Up In The Clouds

Tomorrow’s the big day: Sarah’s birthday party. She has invited a bunch of classmates, old friends, cousins… Her house is going to be full of people. 

Do you really get along with all these people? I asked her when she read to me her guest list. You only turn eighteen once!, she replied. 

These last few days I’ve been going out with Ethan until he had to go back to California. Dinner, movies, malls… He even came to eat at my house once. I’ve been trying the whole time to never be left out alone with him, avoiding places that could give us maybe too much privacy, but he’s not dumb, he noticed what I was doing. 

We were driving back home from the bowling alley, him behind the wheel, as usual. I said he didn’t have to, but he insisted, claiming he didn’t trust Texas’ madmen. 

— Is your dad home? we could watch a movie or something —he asked, hopeful. 

He put his hand on my thigh and started caressing it, but I was highly distracted thinking about Joel. 

— He is, I’m sorry.

— Well, you can come to my friend’s place then, he said he’d be gone ‘till ten.

I didn’t know how to say that I’m not interested in him anymore, that another man already has me head over heels, so I just kept playing pretend. 

— Look, Ethan, I’m really tired, we should leave it for another time. —That’s the best I could come up with, followed by my best try of a smile. 

He kept driving, silent this time, both hands on the wheel. When he parked on my driveway I turned to look at him and I noticed he was frowning.

— I'm not really sure if you remember why I came to Texas… —he  said without looking at me.

I hesitated for a bit at first, knowing damn well what he was talking about. 

— To see me? 

— To have a last intercourse with you. —he corrected me— And it doesn’t seem like it’s gonna happen. Not if you keep feeding me pretty lame excuses. 

— Ethan, you know there are things that can’t be forced… —I was starting to feel personally attacked— If I don’t want to, you can’t make me do it, that’s how it works. —I said, crossing my arms.

We stayed silent for a couple of seconds. It’s an awkward silence, I can feel Ethan’s gaze burning my face, judging me. 

— Has Joel something to do with all this? 

My legs started trembling and I could feel my face going white. I looked him in the eye and I saw a kind of jealousy never seen before. 

— The fuck are you talking about? —I muttered.

— He’s always looking after you, like a lot more than he should. The other day at the barbecue, he was staring at me the whole time like he didn’t want me there. 

— He’s just taking care of me, Ethan —I said defensively— I’m his best friend’s daughter, that’s it. 

— You know it’s not just that. I’ve seen how he looks at you, and you don’t look at your friend’s daughter like that. 

I started to worry about my father noticing us fighting through my living room window or whatever.

— Stop talking bullshit. 

He let out a brief sarcastic laugh.

— Bullshit? —he repeated— Do you really think I’m blind or something? Every time Joel appears your mood shifts. You tense, you sort of avoid me, and he keeps a close eye on me. —he clenches his jaw.

— That’s because my father told him about you, —I reply rapidly— He just wants to protect me like a father would, it’s totally normal that he wants to know my friends! 

— It’s not normal. —he interrupted me— It’ll be normal for a guy his age to not give a shit about us. It’ll be normal for him to step aside, and he doesn’t. He’s always in the middle. 

He looked at my house, making sure there’s no movement behind the curtains, and then he fixed his eyes on me again. 

— Besides, —he added—  he can’t stand me. Since day one. It’s like he’s pissed by us being together, like he doesn’t like that you spend more time with me than with him. 

— Are you being for real? You’re just saying the first thought that came to your mind ‘cause your fragile male ego can’t accept that I don’t want to hook up with you!

Ethan’s gaze turned into something darker and I started to feel a little scared. I had never seen him like that, suddenly he seemed like a whole different person than the boy who gave me flowers on our first date. 

— My male ego? —he leaned a little over me— then explain to me why every time we enter your neighborhood you let go of my hand, why do you get nervous when he’s close, why can’t you be alone with me and do the only fucking thing I came for, huh? Explain it! 

I felt a knot on my throat. I didn’t want to lie, but it was worse to say the truth, and seeing Ethan acting like that was affecting me more than I could handle. 

— I’m not having this conversation now. —I claimed as calm as I could— Go home and call me when you feel relaxed so we can solve this. —I opened the car door to get out, but his hand wrapped around my wrist. Not hard enough to harm me but to make it clear that he wasn’t having it. 

— I don’t like being lied to, —he said looking deeply at me— even worse if it’s all about an old dude  that could be your father. 

— Let go of me. —I demanded, tensed, trying not to sound fragile. 

He did let go of me, but he didn’t back off. Quite the opposite, he smiled like he always does. A smile that always seemed cute to me, but now was seeming dangerous. 

After a moment of hesitation he backed off, hands and sight on the wheel again, but before leaving, he added:

— I hope you give me what you promised me when I came here. —almost in a whisper.

— I didn’t promise you anything. —I said, mimicking his tone.

I got out of the car and got inside my house. I took a look through the peephole with my heart racing, to make sure he was leaving. 

Now I’m sitting on my bed thinking about how that situation developed. Obviously I did not see him again. Even though he called, texted and even showed up at my front door, I rejected him every single time. What scared me the most wasn’t him acting like a weirdo, it was the fact of him realizing something was happening between Joel and me. But he’s gone. He’s in California where he should be, bringing him here was definitely a big mistake but it’s solved now, or at least kind of.

・・・・・

Music at the Miller’s is already loud before nighttime, I can hear it from my bedroom while I get ready. I don’t know how much time will we have until someone complains, this neighborhood is full of oldies. 

I’m wearing a dress that I bought in California one of my last years there and my favorite pair of cowboy boots. I take a moment to decide if I should get my hair up or leave it loose. In the end, I decide to grab a hair tie just in case I need it later. 

Before leaving I say goodbye to my father and I tell him that I’ll probably stay over, so he doesn’t wait for me awake. I look at my reflection in the mirror one last time and I get out of the door. 

When I arrive to the party there’s already plenty of people. Sarah appears outside the door, plastic cup in hand and a big smile on her face. She’s not dressed up elegant, but it’s clear she made the effort of dressing better for tonight.

— You made it! —she shouts at me— I thought you’d back out honestly.

— There’s no way I could miss this, —I say— someone must be the responsible adult here. 

I can’t say anything else ‘cause Sarah’s handing me a cup like hers, can’t complain. 

I slyly eye the whole house looking for Joel, but he’s nowhere to be seen. All I see right now are teenagers scattered around in different groups and a giant poster on the threshold that says Miller’s party. 

There’s so many people here that I don’t know where to start socializing. I look around and I recognize some faces, but I don’t think I could start a conversation with no one here. I see Sarah, she’s totally in her element, I don’t want to crash onto her group.

Suddenly, the social awkwardness kicks in. I’ve been standing on the entryway for a while, looking in all directions with my plastic cup in hand. I decide to wander around before committing social suicide. 

Being in this party without knowing anyone makes me wanna go for Joel, and I can’t hold a smile when I remember how he “saved” me from that guy on the bar when I was looking for solace in my friends. My feet start to walk unconsciously upstairs, but someone stops me. 

— Hey.

The voice comes from behind my back, but I know he’s talking to me ‘cause it’s followed by some taps in my shoulder. 

I turn around and I get welcomed by a guy not older than eighteen. Super tall, six foot two maybe. He’s looking at me leaned on the wall in a desperate try of looking nonchalant, it looks so forced that I even feel sad for him. 

— I’m Eddie.

I introduce myself too and we start chatting. He’s a little bit weird, not gonna lie, but he’s kind and also the only person that cared to talk to me tonight. He’s telling me that he has finished high school and that he’s not very sure about what he should study in college. He also says that he met Sarah at the computer club and that he was surprised to be invited to her party ‘cause he doesn’t go out much. 

I yap a little too, talking about my experience in college and my degree. We end up comparing some artworks, I didn’t expect it but he knows about art history. 

When I’m going to drink from my cup I notice there’s not more beverage left. Eddie notices it too. 

— Come with me, let’s get a drink. —he says, pointing at the drinks table. 

While we fill up our cups we stay silent, listening to the music. 

— So… —Eddie starts, getting closer to me— Did you come with your boyfriend? 

I smile and shake my head, taking a sip. 

— I don’t have a boyfriend. 

— You don’t? That’s crazy, you’re so pretty and clever to not be taken already.

He steps closer and I back off slightly. That’s when a silhouette going downstairs caps my attention. I recognize these steps and broad shoulders immediately. It’s Joel. We make eye contact and I can see him smiling a little, but he quickly sights Eddie, looking fast at me again. That’s when he turns around and goes back to his bedroom. God, I’m sure he thinks I’m flirting with  this guy when it’s quite the opposite. 

— Hey, uhm, you’re very sweet, —I say between laughs— but I like my men older. Call me at least when you’re old enough to drink. 

I apologize to him and I head upstairs to find Joel. I can feel the alcohol doing its effect on me, I feel a little dizzy so I have to take a sec to stop and think which of these doors is his. I can still think clearly though. 

My hand is on the doorknob and before twisting it I realize it’s the first time I’m going to cross this door, I’ve never been in his bedroom before. I feel a tingling in my stomach and that’s the adrenaline I needed to open the door. 

God bless the moment I decided to do this. When I step inside I find the room illuminated just by a nightstand lamp and Joel resting on his bed, his back against the headboard, reading a book. But what surprises me the most is that he’s wearing glasses. 

Impulsed by the alcohol I close the door shut behind me, leaning against it and not moving. 

Joel looks at me over the top of his glasses. He’s frowning but his eyes seem amused. 

— After all that we’ve been through you should start learning how to knock on doors —he comments quietly, closing his book and leaving it on top of the nightstand. He doesn’t take off his glasses, a detail that I appreciate very much. 

I don’t say anything back ‘cause I’m busy burning the image of Joel reading a book in his bed into my memory. I have to go back to reality when he gets off the bed and starts walking towards me. 

He leaves me stuck behind him and the door and scans his eyes through my face. He runs a finger around my cheek, it’s barely a touch, but it makes my heart start to race. 

— Where’s Sarah? —he asks, making sure she’s distracted and won’t come after me. 

— Distracted enough with some friends.

Then, what I’ve been expecting for a long time finally happens. He lifts his hand. Not to touch me, but to lock the door. A little sound that would fly under the radar to most people, but it means much more to me. It’s intimacy, a moment of privacy, a moment where it’s just Joel and me, where it doesn’t matter who’s my father and who’s his daughter. 

— I didn’t know you wear glasses. They make you kinda sexy. 

Joel shifts his gaze to the floor and quickly takes them off. 

— Just for reading. 

— Didn’t know you read either. —I smile at him and he smiles back. 

— What are you doing up here? Thought you were having fun down there.

I shrug and snort.

— I was starting to get bored, —I say while I start to play with the hem of his t-shirt. He’s wearing his pajamas, a white basic t-shirt and some grey tracksuit bottoms. The movements of my hands make my fingers touch his stomach, letting me find his happy trail— I thought I could have more fun here. —I say looking him deeply in the eye. 

Joel doesn’t answer right away, I’m starting to doubt if he has heard me but he finally answers.

— Do you? I saw you having way much fun with your little friend in my kitchen —as he speaks I feel a big hand being placed on my lower back, pushing me closer to Joel. 

— Well… It’s been fun, —I say— but I have something better in mind. 

I slid my hand slowly down his abdomen to his crotch. I don’t take my eyes off of his and I can feel how he breathes out, his gaze turning into something lustful. 

— You’re drunk. I can smell liquor on you. 

— And you’re getting hard. —I answer boldly, looking directly at his bump. 

He moves my hand away from his body and pulls my hair back, making me look at him.

— And whose fault is that? —he grunts.

— I don’t know, you tell me. —I answer with a smile, putting my hand back where it was.

— You never learn, don’t you? I warned you, if you kept acting like this I would have to find some privacy to make you regret your behavior…

— And that’s the only thing I’ve been thinking about since then. 

My last comment pulls the trigger for him. When I finish my sentence he grabs my waist and lifts me up in the air, making me throw my purse on the floor,  manhandling me to take me to his bed. I land alone on top of the mattress because he’s standing next to the foot of the bed. It seems like he doesn’t like the distance between us so he grabs my legs to pull me closer to him, taking a second to throw my boots away. 

He takes off his t-shirt but I don’t have time to react because he’s suddenly on top of me, devouring my mouth with hunger. Our tongues look for each other and he starts to slide a hand under my dress, caressing my stomach. 

Joel steps away from me and I snort as a complaint. I don’t want him to stop. I open my eyes to find his, he’s looking at me like he’s afraid to break me. 

—Are you sure about this? 

I pant. My hand reaches the back of his neck and I stick our mouths together as an answer. He laughs in my mouth and keeps moving his hand higher inside my dress until he reaches my breasts. He then starts to rub a nipple in circles, making me arch my back and let out a little moan.

— Shh. —he hushes me— we can’t be loud. 

He grunts in my neck but doesn’t move his hand away from my breast. I place my hands on his back, scratching it, and one of them tangles on his hair. 

— Make me be quiet, then. —I tease him.

Joel backs off from me. I open my eyes to complain about it, but the view leaves me out of words. 

He’s standing at the foot of the bead, with my bent knees glued to his hips. His shoulders are red, my claw marks all over them, messy hair and gasping for breath. His lips are swollen from kissing. 

— I have a way to keep your mouth busy. —He says while he plays with the waistband of his pants. He looks at me, searching for something he’s not going to find: rejection. 

I sit up, sitting on the edge of the mattress. 

— Tempting… 

A smirk appears on his mouth. He offers me a hand and helps me to get up. He’s now sitting where I was, legs slightly open, arms extended backwards, leaning careless. 

I kneel in front of him. My knees reach the cold floor and I put my hand over his thighs without looking away from his eyes. I start to slowly pull down his pants, no rush intended. When his bottoms are already on the floor I take a moment to stare at his erection. 

He places a hand on my cheek and caresses it. I move my head to catch his thumb with my mouth. Joel takes a deep breath while I suck his finger, twirling my tongue around it while I stare deeply at his eyes. My hand reaches his cock, feeling it grow harder.

Joel moves his thumb, trying to bury it deeper, but I don’t let him, so he grunts. I think I’ve played with his finger enough, so I slide my mouth off his wet thumb. 

I lean towards his crotch and I start to leave wet kisses on top of his boxers. I know he’s enjoying this when he pets my head with his hand. I bite his inner thigh while my hand plays with his dick. 

—Fuck, stop playing and focus. —Joel pants, moving my head away. 

I smile and give in, pulling off his drawers. His erection pops up in my face and I prepare myself for what’s coming. I steal a last look from Joel and then I open my mouth, sticking out my tongue. 

I lick his length going from the base to the top, and when I reach it I introduce the tip inside my mouth while my hand slowly pumps from the base. I move my head up and down, trying to suck more of his length each time. 

Joel’s panting and gasping blend with the party’s music. He’s moving his hips following my pace, helping me to get more inside without forcing me. He occasionally lets out little moans followed by arching his back, which makes me know he’s enjoying it. 

His tip reaches the back of my throat, and I know he felt it because he pants immediately. The pressure on my throat makes me shed some tears, but that doesn’t stop me. I let out some muffled moans so he feels the vibration, making him feel more pleasure. 

— Oh, god… —he pants— You’re being such a good girl for me.    

My jaw starts to ache a little so I decide to focus in another zone. I take his cock out of my mouth and a little thread of saliva appears, connecting his dick with my lips. I start to jerk him with one hand, keeping the same pace as before, as I place my mouth on his balls. 

I suck one gently knowing it’s a sensitive area and I  rub the other one. He’s tensing more and more as I keep working on it, meaning he’s close now, so I go back to his dick, spitting on his tip. I grab his whole length with both of my hands, and I press and rub gently the tip with my thumb. 

Joel goes stiff and moans.

— Where do you want it? —he asks urgently.

— Wherever you want to. —I answer quickly. 

— Open your mouth then. 

I obey and stick out my tongue for him. He gets up and my hands fall away from him, but I place them on my thighs. He jerks himself faster with one hand and grabs my head tight with the other one. 

Precum starts to drip from his dick and I lick it looking at him lustfully without hesitation. He seems to like it, because it makes him finally orgasm. 

Joel rests his cock on my tongue, making his load drip all over my mouth. He’s still jerking himself, trying to prolong the orgasm until he thinks it’s enough and sits back on the bed, exhausted. I swallow his cum and I get closer to him. With a finger I clean the excess off my face and I lick it, staring deeply at him. 

I don’t let him react ‘cause as soon as my face is clean again I jump on top of him to sit on his lap and I pull my dress over my head. Joel places his big hands on my waist, lustful eyes devouring my naked body. He starts to leave wet kisses all over my neck, and slowly moves one hand to my panties. His touch makes me shiver. 

— You’re so wet for me… —he whispers in my ear. 

— Are you sure you can handle another round? At your old age? —I tease him. 

— I think someone needs to have her attitude fucked out of her. 

Joel flips me around and tosses me against the mattress, leaving me resting on my back. He’s standing, heading to his nightstand. I lean forward a little to watch what he’s doing. He opens the top drawer and grabs something. When he turns around I can see he has a rubber on his hand. I’m leaning on my back again with my legs bent but closed, watching his figure appear back in front of me. He brings it to his mouth and rips it open. He’s taking it out of the wrapping and putting it on, this view is the sexiest thing on earth for me right now. 

— I repeat that we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. —he assures me. 

— If you want to stop I can always go back to my little friend down there. —I tease him. 

— I deserve to be paid for tolerating you. —he snorts. 

— I may know a way to pay you… —I slowly open my legs, extending one to brush his V line with my foot. 

Joel caresses my extended leg. 

— Oh, yeah? —he says as I wrap my legs around him, making him get closer— didn’t know you were doing sexual favors now. —he says that with a humorous tone of voice and then starts kissing me. 

— Only for you. —I stop the make out to say it but then I go back. 

Joel moves his hand to my panties and grabs the waistband, asking me for permission with his eyes. I nod and lift my hips to help him take them out faster. He props a leg on top of the bed and pulls me closer to him. Then he grabs his cock and starts brushing it against my clit, making me desperate. 

— Joel… —I gasp— Please… 

— Please what, darling?

I bite my lip, unable to answer his question.

— Do you want me to fuck you? —he asks, starting to push the tip inside. 

I pant and nod, biting my lip harder. Joel smirks and thrusts me slowly, letting me get used to his length and eventually increases the pace. His cock slips back and forth, giving me more inches in every thrust. I moan against his neck trying not to be loud, digging my nails on his back. 

He slips out of me and grabs me to turn me around as he wants, putting me on all fours. He spanks my ass and slides inside again, making me moan loudly as I didn’t expect it. Joel grabs my hair and makes a ponytail with his fist, pulling so pleasingly tight and uses his free arm to grab me from my belly to get us closer, if that’s even possible. 

— Does he fuck you like this? —he thrusts deeper— Huh?

— Who? —I ask, almost in tears. 

— Your goddamn boyfriend, —he pants— does he?

— Ethan? Well, I can’t complain. 

I said that just to tease him, whatever I had with Ethan is nothing compared with how good Joel is making me feel. Even though he’s being rough and I’m on the verge of tears, happy tears. However, he did not like my answer. He starts to fuck me harder, spanking me every so often. 

— Are you sure?

I can’t do anything other than moaning right now, and he takes it as a “no”. 

— Yeah, that’s what I thought. —he says panting.

I start to feel closer to my limit so I grab the sheets tight.

— Joel, —I pant— I’m gonna come.

— Do it baby, cum for me. 

I do as he orders me, reaching the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Joel keeps thrusting me until he comes for the second time this night, his load filling the rubber. I’m laying on the bed trying to catch back my breath when Joel does the same, tapping on his chest. 

— Com’ere. —he orders me. 

I cuddle with him resting my head on his chest, still thinking about what the hell just happened. 

Joel has a hand on my shoulder and is lightly tracing his fingers along my skin down my spine, leaving feather‑light touches all around. I’ve never seen this side of Joel, he’s being gentle, touching me like he’s afraid of harming me if he touches me wrong. We’re still naked, but it’s not sexual anymore, it’s intimate. 

I could stay here forever listening to his heartbeat, it’ll be easy for me to fall asleep right now, but I can’t avoid thinking this is just after care, he must be doing this because he feels like he should. Anyways, he brings me back to reality as he breaks the silence.

— Have you done this before? 

I raise my head to look at him. 

— Done what? Sex? —I smirk.

— No, smartass, I meant being with someone older. 

— Well, we used to say in California that what happens in college stays in college, but I kind of slept with a teacher. —realization hits me and I remember that even though I just fucked him he’s still my father’s friend— Don’t tell my dad —I say with frightened eyes. 

Joel is looking at me open-mouthed, but not in a I’m-mad-at-you way, it’s something more like it-all-makes-sense-now.

— Don’t look at me like that —I laugh, closing his mouth with my hand. 

— Should I be worried about it? 

— Nope. Next topic. Do you do this often? 

Joel is silent and seems confused, so I specify more. 

— Bringing girls to your bed…?

— No. —He’s direct.

— Then why do you have rubbers on your nightstand, the most accessible and convenient place to have them? 

— It is normal to have sex when you’re single. 

— And when was the last time then?

— I think you’ve done it more recently than me. 

— Me? —I laugh at his thought, he really thinks Ethan and I fucked. 

— Well, you and your little boyfriend.

— He’s not my boyfriend, and we did not have sex while he was here. 

Joel looks even more confused now. 

— I mean, the only reason he came was to do it with me, but I didn’t want to and now he’s kinda mad at me for that.

— But, why not? —he’s now caressing my hair, tucking it behind my ear.

— Guess I was waiting for you, if that even makes sense. 

— I haven't thought about any other woman neither since all this started. 

After a moment of silence where we just stared at each other, I decide to ask the question that’s been burning on my throat since he kissed me on this bed for the first time. 

— So, are we being exclusive for now long or…? 

Joel smirks at my question and shifts his hand from my hair to my chin, brushing the back of his fingers along my face before grabbing my chin. 

— I just fucked you once and you already want  to tie me down, what a greedy girl we have here. —he says that last sentence putting his thumb over my lips— You don’t have to worry, honey. 

— This is so messed up, —I whisper— but I guess there’s no turning back at this point. 

— I know, but we’ll figure it out. 

To ruin this beautiful moment my phone starts to ring. 

— Fuck! —I get up from Joel’s chest, covering myself realizing I’m still naked, and I search for my phone. 

I can feel Joel is enjoying the view, so I ask him to turn around. 

