He may be old and, as Ellie likes to remind him, blind as a bat sometimes, but he ain't dumb.

"You alright, honey?" he asks in a syrupy drawl that has heat blooming in your stomach.

"Yeah, fine. Totally fine," you say, trying to play it cool but the slight tremor in your voice gives you away.

Joel straightens up, his gaze softening as he observes you more closely. There’s a mix of curiosity and tenderness in his eyes. He sets the tool down and moves closer, his demeanor shifting to something more considerate.

Joel's voice is lower than earlier when he says," You know, I’ve been watchin’ you blushin’ and fidgetin’ all day. Figured I might’ve done somethin’ to upset ya." He watches you out of the corner of his eye, gauging your response and trying to hide his knowing expression.

You look up at him, wide-eyed and a little embarrassed. The sincerity in his voice makes your heart race even faster. You hesitate, then shake your head slightly.

"It’s not that" you begin softly, "It’s just... I guess I get a little nervous around you."

Joel’s brow furrows, but then a slow, almost shy smile spreads across his face. He leans against the workbench, his eyes twinkling with an amused, gentle light.

His tone turns playful, "Nervous? Me? Didn’t think I was that intimidatin’."

It makes sense now. The way you stutter when he speaks to you, the way your eyes look everywhere in the room except for at him, except for when he catches you staring when you don't think he's looking.

The realization makes him both flattered and a bit self-conscious. The idea that someone as kind and sweet as you could feel this way about him strikes a chord. Not to mention the couple decades he has on you. He'd all but convinced himself there was no way you would be attracted to him. Not you with your pretty face and soft features, much too delicate for someone like himself.

He rubs the back of his neck where his greying hair curls around the collar of his jacket, his voice taking on a more tender tone.

"Well, if it helps any, I reckon you’re makin’ me a bit nervous too."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, you’re at a loss for words. The vulnerability in his admission, combined with the warmth of his smile, makes you melt.

"Really?"

Bashfully he confesses. "Yeah, really. Ain’t used to bein’ on the other end of this kinda thing."

Joel’s admission brings a newfound ease to the room. The tension melts away, replaced by a shared understanding and an unspoken connection that feels both thrilling and comforting.

You should feel embarrassed knowing you've been found out. It must have been painfully obvious, but he quickly puts you at ease.

Joel looks at you with a soft smile and a rosy tint to his cheeks, "Well, since we’re both nervous wrecks now, how ‘bout we take a break? Don't want to slip up and hammer a nail into my palm. Maybe grab a bite or somethin’. Could use a change of pace."

You nod eagerly, the idea of spending more time with him outside the workshop making your heart leap, something you'd been dreaming of since the first day you'd spent with him.

"I’d like that."

As you both head toward the door, the earlier nervousness has transformed into a hopeful, excited energy. Joel glances back at you, his smile genuine and full of affection. There’s a new, unspoken understanding between you, a gentle acknowledgment of the connection that has formed in the warmth of the workshop.

He holds the door open for you, and this time you don't shy away from his body in the doorway. Your back brushes his chest as you duck under his arm, and above you, a smile pulls the edge of his lips, happy that it turns out you weren't scared of him all this time.

Previously...

His arms wrap around you. They could wrap around you twice. He holds you so tight and you can't keep it in. The sex, the quality of the sex, the adrenalin dump, the pain, the care. You feel yourself begin to fall like a tower of Jenga. It was a lot to process and you can't stop yourself from crying. It's not a sad cry, or even a happy cry, it's a fucking release. He doesn't say anything. He knows exactly what's happening and he is perfectly equipped to deal with this. He holds you there, one hand on the back of your head, gently stroking your hair in complete silence. You pull away and look at him. He wipes your tears and licks them off his fingers. Awkward moment averted.

“Do you want to run upstairs and put something comfortable on?  Grab all the pillows and blankets you can, bring them down here, I don’t have anywhere to be.  If you don’t have anything on..’

“give me 5 minutes” you look at him, there's nothing but kindness in his face.

“ok”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You remember the sensation vividly. Standing upright and walking feels so different compared to being bent over a crate after being on the receiving end of a good caning. The wounds on your skin, the way it stretches with each step, send a deep, dull ache through you. But it's a pain you don't resent; you savor it. It makes you feel intensely sexy and it's a siren's call to Joel. As you glance in the mirror, you catch sight of him standing still, watching you walk away. His face is unreadable, adding to the thrill.

“I think I might have a shower.  Do you want one?”

“No.  Thanks.  I’m okay.  Take your time.”