— I’ve had you naked in multiple positions and now you’re shy? God damn… 

I grab a pillow and I throw it at him

— Just turn around! —I yell in a whisper as I’m picking the call. It’s Sarah, God have mercy… 

I start to collect my clothes now and I get ready as fast as I can. Sarah called to ask me where I am, because she’s opening her gifts now. Boots on, panties on, dress on, purse in hand, perfect.

— You can turn back around now.

— I still don’t understand why you’re shy all of a sudden.

— ‘Cause I’m not drunk anymore, that’s it.

His phone starts ringing too. Sarah. I better leave before something goes wrong. 

I go downstairs and I find Sarah talking with a friend. When she sees me she stops the conversation to go after me.

— Where have you been? I've been looking for you! —she grabs my arms.

— I, uhm, I’ve…

— Wait, —she looks behind me and touches my dress— are you wearing this inside out?

Fuck. 

Joel starts to walk down the stairs, she has seen him. 

— No fucking way. —she covers his mouth with her hands. 

— Sarah, I can explain… —I start to panic, I feel like I’m going to throw up. 

She starts to laugh, confusing me.

— You’ve hooked up with someone? 

I feel like I can breathe again. Oh God, she thinks I’ve been hooking up with some random guy when it was, in fact, her father. 

— Uhm, yeah… Yeah. Don’t tell anyone, I’m not proud. 

— Oh my God but who was it?

— Sarah, I really don’t want to talk about it. 

— Okay, okay, but go and put your dress on the right way. —she pushes me towards the bathroom. 

Go read the full story! this is actually chapter nine lol

Saturday nights used to be your absolute favorite time of the week. But now, you dread them. Sure, having the weekend off from work is still a plus, however, the amount of free time leaves you with no choice but to succumb to your thoughts.

A month and thirteen days ago (yes, you were indeed keeping track), you had lost something invaluable. Well, more like someone. Your best friend, Sarah.

You never saw it coming, and the ache from her absence panged within you.

You first met during your freshman year of college. Moving to Texas was already a huge adjustment, and starting college on top of that amplified your nerves to a high degree.

You didn’t know anyone, knew where nothing other than campus was located, and your family was back home in your small, rural town.

So, you spent most days silently; going to your classes, occasionally checking out a new restaurant, and heading back to your dorm with the noisy neighbors who played music at the most inconvenient hours.

To be honest, your life was quite boring and you didn’t truly feel like you were living—until you met Sarah.

During one of your seminars, the blonde (whom you had only seen once) sat next to you. She offered you a smile and asked if you could spare her a pen which you happily lent her. And then? Both of you couldn’t stop talking. It came so naturally that it scared you. The amount of similar interests and life experiences the two of you shared was unbelievable.

She invited you to a nearby coffee shop so you could get to know one another better and from then on, you became inseparable. Spending everyday together, Sarah made Texas and your college experience what you so badly wanted it to be.

Since your family was in a different state, she often welcomed you to her house, where you met her Uncle Tommy, Aunt Maria, and most notably her father, Joel. You never mentioned it to her directly, but he was a handsome man. A tall, handy brunette with a southern drawl that you could listen to for hours. It surprised you that he wasn’t dating or married, and by the sound of it, Sarah found it exhausting.

“I love my old man, but he’s a bit boring, you know? Hasn’t dated since my mom left and that was years ago,” she’d said, drawing out the word years for emphasis.

“Maybe he has a girlfriend you don’t know about.”

She flat out laughed in your face when you suggested such a thing. “Yeah, definitely not. I could bet every dollar I own on that.”

A part of you felt bad for him. He was incredibly attractive, so there was no way women didn’t eye him everywhere he went.

Perhaps it was just a personal preference.

The rest of your college years went smoothly, most of the days being filled with boring exams in contrast to fun times with Sarah.

Graduation rolled around and as the two of you took photos in your caps and gowns, the man who you’d eventually grow to despise walked by.

“Hey! You mind taking a picture of us real quick?” Sarah asked him, holding the camera out to him as if he had already said yes.

After the photo was taken and she went to grab her camera back, a conversation between them began. You didn’t hear much, but heard him introduce himself as Randy.

You thought that would be the last of him, but no. Sarah and the jerkwad started to date.

And slowly but surely, he took up every ounce of her time. She started to cancel plans with you or leave events early for his sake. You tried to keep your mouth shut; because she, more than anyone, deserved to be loved. But it became too much. And a few months into her relationship with him, you confronted her about it.

“Sare, you know I love you, but haven’t you noticed how little time we spend together now? It’s always Randy, Randy, Randy!”

Her face fell into an expression that displayed annoyance. “What can I say? I’m in love. It’s normal to want to spend time with your partner.”

You frowned. You hated this and started to regret bringing it up. But the cat was out the bag. You weren’t going to let this stay in your head any longer, she had to know how you felt.

“Yeah, yeah. I get that. But there’s something called balance, Sarah. You can spend time with your partner and have time for your best friend.”

As if you had made the most offensive remark in history, she became filled with anger. “You know what? I tried to ignore it, but Randy is right. You’re so obsessive when it comes to me! I mean, seriously, it’s as if I’m your only friend. If it bothers you that much, go find someone else to hang out with!”

You’d never expected to hear such a thing from her. What kind of spell could Randy possibly have her under?

Since then, zero words were exchanged between you. She’d done the classic remove you from every social platform after the argument and yet here you were, in bed, on a Saturday when you’d usually be hanging out, scrolling through her photos on Facebook—the most recent one of her date night with the man you considered satan himself.

As you scrolled further, a picture of Sarah and Joel sat on your screen and in the caption, he was tagged.

You knew Joel had Facebook. Sarah told you before it was the only form of social media that he used, but you never went on his account or considered adding him as a friend.

Your fingers did the work for you and clicked on his username, which took you to his profile.

He didn’t have many posts, but the few that he did have were what you imagined they’d be. Pictures of Sarah with captions that said things along the lines of so proud of my girl!, some throwback photos of him and his brother, Tommy, and his beloved guitar.

When you looked at the time on the clock beside your bed, you realized that you had analyzed each photo for the past 20 minutes. Feeling like a stalker, you frantically tapped to leave his account and nearly died when you made the one mistake you were hoping you wouldn’t.

Your finger slipped, and you added Joel freaking Miller, your ex-best friend’s father, as a friend.

Now came a tough decision: was it weird to leave him as a friend, or was it even weirder to remove him?

You may as well not having contemplated at all, because within the same minute that you added him, he added you back.

Your nerves made you unsure of what step to take next. Message him? Not say anything at all? Block him and pretend this never happened? The same three thoughts circulated your mind. But again, it was as if Joel took the initiative for you.

ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ

Hey, kiddo.

You stared at the message for ages, overthinking what you should and shouldn’t say. You concluded that the best thing to do was apologize, explain your mistake, and leave it at that. So, that’s what you did.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Hello, Mr. Miller! I’m sorry if I disturbed you, my finger slipped and I added you on accident.

ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ

What had you on my profile in the first place?

Dammit. You were screwed. What excuse could you possibly cook up? Oh nothing, I was just stalking Sarah’s account and then stalked yours too! sounded absolutely ridiculous to admit. You hated having to do so, but lying was your best bet.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

You showed up in the “people you may know” section. That’s all.

ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ

Ok.

Ok. Ok? Was that seriously all he had to say? It angered you a bit that he didn’t believe your excuse though it was false.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Ok? I take it you don’t believe me?

ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ

Never said that.

Before you could come up with a snarky reply, he sent another message.

ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ

Haven’t seen you come by in a while.

Crap. You were wondering if he’d question the downfall of you and Sarah’s friendship. You pondered on how much he knew along with how much you should tell him. Being vague was the smartest choice you could think of.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Oh, yeah. Sarah and I haven’t talked much lately.

ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ

I figured that. Asked about you the other day and she wasn’t very receptive.

It embarrassed you the way your heart fluttered at the thought of Joel noticing your absence and proceeding to ask Sarah about it. But it also felt a little delusional to think of it in such a deep way. You were her best friend, of course he’d notice eventually.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Is she doing ok?

ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ

Seems like it. Spends a lot of her time with that kid, Ricky.

You laugh to yourself at his mess up of Randy’s name.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I think you mean Randy?

ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ

Yeah, him. Not a big fan, but if she’s happy, I’ll put up with him.

You laugh again. Joel’s honesty propels you to do the same. You normally wouldn’t. Normally, you’d find a way to end the conversation here and not bother him with the details of you and Sarah’s falling out, but you couldn’t help yourself.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

He’s kind of the reason we aren’t talking, actually.

ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ

Oh? How so?

Any part of you that still considered holding back subsided. He asked. There was no point in not telling him now.

Even though it’s not technically Joel’s business, you explain the situation to him: how much of Sarah’s time was taken up by Randy and you calling it out, which led to where your friendship stands now.

When you send him the message and he doesn’t respond as quickly as he has been, you presume he’s fallen asleep; after all, it’s nearly midnight. But no.

The screen of your phone flashes with the words:

INCOMING CALL FROM JOEL MILLER

You let the phone ring a couple times, finger hovering over the accept button. With the bit of courage you have, you click it and stay quiet.

You hear rustling on the other end, it sounds like he’s in bed. Finally, he speaks. “Hello?”

“Hi,” you awkwardly say, internally cringing at the sound of your voice crack and nearly hanging up the phone.

“Hi,” he repeats back. “I, uh, saw your message about what happened. Never would’ve guessed things fell out the way they did between you two.”

That familiar southern drawl fills your ears in the most satisfying way possible. It almost makes you forget that this is an over-the-phone conversation and he’s awaiting your response. “Yeah, you and me both,” you say with an awkward laugh. He chuckles a bit, not that the situation is funny, of course.

“Look, if I’m being honest with you, I don’t think her and that kid have a lot of time left.”

Your curiosity piques. “What makes you say that?”

Joel clears his throat. “Was walkin’ past her room yesterday and I heard ‘em fussin’ over the phone. Not my business, but it ain’t sound too good.”

You nod in understanding as if he is in the same room as you. “Oh, I see.”

It stays quiet for a few seconds, but he effortlessly fills the silence. “Either way, she owes you an apology.”

“Thanks, Joel.” You don’t mean to address him by his first name, but it so naturally rolls off your tongue. He seems to not pay attention to it when he speaks again.

“What exactly are you thankin’ me for?” The question comes out with a laugh, and though you know his intention isn’t to belittle you, you feel self-conscious.

“Well, I didn’t mean to say thanks! I just meant…”you trail off to properly convey your thoughts. “I was more so thanking you for listening in the first place. I haven’t talked to anyone about what happened with Sarah, so I appreciate your kind words.”

You can’t see his face, but he smiles. As if he did it himself, he feels guilty for the way things played out between you and his daughter. He didn’t raise her to behave that way and he makes a mental note to later have a talk with Sarah about her questionable boyfriend. “It’s nothin’, really. After all, you’re my favorite friend of hers.”

You pause. Did he just say what you think he said? That flutter in your heart returns, and you sit up against your headboard. “I–me?” you don’t mean to sound so pathetic when you ask, but how could you not? A man like Joel talking to you at this hour meant more to you than it probably should have.

“Yeah, ‘course. You make it sound unfathomable,” he says it with a hint of confusion; like he doesn’t understand why you would doubt yourself to begin with. “Sarah’s had some nice buddies in her life, but you’re different. Girl beams at any chance she gets to talk about you. And I understand why.”

“Well, color me flattered,” blush spreads across your cheeks and you see it for yourself through the vanity mirror across from you. This takes you back to your high school days; secretly talking to boys while your parents were sound asleep. But you’re grown now, a college graduate with her own apartment, and—presumably—flirting with her ex-best friend’s dad. Younger you would never believe it.

“Guess we’re both pretty flattered, huh?” you’re suddenly confused. Him flattered?

“When did I flatter you?” you laugh in both a soft and bewildered way.

“When you added me as a friend. Even though you claim ‘it was an accident!’” he jokingly mocks your voice when he quotes you which evokes a laugh out of you—a full on laugh. The hardest you have in a while. The sound must be contagious, because he follows shortly after.

“It was an accident,” you manage to let out. “And that is not how I sound!”

“Alright, not my best impression,” his laugh and yours start to fade. A notification from Instagram prompts you to check the time and you realize that you’ve been on the phone for longer than you thought.

“You know, we’ve been on the phone for 53 minutes,” you inform him. He lifts his phone to confirm and sees that you’re right.

“As the sayin’ goes, time flies when you’re having fun,” the flutter in your heart beats again–for what feels like the millionth time tonight.

“Yeah… it really does,” it grows quiet once again, but it feels comfortable this time. Like the two of you could stay on this call for 53 more minutes and not feel awkward at all. Joel stretches his arm to pull the phone away for a moment in an attempt to muffle his yawn. You smile at his effort to hide it and feel guilty for keeping him awake. “It’s getting pretty late, you should rest.”

He grunts in acknowledgment. “Don’t want you thinkin’ I’m tired of talkin’ to you,” he sleepily mutters. That southern accent of his grows even deeper in his drowsy state, causing butterflies to fly around in your stomach.

“I don’t think that.”

“You promise? ‘Cause I can’t sleep peacefully if you do.”

The butterflies do somersaults now, and every crevice of your body suddenly feels too hot.

“I promise.”

He emits a guttural sound of approval. “Good. You get yourself some shuteye, alright?”

Even though you’re a full on adult, he says it with such an authoritative yet kind tone, one Sarah probably heard countless times growing up. “I will.”

But when he hangs up the phone, you don’t get any shuteye. Honestly, you knew you wouldn’t. Because all you could do is replay both every single word he said and the way in which he said it. There’s no way you could be jumping to conclusions after all the comments he made. You weren’t stupid, you knew when someone was flirting with you.

Surely that conversation with Joel meant something more…right?

D: Dirty Talk

He had absolutely no problem saying anything naughty to you, and motivating you to respond with something even dirtier. To hear some of the things that came out of mouth was like music to his ears. Loving to whisper dirty things in your ear like it was a forbidden secret, and to hear you whimper and moan just as his words. He was a tease when he talked dirty saying things that had you clenching your thighs together.

"Such a good girl riding my cock, taking what you want with that wet and juicy cunt."

E: Experience

Our man was for sure experienced in the sheets. He knew everything that he was doing, and didn't need to be told what to do. He’s had his fair share with the ladies, and he couldn’t wait to give you everything he’s ever experienced. He loved teaching you new things, and seeing what else you liked or even trying new things with you.

F: Fetish

Foot kink for sure. He doesn’t know when it started or why it happened, but as soon as he saw your feet he was obsessed. He immediately wanting to put them in his mouth, and thrust his cock between them. Constantly touching them and holding them in his hands like it was his favorite toy.

G: Grooming

He takes care of his hair, whether that’s slicking back his hair, trimming his beard or shaving his pubes. Knowing if his beard hair gets too long and it scratches along your thighs it makes you a little ticklish. Joel doesn’t care if you have body hair or not, he loves you whether you’re all natural or smooth like a baby seal.

H: Hands

You have never seen or felt such big hands like his before. They looked rough and calloused, but as soon as he touched you they were soft and gentle. He was very precise when he used his hands too, almost like he was painting a picture when he caressed your skin. Constantly craving his touch on yours, and wanting to feel his warmth.

I: Intimacy

It was hard for Joel to be intimate at first since it had been so long, but the moment he truly gazed into your eyes he knew. From then on he had no problem being close to you, sharing things with you he’s never done with anyone. Always touching you with such delicacy, and kissing your skin like a lover. Taking baths together, dancing in the kitchen, and rubbing lotion on your skin. He had no problem with intimacy.

“There is no one else I’d rather be touching and sharing this moment with than you darlin’.”

J: Jerking off

If you weren’t with him for a long time he was tugging away. Bringing pictures of you with him to keep him going, and touching himself to the thought of your lips, your thighs, your hands and your cunt. He didn’t last long either when he did. Wondering if you were touching yourself to the thought of him as well.

K: Kinks

He’s not really into kinks, but there is one kink he does have and that’s a breeding kink. He loves the idea of filling you up and watching your belly swell with his child. The thought of starting a family with you excites him more than anything. And sometimes when he’s really horny he loves when you call him daddy too. That just makes him want to fill you with his sticky substance even more.

“I can’t wait to see your belly swollen with my child, and you make me a daddy.”

L: Locations

It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, Joel is always wanting to get his hands on you. Whether it’s in public or the privacy of your own home, but if there was one place he truly felt alive and safe that was in the bedroom. Although he couldn’t resist you sometimes in the car, and dragged you to the back to ride him.

M: Motivation

It didn’t take a lot of motivation to get Joel going. As soon as he gave him that look and he saw the spark in your eye that was his green light. Then images danced in his head, and he couldn’t wait to act them out in real life. Or if you simply just told him you needed him, he was stripping his clothes off so fast it stung his skin.

N: Nopes

This biggest no for him was hitting you across the face or making you bleed. The last thing he would want to do is inflict pain and humiliation on you. He told you that right from the get go, and you told him you had no problem with that. All he wanted was to bring you the upmost ecstasy, and things that you desired or wanted.

O: Oral

Oh man did he love giving and much as he loved receiving oral. Sometimes he loved it more than . He was all about oral pleasure, and making sure when he was between your thighs your legs were shaking and clenching around his head. There isn’t anything that tongue couldn’t do for you, and when you really wanted it you’d just ride his face. He loved the taste of you on his tongue, and how you dripped like honey.

“You taste just like peaches and cream, so delicious.”

P: Pace

He was more of a slow and deep strokes kind of guy, wanting you to feel all of him as he was inside of you. Sometimes when he was desperate for release he would be rough and fast, but for the most part he wanted to get that certain angle that had you wailing until your throat was sore.

Q: Quickies

They weren’t exactly his favorite or preferred way, but if you two were even remotely horny before you went anywhere he’d bend you over whatever was in front of him and go to town. Giving what both of you wanted, and easing the ache between your legs, and then when you returned home he took his time with you.

R: Recording

Joel loved to take pictures and videos of you, and had his own private collection. Whenever you two wanted to try something new he had his recorder all set up and ready to go, so both of you could remember these moments. Sometimes when you were fast asleep he’d sneak off and watch some of these tapes for his own amusement.

S: Stamina

He could go all night if he wanted to, like he was the energizer bunny. It shocked you when he would pick right back up without even breaking a sweat. To him this was his workout and that was all he needed to keep himself fit. Sometimes you struggled to keep up with him, but he would just do all the work, and let you lay there.

T: Toys

Not that he didn’t like using toys with you, he would prefer that you wanted just himself. Letting him pick what toys that gave him the most satisfaction to use on you, and when he saw how much pleasure they’d give you, he had more fun that he thought. Watching in awe as you were stuffed with thick dildos, getting jealous that he wishes it was his cock inside of you instead.

U: Unity

One thing that always brought the two of you together especially when you fought or had disagreements about was sex. Plain and simple. No matter what the situation was or how stressful, there was one thing you could guarantee, sex was always the answer for you two.

V: Voice

Joel has no problem expressing himself or moaning out loud for anybody to hear. He loves to hear you whimpering and moaning and screaming out for him. It makes him feel powerful knowing that he’s the reason for these cries of pleasure. He wants you to be as loud as possible for him and not hold anything bad.

“Come on baby, tell me how you’re feeling. I wanna hear from those fuckable lips.”

W: Wild Card

Joel secretly loves anal. The first time he ever did you were nervous, but once he pushed in it’s something you’ve never felt before. Joel loving as he could squeeze your cheeks, and spread them apart and watching as your hole sucked him in. From then on he would switch between your cunt and ass, and fill both holes.

X: X-ray

Joel had a dad bod and his chest was littered with salt and pepper hair that went down to his v-line. He was sometimes self conscious about his body, but you reminded him every day you loved and adored his body. One thing he wasn’t self conscious about was his girth, cause he knew all he was packing and what he could do with it.

Y: Yearning

He was always yearning for you, even when you were doing simple things like brushing your teeth, cooking dinner or putting lotion on your skin. That man had his eyes on you every second he was awake. The way he gazed at you like you were something out of his dream, and couldn’t believe you were real.

Z: Zzz

It was a pretty obvious thing that Joel needed his sleep after sex. Whether it was on the bed, couch or hell even the floor, he could fall asleep there. Once he was satisfied and you were too he could feel his lips becoming heavy, and all he wanted was to wrap you in his arms, and hold you all night and never let you go.

‘It would just take a moment’ Your mother tells you over the phone after you complained about preferring to hang out with your friends rather than wait for the handyman, but ultimately you agreed to help her. 

It was around 2 pm when you were internally complaining when this guy would show up, you were still doing nothing, just laying down waiting. Until a knock on the door startled you, making you get up and walk towards the door. 

You open the door, and you’re greeted by a tall somewhat handsome old man, rough looking, looking like hes in his 50s, with a leather tool bag hanging from his waist filled with all the essentials. You look up at him watching as his eyes land on your lips, and chest and then- 

“Hey, i’m the handyman you called this morning.” He says, his eyes still wandering on your face. 

“My mom called. I’m her daughter..” you reply as you watch him shamelessly check you out as you let him enter the house, closing the door behind him. 

“The names Joel..” he says as the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile, You quickly reply letting him know your own name and in a beat he responds, 

“Right.. i’m checking your bathroom sink and a cabinet,” He responds and his eyes quickly wander around the interior of your house and then on you again, “Yeah.. Umm, Here’s the kitchen..” you respond leading him towards the kitchen, 

“My mom said you’ll only be checking them, right?” you ask and stop in the middle of the kitchen gesturing which cabinet needs work on, you then watch him approach the lower cabinet , checking the cabinet door, the top hinge broken. 

“Yeah.. I’ll come in tomorrow to fix ‘em. Don’t got much time today.” he mumbles  “You in high school?” he asks  

“No..I’m twenty two,” you respond as you stand a few feet behind him, 

“You in college then?” he continues asking, making you feel as if you’re in a interrogation, “I’m taking a gap year..” you mumble. 

“S’good, take time for yourself and relax.” he chuckles and you share his chuckle and let out a mumbled ‘yeah’. 

“Still thinking about what to study though...” you ultimately let out, not know why you were telling a stranger about something you don’t even talk to your mother about , and he just nods as he listens. 

“Just gotta find your calling, kiddo,” the nickname coming off naturally from him making you flutter, and you can’t help but gaze upon him , admiring his salt and pepper locks, the physique of his back and-  

“Let’s go to the bathroom,” he says as he gets up and turns around and faces you, you instinctively nod and start leading him to the stairs to head upstairs , as you walk up the stairs you get a notification on your phone, you quickly pull out the phone from your pocket and check. A message from your mom, ‘Don’t forget to take the trash out:).’  