Joel's voice is quiet and calm. The tail of the blanket you're wrapped in trails behind you as you climb the stairs to the bathroom. You run a hot shower, and when the water first hits your marked skin, it's agony—a pain that makes you grit your teeth and growl. Eventually, it subsides, and you know you have to wash carefully. You do so, gently, methodically. As you shampoo and condition your hair with your trusty 2-in-1 to rid you of any remaining rice and wine, you hear noises from the basement—a lot of shuffling. Curiosity piques.

You dry yourself meticulously, wring your hair and pat your wounds dry. They hurt, but there's a sense of pride in bearing that pain. You slide on plain underwear and a cropped bralette, choosing the possibility of comforting skin-on-skin contact with Joel over warmth. You pray he isn't packing to leave; aftercare is crucial for you, and you've been denied it too many times before. You chastise yourself for not speaking about this beforehand. But do you want someone to hold you out of obligation? It's a complicated dilemma. All you can do is hope, gather some comfort food, and find a good book to take downstairs if your aftercare is left to you.

Re-wrapped in Joel's blanket, you gather quilts from your bed. Your arms are full.  As you shuffle downstairs you realize—he's not leaving, he's moving things around. The relief is intense and immediate.

Joel hears you coming. He stops what he's doing and turns to watch you. He doesn't offer to help, not out of a desire to see you struggle, but because he's coming down from an intense high, cherishing this precious window of time. He just wants to see you.

You stop briefly to watch him watch you. His face is framed by his gorgeous greying curls and his piercing, soulful eyes reflect your feelings of serenity back at you and both of your stares are unwavering. What a fucking beautiful human.

Standing there shirtless, his broad shoulders and strong arms are undeniable, his soft body exudes a comforting warmth that you long to nestle into. He's wearing tracksuit pants, a practical choice that makes you wonder if he anticipated getting covered in homemade wine and food. It's clear he planned for everything.  This level of forethought and preparedness adds to his undeniable allure. Who is Joel Miller?

You look around the basement, noting how spotless it is. He had swept the rice outside and used the already dirty blanket to clean up the spilled wine. A much nicer mattress now occupies the room, replacing the crappy bed that can return to its graveyard.

What's that smell? You’re intrigued by the pleasant, almost perfumed scent.

“Lavender”

You look at him, puzzled.

"You had oil lamps. Lavender grows everywhere ‘round here, so I made some oil. No big deal."

The undercurrent of his words is clear: he had spent time planning and preparing for this moment, thinking about it carefully. He needs this just as much as you do. It's not just about physical intimacy; it's ceremonial. This is the standard you used to insist on in the old world, a standard you never expected to see again given the circumstances.

"You pick up a lot when you're out…there," he says, gesturing outside. His face seems softer, his brows less furrowed. His skin is glistening slightly, presumably from a wash outside under the garden tap. The sight of him, freshly cleaned and clearly having come prepared for anything, is undeniably sexy.

You nod, unsure of what to say, and drop everything in your arms to the ground. The blanket covering you falls, leaving you standing there in nothing but your underwear.

"Don't move" he says softly, a gentle request that carries weight.

He finally steps forward, moving from the spot where he had been standing, bringing with him an aura of admiration.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself.

"Turn around. Let me see our art."

Our art. Those words resonate deeply. It's not just his work; it belongs to both of you, a shared creation. You oblige, your hands over your heart, your cheeks and chest flushing not from embarrassment, but from the overwhelming connection you feel with him. It's a connection that's hard to achieve even with someone you've known for a long time, let alone someone you've just met.

"Underwear down," he commands gently, a request you could easily refuse without fear of consequence. It's clear he knows what he's doing. You've moved beyond the scene, past the "funishment" session; now, it's about creating a bond of reassurance and comfort.

He circles you, his gaze not only taking in the welts but also admiring your curves. His eyes trace the nape of your neck, the soft slope of your back, your hips, and where your thighs meet. So much unexplored territory. He runs the back of his fingers gently down the side of your face and his thumb over your lips. Holding your head in both hands, he kisses your forehead tenderly. You raise your hands to touch his elbows, the skin-on-skin contact heightening the sensation. His eyes are filled with tender care, silently conveying his feelings.

He walks toward his bag, rummaging through it without issuing any command for you to stop watching. There’s no "eyes forward" or other instruction. You both share a moment of silence, a shared space of mutual respect and understanding.

He pulls a Polaroid camera from his bag, and you're immediately taken aback. Of all the things he could have, this is both surprising and thrilling. You haven't seen one since the '90s and never thought you'd see one again. He looks at the camera, then at you, with a half-smile.

"Now this? This stays between you and me, within these walls," he says, shaking it gently. The camera rattles, and you imagine it must have been fixed countless times to keep it functional. You nod, still in shock. "I'm not proud of how I got it, but I have it. Maybe it can be for us. I've been waitin' for a reason to use it…" His voice trails off, and he seems a bit unsure, as if trying to mask potential rejection.

The gravity of his words isn't lost on you. Sharing such a priceless piece of history - finite history- is an incredible honor. You feel a surge of pride, knowing you're worthy of something so rare, precious, and beautiful.

"I'd really like that," you say, nodding and smiling gently at him. He quickly meets your gaze. "Oh yeah? Good. OK."

"C'mon, over my knee," he gestures as he walks toward the crate he’d been sitting on earlier, picking up his jar of arnica on the way. "We’ve gotta look after these." We. It’s been a long time since you’ve been part of a "we."

You position yourself over his knee, making your arse and thighs easy to reach. He is gentle with the cream, covering your bruises and potentially bruised skin with care.

"May I?" he asks, shaking the Polaroid camera.

"Of course."

You hear the click of the camera, a familiar yet long-forgotten sound.

"No using this. Let's say for now, I decide when it's used."

"Of course, I just can't believe you’ve got one. One that works. One you’re willing to use on -…"

"It's for memories” he interjects, “This is one I’d like to keep." He gently rubs the cream down your thighs until there's none left on his hand. He pulls your underwear from your ankles up over your knees, and you stand to pull them the rest of the way up.

He helps you steady yourself. Your wounds have settled into a deep, dull throb. The pile of pillows and blankets beckons you from across the room. It’s cold in the basement, and apart from your glowing arse, you’re shivering with goosebumps covering your skin. As you gather the bedding, you hear Joel fiddling with his stuff again. He brought food! Bananas, electrolyte drinks, strawberries…

“What the fuck, Joel! This is beyond…”

“Yeah, well, what goes up must come down.”

Your eyes lock with his for a moment longer than usual as he finishes emptying his bag. “What goes up must come down.” That phrase is possibly the most comforting thing you could have heard at that time. It confirms his familiarity with subdrop, and maybe even Domdrop. You feel a wave of relief rush over you. Being alone after heavy play is extremely difficult. You feel vulnerable, confused, apprehensive, and worried all at once, while also tending to any physical wounds. Having someone stay by your side as the intensity of your session subsides is reassuring and really cements the importance and respect you have for each other.

“The most important part,” he says, holding up a bag of something. “My neighbor makes this fudge. She always gives me too much, and it… well, yeah, it…” His voice trails off as he looks at the fudge.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Stop talking or trail off. Like what you’re saying is unimportant or stupid or something?” You throw the pillows onto the mattress and walk closer to him. “You can talk here. You have space.” You touch the side of his arm in a gesture of comfort. He reflexively pulls away but quickly corrects himself, allowing your touch to linger. You make a mental note to be careful about initiating touch in the future.

He looks at you and then at the ground. He obviously has some trauma; everyone who survived the outbreak does, and everyone responds differently. Joel seems to be apprehensive about touch. Or is he apprehensive about affection? Learning things like this about each other is easier after a session. Another reason you were always insistent about aftercare that goes beyond a hug and some band-aids. You were especially insistent about aftercare for your Dom/top. They have feelings too, and you’ve seen the emotional turmoil that can happen to them if left unattended.

“And I will listen." you continue, "I WANT to listen. To whatever subject, for however long. You have a voice here with me.” Your touch on his arm turns into a gentle squeeze.

"OK," he nods. "Ok."

He rustles around in the blankets, grunting as he sits on the mattress, back propped against the wall.

"Showing your age there, man" you quip as you lower yourself extra slowly, hissing between your teeth at the pain.

“Oh yeah?" he says, making a playful jab at the intense care you had to take from standing upright to laying on the floor. He throws a half-smile in your direction and pats a pillow he placed in his lap. "C’mere old lady. Lie down for a bit, you need to try this" he says, his voice carrying more melody and happiness than usual. You lay down on the mattress and rest your head on the pillow in his lap. You have to push the thought that you can both see up each other's noses out of your brain. Nobody needs that brand of funny right now.

"Open your mouth." He gently places a piece of his neighbor's fudge in your mouth and uses his fingers to playfully clamp your lips.

"Fucking hell," your eyes widen. "Joel, this stuff is GOOD. It’s OLD WORLD good."

"Uh huh," he says, eating a piece of fudge “told ya”.  He looks down at you. There's serenity in his face. You both sit in comfortable silence as he plays with your hair, and you finger a tiny hole in the leg of his tracksuit pants. It’s one of those moments that are nothing but everything.

"Lay with me," he says again. It's not a demand; you’d hoped he would stay but didn’t want to press it. You know he’s a closed-off person and are conscious that he may spook easily, not wanting to rush things. You are happy to take things at the pace they naturally progress. This, though? This is perfect.