You let out a small sigh and pocket your phone again, you feel Joels gaze on you from behind then you enter your bedroom, the walls filled with cute wall decorations, and cute trinkets you’ve gathered throughout the years, you then walk to your bathroom which is connected with your room, 

“Umm here’s the bathroom,” you show Joel and he enters the average sized bathroom, taking a quick look of the interior, a shower, a sink, a toilet , a medicine cabinet, a laundry hamper, your skincare and makeup spread out on the counter, pretty basic.  

“I’ll just go do something downstairs real quick.” you say and quickly leave the bathroom and head back downstairs. After taking the trash out you start heading back upstairs but freeze at the bottom of the stairs as you see Joel walking downstairs,  

“Finished,” he smiles and both of you descend downstairs, 

“Cabinet hinges need replacement and the sink upstairs needs a replacement for the cartridge. Gonna come in tomorrow around this time,” he informs you, his eyes wandering you again, You nod in understanding, 

“I’ll tell my mom then..” you let out a small chuckle feeling yourself flustering. As you watch Joel get ready to leave, he gets an abrupt call and quickly grabs his phone from his pocket, your eyes land on his pocket where he grabbed his phone. 

A small piece of fabric sticking out from his pocket, and then it clicks to you that, thats your unclean baby pink underwear, adorned with a small bow on the laced waistband that you wore yesterday. You stare at your undergarment, feeling impartial, it should make you feel angry, disgusted even, you should call him out, confront his sickening behaviour.  

But you can’t seem to make yourself do that.. As if something from the back of your mind is stopping you, you quickly stop staring at your undergarment and back at Joels face who zoned out completely, focused on his phone call, you’re staring at him ,starting to question yourself ,doubting your morals , god why aren’t you doing something about this ? Why do you find this perverted older guy so attractive ?  

He continues to stares off into the distance while talking, and in a beat  turns around as if he felt you staring and stops talking to the person on the other end of the line and says, 

“Right, uh, See you tomorrow,” he offers a smile and opens the door and leaves, leaving you and your thoughts about him, ignoring the wet spot on your underwear.  

The next days morning passed by quickly, your mother and stepfather at work again, leaving you once again alone with Joel. He comes around the same time as the day before, this time with a wider variety of tools to work with, he starts working in the kitchen, starting to replace the broken hinge on the cabinet .  

As Joel works on the cabinet you rest on the couch on your phone minding your business, your mind wandering back to the day before whilst you mindlessly scroll, back to when he stole your underwear, making you wonder what he had done with it, probably jerked with it, or smelled it, the thoughts alone made you drench and your nipples to harden even though you knew it was so wrong. 

As you continue to lay on the couch you ditch your phone and turn towards the kitchen and stare at Joel. You wanted to confront him, not in irritated or disgusted way but out of immense arousing curiosity, although you didn’t want to admit it. You intently watch him as he prepares the cabinet door for the replacement with ease, staring at his veiny arms and rough, expertly hands, god he looked so good.. You couldn’t deny that part. 

About fifteen minutes later,  he finishes his work on the cabinet, and informs you that he would start working upstairs on your bathroom sink. 

 You’re were going to do it, you’re were going to confront him , and in a few minutes later you head upstairs, entering your bedroom and then your bathroom. Joel turns around as he hears you and faces you stopping what he’s doing, still holding on to his tools, 

“Hey kiddo,” he says and shows a little smile, 

“Umm Wanted to talk to you about something..” You shyly say as you stare at him, “Sure, what’s wrong?” letting his tools on the bathroom’s counter, leaning against the counter and fully facing you.  

“Uhm.. I know that..” you mumble, looking at him and fidget with your own fingers, he’s eager to listen to you.“I know that you took my underwear..” you mutter.  

“I saw it peeking from your pocket yesterday and uhm..” you mumble, trying to get it all out, until he lets out a small, hmm, which makes you quiet down, awaiting his reply. “That’s too bad, tried to be discreet, eh..” he chuckles, “You don’t mind, eh, sweetheart?” he says teasing you, what a sick guy. 

“I don’t.. Umm, i don’t think it does..” you admit, still fidgeting with your fingers. That takes him by surprise, you don’t mind that he took your used underwear? He lets out a huge smile and snickers, 

“That right, sweetheart? Y’dont mind an old bastard like me taking your used underwear?” You slightly shake your head as you stare up at him. “That right..” he mumbles and gets lost in his thoughts for a second, looking down and zoning out, in a beat he looks back at you. 

“C’mere for a second, honey..” He commands you and without a second thought you do so, as you walk slowly towards him, he pulls you flush against his own body, landing in between his legs your bodies in proximity. 

“You liked that i took your underwear? You’re a dirty girl, huh?” he chuckles and plays with a lock of your hair, twisting it around his finger, his other hand landing on your waist, playing with the cotton fabric of your white spaghetti tank top. Your evident nipples hardened from this sudden interaction.  

“Gunna let me have some fun, sweetheart..?” he asks you lowly, still twisting the lock of your hair on his finger, his eyes boring into yours. You give him a small nod, in confirmation. "Undress, sweetheart..” he asks you, wasting no time,. You obey him, once again then you start taking off your top, letting it fall on to the ground. 

 His eyes wander on to yours chest, on to your hardened nipples and he smiles, you then slip down your shorts and underwear, letting it also drop on the floor, his eyes once again wander, this time on the lower part of your body, “Y’know what i did to your underwear, darlin’?” You gaze at him, full of curiosity,  

“Had some fun, couldn’t stop smelling it, then jacked off with it..” he snickers as he admits. Your cheeks blush, morally wrong or not, it made you fucking wet. 

He lets his hands wander between your thighs, his other hand planted on to your waist for some support, his fingers wander between your folds, starting to rub your clit , forcing you to let out small moans and whimpers. 

“Dirty girl.. Already so wet for me..” he mumbles near your ear, teasing and tormenting your poor bud. He chuckles at your sweet noises then lets teo of his fingers slip into your hole making you whimper and sob forcing you to lean against Joel as his fingers pleasure you. His other hand moves from your waist to the back of your head and pats you down, 

“S’alright sweetheart.. Come on my fingers, baby..” he states as you moan and sob loudly, your breathing shortens and your chest moves up and down in a quick pace ,then Joel feels it, your hole tightening around his fingers, signaling that you were close 

“Alright, baby.. Come for me..” he soothes you, continuously patting the back of your head, and in a beat you let go, letting a few tears fall from all the pleasure as you reach the peak of your arousal, your chest rising and falling still pretty fast, you look up at him with your teary eyes he looks at you and coos, 

“Hey.. You did so well, darlin’ ”  he murmurs patting the back of your head once again. 

In a beat he switches your places and turns you around, now making you lean against the counter, facing the mirror , he places his hands on each side of the counter, caging you, 

“Gonna fuck you sweetheart,” he smiles as he moves in a quick pace to remove his tool belt, then his belt, his worn out jeans, boxers, letting it all fall on to the ground. He presses his cock against you, the intense musky odor from his lower body immediately hitting you, he probably got all sweaty from the days work, his sweaty cock already hard and covered in his precum. 

 You place your right knee to rest on the counter hitting the cool marble, giving Joel space to fuck you and you can’t help but gaze at Joel in anticipation. He smiles as he looks back at you, watching your reaction, then he abruptly slips in his cock in your hole. His fat cocking stretching your pussy and as soon as he enters, making him groan and grunt from your tightening sensation forcing your eyes to shut close and moan loudly from the pleasure. 

“Fucking tight..” he groans as he starts moving in and out of you in a moderate pace. He then looks at your reaction on the mirror and smiles.  

“Slut..” He name calls you, deeply thrusting in and out of you, switching from a mild pace to now, a much faster one, making the skin slapping sound even louder. His wander on to your chest, your breasts moving with the same fast pace, the sight of them bouncing making him snicker and grunt.

“S’fine though.. You’re daddys slut, huh?” he teases ,the nickname coming from him naturally, he now looks at your face, you’re totally out of it ,he drills himself into you as you moan and sob, gripping on to the edge of the counter. 

“Joelll!” You moan and groan, taken aback by the pleasure, whimpering and moaning, your breathe once again shortening. Your body starts twitching, he feels you tighten around him. 

“Can’t hold it!” you moan, the pleasure forcing you to tear again.  

“Let go for me” he grunts, once again obeying you.  And in a beat, you let go, letting out loud moans and mumbling various ‘oh god’ ‘fuck’. He doesn’t pull away, instead he stays buried inside you, feeling his own climax coming in close so he starts moving again, in a decent pace, not even waiting for you to relax a bit just so he can have his fill. 

“Gunna go a little more..” he states, “No.. No i can’t-“ you moan, feeling your body weaken from your previous climax. 

“Yes you can, baby. Let daddy come..” the nickname resurfacing again, and you can’t help but accept it. Second time around the sensation of his cock making you moan even louder as he moves deep into you , Joel chuckles “Loud slut..” he teases once again, continuing to move in and out of you in a fast pace.  

He feels his ejaculation coming in close, fastening his pace as his lower starts body twitching , and in a beat, still buried deep inside you, he comes inside you grunting and groaning as he lets his white creamy cum deep inside your pussy, making you moan as his ejaculation stays deep within you. He doesn’t pull out immediately, he stares at you through the mirror, both of you breathing heavily,  

“Best pussy’ver had..” he mumbles, then the corners of his mouth twitch into a huge smile. He pulls out, the thick milky substance slowly dripping out of you, a few drops dropping on to the floor. 

“Better clean up, sweetheart..” he snickers. 

Taglist ⋆˙⟡: @katalinablossom @aria1108 @tomtohee @wand-erer5 @lambe-rt

Joel smirks to himself as he enters the bedroom after a morning of sifting through old things in the attic of the cabin, finding you standing at the window, staring out wistfully. You often did that, always looking so sweet and embarrassed when he caught you in the act. His curious girl. 

You’d always stammer out something about being nosy about what was going on with the wildlife outside, and he does believe that’s really all it is - you’re always fascinated and captivated by what the birds and squirrels are up to when the two of you are outside together. You tell Joel repeatedly you pray one day you’ll see a fox run through the garden, and for your sake and his when he gets to see the look on your face, he hopes it comes true. 

That same guilty, shy look flashes onto your face when Joel steps into the room, making the floorboards creak a little, getting your attention. You whip around, a vision as light spills in around you and shows off your figure in the pajama set you’re wearing.

“Oh, daddy you scared me,” you breathe out, clutching a hand to your chest, a finger quickly fiddling with the o-ring on your collar, a nervous habit you do that Joel had picked up on ever since he’d wrapped it around your neck. 

“Sorry, baby,” Joel apologizes, walking over to you and sliding one arm around the front of your body, making sure you stay pressed into him as he closes in on you. “What’re you lookin’ at, hm?” he asks teasingly, his lips finding your neck. It makes you shudder and giggle at once, goosebumps sweeping across your entire body.

“Just uh, there were two birds - two pretty finches, flying around together over there. It was sweet,” you admit shyly, pointing in the direction you had been studying, your eyes glancing downwards towards your feet afterwards.  Joel uses his hand to nudge your face back up, making you stare out the window again. His heart is full at your words, just how damned cute you could be sometimes. 

“Hm,” he mutters, sounding impressed. “You know your birds, huh? Ain’t the first time you’ve said somethin’ like that.”

You feel your cheeks get a little warm at Joel’s observation for some reason. It’s that feeling of being known, of having to admit something you aren’t particularly modest about that gets you feeling flustered. “I, uh, I guess so,” you conclude with a small, tight lipped smile. 

“My smart girl,” Joel says with another kiss, this time landing it on your cheek where you’ve turned towards him slightly. He’s so close, the heat of his body is nearly stifling you, sending your mind a little fuzzy in the process and just making you giggle quietly again as his scruff brushes along your cheek, moving down to the crook of your neck.

“I found us somethin’… interesting,” Joel says before he twirls you around to face him. You now see his other hand is behind his back, realizing you hadn’t even noticed when he’d come into the room, too wrapped up in your birdwatching. 

“Wh- what is it?” you ask with excitement growing in your voice. Your eyes start to light up a little as curiosity, anticipation, and a dash of apprehension bubble inside of you. It sounded good natured enough but with Joel you never knew where or how you might end up. He smiles softly, seeing the emotions rush across your open book of a face, and pulls his hand from behind his back. You stall, unsure of what exactly he’s holding out to you. 

“A camera, babygirl,” Joel says when he sees your mind going blank. “Called ‘em polaroids.”

“Polaroids?” you ask simply, begging for a further explanation. 

“Some cameras were digital -” he starts, seeing another bewildered look on your face “-uh, like you could put ‘em on your computer after takin’ the picture an’ save ‘em that way. Some like these polaroids were old school, printed out the picture right there for you to keep,” he explains, and your mouth forms a little “o” at the idea.

“S-so you could take a picture, and we’d… have it right now?”

Joel’s smile widens a little at your growing intrigue, hoping he’s got you right where he wants you. “Mhm, thas’ right.”

“Wow…” you marvel, eyes glancing down and inspecting the camera in Joel’s hands. Your hands are itching to go forward, to play around with the new gadget and all its wonder. Mostly, you’re excited to possibly have a photograph of you and Joel together. 

“Thought we could try it out today, darlin’. What d’you think?” he asks, and you’re so intrigued you hardly notice the way his lips creep upwards in a way that tells you this isn’t just innocent fun. You nod eagerly, flashing your eyes up to his as you bite your lip. Joel steps closer, leaning to get his face close to yours and tilts his head. 

“Got some special pictures in mind. Daddy wants a little somethin’ fun to keep with him,” he says, reaching around to give your ass a squeeze, sending a delighted yelp flying out of your lips.

“D-daddy! What… what kind of pictures?” you ask, your gaze shying away from Joel’s intense stare.

“You’ll just have to be a good girl and do what daddy says t’find out, yeah?” Joel asks in a low voice, a husky rumble that begs and demands for your compliance. You nod, your face falling into a more solemn, docile obedience for him. 

“Yes, daddy.”

Satisfied, Joel strides casually over to the dresser, opening one of the drawers. “Now go on and put this on f’me,” Joel says, handing over a folded up piece of fabric you haven’t seen before. When you unfold it to take a better look, your lips naturally part seeing the skimpy outfit hanging by your fingertips. It’s a tiny slip, something more sexy than anything Joel has ever had you wear before, and your cheeks start to burn just at the sight of the gorgeous piece. A cream, satiny material with lace edges, looking a little faded and tattered with time but mostly intact as your eyes take in the delicacy of it. 

“I-“ you stutter out, suddenly feeling embarrassed by the idea. Joel has seen you naked, he’s seen every bit of you underneath the small, sheer clothes he has you wear everyday. But he’s never had you try on any lingerie until now, and you’re left wondering if he’ll get a taste for it afterwards, if your wardrobe is about to change. “It’s pretty,” you settle on, giving him a soft smile, standing in hesitation as you notice he’s just looking at you with watchful eyes. 

“Ain’t it? Now go on, don’t be shy changin’ in front of me, silly,” Joel teases, leaning back against the dresser and crossing one foot in front of the other, a casual picture if there ever was one as he watches, ready to enjoy the show. 

You hesitate only a beat longer before bending to tug down your shorts, Joel taking in your profile from the side as he watches your ass get exposed in a pair of panties. “Those too,” he adds on, watching you promptly grip the waistband of them at his command. You’re halfway through the motion when a flash and a loud clicking sound, followed by a whir interrupts you, sending your head flying in Joel’s direction. 

“What was -“ you ask loudly, your heart racing at the way you’d jumped as you watch a square piece of plasticy material appear out of the front of the camera, feeding through a tiny slit at the front, your eyes ogling the sight.

“Had to test it out, make sure it still works,” Joel says with a cocky smile, gripping the photo and pulling it out of the camera, holding it up for you to see between his fingers. 

“You just - you took a photo of me?” 

Joel only nods. 

“Can I see?” you ask, wondering what he would have even captured just then, why he would have wanted to take a photo of that specific moment. You were just changing your clothes, after all - it couldn’t have been anything that momentous.

“‘S gotta develop first. We’ll check it later,” he says quickly, waving you off. “Didn’t tell you you could stop changing now, did I?”

“N-no, sir,” you mumble, going for your shirt and pulling it over your head before sliding the soft slip on instead, the material silky and cool against your bare skin. You quickly fold up your clothes, a habit Joel has drilled into you to keep your things tidy like a good girl. You can see yourself in the mirror over the dresser past where Joel is leaning, a curious look on your face as you inspect your body in such a new style, unsure of how you feel about it. Joel pushes off the dresser, stepping forward a few paces to reach you. 

“Gorgeous, sweetheart,” he says affectionately, your face between his hands now. “Now’s the part where you really have to listen to daddy, okay? I’ve got to get some things from downstairs to make a pretty picture of you for daddy to enjoy, so you kneel down right here and sit tight, okay?”

Once you sink to your knees, Joel seems to reconsider a moment, grabbing something from the top left drawer of the dresser, the drawer you know contains… special things. He has your leash in hand, but instead of coming towards your front, he circles around behind your back. 

“Hands,” he says sternly, and you offer them up to him, Joel’s grip quickly on your wrists and pulling them behind your back. You can feel his energy radiating, his excitement growing as he wraps the leash around your wrists, tying them together behind you, tugging to make sure it’s tight enough. 

“God…” he murmurs, taking in the sight of your tied wrists right above your perfect ass, barely covered by the slip, before moving back in front of you. 

“Now you sit tight,” he says before walking out, leaving you sitting on your knees, the position already getting uncomfortable but you feel Joel has prepared you for this, has had you endure life on your knees for him, life restrained for him. 

When he returns with one of the chains from the front closet, your curiosity piques as your stomach turns a little with that mixture of excitement and fear. That fear you feel has turned healthier, no longer fear of Joel hurting you, no, just the fear of the pure power he holds over you, the wonder of what kind of new thing he is going to introduce you to. 

“Daddy…” you whimper quietly as he approaches, his face hard and unreadable other than the smirk he has plastered there. 

“Be a good girl, now,” Joel shushes you as he bends down to clip the chain to your o-ring, his first time ever using this one over the leather. It rattles as he tugs a little and you do your best not to fall forward, your balance thrown off by your hands being so restrained. “Very good,” Joel concludes, peering down at you with a thoughtful expression. “One last thing,” he concludes with a sneer. He’s grabbing a dark shirt from his dresser now, the fabric instantly being torn by his shaking, eager hands into a long strip.

It dangles in front of you like a toy, swinging back and forth before Joel crouches down towards your level. 

“Open up,” he says, another simple, vague command, and you give him a worried look. 

“W-why?”

“Good girls don’t question their daddies, blossom. Now open your mouth ‘fore I open it for you.”

You instantly obey, the strain in his voice invoking immediate fear in you. Joel’s face changes right back to the pleasant look it had as he stuffs the fabric into your mouth, watching with glazed eyes as he ties the strip around the back of your head. The fabric is strange and cottony against your tongue, inhibiting your speech.

“Would you look at that…” He clicks his tongue. “Fuckin’ perfect little angel you are. Daddy’s girl.”

You feel a smattering of goosebumps across your body, warmth pulling in your belly and chest and the praise, loving the way he’s looking at you right now. 

Joel stands up and gloats above you, his energy palpable, like every nerve in his body is prickling with desire. He holds the camera up towards his face, taking in the soon to be photo below him with a hunger you haven’t quite seen from him yet. 

“Now look up at daddy an’ gimme a sad look, look upset with daddy,” he instructs, and you pick your eyes up towards him with what you think is a sad look while keeping your head level, but Joel immediately shakes his head. 

“Y’can do better, sweets. Gotta look like you’re enjoyin’ it less, blossom, for this to work.”

“I-can’t-“ you mutter behind the cloth, the words garbled but clear enough for Joel to get the sentiment. You honestly feel too much excitement from the fun you’re having with Joel’s attention focused on you like this to look convincing. But you’ll try. 

“Think of when you wanted to leave daddy before, all that time ago. Remember how mad you were at me, hm? How much I made you feel sad… c’mon…” Joel urges you desperately, camera at the ready. You recall the memories with caution, slowly unearthing those mostly buried feelings and starting to understand more of what Joel truly wants to see on your face. Desperation. Depravity. That sadness of being trapped here that you’d had for a brief time, one that sometimes panged at your heart on the occasional, rare night now. 

When your eyes flutter upwards again, Joel gapes for a split second before it spreads into a wily grin, his lips uttering a quiet fuck as he raises the camera to his eye, the flash going off a moment later and capturing the image. It had to be quite a photo, indeed - you on your knees, hands tied, mouth gagged and leash held taut over the view of the camera right into where Joel’s hand held it out of frame. You start to understand him, understand Joel a little better in the moment, what kinds of forbidden things really get to him. In that same moment you realize things could have been so much worse for you when you’d first arrived here, and you silently thank him. 

You mumble behind the gag, prompting Joel to move it for a split second to let you speak. “W-will I look pretty, daddy?” you ask breathlessly, a small smile painting your lips. 

“Y’have no idea, princess,” Joel says with equal pleasure in his voice, leaning to down cup your cheek before tucking the gag back in. “On the bed now,” he commands, helping you up with your thrown off balance.

He lightly shoves you down towards the bed, having you land on your belly, squirming to shift yourself up higher on the comforter. Joel is practically panting at this point, his arousal pooling so strong and deep he isn’t sure how long he can hold back to get all of the pretty pictures of you he had in mind. 

You wait patiently as he poses you just right, instructing you on how to lay - arms bent this way, head turning to look over your shoulder at him with that same, pouting expression. “My pretty model girl, aren’t ya…?” he mumbles as he fiddles with the bottom hem of your dress, hiking it up just high enough to see some of your ass, the fabric laying haphazardly as if you’d just simply landed this way naturally on the bed. It makes you smile, which Joel quickly directs off your face, urging you towards a more pouty, sexy look. 

Click. Flash. Whir. The sound fills the room again as you feel yourself becoming more proud of how pleased he looks with you, your own arousal starting to brew between your legs with the way he’s gazing at you. Ready to devour. His prize. It makes your skin start to tingle, hips squirming slightly on the bed as he grabs a handful of your ass, snapping another picture with his hand in it roughly squeezing you there, his fingers indenting on the skin. 

You hold back a tiny moan behind the gag, thinking that you’ll be able to see this moment later, see yourself from Joel’s perspective, and you can’t help the tiny gush you feel coating your inner thighs. 