You lay down facing each other, both on your sides. You’re wrapped in his arms again. He radiates heat, and you’re immediately warm. Your fingers gently trail a line up and down his spine, and he pulls you as close to him as he comfortably can. Your legs are intertwined, the skin on your torsos touching; it’s a physically and emotionally intimate moment that words could never give justice to.

The soft glow of the oil lamps create a warm atmosphere the colour of honey.  His fingers trace the curve of your jaw that sends a wave of goose bumps over your skin.  Your hand makes its way to his neck, fingertips slowly exploring the hills and crests to rest gently over the quickening flicker of his pulse in his carotid artery.  You could could literally feel the beat of his life under the tips of your fingers. His hand glides up your body, stopping gently at the nape of your neck. His nose grazes against yours, and you tilt your face so your lips are just a whisper away from touching. Neither of you speaks; every emotion is conveyed through your eyes, your hands, and the rhythm of your synchronized breathing.

The closeness is electric, your shared breaths mingling in the small space between you. His lips capture yours in a kiss that is tender and fiercely passionate.  A soft moan escapes you and he opens his eyes, searching for any hesitation.  All he can see on your face, in your eyes, is desperate hunger.

He firmly cradles your head, deepening the kiss with overwhelming desire.  Your mouths move in harmony, exploring, tasting and devouring each other’s lust. Each gentle brush of his tongue against yours makes you crave more.  No matter how many times you feel his lips on yours, you are overpowered with intense craving.  Soft, full…skilled, they are fucking magnificent.

You’re reminded that these are the moments you need to savour.  You’re both filling a drought stricken ocean of intimacy, touch, care and affection.  It’s a moment of pure, unfiltered emotion and affection.

Your fingers graze the side of his neck and thread themselves through his greying curls.  As the ferocity of this kiss grows you tug at his hair as if to pull him closer to you, inside you.

Your legs had become so intertwined that you were able to use each others thighs to grind against.  Though, this was not the type of “accelerating to sex” kiss most people would assume it to be.  It was a kiss that was to stand alone.  It was the kind of kiss that seals a bond on the activities that had let to this moment. 

“Darlin’?” Joel called out into your bedroom, the light from the hallway shining through as he gently cracked open the door.

You stirred in bed, rousing yourself from slumber slowly, letting the warm glow from the hallway lamp gently seep in behind heavy eyelids. Inhaling sharply, you grunted softly as you rubbed your eyes with the heel of your hand, ridding them of sleep.

“Joel?” you questioned, not awake enough to know if you were actually conscious, or if you were just dreaming about your husband. But the chuckle that emanated from the tall, broad figure which strode towards you helped you see that you were very much awake.

“It’s only me, sweet thing. Woke you from quite a slumber here, haven’t I?” he said, heading towards the bed so that he could perch on the edge of it. You smiled up at him, your vision now focusing in on him at last. His dark brown hair, curled towards the end of his locks, was still mussed up from sleep. His facial hair, patchy in parts, was slowly starting to grow back in and take form as a proper beard rather than the usual scruff he donned. But his eyes - warm, golden brown, and shining in the light - they were what you focused on the most.

“Yeah, I was out cold,” you chuckled, “What time is it, anyway?”.

“Time the birthday girl woke up,” Joel teased, leaning forward and catching your lips in a tender kiss. You smiled against his lips as you kissed him back, but whined playfully when he pulled away.

“Joel, you know I said I don’t want you making a fuss about my birthday,” you said. You’d hated your birthday for years, seeing it as nothing more than a reminder that you were getting older, and that it had been another year since the world went to shit. But, in spite of all what could get you down if you chose to lament on it, Joel was one bright spark in everything. Life in Jackson was entirely different with him by your side - and for all the best reasons.

“Yeah, I know whatcha said; but that don’t mean I’m gonna listen now, does it?” he said, chuckling to himself as he got to his feet. He turned on his heels, facing you to lean down, his arm outstretched towards you. With a hand open, you grinned, and decided you’d indulge in whatever Joel had insisted on spoiling you with.

“Fine,” you giggled, taking his hand and letting him guide you out of bed.

“Good girl,” he said, squeezing your hand as you rose to stand by his side. You shuddered slightly at the praise, the phrase usually being something only reserved for when the two of you would get caught up with each other in the sheets - something that did not pass Joel by, as he smirked at the visible redness you felt creep onto your cheeks.

“Come on now,” he said, and with that he led you out the bedroom and downstairs towards your lounge.