“So goddamn sexy, sweetheart, Christ,” Joel grumbles with tension lacing his voice. He climbs onto the bed, straddling your lower body and leaning down over you, covering your entire back with his hulking frame. He tears the gag out of your mouth and kisses you hard, starting to grind his clothed cock against your ass, pulling a whimper out of you as the hard, thickness of him behind the denim intrudes further and further between your legs. He tucks the gag back in before you can say anything, beg him to give you relief.

He flips the dress completely over your ass, instructing you to spread your legs wider for him. “She’s cryin’ so much for daddy already. Picture perfect.” His hands rub at your ass gently before coming down to give it a loud smack that echoes through the room. 

The snap of another photo barely distracts you this time, your entire head fuzzy with need for him now. When his fingers start to play with your folds, slipping them through your slickness, finding the best angle for the photo, you keen loudly when he brushes your clit. Joel chuckles and teases you harder, giving you just enough to sate you for a brief second but not nearly enough to get you where you want to be – soaring high above the clouds in pleasure that only he knows how to give you. You whimper for him, straining to turn your neck and look at him, hoping he’ll see the begging in your eyes since you can’t use words right now.

“Fuck. Fuck… jus’ like that…” Joel instructs, making you freeze your position. He leans back, still keeping his fingers buried between your legs, and snaps a photo, getting your tied hands and sour, pleading face that’s starting to sheen with sweat.

“Daddy… please…” you mumble from behind the gag, and he leans forward to stroke your head, running soothing fingers along your hair. 

“I know, baby,” Joel coos in sympathy with you, glancing between your legs – dripping, soaking the inside of your thighs. “Keep whinin’, you look so good. You’re my little model, blossom, you look so pretty when you’re upset f’daddy.”

“You need this cock? That it?” You nod furiously at his question, pain shooting through your body with the way it’s contorted as you try to turn back to look at him again. Your arms strain in the restraints and you whine.

Joel wordlessly unbuckles his pants, and you hear him fumble with the button and zipper before he climbs onto the bed with you, straddling your hips. You feel the unmistakable heftiness of his cock slapping against your ass, and can practically see Joel’s wily grin as he does it. 

Click. Flash. Whir. Right as his cock hits the plush skin of your ass another time, the camera goes off again. It makes you clench around nothing, imagining the photo in your mind – Joel’s thick girth – dripping, ready for you too – against the smooth skin of your cheeks. 

“Daaaaddy…” you whine out even more pathetically. You’d do anything to have him stop his slow, tortuous teasing and give you what you need. You’ve learned to deal with things always being on Joel’s terms, but it doesn’t mean you’re opposed to begging him to speed it along once and a while. He’s quiet still, and it makes you uneasy to now know his next move, unable to see him fully from this angle. 

It doesn’t take long before you feel him slipping between your legs, his head nudging at your entrance. Joel groans when he starts to slip into your tight heat, and you curl your fingers where they’re tied behind your back, desperate to grab onto something to ease the pain from the stretch of him. You let out your own moan of relief from behind the gag, feeling the way your saliva coats it now, almost starting to drip out like the drooling mess you’d be even if this cloth wasn’t shoved in your mouth.

“Christ, you feel good, baby,” Joel lets slip through his lips, the praise making you shudder happily as he starts to slowly fuck into you. A little bit at a time, sliding himself in and out, until you’re bursting at the seams, full of him. Your body is tense against the mattress, struggling to take him in full as usual, but you tell yourself over and over again this is what good girls do: they take it. Happily. And you are.

He pulls out halfway, and you writhe in protest when he doesn’t move from there, just keeping you full for a moment. You hear the camera go off another time followed by a nearly pained groan from Joel.

“Fuckin’ unbelievable,” he utters. “You have the prettiest pussy, sweetheart. Jus’... camera fuckin’ ready. My god…” You like this side of him, like hearing Joel lose it a little bit from time to time. It’s the only power you seem to have over him, really, and you relish in any chance you can get to exert it over him. 

You moan behind the gag when he moves again, this time fucking you more earnestly. You kick your legs from underneath him, trying to arch your back into his thrusts, wanting to feel him deeper, wanting that special spot he tells you only daddy can reach to send you far away from here.

“Alright, baby, let’s play a game,” Joel says, slowing his thrusts. “Want you to look all sad for the camera again, all while daddy’s fuckin’ you.” Your eyes go a little wide, your face tinged with confusion as your brows knit together. How could you look like that now? Before it had been easy, you could act like Joel tying you up had been making you desperate and sad, but when he fills you up like this, it’s hard to act anything other than grateful.

“You can do it, baby. Remember how nervous y’were for your first time? Like that, but if daddy made you really mad and upset… like… you don’t want me to do this.”

You grumble behind the gag, so Joel reaches forward to pull it out, the angle his cock hits you when he does so making your eyes roll back.

“Daddy… but I do want you to do this. F-feels good,” you mumble out, grinding your ass backwards onto his cock a little. Joel bites his cheek, suppressing a groan at how good it feels to have you so needy for him.

“I know, I know. We’re just acting, playin’ around. It’s for the pictures,” Joel rubs along your shoulders, soothing you. “It’s jus’ a fantasy. You know what that is?”

You nod hesitantly. You understand the concept well enough, but can’t figure out what kind of fantasy Joel is trying to live out here. “You… you want pictures where I look sad?”

Joel gives you a dip of his head in confirmation. “It’s jus’ for fun, for daddy to look at when he wants to see somethin’ extra special. Y’know how daddy likes special kinds of things from you, like the collar and you callin’ me sir and master? This is jus’ another one of those. It’s a kink I’m tryin’ out w’you.”

“Kink…” you whisper out, back logging the term to ask him more about later. “Okay, daddy, I c-can try. B-but you know I’m not actually upset, right?”

“Right.” He gives you a toothy grin, letting his hands drift down your back, over your tied wrists and to your ass cheek, where he gives it a squeeze. He tucks the gag back in. “Now. I want you to fight me a little. Can you do that?”

You swallow the anxious lump in your throat but give him a nod. He starts to roll his hips again, and you fall into the pleasure immediately, swept away by it for a moment before you remember your latest instructions. You try not to laugh at how silly it all feels, instead putting yourself in a different mindset where you don’t fully want this.

It starts to blend into a strange mix of both, wondering if you’re beginning to see where Joel is coming from. There’s something primal about Joel taking from you when you are starting to contort your face into something upset, whimpering pathetically as he thrusts harder. You imagine if he’d actually done this to you on your first night here, knowing in reality it would have been terrifying, but the idea that Joel couldn’t help himself from taking what he wanted from you sends your skin buzzing with need.

“Quiet now, an’ take it. I know you want it, don’t act like y’don’t,” Joel grits out angrily in character, almost making you pause before you remember this is part of an act, what he’s trying to get out of this fantasy of his. You turn your head to look back at him, surprised that your vision is watery, tears brimming in your eyes. Something about the look in his eye, wilder than usual, like this is nearly real, makes a warmth tighten in your core. You grunt in protest and moan in pleasure, making a beautiful song of the two that results in the most erotic sound you’ve ever heard come out of you. You feel your pussy clench around him desperately as you start to beg him from behind the gag. Please… please… 

“Perfect,” Joel whispers before raising the camera and snapping a photo of your struggle – wet cheeks, sweat forming along your hairline, and when the camera flashes, you’re giving him a look of desperation, anger, and despondency you weren’t aware you were even capable of when your body is bursting with so much pleasure. He fucks into you harder, so much it hurts, but you embrace it, letting it fuel you as he starts taking more photos from different angles, watching his cock disappear inside of you over and over along with the camera. 

“Okay, thas’ good, that’s enough, honey,” Joel tells you breathlessly and you let your face fall, giggling in relief. “Good job, blossom, you did real good. We’ll get some nice ones now.”

Relief floods you when he starts to roll his hips slow and steady, allowing yourself to fully give in to the pleasure of it again, and you quickly find your hips squirming under his, trying to find that sweet spot. Joel tosses the camera aside for a moment to hike your hips upwards, crushing your face down into the mattress as you pop your ass high in the air. He ruts into you desperately, panting all the way, finally brushing against your most sensitive spot with every thrust. You barely hear it when he tells you to come, not realizing you’ve been moaning up to fever pitch behind the gag, and you let go, shaking in his grasp.

You see the flash of the camera from behind your eyes, squeezed tightly shut, and continue to ride out your high while Joel takes all the pictures his heart desires. You love the attention, the way he’s worshiping you, wanting to capture this moment where he’s stringing breathless praises into the air for you and only you into a photograph he can keep forever. You slump onto the bed, but Joel’s thick fingers wrap around your waist just as he pulls out, haphazardly flipping you onto your back and thrusting into you again. Your hands crush underneath your back and you wince, but you don’t tell him to stop, you don’t want to. 

He tears at the already disheveled slip, half your chest revealed before he tears down the rest of it so that your tits are out, bouncing along with each thrust. Joel has your legs thrown up over his shoulder, leaning down to fuck you hard and fast, his finger finding your already oversensitive clit and rubbing expert circles along it until you’re falling apart once again, him grinning like the devil from above as he watches on. 

“Gonna come, darlin’,” he announces, panting. “Where for the picture? Should I stuff y’full? Should I come all over your pretty tits?”

You moan listlessly, completely spent. “B-both…” you whimper, and Joel practically growls, doubling down on the way he’s moving his hips into yours.

“So dirty. My dirty little girl… fu-” he cuts himself off as he plunges his cock into you, starting to come. He grips the base of his cock to pull out and pump on it as you feel the rest of his spend coating the slip, all the way up to your bare tits. You watch on in reverence, your mouth hanging open as you try to catch your breath. Joel pulls back quickly, and you know normally he’d take a beat, but he’s a man on a mission today. 

The camera is back in his hand, and he pulls it to his eyeline with unsteady hands, framing you within the tiny little lens at the top. Joel pulls it down to look at you with his naked eye, mesmerized. “You look like such a little cum slut for daddy,” he stains out before finally repositioning the camera and snapping a photo of your body sprawled out and covered in his cum, your expression likely still half in a daze.

“That what you are? Hm?” he asks brusquely from behind the lens, snapping another photo where he’s zeroed in on your tits. “Daddy’s cum slut?”

“Y-yes, sir, that’s me…” you mumble out pleasantly, painting your face with a sweet smile. You feel warm all over, happiness radiating from deep inside to every bit of you as you reflect on the last few minutes. 

“One more, baby. So patient f’daddy, aren’t you? Jus’ one more picture,” he tells you, sliding between your legs, biting the inside of his lip hard when he sees the mess he’s left you with. You look down, watching as he snaps a photo close up of your leaking cunt, your mouth hanging open in shock.

“D-daddy!” you cry out suddenly, feeling your cheeks go hot. Joel smirks up at you, clearly amused and half turned on all over again. 

“Shush now,” he snips. “You’re gonna look s’good, blossom. All of ya.”

“C’mon now, let’s get you up,” he says before you can protest any further, helping you sit up and scooting you to the headboard. He’s gentle now, taking the gag out and untying it, wiping off the wet corners of your mouth with his thumbs. He undoes the leash wrapped around your wrists and you drop them, flexing them back and forth as sweet relief courses through them. You shake your wrists out with a shy smile shot his way and lean back against the headboard, shutting your eyes with a contented sigh.

“That was fun, daddy,” you say softly, shimmying your body to get comfortable against the pillows.

“Yeah?” Joel asks amusedly, sidling up next to you and wrapping his arms around you. You know you should change out of this slip - you feel a mess - but if Joel doesn’t mind, then neither do you. “You like playin’ pretend with me?”

“Uh-huh, yes sir,” you say, nuzzling up to his shoulder, your favorite spot that always seems to fit you just right. “It was different.”

“Did it make you feel somethin’... special? Down here?” he teases, cupping your still soaked cunt, and you giggle, twitching as overstimulation rocks you.

“Yes, daddy. I know we didn’t mean it, but I liked it.” You pause for a second, chewing on your lip as you try to figure out how to frame your next sentence. “C-can I… nevermind…”

“What, baby?” he asks, grabbing your face, squishing it between his palms and kissing your cheek a few times. You love when he acts like this, lets his guard down enough to show you this light, silly side of himself.

“I just… I thought about if you had done that to me… when we first met. Like…” you squirm a little, feeling your fingers get twitchy in your lap.

Joel’s eyebrows twitch, moving upwards in surprise. “Yeah? Interesting…” he mutters, half to himself. “You liked the thought of that, blossom?”

“I mean, not really. I know it wouldn’t have been good then ‘cause I didn’t know yet. But the… idea… that you liked me that much to… to…” you trail off, your face burning with the shame of feeling something positive about the thought of Joel doing that to you. What had he turned you into?

“I did like you that much,” he breathes against your ear, and you shudder with a tiny gasp at the insinuation.

“Daddy…” you whisper, instinctively curling your body closer, hips bucking slightly with need all over again.

“There’s nothin’ wrong with liking what we just did, you got that? ‘Cause we both agreed to it.” He nudges you, wrapping his arm tighter around you, and you nod.

“Okay,” you reply softly, relaxing. “It’s just confusing.”

He tuts quietly in sympathy. “I know. We’ll work on it together, help you learn some more ‘bout yourself.”

You hum happily in agreement at that. You’ve loved learning from Joel, even if finding out certain things about yourself, what you enjoy, has been scary at times. You fall into a comfortable silence when Joel traces his fingers along your skin, making your eyes start to get heavy. 

You blink away the sleepiness when you spot the camera on the bed, the various polaroids littered along the quilt that have been developing. “Can we look now?” you ask into the silence. Joel grunts, sitting forward as he untangles himself from you, gathering up the photos into a stack. He breathes out a chuckle as he begins flipping through them, shaking his head at the absurdity.

“Hey, let me see too!” you cry out, sitting forward and peering over his shoulder, wrapping your hands around his bicep, clinging onto him.

Joel tucks them close to his chest, peering at you from under his brows. “Thought you were gripin’ about me takin’ some of these, weren’t you?”

“I want to see! C’mon, daddy, please…” you beg, pouting your lip out mischievously and reaching forward to try to grab at the polaroids. Joel gives you an eye roll, giving in quickly as he holds the photos out so that you both can see them. Your cheeks immediately flush hot as your eyes land on the photo of Joel’s cock against your ass. You press your lips together, unable to speak.

Joel flips to the next, all of them out of order as it’s next the one of you laid out on the bed, looking completely fucked out and disheveled, covered in his cum. The flash adds something extra, you think to yourself, making the photo have a certain dirtiness and nostalgia to it that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“I- I-” you stutter out, eyes wide and unblinking.

“You look gorgeous,” Joel comments, turning to look at you. It makes your cheeks even hotter, but you break out into a smile, studying the details of the photo more closely.

“I… maybe I do..” you marvel, sitting back on your haunches on the bed. “C-could I maybe take one, daddy?” you ask, glancing at the camera, asking for permission.

Joel turns to face you, giving you an intrigued grin. “You wanna try one, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you say shyly. “Of us.”

Joel’s heart nearly bursting out of his chest reflects on his face, the way it softens at your innocence and naivety. “Not a dirty little one like your old man here, huh?”

You laugh, pressing your forehead against his shoulder to hide your embarrassment before leaning back and giving up another timid little smile. “Just… us, yeah. Like we’re normal people.”

Joel only smirks at first, leaning in to give you a peck of a kiss. “We are normal people,” he says against your lips, pulling back and handing you the camera. You buzz with excitement, awkwardly reaching your arm out in front of the two of you to try to squeeze both of your faces into the camera’s view. Curled around Joel’s shoulder, you start to count down.

“U-um, okay… 3… 2… 1…” On the last count, you attack, moving your head to give Joel a big kiss on his scruffy cheek, giggling as you press down hard on the button, hearing the unmistakable click of the camera taking the shot just as your lips connect to his skin.

“Now you little…” Joel spits out teasingly, turning to grab at you before you evasively hop out of bed, landing on your feet and plucking the polaroid photo out of top of the camera. You start to run, bare feet plodding hard against the wood floor, taking a sharp right out of the bedroom to rush down the stairs.

“The hell?” Joel calls after you, laughing at how hard you’re giggling, the sound echoing like music to his ears as he follows you at a slower pace. You skid to a stop in front of the fridge, taking a magnet and hanging the freshly taken photo up just as both of your forms start to become visible on the square in the center. You step back and watch with pride as it fades in, feeling Joel’s hand snaking around the small of your back, tugging you to him while he watches in silence as the photo blooms with more color. The two of you are bright and front and center - your innocent, giggling laugh against his cheek and Joel’s gruff little smile as you surprise him.

But the sexual tension between you both was just boiling over at this point. You could feel his heated gaze on you the entire time as you walked through the house. Giving him a cocky smirk before next thing you know you felt a rough hand grab you, and drag you upstairs and shove you in his closet.

“Yet you’re letting me fuck this tight, wet and juicy cunt while my wife’s downstairs.” He mocked you and all you could do was whimper at his word choice. “Such a greedy whore.”

His words hitting you right between the legs as you clenched tightly him making him groan. He knew right then and there his words held the complete truth. You were wanting him, as shameful as it was to admit, he was married and you couldn’t stand him, but yet the thought of him being touching you or being inside you had you aching between your legs.

“I know you’ve been wanting this for so long.” He cooed in a teasing tone, and you tried not to roll your eyes, but he was telling the truth.

You had spent so many nights awake thinking about him, touching yourself to thoughts of what he could do to you, and then feeling absolute guilt that morning, like you had done something wrong. It was wrong. He’s a married man and here you were imagining him fucking you on the bed, but now he’s fucking you in a closet.

“Oh, you’re gonna be such a good girl for me aren’t ya?” He said more to himself than you, but regardless hearing him say it as if he didn’t want this to be the last time he was inside you. “You’ll do anything for me.”

A cry left your lips as he hit that sweet spongey spot, and a hand closed around your mouth. “Shhh darlin’, don’t want my wife to hear us fuckin’.”

“Just shut up and fuck me harder.” You spit at him through his hand, and all he did was grin mischievously, and turn around and cleared some stuff off a bench and placed your back on it. He remained inside you the whole time, not once losing his grip or letting you slip.

“Oh I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you darlin’. Don’t you worry about that.” Grabbing your legs and placing them on his shoulders, as he started plunging in a different angle, and hitting even deeper and harder, you could hear the bench creaking beneath you as you quickly gripped the edges. The plush cushion felt soft against your skin like you were lying on a cloud.

Trying not to focus on the laughter that you could hear downstairs, but the handsome and devilish face that was staring down at you. Grunting each time he thrusted into you, and hands running up and down your thighs like he couldn’t get enough of touching your skin. You could already feel your release knocking at the door, and you didn’t know how much longer you were going to last.

“Joel, I’m gonna—“ you started to whine, and Joel knew by the look on your face you were close.

“Fuck let me hear you.” Sneering through his teeth as the sounds of his skin smacking against yours echoed around the room bouncing off the walls. Little whimpers and moans slipping out of your mouth like a faucet that was leaking.

Reaching a hand down to between where you two were connected. His thumb rubbing rapid circles on your puffy and swollen clit like he was scratching off a lottery ticket. He was desperate to get you there so he could feel his release as well. He had been holding it for a minute now, and was waiting for you to come first.

“Come for me darlin’, wanna feel the sweet cunt squeeze my cock.” He encouraged you and you bite down on your arm as you felt your legs shaking, and the unbelievable pressure in your lower stomach.

Joel wasn’t far behind as you could feel him squirting his warm and sticky load inside of you. Cock twitching as he panted heavily into your neck kissing the skin like a secret lover. The air in the room was foggy and moist, and smelled like scandalous sex. You couldn’t believe what had just taken place, and let alone in a closet while a party was going on downstairs.

“Fuckin Christ.” Joel grumbled as he ran a hand through his sweaty hair, and kept his other hand on your waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles like he’s done it before and it felt comforting to him.

“Joel. Baby.” A soft voice called outside of the closet door. Both you and Joel looking over and then to each other, your eyes wide in panic but he looked cool as a cucumber. “Are you coming back down to the party?”

“Yeah babe, I’ll be right down.” He responded his voice steady, as he looked at you and grinned placing a quick kiss on your lips waiting for her to walk away.

You searched through the mess, fingers numb where the cold slipped through your thin gloves, trying to bring some order to it.

Across the tent, weapons laid scattered in a mockery of readiness—a rifle slumped against a stack of boxes, knives strewn like fallen leaves over the workbench, a pistol halfly buried under belts, its grip worn smooth from fear‑tightened hands. 

The supplies tent was a tangled symphony of neglect that you inherited by your own choice. 

You, were the one to volunteer for this job, the endless counting, packing, arranging and preparing that no one else dared to even touch. 

And all because it kept you hidden, buried in the grit and grime, far from the piercing gaze of the man who had become your unwilling anchor. 

Joel, the leader of this ragged group of survivors, was the one who had stumbled upon you in the frozen wasteland, your body curled in a fragile knot against the merciless cold, breath shallow as a whisper on the wind. He had pulled you from death's numb embrace, wrapped you in his coat that smelled of earth, and carried you back to this fragile resemblance of life. From that moment on, he treated you like the daughter fate had stolen from him, his rough hands gentle in their guidance, his voice a low rumble that insisted purpose where despair already has taken root. 

But purpose came laced with something deeper, rumours that twisted in your chest like vines overtaking a crumbling wall, and so you fled into the shadows of this tent, avoiding the warmth of his presence that both soothed and cared.

The canned goods were cluttered in the lower shelves, their labels peeling, revealing dents and bulges that spoke about expiration dates long past. You lifted one after another, the weight heavy in your palms, peering at the faded ink that marked them as relics of a world that no longer existed. 

A voice sliced through the quiet like a blade through fog then.

"This place is a disaster," he snarled, "No wonder we can't find anything. Look at this—half the ammo's scattered like fuckin' confetti, and these cans? Christ, they're older than the damn outbreak."

It belonged to Leon, one of the newer men of the group, his face weathered by the apocalypse but twisted now with frustration as he stormed into your space, boots kicking aside a stray boot in his haste. 

You opened your mouth, but only a stutter escaped—a soft, halting: "I-I'm... trying to—" before it died on your lips. 

Defense was a foreign language to you, vulnerability had been your shield and your curse, for a long, long time.  

You shrank back, eyes dropping to the floor as if dirt could swallow you whole.

And he didn't stop, his anger swelling on. "Only reason you're still here is 'cause Joel dragged you in like some stray," he growled, the words dripping with disdain, painting you as a burden. "Half frozen mutt he pitied. Without him, you'd be buzzard food by now. So maybe stop fuckin' up and earn your keep." 

The insult hit you deep, twisting the knife of your insecurities, and you just stood there, silent and small, your throat tight with the unshed tears and the weight of his judgment. 

But Leon didn't notice the shift in the air, the subtle thickening as a presence entered the room. He didn't see Joel standing by the tent flap, entered silently, drawn by some instinct that always seemed to pull him towards you, his girl. 

He watched, his jaw set and tight, eyes narrowing as the man's tirade unfolded, each word fuelling the quiet storm brewing within him.

When Leon turned around, his confidence evaporated like mist under the sun. There was no mistaking the aura that radiated from Joel: stern, unyielding, a force that filled the tent like smoke from a fire. 

He was the leader, the authority etched into every survivor's bone in this group; the man whose word was law in this godforsaken lawless world.

Cross him, especially on his girl, and you were cast out into the wilds, where mercy was nonexistent.

 Joel's gaze pinned Leon in place, dark and unblinking, the lines of his face carved deeper by the weight of command and the raw possessiveness that surged for you.

"What the hell do'ya think you doin'?" Joels voice was low at first, that gradually became a loud roar. "You don't talk to her like that. Not ever. She's worth ten of you and if you forget that again, you're gone—out there with the infected and the dead."

The yell was possessive, a statement that echoed his claim on you, the daughter he had taken from ice and hopelessness, the one whose every stutter, every tremble, multiplied his protective fury. His chest heaved quickly, veins standing out on his neck, the air crackling with the intensity of a father defending his own—or something dangerously close to even more?

Joel turned to you then, his expression softening just for a tiny moment: "Go on to your tent, honey'," he said. 

You nodded quickly, legs unsteady as you gathered your coat, slipping past him with a brush of shoulders that sent a forbidden spark through you, his scent drifting into your awareness before you can stop it.

As you vanished, Joel came closer to Leon, his voice dropping to a whisper that cut deeper than any shout. "If you even dare to raise your voice against her again, it'll be the last damn time you ever speak."

He nodded jerkily, face pale as snow, and backed out of the tent without another word, the flap swinging shut behind him loudly.

Alone now, Joel exhaled a long, deep sigh, his shoulders slumping as the tension bled from his frame. He never wanted to raise his voice like that, ever. Not with you nearby, not when every yell took away this fragile peace he tried to build just for you, his girl, the new-found light he had pulled from the frozen dark. 

But that's who Joel was...for you, he would roar down the heavens if it kept the shadows at bay.

The rain already eased into a small drizzles as Joel stepped out of the supplies tent, his camp sprawled before him: a cluster of weathered tents, wet by the rain and surrounded by leafless trees. Smoke curled lazily from a central fire pit, where a few survivors stirred a pot of thin stew, their faces marked by the things they had endured. 

Joel's boots sank into the mud with each stride, the cold seeping through the leather, but he paid it no mind; the chill in his bones was nothing compared to the one gnawing at his heart.

"Tim!" he barked, his voice cutting through the murmur of the camp. "Patrol's leavin' in ten. You, Leon, and Livia—check the perimeter east of the ridge. Infected tracks reported last night; don't get sloppy." 

The younger scavenger poked his head out from behind a stack of firewood, his hair damp and clinging to his neck. 

Leon, still pale from the earlier confrontation, nodded mutely, avoiding Joel's gaze as he slunk towards the armory tent to gear up. Joel watched him go, a flicker of satisfaction run through him—no one touched his girl, not with words, not with anything else. 

Turning to the others, Joel continued his demands, calloused hands resting on his hips. 

"Billy, you reinforce the watchtower—those boards are rotted through. And Clint, you and the kid handle the traps; reset 'em along the water. We need fresh meat if this rain don't let up."

His hands moved with practiced efficiency—clapping a shoulder here, pointing emphatically there—his presence a stronghold against the spreading despair that threatened to swallow them all once. The group responded to him instinctively, their movements quickening under his check, the camp starting to awake again. 

Yet beneath it all, in the shadowed place of his mind, you lingered like a faint melody, pulling at him with an ache that no amount of barked commands could drown.

His girl. 

The thought of you wrapped around him, warm but tormenting, as he walked towards the map tent to plot the next supply raid. He had sent you to your tent like some kind of mutt, dismissed with a gruff exterior that masked the tenderness he yearned to unleash. 'Honey', he called you, the word slipping out like a confession, but you slipped away just as quickly, your eyes downcast, body tense with that avoidance that you wore like your armor. 

If you weren't dodging him at every turn, at every god damned path, he would have followed you right then—pushed aside the flap of your shelter, knelt besides you, and pulled you into his arms until the world's cruelties melted away. 

But you were a ghost to him now, haunting the edges of his vision, and the distance you enforced carved deeper than any infected could bite.

The memory tugged at him then, pulling him back through the veil of time to that frozen eve when he'd first claimed you from winters ruthless grips.  

It was a night etched in ice and desperation, the world blanketed in snow, muffling the distant howls of the infected nearby.

Joel had been scavenging alone, his back-pack light, but his rifle heavy across his back, when he spotted you—a huddled form against the base of a snow-laden cliff, your body curled into itself like a wild fawn seeking safety and shelter. 

Half-frozen to death; your lips blue tinted, breath a faint mist that barely stirred in the air, clothes ragged and already crusted with frost. You were a vision of fragility in this unforgiving realm, and in that moment something primal stirred in Joels chest—a fierce, paternal urge to shield what the apocalypse had nearly shattered.

He dropped to his knees besides you, gloved hands gentle as they brushed snow from your face, the touch coaxing a shiver from your chilled frame. 

"Hey, hey now," he murmured, his voice sweet and coaxing like honey laced with gravel. "Ain't leavin' you out here to freeze. C'mon, let's get you all warm."

With effortless strength, he scooped you up, arms strong, protected around you and carried you to a sheltered hollow where he quickly set up a small, but efficient camp—a trap strung between trees, a fire pit in the middle, and something soft to sleep on. 

The flames he coaxed to life danced shadows across your almost colourless skin as he stripped away your sodden layers with careful hands, wrapping you in his own coat, thick and smelling of pine smoke and his warmth. You trembled in his arms, teeth chattering and Joel drew you close, his body a furnace against yours, you cuddled into the curve of his chest until the shivers turned into quiet breaths. 

One hand stroked your hair in rhythmic passes, the other rubbed slow circles on your back.

"That's it," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, calming as a lullaby in the storm. "I've got you. Just breathe, sweetheart. Where you come from? Lost out here all alone, hm?'"

Your voice was a fragile thread when it once came, stuttering and faint, spilling the fragments of a shattered past, settling the last pieces of hope you have on this gruff stranger.

You talked, and talked. A family torn by the outbreak, days of wandering through blizzards alone and at one point the days blurred in line between living and surrender. 

Joel listened without judgment, his nods steady, eyes full of empathy that held your gaze without flinching. And when hunger clawed at you, he didn't hand you the rations; instead, he broke off pieces of jerky with his fingers, feeding you gently from his hand, one by one, the salt melting on your lips. 

"Open up," he coaxed, his thumb brushing your chin, the intimacy of the act weaving an invisible bond. 

Then water followed from his old bottle, tilted carefully so you could sip without spilling, his free hand supporting your head, murmuring encouragements until color returned to your cheeks.

Winter days started to blur into an each one another of shared survival and comfort. The two of you holed up in that makeshift haven as snow piled high outside. Joel hunted in the mean time, strengthened the shelter around you, and tended to you with a devotion that surprised even him...a man only hollowed by loss, now filling the void with your quiet, genlte presence. 

He watched you closely, noting in his head the way overwhelm shadowed in your eyes when the wind howled too fiercely, how viulnerability clung to you. You were a delicate bloom in this hopeless wasteland, oh how easily you were  crushed by the weight of existence. It steered something deep in Joel, a need to be your shelter; your steady hand. 

One evening, as the sun set, you sat by the fire, knees drawn to your chest, and admitted something: "I can't do this by myself. Everything's just too big, too much. I need...I need someone to look after me." And "Like the cold out there, it grabbed me and wouldn't let go, and now even this warmth feels overwhelming, like I might melt away or something...I need...I need someone to look after me. Someone to tell me it's okay when my head spins and I can't breathe right. What if I freeze again? Or what if the noises outside get louder? I just...I don't know how to make it stop being so much."

The words hung between you that day, raw and revealing, and when you looked up at him, eyes wide with unspoken plea, you whispered, 'Dad.' The title landed like match on dry grass, but catching Joels attention more than ever. 

He couldn't resist; pulling you into his lap, he cradled you close, his chin resting on your head, promising silently to be that for you—the father fate had denied him once over, your guardian against the dark.

But the nights deepened the bond into something more tangled, more forbidden. 

One such evening, in the closeness of the small tent, the air thick with the scent of damp wood and the chill, you turned to him in the shared bedroll. 

Bodies pressed together for warmth, your form molding to his like clay on the potter's wheel, and in that quiet intimacy, you kissed him—a small brush of lips that slowly but surely  bloomed into hunger. 

"Daddy," you breathed against his mouth, the word a velvet plea, followed by 'Dad' laced with sweet longing. 

Joel's restraint fractured like thin ice; his hands roamed your curves with hunger, he hadn't felt for years—peeling away layers until skin met skin, his cock hardening against your thigh as desire overrode the lines of propriety.

He entered you slowly, inch by deliberate inch, his thick, girthy length stretching your warmth with a gentleness that calmed the storm within you. 

"Shh, baby girl," he cooed, voice husky and commanding, hips rocking in a measured rhythm that built slowly over time. You clung to him, nails digging into his back, moans spilling as he fucked you deep and thorough, each thrust an erasure of the shadows haunting your mind: the infected, the losses, the loneliness and the cold.

His pace quickened, possessive and unrelenting, pounding into your sticky pussy until your cries echoed his name in variations of devotion, cum flooding you in hot pulses as ecstasy shattered every bad thought. 

In that night, Joel learned your truths: you needed a steady hand to guide you, someone to call 'Dad' that anchored your soul, a cock to fuck you senseless until the world faded to irrelevance, leaving only the pulse of shared release. 

Days turned into a haze, tents pitched in hidden groves where he'd take you against cold walls, caring for you with meals fed from his fingers and nights blurred by sweat-slicked skin and cum filled cunt. 

And when you two finally returned into his small camp after endless miles of this intimate journey—your body marked by his touch, heart entwined with his—he envisioned a life where you did no labor, simply waited in his tent, legs spread in welcome, his to protect and possess. 

"Stay with me, darlin'," he murmured, tracing patterns on your thigh. "Let me handle it all."

But rumours started to spread like wildfire 

on dry bushes, untrue whispers that poisoned this fragile relationship that you have built. 

Someone overheard your breathy 'Dad' in a moment of overwhelm, twisting it into a scandal. 

Another caught the sounds of your shared tent, moans misconstrued as depravity. Whispers evolved: "She's got him wrapped around her finger, that stray he dragged in."

The words reached to you, burrowing like thorns, making you feel small, misunderstood—a weirdo in a world that already judged harshly. 

So...the ache in your heart swelled until it bursted: you ended it, pulling away with tear-streaked face, declaring it over to spare him the shame.

Joel was absolutely heartbroken, the pain in his chest an ache that echoed with your absence, but he didn't let you go. He checked on you regularly—slipping rations to your tent, watching you from afar as you navigated the camp, ensuring your safety with a stubbornness that bordered on obsession. 

Yet he couldn't bear it longer: your avoidance, the careful dance of distance, the sidelong glances from the group, their murmurs like knives, your belief that you are weird, tainted, when to him you were this salvation incarnate.

As his thoughts faded, Joel found himself adrift in the present, his orders trailing off as he stared at the map spread before him. The camp still buzzed around him, patrols forming, tasks underway, but his mind was a whirlwind of you—vulnerable, evasive, his girl who needed him more than she knew. 

He couldn't take the separation anymore; tonight, he'll connect the gap, pull you back into the fold where you belonged, forbidden pull be damned, rumors silenced by the strength of his claim.

-

As the sun dipped low beneath the horizon, painting the camp in bruised purples and fading golds, Joel felt the weight of the day slowly settle into his bones. 

He couldn't bear the silence any longer, the way you'd retreated into your shell after the supplies tent moment, your avoidance a blade twisting deeper and deeper with every passing hour. 

His feet carried him unerringly through the mud slicked paths, past the murmurs of the group settling in for the night, until he stood before your tent—larger than the cramped quarters of the men, a sanctuary he'd insisted on crafting for you, and only you, alone.

He poured his callused hands into making it a haven, didn't he? 

The frame reinforced with scavenged wood, the canvas walls doubled for insulation against the relentless chill. Inside, he built the bed himself—a sturdy frame of rough wood, topped with a mattress stuffed with whatever soft fibers he could forage, layered with blankets pilfered from forgotten homes. 

Cushions and pillows, sewn from scraps of fabric, scattered for your comfort. A small table he made from a fallen log, wobbly but earnest. Shelves cobbled together for your few treasure—an old book, a carved wooden fawn he shaped in quiet moments—all of it born from his desire to wrap you in coziness, to shield your fragile spirit from the world's jagged edges. 

Oh, how grateful you've been once, your eyes lighting with a warmth that melted the ice in his chest. 

Now, as evening deepened, Joel hesitated at the flap, his broad fist hovering, a rare feeling of fear coiling in his gut. 

What if you turned him away? 

What if the chasm you'd carved between you had grown too wide to bridge? 

He was Joel Miller, the unbreakable leader of this ragged band, yet here he was, scared like a little boy before confession. 

Swallowing the knot in his throat, he knocked three times on the wooden part, soft enough not to startle, firm enough to announce his presence.

"Darlin'?" he called out, voice threaded with caution. "It's me. Joel."

The flap parted after a long moment, and there you stood, framed in the warm lantern light that spilled from within, your brows furrowed in a frown that tugged at his heartstrings.

Your eyes—those sweet, doe eyes that had first drawn him in—were rimmed red, lashes clumped with the remains of tears. The sight hit him like a gut punch; rage surged hot and immediate, a visceral urge to hunt down Leon and drive his fist into that sneering face until the man tasted the blood of his own regret. 

How dare anyone reduce you to this—his girl, curled in on herself, wounded by words sharper than any blade in this merciless world?

"Can I come in?" Joel asked, his tone gentle, eyes searching yours with a plea he couldn't voice. 

You nodded, a small, reluctant dip of your chin, stepping aside to let him pass. 

The tent was a cocoon of warmth, cozy and sweet, mirroring the tender heart you hid away from everyone. The lantern light bathed the space in a golden haze, softening the edges of the handmade furniture, the pillows plump and inviting on the bed where you so often curled like a fawn seeking shelter. 

Joel knew your habits intimately—how you drew your knees to your chest, burrowing into the nest of blankets, your form small and vulnerable, evoking those pet names he'd whispered in quieter times: Little Fawn, Bambi, fragments that captured your innocence amid the brutality. 

"You didn't need to defend me there," you said. "I could've just done it myself."

Even as the words left your lips, you knew they were hollow; Leons yelling had left you stammering, small and exposed. 

He turned to you, his dark eyes steady, holding yours with an intensity that peeled away your defenses layer by layer.

"I know," he replied. "But ain't gonna leave you alone like that. Not ever." 

You scoffed, the whispers of the camp echoing in your mind again, their side glances branding you as the weird one, the stray with the leader wrapped around her finger. 

Crossing your arms, you sank onto the bed, curling your frame, knees tucked close, gaze fixated on a spot in the corner. Tears started to well anew, hot and insistent, blurring the edges of the room as vulnerability crashed over you like a relentless wave.

"Oh, little fawn..." Joel murmured, the petname that was meant to soothe the hurt he saw etched in every line of your body.

"Don't," you whispered, voice cracking, turning your face away as the first tears traced down your cheeks. "Don't call me that." 

The plea was raw, laced with the ache of the loss for the intimacy those words once evoked, now tainted by the misunderstanding, by the fear that you were too weird, too needy in a world that devoured the weak.

Undeterred, Joel lowered himself besides you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, while his presence was a grounding force amid your unraveling. You curled up tighter, a defensive coil, but he didn't press...instead, he sat close enough that the heat of him radiated through the space between, a silent promise of shelter.

"You remember the first time you called me Dad?" he asked, his voice a gentle murmur. 

You flinched at the word, an involuntary shiver rippling through you, the title stirring a hollow ache in your chest—an echo of warmth now soured by shame.

"I didn't think much of it," Joel continued softly, his hand rising with slowness to stroke your hair, fingers threading through the strands. Each pass was measured, calming, tracing the curve of your scalp as if it was to unravel the knots of your turmoil. "But I knew that your little heart calmed down after you called me that. Like the world's weight lifted, just a tiny bit." 

His touch was poetry in motion, rough palms gentle by intent, evoking memories of winter nights when his care had been your lifeline.

You sniffled, the sound small, peeking at him through your wet eyelashes. His eyes held no judgment, only a deep, unwavering understanding—of how you needed to be taken care of, how the chaos overwhelmed you until you felt little, drifting into a headspace where distractions pulled you like a dream. 

He saw that now in your hazy gaze, the faraway drift, your mind retreating to that vulnerable place where the world's edges softened into safety.

"I didn't find it weird," he pressed on, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "God—that's the least forsaken thing in this damned world I would find weird. In a place where the dead's walk and trust is a luxury we can't afford anymore, y'callin' me Dad? That's just...you needin' what we all crave deep down. Someone that holsd the pieces together."

"Are you sure?" you whispered, the question fragile as breath itself, seeking absolution in his gaze, your tears slowing to a quiet trickle as his words pierced the fog of self doubt.

"Course, baby," Joel nodded, his affirmation steady. "Nothing weird about wanting to be taken care of. Hell, we've all got our fractures; yours just call for a steady hand, that's all."

He paused, his hand stilling in your hair, thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek. 

"You think I wouldn't have cared for you if I didn't? I wouldn't have built this bed, poured sweat into these cushions and shelves, made you all these things, hm? Every nail, every stitch—it was for you, darlin'. To give you a corner of peace in this madness."

You shrugged, a small, uncertain lift of your shoulders, the gesture speaking volumes of the doubt that lingered and lingered, but Joel leaned in then, closing the distance with a tenderness. His lips pressed to your forehead, warm, a kiss like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, sealing his words with an unspoken promise.  

"My little fawn," he breathed against your skin, the endearment a balm, wrapping around your heart.

Something in you yielded at last, the walls crumbling under the weight of his care. You snuggled into him, your body unfolding from its curl to press against his chest, burying your head into the crook of his neck where the scent of him enveloped you like a homecoming. A soft sigh escaped you, tears soaking into his flannel as the tension disappeared, replaced by the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat.

"That's right," Joel cooed, his arms encircling you fully now, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles along your back. "Come to Dad. I've got you, little one. Always will." 

His voice was like a lullaby in the dark, where the world's cruelties faded to whispers, leaving only the profound poetry of two souls intertwining once more.

You nestled even deeper into him, the tears slowly drying, but a deeper ache stirred within, a  pull towards that hazy headspace that tugged you into the depths where only his touch could anchor you. 

With a soft, instinctive motion, you reached for one of his hands—those rough, capable hands of his that built your world—and guided it towards your lips, your mouth parting to draw his thumb inside, sucking gently at first, the salt of his skin a familiar comfort blooming on your tongue.

Joel's breath hitched at that, followed by a low rumble vibrating through his chest as he watched you, his dark eyes softening with a mix of adoration and understanding. 

Without hesitation, he shifted his hand, cupping your cheek with his palm, angling his thumb deeper into the wet warmth of your mouth so you could nurse on it more fully, the pad pressing against the soft roof as your lips sealed around it. He leaned down, his lips brushing the crown of your head in a feather-light kiss. 

"There you go, baby," he murmured, his southern drawl a soothing balm, thick and warm like honey drizzled over wounds. "Suck a little deeper if it feels right...yeah, just like that."

His words were a gentle coo, laced with that paternal sweetness that made your heart flutter and your core clench in equal measure, his free arm tightening around your waist to rock you slowly from side to side, a rhythmic sway that mimicked the lullabies of forgotten cradles.

You whimpered around his thumb, the sound muffled and needy, your tongue swirling lazily and lazily as the subspace slowly deepened, pulling you further into that floaty haze where thoughts dissolved like mist under sun. The rocking motion lulled you, his body a cozy cocoon of flannel and muscle, but the whimpers grew insistent, threading with a whine that Joel knew all too well: you were craving the grounding force only he could provide. 

His cock stirred in his jeans, thickening against your thigh, but he focused on you, sensing the urgency in your escalating sounds, the way your hips shifted restlessly. 

He knew this dance like the back of his hand; your subspace made you far gone, adrift in a sea of need, and only the deep, claiming thrust of his cock—followed by the shattering release of orgasms—could reel you back, tethering you to the present with waves of pleasure that washed away the darkness.

"Oh, sweet thing," Joel whispered, his voice a velvet rumble as his hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, calloused fingers tracing the soft curve of your belly before finding the swell of your breasts. 

He cupped one gently, thumb and forefinger rolling over your nipple, teasing it to a stiff peak with slow, deliberate circles that sent sparks down your spine. The touch was feather light at first, then firmer, pinching just enough to draw a gasp from you, your mouth releasing his thumb with a wet pop, a glistening string of saliva connecting your lips to his skin like a fragile bridge of intimacy. 

"Shh, babygirl, Daddy's just gonna touch you here...nice and easy." He murmured at your whines. 

You whimpered louder at that, the sound raw and pleading, your hazy eyes locking onto his. 

"Take care of me, Daddy. Please," you breathed out, your voice small and fractured, laced with the desperate ache of your subspace.

Joel's heart swelled at the plea, his little fawn so needy, so beautifully lost in that vulnerable space he cherished and protected. 

He wouldn't dream of denying you—never. 

This was his purpose, to soothe and claim, to fill every hollow part of you with his devotion. 

"Oh, I know, honey," he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his beard scraping softly against your skin as he eased you back onto the bed, the pillows cradling your head like a nest woven for you alone. 

The mattress dipped under your weight, the blankets rumpling invitingly as he positioned you, his body hovering protectively above you. 

With tender care, he tucked his finger back into your mouth—this time his index finger, sliding it past your lips so you could suckle greedily, your tongue laving the length as if it were sustenance for your soul. 

"There, suck on that for Dad, yea? Keeps you nice and calm while I take care of the rest."