“Where’s Ellie?” you asked, somewhat suspicious that there was a distinct silence in the house. She’d inadvertently become your adopted daughter since you and Joel had begun dating, but you took to each other almost overnight. For as much as you’d curse her the mornings she had you up early even after a late night on patrol, you loved her to the end of the earth, and with a single sweet smile she could undo any annoyance you held.

“Never you mind that,” Joel chuckled, “Gosh darn it, you are just so impatient aren’t ya?” he asked.

“It’s not that! I’m just not used to a quiet house,” you giggled.

“Alright, you got me there. I ain’t never met a teenager who can be so rowdy,” he said, still clutching your hand as the two of you reached the bottom of your staircase.

“Should have met me in my hay-day,” you teased, smirking at Joel. His eyes went wide at you, a childish grin creeping onto his face.

“Oh, sugar, I can imagine you causing all sortsa trouble,” he said, stopping in his tracks briefly to pull you in for a kiss. You smiled as you wrapped your arms around his torso, holding his broad frame close to yours, enveloping yourself in his warmth as your lips melded together. His tongue gently lapped at the seam of your lips, almost begging for entry. But before you could grant it, he pulled away.

“How about you be on your best behaviour today, and as a little birthday treat I’ll let you misbehave with me tonight, yeah?” he murmured between your lips, his breath hot against your skin, his words sending another shiver down your spine. All you could do was purse your lips together, nodding slowly as arousal surged through you.

“Atta girl,” he said, landing a gentle spank to your ass before going back to take your hand.

This man, you thought to yourself.

“Come on, onwards we go!” he said, starting to walk you along the hallway and down towards the lounge.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” you said, ignoring the playful eyebrow raise Joel gave you for the euphemism.

You both reached the door to your lounge, and Joel stopped in his tracks. He let go of your hand but turned to face you.

“Okay, close your eyes,” he said.

“What?” you asked.

“I said close your eyes, fool!” he chuckled, then moved to stand behind you. He pulled your body flush into his, his hands landing on your hips and a kiss planted itself on your earlobe.

“What if I don’t want to?” you teased. Joel groaned to himself, squeezing your hips gently as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“It’s a good job I love you some days,” he chuckled, then raised his hands up towards your head by skimming them up your body. The rough pads of calloused fingers, evidence of a life lived hard, now gently caressed the material of your nightwear, a stark contrast to the man you first met. What was once a stoic, rough outer shell, had given way to a soft and tender core.

“I’m gonna cover your eyes, sugar. Got a surprise waiting for you in there,” he said. You were about to protest, tell him how unnecessary this all was, and that you could just walk straight in. But it was like Joel somehow knew those cogs were whirring away in your head, and with a soft kiss to your jaw, the thoughts ceased entirely.

“And I won’t take no for an answer. Got it?” he asked. You nodded, deciding you were going to allow him this one.

Joel raised his hands and gently covered your eyes with the palms of his hands. You smiled as he did, reaching up to hold his wrists for a little stability now that you were essentially blinded.

“Okay, take two steps forward, then the door handle is on the left,” he said, and the two of you shuffled forward closer to the door. You reached forward to find the cold metal of the handle, smiling to yourself as you did.

“I know where the handle is to my own lounge door, Joel,” you teased, sarcasm laced in your voice. But before he could quip back, the metal clunk of the handle sounded, and slowly the door began to creak open in front of you.

“Alright, smart ass, just a few more steps for me,” Joel said, and you both continued to gently step forward, his body still firmly pressing into yours. Even without sight, Joel’s presence behind you gave you a stability you so adored - something he had provided since your first meeting, without even realising it.

“Okay, I’m gonna take my hands off now. Are you ready?” he asked.

“I’m ready,” you said, letting go of Joel’s wrists.

“Alright. Three, two, one,” he began, and light flooded through behind your eyes as Joel’s hands lifted off your eyes. You opened them slowly, only to be greeted with a sea of smiling faces.

“Happy birthday!” was cheered from the voices of all those in Jackson you loved the most. Joel, Tommy, and Ellie were the loudest, as to be expected. But there were also your friends and neighbours, notably Elizabeth and Brianna, whom you’d worked alongside since arriving in Jackson.

Your heart swelled with love and adoration as you looked out at everyone in the room, all happily together in a room filled with handmade presents wrapped in brown paper, and platters of delicious looking food out on the table in front of you. A small tear crept into the corner of your eye, taken back by the kindness and selflessness of all these people you loved so dearly. Joel’s hands on your waist was the only thing that brought you hurtling back to reality.

“You alright, doll?” he said. You nodded, smiling out at everyone before turning to him.

“I am, yes,” you said. “Thank you for this, Joel.”

“Don’t thank me. You’ve got Ellie, Bess, and Bri to thank for this,” he said, “I was just the ring leader who told everyone what time you slept in until,” he chuckled.