His other hand trailed downwards, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants to find the slick heat of your cunt. You were already so soaked, your folds swollen and parting eagerly under his touch, the sticky evidence of your need coating his fingers as he traced your slit. 

"God, look at you, Bambi...all wet and achin' for me," he cooed, his voice dripping with praise. "This for daddy, huh, honey? Dripping, achy pussy."

He pressed two fingers inside you without warning, stuffing your pussy full in one smooth glide, the stretch burning sweetly as your walls clenched around the intrusion, spasming with desperate hunger. You whined against his finger in your mouth, the vibration humming through him, your hips bucking instinctively to take him deeper.

"Biiig stretch, baby, yea?" his tone coaxing and babying, like an old man spinning tales to his most cherished kin. 

"Big stretch..." you repeated messily around his finger. 

Satisfied with your answer, he curled his fingers inside you, stroking that sensitive spot with expert precision, his thumb circling your clit in lazy loops that made your thighs tremble. 

The wet sounds of his movements filled the tent: slick, obscene squelches that mingled with your muffled whimpers whike the air started growing thick with the musky scent of your arousal, sticky and intimate. 

"Y'gonna rub your nipples for me? Pinch 'em, for Dad? Show me how good you can be while I finger this pretty little cunt, c'mon." His words were filthy yet laced with such profound sweetness.

Obediently, lost in the haze, you released his finger just enough to slide your hands under your shirt, fingers finding your nipples and pinching them hard, rolling the peaks between your thumbs and forefingers until they throbbed in time with the thrusts of his hand. 

The dual sensation overwhelmed you—mouth full, pussy stuffed, breasts aching under your own touch—your mind traveling further into that blissful subspace. 

Joel watched, absolutely mesmerised, his eyes full of love. 

"That's it, Bambi." He murmurs. "Pinch a little more if it helps, yeah? make 'em ache like your cunny does for me."

The pace build as your juices start to leak down his knuckles, coating his palm in your sticky essence. 

Overstimulated and lost in the velvet haze of your headspace, Joel's relentless fingers curled inside your gushing pussy one more time; stroking that swollen spot until pressure build like a storm in your core, your cries of "Dad, too much—m'gonna...oh..." fracturing into a needy sob as a sudden, tiny squirt escaped, warm fluid arcing in a delicate spray across his wrist and your quivering belly forming a filthy little puddle.

"Easy now, darlin', let it all out for Dad—juuuust" like that, baby." he cooed.

Your mouth stilled around his finger, lips parting in a silent cry as your cunt pulsed wildly around his digits, gushing more slick that soaked the bed beneath you. Your hands fell from your nipples, trembling, as waves of ecstasy rippled through you, pulling a choked sob from your throat. 

Joel slowed his movements then, drawing out the aftershocks with gentle strokes, his gaze drinking in the sight of you splayed out before him—cheeks flushed, lips swollen and glistening, eyes glazed in that beautiful, vulnerable haze. 

Beautiful. Sweet. His little fawn, trembling and spent yet still yearning.

"Please," you whined, voice breathy and broken, rocking your hips against the hard bulge straining his jeans, the friction drawing a deep groan from his chest. "Your cock, Dad. Need it inside me." 

"S'alright, honey," Joel soothed, his voice a tender rumble as he withdrew his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, then from your pussy, leaving you clenching around emptiness. 

He shifted, unbuckling his belt with practiced ease, shoving his jeans down just enough to free his cock— thick and veined, the head already beaded with pre-cum, curving upward in rigid need. 

"Daddy's gonna give you what you need. Spread those pretty legs for me, darlin'."

You complied, thighs parting wide, exposing your dripping cunt to the cool air, the sticky mess of your release gleaming in the lantern light. 

He knelt between them, gripping his shaft and nudging the blunt tip against your entrance, teasing with shallow dips—in just the head, then out, coating himself in your slick—each withdrawal pulling a breathless whine from you. 

"Dad... please," you begged, hips going up, chasing the fullness.

You latched on in instinctively, tongue swirling around the salty sweet tang of his release mixed with yours, the act so intimately, so cozy in its rawness. His fingers in your pussy worked gently, curling to hit that spot again, thumb rubbing your clit building you towards one final peak until you came with a muffled cry, your body shuddering as fresh slick coated his hand.

Satisfied at that, Joel withdrew his fingers, trailing sweet kisses across your body—forehead, cheeks, the curve of your neck, down to your breasts where he lingered, suckling on your nipple briefly before murmuring against your skin. 

"You're my everything, darlin'. My whole world in this godforsaken place."

He then gathered you close, pulling the blankets over you both, his arms wrapping securely as he rocked you side to side once more, the motion lulling you into peace. 

"I'm gonna take care of you, no matter what they say out there." He whispered. "Sleep now, little fawn. Dad's right here."

And as your eyes drifted shut, the tent a cocoon of sticky warmth and whispered devotion, you slipped into slumber, anchored fully in his love again.

Finally. 

I don’t know if I like this or not… I tried a new writing style, making it a tad bit ‘poetic,’ but I think I failed at a few moments. A lot of paragraphs are translated from German because I didn’t know how else to write them, and I’m sorry if some of it feels a bit weird.

Anyways, I hope it met some expectations, and I’m really excited to see what y’all say. <3

"Yes sir, I made sure we weren't followed." Quickly looking around the parking lot noticing some cars scattered all over, and some people walking on the side walk. "Yes sir, I'll make sure she calls you later."

A hand sliding up your thigh to the hem of your panties. Biting your lip to hide the whimper that was on the edge of your mouth as the pushed the material aside. The cool breeze brushing the wetness between your thighs sending a tingle down your spine.

"Thank you sir, I'll update you if anything comes up." His gaze focused entirely on you, watching your every little reaction. Hanging up the phone tossing it somewhere in the car both hands on your waist now.

"Such a good girl for me baby." Praising as he helped lift your hips so he could quickly unbuckle his belt and push his pants down as far as they could go. "Got me hard while on the phone with your dad."

"Oops sorry." Playing innocent knowing exactly what you were doing, and he wasn't going to stop you.

Sinking down on his erect length as a gasp escaped your lips. You were already full of him filled to the brim, and he hadn't even moved. He just sat there until your inner walls had adjusted around him. He turned his head just slightly so you could place open mouthed kisses along his jaw. Biting on his skin a little too hard eliciting a groan and a hand coming down on your backside.

"Watch it. Otherwise you can explain to your father where the bite mark came from." His hand came down again the smack echoing around the car.

"I can leave the bite somewhere else if you want." Slamming your hips down at the same moment and his hands whipped around your back trying to control himself.

"Only if I can do the same to you." Smirking as you continued to use your legs to bounce up and down already feeling the burning stretch in your thighs.

"Just fuck me hard Joel." As soon as those words left your mouth he wrapped his arms around you as he laid flat along the seats, and you had one leg beside his waist while the other one was planted on the floor.

"Gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight for a week sweetheart." He warned as he bent his knees so he could drive his cock up into you at a ridiculously fast speed. Your hands on his chest to help keep yourself steady.

"Oh fuck Joel, yes just like that." Crying out as the new angle was hitting you much deeper. Feeling him all the way up in your stomach.

Joel looking up at you with darkened eyes as your lips parted and your eyes closed shut. "Oh if only daddy could see you now."

His words were mocking and true, cause you both knew the risk of everything, but the thought of also being caught turned you on far greater than what you wanted. Whether it was in the mansion, in a restaurant, down the hall, or even in the car. Either way even just hiding something like this from everyone got your adrenaline pumping.

"No, this is our dirty little secret." Rotating your hips in a different motion causing Joel to growl deep and low his hands coming down on your cheeks again his nails digging into your flesh.

"What if someone sees us right now?" He teased as you looked up through the foggy windows to see two spots down someone leaving their car then walking past your car. Anybody could see the car rocking or see your shadowy figures moving in the car.

"I don't care, let them watch." You said and he couldn't help the grin on his face.

"Just look at you riding me like a good girl." He mumbled his eyes wide as you clenched around him at the praise, as you bounced in rhythm with his thrusts. "Fuck this cunt is so tight."

Pulling down the straps of your dress to expose your breasts to him. Leaning back enough so he could grab them in his hands and play with them. Pinching the nipple until they became hard nubs, and the pain quickly turning into pleasure. Hands gripping onto his forearms as leverage already feeling yourself losing steam.

"Lean forward baby." Instructing you as you pressed your chest to his as he started cruelly pounding into you. Your skin sticking to his smacking together on impact. Breathing raggedly into his neck as you bite down and this time he didn't mind.

“That’s it, gonna come for me sweetheart? Huh? Riding my cock like this?” He groaned lowly as he grabbed your face in his hands and made you look at him. “Let me look at that pretty face.”

You nodded desperately, not even sure what he was saying anymore, as tears trickled the corner of your eyes from the pressure and pleasure as he thrusted up once in that sweet spot just right. Clenching around him as your entire body tightened above him, holding onto him for dear life.

Harry Castillo is a man of power. He works for the private equity business that his mother started up when she was younger, and he owns the most businesses out of anyone there. Besides his mother of course. 

The Castillos have never been afraid of money. Hell, they bathe in it every night. Because of this, Harry isn’t afraid to spend a pretty penny on a woman. Except he hasn’t found someone that actually deserved it.

Sure, he’s had his fair share of women — none that he’s ever been photographed with. A list extending from women he’s worked with to sex workers. But no one has interested him long enough for him to think about any type of future with them. He’s not necessarily proud of his ways, but it’s a big stress relief for him.

Control is a necessity in all parts of Harry’s life — including in the bedroom. These women willingly submit themselves to please him in whatever way he desires. Of course, Harry still respects them and makes sure they’re properly taken care of. After all, he’s not a dick. He just thinks with his. 

Harry is currently on a phone call in his office. Something about a leak that was reported in a recent building he bought. To be honest, he tunes out the man on the other end about halfway into the conversation.

“Yeah, I’ll look into it,” he says, exasperated as he waits to end the phone call sooner rather than later.

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Castillo. Have a good—“

The man’s voice dies out as Harry puts down the phone, effectively ending the conversation before the man could finish his thought. He slumps back in his chair, running a hand down his face. 

Crown Castillo has been the busiest and biggest it’s ever been. The annual New Years gala is in a few weeks, and his mother wants him to have a date for it. Harry could get any woman he wants for it, really. But he has been getting tired of that life. He is well into his fifties and coming to terms with the fact that he might end up alone.

Just then, his assistant, Rick, knocks on his door. “Come in,” Harry calls out, sitting up straight in his chair.

The door slowly opens before Rick steps in, “Mr. Castillo, there’s a woman here to see you. Something about the photography at the gala.”

Confusion stretches across Harry’s face before he tells Rick to let her in. He wasn’t aware of any meetings with a photographer, but he’d see what they needed.

What Harry doesn’t expect is for you to walk in: younger, long hair that went down past your shoulders, soft skin, black blazer, black skirt that stopped at your mid thighs, and the expanse of your legs being covered by sheer stockings. 

Fuck, you’re a sight.

Standing up, Harry buttons the middle of his suit jacket. “How can I help you, ma’am?” he asks with a small nod.

You wait for his assistant to close the door before you walk up to Harry’s desk. Extending out your hand, you introduce yourself. Your hand is practically swimming in his as he gives you a firm handshake.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he says before gesturing for you to sit in one of the chairs across from his desk.

“My business was called about taking pictures for your upcoming New Years gala. They sent me out to confirm with you. Make sure everything is exactly the way you want; the pictures you want taken of the venue, the people – the food even.”

Harry watches your lips move as you talk, subconsciously licking his own while he takes in your words. He hadn’t been aware that there would even be photographers at the gala this year, so this must’ve been his mother’s doing.

He clears his throat, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I was made aware about any of this. You might’ve been looking for my parents, not me.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Your parents?”

“It’s a family business,” he shrugs like it’s nothing. As if Crown Castillo isn’t the wealthiest private equity firm in the U.S.

“Ah, I see,” you nod slowly, “So who do I speak to then?”

“Well,” he rounds his desk, moving to stand in front of you, “if you were looking for a ‘Mr. Castillo’, that would be my father: Emiliano.”

You nod once, taking in the information and correcting the form you brought in. As you build up the courage to ask, you place the end of your pen between your lips, drawing Harry’s gaze towards them once more.

His gaze darkens, hands tightening on the edge of his desk until his knuckles are nearly white.

“Do you mind showing me where your father’s office is then?” you finally ask, putting down your pen and meeting his eyes.

Harry would normally tell someone who asked for directions to ask his assistant, but something about you draws him towards you. His body craves a little more time with you, even if it’s just for five more minutes.

“Sure. This place is easy to get lost in,” he huffs out something close to a laugh.

He gestures for you to walk in front of him, getting a small whiff of your perfume. It’s something subtle, sexy and sophisticated, causing his slacks to feel a little tighter and uncomfortable. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so easily affected by a woman, let alone one he just met.

As he holds the door open for you, he allows his eyes to travel down the back of your body, getting a good view of your ass before he walks in front of you.

“Such a gentleman,” you tease him lightly as the two of you walk in unison.

Harry feels heat creep up his neck, wondering if you felt his heavy gaze on you or if you’re referring to his manners. “Yeah,” he says gruffly before he clears his throat, “I’m not as big of an asshole as they say I am in the press.”

Your brows knit in confusion at that, “The press?”

He freezes in his tracks, making you stop as well. The stare he’s giving you is almost like he’s trying to figure you out. His eyes are narrowed, mouth slightly agape as he reads you.

Your pulse picks up under his intense stare. Chest rising and falling a bit faster before he speaks. “You don’t… know who my family is?” he asks in disbelief.

“Am I supposed to?”

“I… guess not,” he says quietly, brushing it off before he continues walking.

You stand there, trying to process what just happened before you trail behind him. 

“Sorry if I offended you, Mr. Castillo, but I’m not really into the whole… business world of things. I’m sure you and your family have plenty of fame. I just don’t know anything about it.”

Immediately you realize how much you’re rambling when Harry doesn’t even bat another eye at you. His expression is stoic as he walks, keeping his eyes trained forward. You got a sense that you would ruin this deal if you kept talking, so you stayed quiet for the rest of the walk.

After another minute of walking past the most expensive and busiest people you’ve ever seen, the two of you stop in front of an office door that reads: Emiliano Castillo.

“Thanks for walking me here,” you murmur once he turns towards you.

There’s the faintest hint of a fire burning behind Harry’s eyes. So faint that you aren’t even sure if you’re really seeing it.

“Guess I’ll see you soon,” he states, his voice a little rougher than it was before. 

You’re not too sure why, but your skin prickles at his tone. Goosebumps spread across your arms as you look up at him.

“See you soon, Mr. Castillo.”

With that, he walks away, leaving you alone to talk to his father.

Harry Castillo was a man of power, and he was slowly losing it with you. After leaving you, he makes his way to the men’s restroom, locking the door behind himself before he steps into a stall. The heavy ache between his thighs becomes too much, and his erection is noticeable. He needs to do something about it quickly.

The second the sound of him unbuckling his belt echoes within the four walls of the restroom, he knows he is going to regret this. He pulls out his throbbing cock with a small hiss before spitting on his hand and fisting himself.

He works his wrist at a steady pace, tipping his head back in ecstasy as his thoughts drift to you. He imagines hiking up your short skirt and bending you over his desk, or fucking you against the floor-to-ceiling windows in his office.

God, he just knows you’d make the prettiest noises as he fucked you into oblivion. He’d make sure to drag his cock within the deepest depths of you, making you and your pussy sing. 

Just the mere thought of it has him thrusting into his hand faster, fucking his fist until he creams all over it. He shudders through his orgasm, vision going a little blurry around the edges, causing him to place a hand on the stall door to keep his balance. 

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever cum like that just from the thought of someone he barely had five minutes of interaction with. No, this is something entirely different, and he isn’t completely sure about what it was exactly. 

After all of that, there’s one thing Harry knows for sure: You’re his, whether you know it or not.

Setting up the gala with the coordinator has been… eventful. You’re not even completely sure if he was actually listening to your advice or if he was just staring at your tits. Perhaps the dip of your dress was a little too far down your cleavage, but it isn’t your fault that men act like pigs around you.

The venue is beautifully decorated and you’re sure you are going to get some gorgeous shots. Diamonds dangle from the ceiling in forms of chandeliers, reflecting off of the tall walls covered in expensive art. You had an inkling that the Castillos were rich, you just didn’t know how rich.

Right at 7PM, guests start to pile in. Women wearing diamonds and gold around their necks, wrists, and fingers. You’re guaranteed that if you sold this building and the people in it alone, you’d make a lot of money. But you aren’t here to think hypothetically, you’re here to do your job, and you’re going to make sure the photographs are up to both your boss’ and Emiliano’s standards.

Guests mingle, drinking punch, eating the appetizers that were set out, some checking out the art, but the Castillos are still nowhere to be found. It’s nearing 8:30 and Gavin — another photographer — is starting to get antsy. 

“We’re supposed to get a shot of them coming in,” Gavin says through his teeth, letting out an exasperated breath.

“They’ll be here,” you murmur, your eyes focused within the camera lens.

You’re watching the guests through your camera, always ready for the perfect shots. A happy couple smiling, the camera flashes. Guests looking up at the art, another flash. 

When one head snaps towards the door, so does your camera, and you don’t hesitate to take the shot of the family walking in. The lens whirs as you zoom in on the parents alone, and then the brothers.

It’s almost automatic when Harry feels a camera on him. His gaze finds you in the crowd after the picture is taken, and you lower the camera just slightly to catch his eyes. His eyes travel down your body before he tips his head slightly towards you. Immediately, you feel your skin heat up.

He is clad in a tailored black suit, broad shoulders stretching out his suit jacket so much that you could hear the fabric begging for mercy from where you stand. A white handkerchief folded neatly in the pocket of his suit jacket, black slacks down his legs. 

You could already tell he was a big and broad man. Probably manhandling every woman he’s ever been with. 

“Did you get the shot?” Gavin asks, pulling your attention away from the man across the room.

“I got it,” you nod slowly, taking a few more just for good measure.

Harry’s gaze still hasn’t moved from you, and for a brief moment, you wonder if this is how mice feel underneath a microscope. Their little bodies squirming as they’re being examined and experimented on against their will.

“You better fucking have,” Gavin states before he walks away from you.

Ignoring his comment, you take more pictures of Anastasia and Emiliano walking up to the small makeshift stage by the speakers. A microphone stand sits idly on it, waiting to be used for announcements. 

You may not be looking at Harry, but you can still feel his gaze on you. Briefly, you wonder what he’s thinking about, but then his father starts speaking.

“May I have your attention ladies and gentlemen. It is with great honor that I thank each and every one of you in this room tonight. My wife’s business would not be as successful as it is without the help of you all. We are extremely grateful for your commitment and dedication to the place we call home: Crown Castillo.

Friends, family, employees – all of you are important and valuable. All of our hands keep this place up and running, and that is what a found family is. I hope we all continue to have each other’s backs during the years to come. And please… enjoy yourselves tonight, and don’t forget that all the funds collected tonight are going towards charity.”

Emiliano and Anastasia raise their glasses of champagne before Ana continues, “To the Crown Castillo family.”

Everyone raises their glasses, repeating her words and going back to mingling. A handful of cameras flash, you and your coworkers getting hundreds of shots for the family and company. The more lively the photo, the better. You’ve learned over the years that these kinds of people appreciate the ‘vibe’ of the pictures more. If they look united, they’ll love the photos. 

You lower your camera, checking all of the photos you’ve gotten so far before a man walks up to you. “Excuse me,” he says, placing a hand on your bicep to get your attention. 

You look at his hand before you look up at him, “Can I help you, sir?”

He extends his hand out, introducing himself, “Lucas Taylor, Taylored Photography.”

Extending your hand out, you stare at him. He’s a recruiter, no doubt. With a company name that doesn’t even sound familiar to you, and you know all of the photography companies in New York. Emiliano didn’t tell you about another photographer being here, so you’re a little confused.

“I must say,” he puts his hands in his pockets, straightening his posture, “the photos you’ve taken thus far are beautiful.”

“How would you know?” you query, “You haven’t seen them… Lucas.”

He chuckles softly at your retort, nodding, “You’re right.” The heated look he’s giving you isn’t very subtle, and it makes you a bit uncomfortable. “I just wanted to tell you how breathtaking you look in that dress, miss…” Lucas trails off, trying to get you to tell him your name.

You press your lips into a fine line, getting ready to open your mouth, but Harry steps in next to you, placing a hand on your lower back. “You’re a little close, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I,” Lucas stammers, chuckling sheepishly, “I was just complimenting her on her-”

“I’d advise you to leave,” Harry states, his voice cold and calculated as he stares Lucas down.

Harry has a good few inches on Lucas, so he shrinks into his skin, murmuring something under his breath as he walks away. Immediately, you step away from Harry, the warmth of his hand leaving your back and sending a cold shiver up your spine.

“I didn’t need saving.”

“Really?” he draws out with a raised eyebrow, putting his hands in his pockets, “‘Cause it seemed like you were dying to be saved.”

His tease makes you narrow your eyes slightly, “I appreciate the act, but I can handle myself, Mr. Castillo—”

“Harry,” he corrects you, “I think we’re well past the formalities now, don’t you think?”

“What, because you ‘saved’ me?” you retort.

“That’s exactly why,” the corner of his lips tug up into a small smirk, making you roll your eyes.

“Look, I’m trying to do my job for your father. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to it now.”

Harry chuckles fondly, watching you raise your camera back up to your eyes. You have a good work ethic, which he admires. But he also wonders if you ever took a break and truly winded down. There’s a huge chance that you don’t do anything remotely close to what he does to wind down, but he feels the need to push your boundaries.

Throughout the night, his gaze keeps landing on you. Watching you mingle with guests, take pictures, talk to his parents, and sip your own glass of champagne. There’s just something so intriguing about you and how you carry yourself. It’s not surprising that he’s thinking with his dick first, but he feels some sort of pull towards you. Like something within the both of you is calling out to each other.

It’s been weeks. 

Harry hasn’t been able to get you off his mind. He doesn’t think he’s ever fucked his fist as often as he has lately. He’s done it at least four times today, and he’s painfully hard again, but he can’t wrap his hand around his cock without hissing. 

You’re taking over his mind, and you haven’t even really done anything. 

He’s looked up the photography company you work for to see if your number is anywhere on it, but the website only has the owner’s information on it. 

Asking his parents would be the easy thing to do, but he doesn’t want to raise their suspicions. They already hassle him enough about finding someone to marry, and he doesn’t need more of it.

As if the Gods were blessing him, he looks up from his desktop just in time to see you walking by. A black portfolio folder is in your arms as you walk swiftly towards his father’s office. You’re probably here to drop off the pictures, but Harry knows that his parents are out on a lunch date.

Without really thinking it through, he leaves his office, walking past the many cubicles while keeping his eyes trained on you. You’re on the opposite side and have yet to notice him, but he catches up to you just before you make it to his father’s office door. 

Just as you’re about to knock, Harry slides right in front of you, blocking the door with his broad frame. Your palm meets his chest instead of the door, causing warmth to bloom throughout his entire body.

“Hey you,” Harry says, putting his hands in his pockets like he wasn’t entirely in your way.

“Hi,” you reply tentatively, dropping your hand down to your side. “Is your dad here?”

“No, he’s out on lunch,” he averts your gaze for a moment, making eye contact with his assistant before he looks back down at you.

“Oh, I was told to drop off the pictures here,” you murmur, tucking your hair behind your ear as you take a step back. “I’ll just come back later—”

“I can look at them,” Harry says a little too quickly, clearing his throat and backing off the door, “I mean, this is my firm just as much as it is my parents’. Let me look at them.”

“Okay,” you draw out, handing him the portfolio, “Your dad can email me if you guys aren’t happy with the photos.”

“I’m sure we will be,” Harry states matter-of-factly, giving you a charming smile as he takes the folder from you. He holds it like it’s something sacred, “We can get this done now, if you want. Why waste more time on this?”

You ponder his request, biting the inside of your cheek. The instructions your boss gave you were to drop the photos off, get all information if changes needed to be made, get lunch, and come back to edit photos for another company. But with Emiliano gone, Harry is your best option right now.

Reluctantly, you agree, following him to his office. The look he and his assistant share isn’t lost on you as he closes the door, drawing the blinds as well, plunging the room in partial darkness as the sun spills in from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The cool leather quietly squeaks as you sit down across from his desk, watching him sit in his own chair and open the folder. He carefully studies each photo, not saying anything yet, but his dark eyes meet yours every now and then over the photographs. 

You shift under his heated gaze, crossing your leg over the other and sitting up straighter. 

Harry smirks faintly at your reaction, knowing he’s got you right where he wants you. “These look amazing,” he compliments, putting down the photographs to make eye contact with you.

You murmur a small thank you, intertwining your hands in your lap. “I’ll send them over to your father this afternoon so you guys can… do whatever you please with them.”

“And then we’re done?” he asks.

“And then we’re done,” you confirm, slowly nodding.

“So,” Harry starts, standing up to round his desk, “you won’t be working for my company anymore, right?” he asks, sitting on the edge of his desk – directly in front of you.

You can hear the frantic pulse of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. Though, you keep it strictly professional.

Harry’s eyes follow your movements as you stand, pressing his palms into his desk and looking at you with his big brown eyes. 

“That’s correct,” you confirm, straightening your posture and adjusting your suit jacket. “We won’t ever have to see each other again, Mr. Castillo.”

“Harry,” he corrects you again, “And who said anything about not seeing each other anymore?”

“I did.”

Harry huffs, shaking his head slowly, “You can be very disobedient. Someone outta teach you a lesson.”

Your eyes narrow by a fraction, taken aback by the sudden statement that came tumbling out of his mouth. “Is that what you tell all the women you sleep with?”

“I—”

“Women aren’t on this earth for men’s pleasure. We are people, and we have feelings,” you scoff.

Suddenly he stands, towering over you with his broad frame. But you don’t back down, standing your ground and looking up at him with a defiant look.

“I never told you anything about my sex life,” he states, his voice low.

“Aw, did I hit a nerve?” you pout, “I know you didn’t. I like to know the people that I work for, and it wasn’t that hard to find out about your… extracurricular activities, Mr. Castillo. Maybe you should make sure the women that you fuck are more tightlipped than they let on—”

Harry’s hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against the warmth of his body. You can feel his breath fanning over your face, his lips slightly agape as he stares down at you.

“Say one more thing,” he warns, eyes flicking to your lips momentarily. “I’m used to getting what I want, when I want it.”

“That must get very boring,” you tease with a tilt of your head. “You want me? Then earn it,” that’s all you leave it at before you step back from him, heading towards his office door. “Tell your father I said thank you for the opportunity,” a small smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, and then you’re gone.

Harry exhales harshly through his nose, running a hand through his curls as he’s left there: wanting you.

You gave him a challenge and he sure as hell isn’t going to back down.

Steam from your coffee mug curls around your laptop in lazy tendrils, patrons of the coffee shop chattering amongst themselves. The raised ceilings give the place a more open feel, the hissing of the espresso machines echoing throughout the building. 

Your friend, Samantha, sits across from you, telling you about her latest hookup. It’s some guy she met at a party a few months ago. They’ve been talking back and forth for a while and only recently decided to just bite the bullet and fuck.

She waves her hands around as she speaks, telling you in grave detail about the fun night she had.

“I think I blacked out at some point,” she mentions, prompting you to raise your brows in surprise.

“Jesus, Sammy,” you breathe out, astonished by the statement.

As the conversation goes on, she tries to press you into telling her about the last person you worked for.

“Have you heard from Harry?” she casually asks, earning narrowed eyes from you.

“Why would I have heard from him?”

“Because,” she draws out, lifting her coffee mug to her lips, “he definitely wanted to fuck you and you totally shot him down!”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “He’s just like every other rich asshole, Sam. He thinks he can walk all over people and expect them to polish his Italian shoes with their tongues. I don’t need anything like that.”

“So?” she shrugs, placing her elbows on the wooden table, “I bet he fucks like an animal.”

“Samantha,” you deadpan.

“What?” she feigns innocence, “He is a man that screams dominance in the bedroom. If you won’t get under him, I will.”

Against your will, a fire of possessiveness begins to burn in your gut, prompting you to narrow your eyes at your friend. She continues to talk, oblivious to the uneasiness you’re beginning to feel.

“It’s a crazy feeling being with someone that dominant and kinky,” she pauses, thinking. “Oo, maybe he has a sex dungeon—”

“Sam,” you shake your head once, “Enough.”

“I’m just saying,” her tone switches to something lighter, “maybe you’re missing out on what’s right in front of you.”

“Or maybe I dodged a bullet,” you tilt your head to the side slightly. “He’s like… in his 50s, Sam. You do know that, right?”

She shrugs, “Just because the wrapper is wrinkled, doesn’t mean the candy isn’t sweet.”

You raise your brows, amusement spreading across your face as you let out an incredulous chuckle. “You did not just say that. Do I need to take your phone away from you?”

“Probably,” she grimaces, “But seriously, he wants you. I don’t think you should let that go to waste.”

You press your lips into a fine line, hearing the murmurs of the cafe die down. Everyone’s gazes collectively fall to a single person who walks in, reeking of luxury and money. Like a moth to a flame, Samantha’s eyes lift as well.

You bite into your toast, the crunch a lot more audible than it should be in a busy cafe in New York. 

“Oh my God,” your friend murmurs, causing you to look up at her.

“What?” you ask, putting your hand over your mouth as you chew.

“Expensive looking hottie alert,” she states, nearly making you choke on your food.

You wipe the corner of your mouth, turning to look over your shoulder at who’s caught everyone’s attention. The world slows around you, Harry’s dark eyes locking onto yours as his signature smirk pulls at his lips.

“Wait, isn’t that—”

“Yes, it is,” you cut Sammy off, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as Harry begins to stalk towards you.

“Ladies,” Harry greets, nodding once towards your friend before his gaze locks onto yours. He crouches down to your level, so close that you can feel his breath fanning across your face. “Hi,” he murmurs to you, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“Hi,” you repeat his words, narrowing your eyes at him. “How the hell did you find me?”

Harry nods towards Samantha again, “Your friend posts a lot on social media.”

Of course.

“Look—“

“I just wanted to personally invite you to the Crown Castillo Black & White Gala,” he speaks lowly for your ears only. “But…” he trails off, reaching for a manilla envelope from the inside of his suit jacket, “I’d like you to look over something for me.”

“Is it regarding the photos I took?” you ask steadily, not looking away from his deep espresso eyes. 

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, drawing your eyes towards it. “Not necessarily, but it is business.”

You tilt your head to the side, “What—”

“Just think about it and have an answer by the night of the gala.” He hands you the envelope, standing up and straightening his suit jacket. “I look forward to doing business with you.”

The second you get to your apartment, the sound of the envelope ripping fills the empty space. You pull out a thick packet of white paper. The title page reads: “THE COMMENCEMENT DATE BETWEEN THE DOMINANT AND THE SUBMISSIVE”

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you blurt out immediately.

Your thoughts start to swarm as you glance through the pages, words like sex toys, gags, and whipping sticking out to you.

He wants you to be his sex slave?

Did he listen to a single word you told him in his office?

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out without thinking. A new email pops up on your lock screen, Harry Castillo being the obvious name as the sender.

The packet hits your kitchen counter with a sharp thud as you unlock your phone, quickly opening the email he sent.

“Good afternoon, I hope this email finds you well.”

You narrow your eyes at the first line before you continue reading.

“I hope you consider reading over the packet I left with you. Whatever you aren’t willing to do, I will accept immediately and set up a meeting to change them. Please read over everything. All I need is your written consent.”

You scoff, placing your phone face down on the counter, hands gripping the edge of it until your knuckles are white. Darkness envelops you when you close your eyes, your breathing picking up as you attempt (and fail) to process whatever the fuck you just read.

There’s no way this is real life, right? People don’t actually do this outside of movies.

Right?

The thick packet taunts you when you open your eyes, sticking out like a sore thumb in your peripheral vision. 

As the weeks go by, the contract sits untouched in your nightstand drawer. Harry emails you, but most of the time you don’t respond, earning desperate messages from him late at night. 

You don’t know what to think about the situation. Honestly, you thought everything you found out about him were all lies, but this seems pretty fucking real to you.

The night before the gala, you build up the courage to show up at his office. You briskly walk past the security, the packet held tightly against your chest as you reach for the elevator, repeatedly pressing the button for his floor until the doors close.

You exhale in relief once the security guards faces are no longer in view, leaning back against the back wall. Briefly, you look down at the contract again, the word submissive staring back at you.

That isn’t who you are. Isn’t who you were going to be.

You refused to bend yourself to a man’s will just to please him. It goes against everything you stand for.

The elevator dinging pulls you out of your thoughts, the doors sliding open to reveal his floor. It’s dark and quiet, nothing like the other times you’ve been here. Your heels echo in the space as you step out. 

Too loud. 

Too final.

You turn back around to leave but the doors close too quickly, sealing your decision.

A familiar voice calls out your name, you looking over your shoulder to see Harry’s assistant, Rick, walking towards you.

“Sorry,” you call for the elevator again before turning around to face him, “I shouldn’t have come here. I was just leaving—”

“Mr. Castillo will see you now.”

That catches your attention, the doors sliding open behind you and revealing the two security guards. Rick holds up his hand, signaling them away. “We’re fine here. She has an appointment.”

The men share a look, deciding it’s best not to say anything.

“Please, right this way, miss,” Rick beckons you to follow him.

You glance back at the two brawly men, figuring that it’s best not to get in the elevator with them since you technically just snuck into the building. Against your better judgement and your body screaming at you not to, you follow Rick to Harry’s office.

There’s nobody on the floor. Not even a single janitor in sight. It’s like a ghost town, or one of those horror movies that start off with a vulnerable woman left alone in an office building. Nine times out of ten, she ends up dead in her car.

Rick knocks on Harry’s closed office door twice before opening it. “Have fun.”

“Wait, you aren’t staying?” you ask quietly, watching him shake his head.

“I don’t work overtime.” With that, he gathers his things and heads back towards the elevator, leaving you alone with a stranger that asked you to be his submissive through a packet of paper.

You walk in slowly, noting that his eyes immediately dart down to your bare legs as he stands. He says your name, nodding in greeting. “I’ve been expecting you. Please, shut the door.”

Hesitantly, you close the door behind yourself, feeling like you’re sealing a deal without signing your signature.

“Why were you expecting me?” you ask, walking deeper into his office. The skyline of New York City gleams behind him, like diamonds against a dark sky.

He shrugs faintly, placing his hands in his pockets. “Women usually come around to these sorts of things.”

The statement nearly gives you whiplash, your fingers tightening around the contract before you toss it onto his desk with a sharp thwack.

“Is that what you think? That women want to be your little plaything?”

“It’s not about that,” Harry claims, rounding his desk to stand in front of you. “It’s more about… testing your limits. Seeing how far you’ll go, learning what pleases you—”

You hold out your hand, “I’m gonna stop you right there.” Harry goes quiet, allowing you the space to speak freely, “You tell me one thing, but the contract says another.”

“So you read it?” he asks.

“No, I only read the title page,” you explain. “Sex shouldn’t be a business deal. A relationship shouldn’t be a business deal.”

Harry weighs your words, rolling his tongue over his teeth. “I prefer the term fucking.”

“I didn’t ask.”

He chuckles faintly, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting on the edge of his desk. “If you want to change things in the contract—”

“No, you don’t get it,” you cut him off again, stepping closer, “I didn’t want it in the first place. Did our conversation in this very office just fly over your head?”

“No, it didn’t,” he claims, shaking his head slowly, “but I can tell that you want more from me.”

Harry stands slowly, closing the last bit of space between the two of you until you have to tilt your chin up to look at him directly. A faint smirk tugs at his lips, “What is it that you want? Money? Jewelry—”

“You can’t buy me, Harry,” you interrupt him. “I won’t sign your sex contract and I don’t want to see your face again.”

He nods once, “You came to my office at 9PM just to tell me that? Something you could’ve emailed me or told me over the phone.”

You roll your eyes.

“I mean, it’s a little much, don’t you think?” he asks.

“No, you’re right,” you take a slow step back, “Goodbye, Mr. Castillo.”

You turn around, exhaling through your nose as you begin to head for his office door. Before you can get too far, you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, spinning you around until you’re flush against his chest. The collision steals all the air from your lungs, hands instinctively coming up to steady yourself on his biceps. 

Harry’s breath mingles with yours, one of his hands coming up to cup the nape of your neck before he crashes his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

A sound of surprise leaves you, and without thinking, you push at him just enough to jostle him before your hand flies across his face. Your hand stings from the force of it, causing you to shake off the pain. Harry keeps his head turned to the side for a moment, his gaze dark when he looks back at you.

What you don’t expect is for him to spin the both of you around, sending everything on his desk flying before he bends you over it.

“Is this what you wanted, princess?” he rasps, breath hot against your ear as he hikes up your skirt.

“Harry—” a low moan cuts you off when he sucks at your pulse point, the rapid flutter of your heartbeat quivering in between his teeth.

He slips his foot between your legs, kicking them apart before he delivers a harsh smack to your ass. You jolt forward upon impact, a sharp gasp leaving your lips. He soothes the plush skin, rubbing his hand along the red spot that’s started to bloom from the force of his palm.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs in your ear, the metallic rattle of his belt unbuckling filling the office. 

“This is a bad idea,” you weakly protest. Though, you make absolutely no effort to move.

“Really?” he taunts, dropping his slacks and boxers in one go. “You’re saying one thing… but your body is saying another,” he repeats what you said in his own twisted way, peeling your lacy panties to the side.

The cool air hits your slick heat, sending a shiver throughout your body. You know this shouldn’t happen. Fuck, you shouldn’t have even shown up here tonight. But then he swipes the tip of his cock through your folds, parting them, smearing your slick as well as his precum. 

His hand is steady on your hip, the other gripping the base of himself as he repeatedly stimulates your clit with his swollen tip until your knees nearly buckle. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, “you’re so pretty.”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you quip.

Harry chuckles darkly, shoving himself in, the stretch stealing the air from your lungs as you both moan in unison. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to his girth before he’s fucking you raw. The obscene slap of wet skin against each other fills the space of the office, his breathy grunts behind you stirring you on.

Push him back, you repeat in your head over and over again. It feels so right, like the Earth’s axis has finally shifted into place as your slick velvet walls greedily suck him in deeper. But you know this shouldn’t be happening – you worked for his family, he left a fucking sex contract with you, and he’s the most cocky son of a bitch you’ve ever met.

Not to mention, absolutely infuriating.

But he feels too good, angling his hips to reach parts of you that have never been touched before. You’ll get your fill just this once, you tell yourself, succumbing to the feeling of him splitting you open.

“Look at you,” he purrs, “taking my cock so well, baby.” Another gasp comes tumbling from your lips when he smacks the supple skin of your ass, watching it ripple with every deep thrust.

The ruthless pace has you mewling, arching your back until your arms are straight forward across the surface of his desk. Harry wraps your hair around his hand, using it to pull your head back and fuck you harder.

“Yesyesyes,” you chant, your jaw going slack, the sting of your hair being pulled, an odd but welcome sensation.

Harry’s other hand slides up to your waist, indenting his fingertips into your skin. “Is this how you like it?” he punctuates between thrusts, “I knew you’d be fucking perfect.”

For now, you ignore the comment, too focused on your pending orgasm and the roaring of your blood rushing in your ears. “Ohh, fuck,” you slur, feeling every ridge of his cock stimulate your sensitive spots perfectly – like it was made to ruin you specifically.

He groans, gritting his teeth as your walls squeeze his shaft. Without much warning, he hooks his forearm under you, lifting your upper body towards his. His hot breath fans over your ear, deep grunts telling you he’s just as affected as you are.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growls, tugging at your blouse until your tits spill free. Roughly, he takes one in his warm palm, massaging the soft skin and rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

You lean your head back on his shoulder, closing your eyes and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth when his hand leaves your waist to wrap around your throat. He squeezes gently, feeling the frantic pulse of your heartbeat under the pads of his fingers.

“Harry,” you whimper, heat pooling low in your abdomen as you near your peak.

“Shit,” he hisses, your walls pulsing and squeezing him just right. “You gonna come for me?” he rasps, slipping his hand between your legs to circle your swollen clit. 

Your vision goes blurry around the edges, incoherent moans toppling out of your lips as shockwaves spark through your body in fast-rising surges. Blood roars in your ears, your body threatening to double over, but Harry holds you tightly to his heaving chest.

He lets out a ragged groan, bending you back over the desk and pulling out just in time to release his thick, hot, white spurts of cum. He shudders through his orgasm, fucking his fist until he has nothing left to give.

The room stills, both of you breathing heavily from your equally intense climaxes. Your heart pounds in your ears, mind a little hazy and not fully coherent as you lift yourself up, palms pressing into the desk.

Harry pulls up his boxers and slacks, grabbing the box of tissues on his desk to clean up the mess he made.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks quietly when you don’t speak, watching you adjust your clothes and hair back into place.

“No,” you shake your head, turning around to face him, “it was good.”

He hums in acknowledgement, “So will I see you tomorrow night?”

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out just yet. Honestly, you hadn’t thought about whether or not you would go to the gala. What would you even do there besides accompany him and fulfill his… needs?

“I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

Harry steps closer, closing the distance between the two of you and placing his hands on the desk behind you. This way, you have to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes.

“You should go,” he murmurs, leaning in to press his plush lips to yours, giving you a tender kiss that you didn’t think he was capable of. 

Despite yourself, warmth blooms in your chest, leaving you wanting more. 

Everything feels wrong: your heels are too uncomfortable, dress too tight – too long, jewelry too heavy.

You felt completely out of place. This isn’t your crowd. You’re always the one in the back, a professional black dress and pumps on your body, camera in hand while you blend in with the wall. 

You’ve never been in the sea of people you take pictures of.

The building is 24 stories, drowning in exquisite taste and class – something you definitely missed the lesson on in school. Chandeliers scream money, reflecting off the lights and the diamonds dangling from women's necks. 

Soft jazz music fills the lobby, creating an alluring atmosphere that eases your nerves for the moment. 

A worker offers to take your coat, hanging it up with the rest when you give it to him. You feel exposed, anxiety rising once more now that your dress is revealed. It was a black off-the-shoulder dress, the back of it stopping in the middle of your back. 

Goosebumps sprinkle across your skin, shrinking you into your own warmth as you take cautious steps towards the grand double doors. Your heels clack on the marble floors, echoing in your ears.

Inside, classical music drifts through the air, strangers chatting too loudly and overlapping one another. 

What the fuck were you doing here?

This isn’t your scene and you’re already going against your morals – stepping out of your comfort zone because a man asked you to.

On instinct, you stick close to the back wall, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, but also not wanting to intrude. 

Neither Harry or his family are anywhere to be seen, tempting you to leave before you’re noticed by anyone.

Servers pass by, not giving you a second glance as you practically hug the wall. One walks by holding glasses of champagne and you don’t hesitate to grab one, hoping the fizzy beverage will ease your racing heart.

It’s just a party, you tell yourself. Hell, not even a party, this could pass as someone’s fucking wedding reception.

Just before you burrow deeper into your inner turmoil, everyone goes silent – even the music. Someone on a microphone somewhere introduces the Castillo family and everyone claps. You look around for a moment, lost, before you tuck your clutch under your arm and clap along with them; careful of your glass of champagne.

“Happy birthday, Mrs. Castillo!”

“Happy birthday, Ana!”

People begin shouting out, the older woman laughing and wrapping an arm around her husband.

Harry invited you to his mother’s birthday party and acted like it was just another annual gala.

Jesus Christ.

After a while, you manage to make your way to the bar, successfully ignoring Harry to the best of your abilities. You don’t move from your spot until he disappears into the crowd and you’re 100% sure he can’t see you.

You order a vodka martini, downing it pretty quickly before you pop the olive in your mouth. The sting tingles your throat, causing you to clear it into your hand, ordering another one.

“There you are,” a familiar voice says behind you, placing his forearms on the counter. “You’re avoiding me.”

You stand up straighter, rolling a toothpick in between your fingers. “Am I?” you query, tilting your head to the side. “You don’t even know how long I’ve–”

“I noticed you the second I walked in,” Harry cuts you off, rendering you speechless for a second.

He chuckles when you don’t respond, another glass being replaced with your empty one. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little, yeah,” you murmur, nodding before you sip on your drink.

Harry watches your throat work when you swallow, his mind going to more impure places. “You wanna get out of here?”

You raise your brows, “Isn’t this your mom’s party?” you pause, leaning in and lowering your voice. “Y’know, I don’t appreciate how you blindsided me with that, by the way. I would’ve brought a present.”