“Hey, no fair! This was my idea!” Ellie proudly exclaimed, folding her arms over her puffed out chest, pleased as punch for how this morning had turned out. You laughed with her, stepping away from Joel and heading over to her, pulling her in for a hug.

“Thank you, Ellie. Thank you, everyone,” you said.

The day was spent unwrapping delicately made gifts, eating an ungodly amount of food, and laughing and joking with everyone you loved most in the world. You’d had such a good time that you’d almost forgotten that today was meant to be for your birthday, a day you often resented. But, just as with most things in your life, Joel had found a way to bring some sunshine into it.

Even at the end of the world, there was hope littered throughout, in moments like these. On days like today, it was easy to forget the torment you’d all endured, and that you’d had to fight tooth and nail just to survive for this long. In a way, this felt like a well deserved reward for making it so long.

But for you, the real prize was the man who took you to bed that night, keeping to his promise to let you misbehave, and keeping you up until the early morning seeing stars.

“Oh, look at these!” You call from the corner of the clothing store, having found a section that holds a few dresses. A red sign looms over the racks, announcing the last sale of late summer. You shine your flashlight onto the first rack and let your fingers wander over a few of the fabrics peeking out to you, admiring the different shades of clothing.

“And they're on sale too. Aren't you a lucky girl?” Joel deadpans as he walks over to you, a small smirk on his face. You simply nod at his joke, fumbling with the price tag of one of the dresses, raising your brows, “Ah, yes. It's-” you squint, trying to make out the number that's printed on the weathered piece of paper, “fifty dollars.”

“Expensive taste you got there,” he mutters, finally reaching you and joining your effort of looking through the clothing items. You've picked out a yellow sundress, the print made up of small flowers.

“Was fifty dollars a lot?” You ask as you test the fabric, taking in how much damage time has caused. Joel raises a brow at that, “Depends on what you spend it on.” He comes up behind you, like he does so often, and places his chin on your shoulder, admiring the dress in your hand, “They would've been worth seeing you in that for sure.”

You turn at that, smiling sweetly as you hold the dress out to him, “Will you buy it for me?”

Joel frowns slightly, “You can just-” You quickly cut him off, already knowing what he's gonna say, “Just pretend to,” you mutter. “I can't wear this to the dance and not tell people that my boyfriend got it for me.”

He rolls his eyes a little but you don't miss the small smile on his face as he dutifully takes the dress into his arms, holding on to it for you, “You got yourself a deal, darlin'.”

You gather more clothes after that, as much as you can carry without your packs getting too heavy. It takes a while, finding the pieces that are still intact and not too washed out but there's a few nice ones and you nod approvingly as you roll up the last dress shirt.

Your gaze lands on Joel, who is securing his own pack, making sure that everything is holding together well.

“We need something for you as well, you know,” you scold, making your way back to the sale section. A soft sigh behind you lets you know that the man is not exactly a fan of shopping, even the free, post apocalyptic version.

A few more minutes pass before you find a nice shirt, a soft green that you're certain would compliment Joel well and you turn your head to look for your victim when you spot him back at the rack of skirts, running his fingers over something.

In a few strides, you're by his side and by the way he jumps a little as you appear next to him, he's clearly startled, “Jesus. What's up?”

His eyes scan the surroundings for possible danger as you shake your head, picking up the item he's been looking at. It's a pleated skirt of medium length, a plaid pattern similar to the ones that Joel's usual shirts carry. The colors are muted, beige and dark gray mixed with a few stripes of color.

The color that is the most interesting to you, however, is the one of Joel's face. His cheeks are a soft pink, the blush spreading down towards his neck. It's the same blush he had a few months ago in the sex shop, the same one he had when you had packed the pink strapon into your backpack and it's precisely the same color his cheeks turn when you're behind him at night, gently thrusting into him. It's that blush that gives him away.

“It's pretty,” you say gently, looking over at Joel to catch his reaction. He keeps a straight face that seems a little too straight to not be premeditated. 

“Yeah.” His voice is a little thin, confirming your suspicions and you watch him closely as he continues, maybe to break the slightly awkward silence, “Would look good on ya.”

“It would look good on you too, Joel,” you mumble, reaching out to take it off the rack and hold it between you. Soft, brown eyes meet yours and the look in them is so damn insecure it makes you wanna cry. He opens his mouth and closes it again, clearly struggling to find his words.

“I'm not-” You shake your head before he can go on, “I know. It's just a piece of clothing.” He nods at that, his gaze on the skirt in your hands.

“Tell you what, I'll pack this. If anyone asks, it's mine. That sound good?”

Joel clears his throat, looking down for a moment before nodding, “Sound good.”

You peck a quick kiss to his lips before leaning down to gently roll up the skirt and store it in your backpack, more than aware of Joel watching your every move.

You sigh, gently knocking on the bathroom door, “Joel, baby, come on out. At least let me see.”

A grumble behind the door, a similar response that you've already gotten a few times in the past twenty minutes, the exact time since Joel has disappeared into the bathroom to change into his newly acquired piece of clothing. It has taken a few days until he's come around to it after you hung it up in your shared closet.

Funnily enough, it reminds you of a cat after having a new piece of furniture placed in their home, the way they avoid it for days only to come closer and closer with each one until they finally determine that there's no danger and carefully discover the new item.

Joel is not yet in the no danger phase.

“Just one peek?” You ask quietly through the door and after another sigh, the door clicks and, inch by inch, opens. You take a few steps back, watching as Joel steps into the bedroom and your breath catches in your throat as you take in his form.

His broad shoulders are covered in a slightly worn-out sweater that pools around his waist. Below is the skirt, the pleating standing to the sides a bit, creating a cute form. His strong, hairy legs are bare, only his feet covered with black socks that he frequents.

You stare at his strong thighs peeking out, shamelessly and with your mouth slightly ajar and it takes you a second before you can pull yourself back to any thoughts other than the very inappropriate ones you're having right now.

Joel still looks self-conscious, his left hand playing with the hem of the skirt absentmindedly as he waits for your reaction. At your silence, he opens his mouth, of course, wrongly interpreting it, “Sorry, I didn't mean to- you know what, we'll just give it to the store.”

You surprise yourself with a small growl at that, sucking at your lower lip as you take a step towards him, “If you don't like it, we will.”

Your voice is quiet as you speak, “But goddamn, Joel, you look so hot right now.”

The blush is back and you're fairly certain that you've never seen him as shy as he looks now.

“You like it?” He still sounds so unsure and quiet and that's what makes you close the distance between you, reaching for his hand that's still fumbling with the fabric, “I love it. You look-” You force yourself to look up at him, taking in his soft, brown eyes, “You look absolutely amazing.”

A small breath of relief escapes him at that and he nods. You make a mental note to ask him about this sometime, how long he's been wanting to try a skirt. Your feeling tells you that it goes back, before you, before Jackson, possibly before the outbreak. Either way, you feel honored in a way, that he trusts you enough to do this with you instead of anyone else.

You watch as Joel moves a bit in the skirt, clearly trying to get a feel for the unfamiliar piece of clothing. He sits down on the bed, smoothing the skirt down over his bare legs and it's getting harder to ignore the heat in your stomach at that sight. Still, you don't want to turn this moment into something it's not, not unless he wants to.

Your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing slightly, your eyes darting between his eyes and his skirt, “You want me to-?” An eager nod comes before you even finish your question and with a small smile, you reach around to straddle him, placing your own form so perfectly on his lap.

“You look so fucking pretty, Joel,” you whisper again, your lips ghosting over his as your hand wanders behind you, caressing his knee for a few moments before slowly inching up his leg. It's something you've done a million times, skin that you've kissed and rubbed yourself on and stroked at night and still, this feels different.

Joel tenses under you, his breathing going a bit faster as he feels your hand moving further and further until, finally, you reach where you assume his boxers to be- just that they're not there. A small gasp escapes you at the surprise before you catch yourself and tut softly, staring right into the chocolate brown eyes in front of you. “First time wearing a skirt and you're already going commando?” You whisper, your voice hushed, “Were you hoping I'd find that? That I'd touch you like this?” Joel takes a sharp breath at your words. Or maybe it's the way your hand finds his balls, beginning to fondle them softly.

“You're being such a good boy for me, you know that? Looking all pretty for mommy.”

An actual whimper leaves Joel's lips at that and you know you've hit the mark. It does things to you, his noises, the skirt above his strong thighs, the little kisses you exchange and it isn't long until the skirt is pulled up, revealing Joel in all his glory for a split second before you're on him, enveloping him between your walls, your muscles already eager to milk him.

You play with the hem of his skirt afterwards, the same spot he'd held earlier. His breath is soft again and his heart is full, feeling so loved and worshiped and good.  

“You've been wanting to try that for a while, hm?” You whisper, finger ghosting over his thigh and he nods softly, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I have.”

“Everything you imagined it to be?”

Brown eyes meet yours before he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Better,” he whispers, his eyes wandering down to your hand on his legs, the fabric covering his now softened dick, slowly getting used to the way it looks on him, to the way it feels around his legs and Joel Miller finds then, cuddled up with you in a heated bedroom somewhere in Wyoming that he likes wearing skirts.

"I heard banging from in here!" You here a feminine voice say as the ring from the top of the door sounds as they walk in. "It look's like someone got in here..." A males voice says as their footsteps approach the counter. You quietly take out your Swiss Army Knife clutching  it with the blade facing down. As they begin to lift the gate you jump out "It's Mine!" you cry. You almost hit your target it being the girl when the man pushes you to the ground the both of them aiming their gun at you. You fall on your back and cry out. With the mixture of the weight you are carrying in the front as well as the cans that dig  into you from your backpack, you feel sharp pains all over your body. Tears collect and fall from your eyes as you look up at them.

"Jesus Jesse! She's pregnant!" The woman that now you can see has an olive skin tone and black hair that is pulled in a bun. She puts her gun away and kneels beside you. "How was I suppose to know! She could have killed you!" The man known as Jesse says before joining her on the opposite side. "She is surviving for two it is to be expected..." The girl grumbles. "Ma'am? Ma'am can you hear me?" She asks and you nod and answer with a whine before saying. "P-Please all I need are some antibiotics and vitamins and I'll go!"  The girl moves her arm toward you and you flinch. "Hey we aren't going to hurt you okay?" She turns to Jesse and says. "Help me sit her up."  They each put an arm under your armpit and lift you into a sitting position. "What do you need the antibiotics for?" Jesse questions and the girl snaps at him. "Jesse! Now isn't the time!" But you decide to answer anyway by pointing to your foot and saying. "I stepped on a nail." Jesse looks at you before kneeling down near your feet to see bandages. "Can I take them off?" He asks and you nod. When he does he makes a face of disgust. Your foot injury is definitely infected with puss and blood slowly leaking out of it.

"We need to get her back home." The girl says. "Dina I don't know what if-" "What if nothing! She is pregnant and hurt what could she possibly do?" She says and Jesse grumbles before leaning down and picking you up bridal style. "I'm sorry! Just leave me be and I will leave I promise!" You say fearing the worst as they take out out of the pharmacy. "Put her on my horse." The girl Dina says. Jesse shakes his head. "No not after what she tried to do, speaking of which..." He set you down and you stumble on to one of the horses grabbing it's saddle . He rips open your backpack. " See I knew she had something else!" He says taking out your gun before handing it to Dina. "Hold on to it. You up and at 'em." He says helping you up on his horse before sitting in front of you. As the horse begins to trot out of the small town and into the surrounding forest you find yourself holding on to him  until you finally make it  to a big gate.

"Dina you go get Maria and Tommy. I'm taking her to the infirmary." He says before trotting  in that direction. When he gets there he helps you down and takes you inside. "Hey Kathrine i need some help over here." He says setting you on a bed. The woman comes over "My goodness she looks awful." She says You find yourself in an almost curled position mainly protecting your stomach. "Ma'am?" She asks kneeling in front of you. "Where are you hurt?" You barely make eye contact keeping your head down. "He foot is infected but I think we should check her for bites before we waste our supplies." Jesse grumbles "I'm not bit!" You cry looking at him. "Jesse thank you for bringing her here but I think you should leave." She says and Jesse goes to argue but she closes the curtain that surrounds the bed. "Ma'am I know your scared but he is right. So could you please remove your clothes so I can check?" You look at her like you are a deer in headlights. "We want to help you..." She says calmly and you nod before slowly taking off your clothes.

There are a murmur of voices as you finish putting on  your clothes and you hear a new voice. "Kathrine?" It is a female voice. "Come in." Kathrine says and a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes wearing a greenish jacket comes in through the curtain. As she walks in you look behind here and catch a glimpse of another man standing on the other side. This woman looks nice yet has a stern look on her face when she approaches you both. "Have you looked her over?" The woman asks and Kathrine nods. "She has no bites but she is pregnant and has an injury on her foot that is infected and will need to be treated."  the woman nods. "I'd like to talk to her." Kathrine nods and exits the room. The blonde woman grabs a chair and sits in front of you. "What is your name?" She asks and you look down at your hands in your lap. "My name is (Y/N)." You say quietly. "I don't appreciate what you tried to do (Y/N)." She says keeping a firm look on her face. "But I can see why you did it." You look up at her. "I assume you have been through a lot?" She asks and you nod. "How far along are you?" She asks her head gesturing to your stomach. "I think I'm maybe four or five months along?" You say sounding unsure. "Do you have anyone who could be looking for you right now?" She asks and you shake your head. "No... They're all dead." You say solemnly. She nods. "How old are you?" She asks "I am thirty-one or thirty-two I think?  My watch broke a while back so all the days seem to blend together." She looks you up and down. "I will be right back." She says and walks past the curtain and you can here people  on the other side whispering.