He chuckles, straightening up and looking down at you. “Now where would the fun be in that?” he asks, pausing before adding, “Plus, you didn’t need to. My mom already adores you.”

Surprise flashes across your face before you remember that you worked with her and her husband – not just Harry. “Well, she was lovely to work for,” you murmur.

“So what do you say?” he asks, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Your skin tingles, not only from his tone of voice, but also from his proximity. In order to keep your sanity, you press your palm against his chest, pushing him just a bit. “Just because we had sex doesn’t mean that we’re together now.”

“Really?” he draws out, straightening up and placing his hands in his pockets. “So you’re not gonna go home with me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

The city of New York twinkles below, reflecting in your irises. There hasn’t been a time where you’ve seen the city like this: so high up and a lot clearer. 

“You can see most of the city from here,” you murmur to Harry once he steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and turning you around.

“Wouldn’t you rather look at me?” he teases, earning an eye roll from you.

“You do that a lot,” he points out.

“Do what?”

“Roll your eyes at me.”

A small smirk tugs at your lips, “And you’ve deserved it every single time.”

Harry’s hands tighten on your waist, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his body. “Have you thought about the contract anymore?”

Your expression falters, opening your mouth but nothing comes out. In your hasty escape from his office last night, you completely forgot about the contract. “No, because I don’t have it anymore. Plus, I already told you my answer.”

His eyes narrow by a fraction before he pulls you by your wrist, leading you up the stairs in his penthouse. 

“Harry,” you try to get him to stop, but he tightens his grip on your wrist.

“I just need you to see,” he states, stopping in front of a locked door and fishing the key out of his pocket.

The lock clicks, your heart races, practically in your throat as he opens the door. Lights slowly turn on, reflecting off of the deep red of the walls. Harry gestures for you to go first, and your breath catches in your throat when you step inside. 

“Oh, my God,” you whisper, your body going rigid, the shock evident on your face. 

A king-size bed sits in the middle of the room, gold hoops attached to the four bedposts. The walls look like a horrific murder scene, a wine red making everything seem more intense and unnerving.

“This is my playroom,” Harry announces.

Your eyes are wide, lips agape as you assess the sight in front of you. “Yeah, I can see that,” you breathe, “Jesus Christ, Harry–”

“Before you start,” he cuts you off, “just look around. Nothing in here can harm you, I promise.”

You glance at him sideways before he stands off to the side, giving you free reign to look around. Your eyes dart around the room, trying to figure out what you’re looking at. Hesitantly, you put one foot in front of the other, heels clacking against the hardwood floor.

The wall on your right is lined with various paddles and sensory toys. A rack of items you’ve never seen before sits in front of the bed, and without really thinking, you run your fingers through the rough material.

“That’s called a flogger,” Harry informs you, moving to hover beside you.

You snatch your hand back like you’ve been burned, suddenly remembering his reputation and the other women he’s most likely used this stuff on. Crossing your arms over your chest, you move on, examining the various cuffs and gag toys he has.

“Say something,” he murmurs, “Please.”

You take a deep breath, tilting your head back to look at the ceiling as you muster up the courage to even open your mouth again. Only, you realize that the expanse of the ceiling is covered in a metal grid system. Bondage is the first thing you think of.

You knew he was kinky, you just didn’t know how kinky… Until now, that is.

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

This has never been something you’ve been remotely interested in, and now it is right in your face. 

Finally, you look back at Harry. “You do this stuff to women?” you ask, even though you already know the answer.

“Yes,” he confirms, “but everyone walks away happy.”

“H-How?” you stammer, some of your willpower returning to your body. “You’re a sadist.”

“Dominant,” Harry corrects you, earning an eye roll from you. “That right there,” he points at you, “If you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit for a week.”

“Excuse me?” you chuckle breathlessly, crossing your arms tighter across your chest. “By definition, you are a sadist. You get off on people’s pain.”

“It’s not that,” he states, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I told you: it’s all about testing limits.”

“Why?” you shrug, “Why would you want to…” you gesture towards the dangling whips on the opposite wall, “use these kinds of things on people?”

“For pleasure,” he answers like it’s completely obvious.

You shake your head slowly, “You can’t just enjoy regular sex like everyone else?”

When he doesn’t answer, you continue. “I don’t know what you want from me, but I sure as hell know that this isn’t a relationship.”

“I never said anything about a relationship.”

That’s what gets you. Your brows knit, an unfamiliar ache settling in your heart. “Then what the fuck are you doing with me?”

Instead of answering, he grabs a silk ribbon from a drawer, walking back over to you. “Hold out your wrists,” he instructs.

You glare up at him, and he senses your defiance. “I’m not gonna use them to force you into anything, I promise.”

To make sure he knows you don’t want to do this, you continue glaring at him as you slowly hold out both wrists. His signature smirk pulls at his lips, his hands deftly tying the red silk around you. Once tied, he tugs harshly, pulling a gasp from your lips.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No,” you whisper, meeting his eyes. “No, it doesn’t.”

“All the fear is in your head,” he voices firmly, letting the silk slip from your wrists.

A thought pops into your mind as you drop your hands to your sides. “If you want to… continue having sex with me, then why can’t we be together?”

“This is the only kind of relationship I associate myself with.”

Confusion stretches across your face, your brows furrowing as you try to see through his facade. He’s telling you one thing, but the way he’s acting is the complete opposite. He almost seems… obsessed with you; he hasn’t left you alone for months, he tracked you down via Samantha’s Instagram stories, and now he is trying to force a contract on you to keep you.

To you, it seems like he enjoys the thrill of the chase rather than anything else.

“How many women have you done this with?”

All you know is what you and your friend could find on the internet, and honestly, it wasn’t much. News outlets are very vague when it comes to Harry Castillo’s personal relationships, and it makes you curious.

He tosses the ribbon onto the bed, placing his hands in his pockets. “Let’s not go there right now.”

“Why not?” you push gently, closing the distance between the two of you, only for him to suddenly take a step back.

Oh, is all you can think as you stare up at him, trying to read between the lines of what he’s not telling you.

“How many?” you repeat your question earnestly, keeping your place.

Harry rolls his tongue over his teeth, “Twenty.”

“Twenty?” you breathe, all of the air leaving your lungs at once. “Christ, Fabio,” you joke, deflecting the situation.

Your mind swims within multiple questions.

Who’s to say that there won’t be twenty more after you?

How has his dick not fallen off?

Do you need to get tested?

The two of you fucked raw on his desk. You should definitely get tested.

Harry doesn’t laugh at your joke, his face remains serious. “It’s the way I am.”

“Why?” you ask quietly, almost scared of the answer.

His lips press into a fine line, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Abruptly, he grabs you by your upper arm, leading you out of the room and locking up behind the two of you. 

In the hallway, you can think clearly, not intimidated by the actual sex dungeon you were just in. You swallow thickly when he turns to face you, he seems steady but his eyes tell you otherwise. There’s the smallest hint of vulnerability in them, and it’s gone the moment you notice it.

“Be honest with me,” Harry says, “what are you thinking?”

You exhale sharply. What are you supposed to think after being shown that? It is the exact opposite of what you firmly stand on, but he seems set in his own ways.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, heading for the stairs. “That’s… a lot to take in,” you look over your shoulder, seeing that he’s following a few steps behind you.

“If you don’t want anything to do with me anymore,” he stops at the end of the hallway, looking down at you, “that’s completely fine.”

You know he’s not fine with it, but you appreciate the statement more than you’d ever let on. “I just,” you start, trying to find the right words as you process what he showed you, “I don’t think I can do that: bend to the will of someone else. That’s not me.”

He nods slowly, his eyes mimicking a puppy. It’s almost enough to make you change your mind.

Almost.

“I can’t be one of your girls – I won’t.”

part 2

a/n: i couldn't find anything like this so i wrote it myself 🌝 ive genuinely only been thinking about fifty shades since i watched it in december and Harry was the perfect character to write something related to those movies on. this isn't like anything else ive written so im stepping out of my comfort zone a bit here 😅 but i hope you enjoyed reading it. feedback is much appreciated! (part 2 soon i hope lmao)

᯽ tags: @missladym1981 , @kirsteng42 , @mcthsman , @petalsinblood , @rosharanfiction , @cherrycokeispunk , @cuteanimalmama , @harriedandharassed , @madpanda75 , @shadowqueen2024 , @picketniffler , @kokoluwie , @reedispunk , @umadirectioner , @katyispunk , @missadangel , @time-for-my-weekly-spanking , @missadangel , @stylesispunk , @milla-frenchy , @gothcsz , @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 , @sunshineflowersandkisses

dividers by @/angeliicide

You’re unsure what brought you to this place. What necessarily triggered you, but you’re triggered. It’s an uncomfortable place for you to be in, total irritation. Usually, it’s soothed by him, by Joel. He tends to catch it before you do and stop it, usually with food or attention, depending. 

He isn’t home yet, though, and you’re in a mood that you don’t enjoy being in but are in nonetheless. You do your best to soothe your soul, pulling out all the relaxing tools that’ll get you feeling less fussy. 

Pulling the blanket from the cabinet, getting your markers, and a coloring book from your sensory bin before throwing the blanket over yourself, leaving a little room for light and air. 

It’s a simple thing that allows you some peace away from the chaos of the world, especially when Joel isn’t there to protect you from it. Sometimes a good book helps, or some tea, but the agitation that pumps through your veins seems only to be soothed at this moment where you’re shading the picture and concealed due to the blanket. 

He’s home after that, you’re unsure of how long you’ve been covered, your mind gone with a lack of concern for that, more concerned with finishing the coloring page before you. 

You hear him call for you, a usual occurrence that has you scampering towards the door to jump on him in a full bear hug, where he envelops you into his arms and asks about your day while you sit on his lap. 

Not today. You can’t bring yourself to do it, just concerned with the page in front of you, eyes squinting eagerly down to it. 

“S’cuse me, little lady?” His southern deep voice beckons from above you. You can see his boots poke out from the small opening that has you murmuring something incoherent, continuing to color. 

The blanket is soon ripped from above you, earning a juvenile cry from your lips as you reach up to bring it back, glaring up at the love of your life as if he just strangled a puppy with his bare hands, watching as his hands fit over his hips scoldingly, brows knit, eyes narrowed down where you were once crouched over. 

“Ain’t gone greet me?” He juts his bottom lip out in a teasing manner, knowing good and well he’s very serious. There are rules you have, one of which is to greet him. It’s his favorite part of the day, the part that makes everything worth it. 

You don’t really care about the rules, stuck in your stubborn, irritable haze that has you non-verbal, grumbling as you pull the blanket back over yourself, only to have it pulled back as you cry out. 

“Hey now, don’t be like that, darlin’.” You can tell he’s trying to see how far you’ve gone, crouching over to get a good look where you’re whining about the blanket, trying to pull it over you. 

There are levels to your overstimulated mind, he’s aware. If you’re reading, you’re okay, just need some time. If you’re curled up watching a movie, it’s usually the same. When the coloring book makes an appearance, he’s well aware of the state you’re in, and he knows how long it’ll take you to get out. 

“Okay, alright, finish the damn page, last page, then you’re outta here,” Joel grumbles back, matching your irritation before placing the blanket back over you. It’s rare you ever get this far or this deep. Usually, he’s there to stop it, becoming a sort of shield for every inconvenience. 

He enjoys looking out for you, treating you like the doll you are. Hates to see you get this way, all irritable and pent-up. That’s not how his dream girl usually acts. 

It’s enough for you, giving you the space to finish up swiftly, grateful he allowed you the time to, eventually peeling the blanket back to find him sitting on his reclining chair, sipping at a beer, watching a game on the TV.

His eyes focus on you eventually, drifting away from the television to find you there below him, a half smile lopping on his face as he finishes the bottle, “There you are, baby girl.” 

You smile at that, head going up in a sweet way as you tilt your chin up, grateful for his praise and affirmations, lifting your book up to show him your work as his eyes go a bit wide, feeding into your desires. 

“That’s beautiful, baby, should put it on the fridge, huh?” He smirks down at you, warm broad hand wrapping around the side of your face to pet you there as your eyes shut, leaning into him there, nuzzling as he holds you. 

“Lemme see you,” He mumbles, softly, deeply, so as not to scare you away as you peel your eyes back, blinking up at him where he stares down at you. The freckles on his crow's feet make you giggle at his age, remembering your dynamic. Makes something in your belly swirl as you move away from him, standing up. 

You don’t know why, but you twirl a bit to the fridge, book in hand, ripping out the paper before placing it on the fridge yourself, signing it, To: JoJo Bear. A stupid nickname, you know, is not his favorite, but it makes you laugh. 

He follows you there, scoffing at the name, about to scold you before you begin to twirl again, laughing away from him until he grabs at your wrist, forcing you to twirl into his chest as you land there with a thud. 

Laughs spill from your lips as both his hands grab your face, cupping you there as he tilts your head up to meet his gaze, eyes connecting on something sweet as you blink up to where he’s looking at you, concernedly. 

You wish to tell him you’re fine, you’re okay, but your tongue feels heavy and fat in your mouth as he looks you over. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t here, baby girl… I’m here now,” He mumbles over you, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your nose, then your other cheek, causing you to laugh at the scrape of his graying beard over your skin. 

You hum without a care in the world, feeling completely protected under his gaze as his lips find yours on a sweet kiss that has you whining for more, leaning up into him on your toes to get a deeper angle. 

“I got you,” He murmurs onto your lips as sweetly as possible, deepening the kiss as he tilts his head, putting more pressure on your lips as you whine desperately, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him in deeper, biting at his bottom lip there. 

It’s a certain craving when it comes to him. You find you could consume him whole, biting, nibbling, sucking, you need him. Need to consume him the way he consumes you, your mouth waters at the taste of him. 

He tries to move you down the hall to the bedroom, he tries, but you give up down the hall, collapsing to your knees, gripping at his jeans, trying to pull them down as you rise a bit, tongue lapping over his bulged crotch, desperate to feel him, taste him, satisfy your natural urges. 

“Baby, easy, I got you, I know,” He’s sweet and tender when he talks to you in this state, knowing one wrong move could set you off as he unbuckles his jeans, pushing his briefs and jeans down in one full motion as he bobs up and out, the familiar figure in your hazy eyes alerts you that your to be satisfied. 

You don’t waste time, your hand grabbing a hold of his hairy base as you settle his throbbing mass that leaks pre-cum, bulging with veins that yearn to be stroked as it strains in your face, your mouth wrapping around the salty tip, your tongue licking like a lollipop there - your very own sucker. 

“Oh Christ,” He mumbles out, usually fully in control, but when you get like this, you have to get what you need. 

His cock slides down your tongue, hitting your throat as you gag yourself on his girth, never having gotten used to it, moaning as your saliva coats him, feeling pleasured with the feel of him on your tongue, remembering not to use any teeth as he instructed in previous times. 

You’re unsure of what happens to you in this state, completely attempting to fit his cock down your throat, something that you’ve never been able to accomplish, wanting to make him happy. Wanting to feel his excitement slide down your throat. 

“Baby, easy, gon’ make yourself sick,” Joel warns, taking hold of your head to slow your movements as you uncontrollably gag at the intrusion, as it’s happened before- Joel didn’t mind much, but it made you feel icky. 

You whine on him, tears spilling down your cheeks for whatever reason, maybe it’s the overstimulated day, maybe because you’re overstimulated now, you don’t know what you want or need, desperately blinking up at the man above you, hoping he can tell you. Or show you. 

“I know, darlin’, I know, just lie back, go on.” He removes his cock that glistens with your saliva once it hits his clothed abdomen, a giggle on your lips as you feel satisfied with your claim to him, lying on the carpet in the hall, remembering that Joel at least tried to get you to the bedroom 

“I’ll be right back,” He murmurs, walking past you, back to the living room, as you pout, ready to whine and complain about his desertion, before you see him return with something in his hand, brain buzzing in confusion. 

He doesn’t wait for you to register what’s happening before he’s fitting something rubbery into your mouth, teeth clenching down on it as you suck once, then twice, moaning on realization as you sink your teeth in, realizing what it is. 

He moves your skirt above your hips while you’re distracted with the foreign object inside your mouth, knowing you’re not one for panties, already dripping onto the carpet from his cock being in your mouth, it’s easy for him to get your hips up, placing the back of your thighs onto the front of his for elevation before positioning himself. 

You suck at the object in your mouth, moaning, careful not to slobber too much as you blink up at him under the dim hall light, feeling his tip nudge at your crest before pushing in, lubricated with your spit and slick wetness between your thighs. 

“Mmmm,” You moan, biting down, sucking more aggressively as your mouth salivates at the feeling of being filled to the brim with Joel’s cock. You had never gotten used to this feeling, the feeling of being stuffed. 

Sort of feels as if he’s splitting you in two, the way his mass buries and rips deep into you, your small hole widening to take him as it gives and gives and clutches around him tightly and innocently, you enjoy flexing on it, love watching how his eyes squint shut when you do. 

“Jesus baby, always feel so damn good,” He mutters in a hushed, cracked tone, as you know he’s as broken down from the day as you. Makes you want to please him as much as he pleases you as you wiggle your hips on him.

He’s in his own heat of pleasure once he roots himself deeply, nudging his hips once, then twice to earn a strangled whine from you before picking up the pace on a subtle thrust of the hips, nice and slow to get you ready for the real show.  

His hands connect with your hips, gripping too tightly, bringing them down to meet his thrusts that begin to pick up the pace, faster, always showing that despite his age, he still knows how to fuck like he’s in his 20’s. 

You cry a bit, your feet flexing where they’re behind Joel, nibbling down on the rubbery end as your man uses you how he sees fit, forcing your hips down to meet his brutal thrusts, his bushel of hair tickling your skin every time you both connect as deeply as possible. 

He’s grunting and groaning from above you, beads of sweat on his forehead as he whispers sweetly over you, how good you are to him, how good you’re doing, that you’re gonna make him fill you like a damn balloon. 

It only makes you giddy when he talks to you this way, excited to see him unravel in his pleasure, all you do is lie back and enjoy the show. 

It’s a pleasure to see him get this way, the way he bites back his bottom lip when he’s about to curse from desire, the way he adjusts himself to rut deeper into you like a wolf, the sounds he makes solely from being inside you has your cunt fluttering around him. 

“Fuck baby, almost there,” He chokes up on himself, hips slamming down into you as he finds his ruthless pace that’ll leave you sore and bruised tomorrow, but for now, you watch as he continues the motions, ceasing as he finds his peak. 

“Shit,” He curses, cock twitching relentlessly, then pushing out hot globs of seed into the depths of you, giving you everything he has as his balls press against your ass, wringing up tightly, pushing to his limit as his fingers dig into your hips. 

It takes him a while to come down, you learn he enjoys savoring his orgasms, closing his eyes and letting himself feel all that he needs to… You always give him that time, no matter what. 

Once your jaw softens, you find what falls out of your mouth to be a pacifier. A pretty blue one that makes you smile, grateful for a man who understands how to satiate your oral fixation. 

You can also assume he was probably tired of you biting his fingers every time you both fucked. 

It makes you giggle then, that realization, Joel's eyes peeling back on concern for you, always concern for you. You wish to tell him he’s fine, you’re happy, you’re always happy with him. 

“Hi, daddy,” Is all you can make out once your eyes connect, feeling giddy at having your voice back as his eyes crinkle, a smile on his lips as he shakes his head, still rooted deep in you. 

You’re still standing before the new addition when you hear some footsteps coming from the hallway, Harry’s perfume washing over you as he swings an arm around your waist. A warm kiss is pressed behind your neck, “I guess you’ve found my new gift,” his hot breathing over your skin, making you already fly on a cloud.

And you look at your reflection in the mirror, his hand sprawled over your tummy, Harry’s hand clinging on the tissue of your dress.

“Your new gift?” You wonder, gaze still on the mirror as he keeps on kissing your neck, the realisation hitting you.

That mirror is exactly where it is supposed to be.

“Oh Harry you didn’t place it in front of the bed to-” 

His look meets yours on the clean surface, eyes so full of desire that you don’t even have to finish the phrase, it is written all over his face.

“We still haven’t fully checked that out of the list.”

Him and this list, you swear that he has it somewhere on his laptop in the form of an excel file, meticulously curated with categories and necessities.

The level of dirty minded and competence that is surely a combo to die for. Being hot and attractive is one thing, but when you pair it with someone who calculates exactly how to please you and literally has a spreadsheet of it updating it with new ideas, well, that’s a whole other story. It’s not like you’ve ever seen it, he makes sure to keep it away from you, otherwise where would be the surprise? Like that time that he asked for your panties under the damn table at an event, fingering your right there, having thought that well, you had never done that before so it was definitely part of that list.

“So you want to watch us as you fuck me?” You whisper over his ear, feeling a smirk on your skin, “Oh not only that, sweetheart, imagine for a moment all the other things. I could watch you while you touch yourself for me, or while I do it for you, there’s quite a number of combinations.”

His heart beats fast in his chest, feeling it against your back, kisses reaching your shoulders and slightly moving the strap of the dress.

“So is it here to stay?” Your hand hovering his arm as he’s reaching the hems of your dress.

“Oh if you want, yes, of course.” Warm voice over your skin, expert fingers hooking under the strap and letting it fall over your arm.

And God, the reflection in the mirror is already divine, him all over you and the dress becoming smaller and smaller on you as he lifts it up over your thighs.

“Just take it off already,” you urge him, and he smiles proudly, knowing that once again he got you the right gift.

He unzips it with a swift movement and he unrolls it from your body, hands grabbing every new inch on skin, shivering in trepidation for what’s next.

And even what you’re wearing under the dress is one of his gifts, he would love to cover you in these things: he can afford everything you want, so why not give it all to you? Why not having you dressed in the most expensive pieces and the most perfect things that can value your body in the best ways?

The elegant and fine red lace hugs your breasts, the panties matching the upper piece, a see through lace, and he looks at you in the reflection, still failing to believe how a beautiful woman like you could ever stay before his eyes, how you have crossed his path and how blessed he is.

“Look how gorgeous you are, babe, take a real good look at yourself.” He coos, holding your hand from behind, thumb brushing on your wrist and over your pulse, blood rushing under his fingertip. And you do as asked, and you really want to believe his words.

He takes a step back, the back of his legs hitting the bed, just enjoying the vision in front of him, already having planned on what he’s gonna do with you.

The view from there is of your back and your ass, barely covered by those panties, and his hands cannot resist to it, one hand grabbing it and hooking his finger under the lace, noticing you shivering. 

His hand remains there as you turn, now facing him, your hands going to work on his tie and undoing it, throwing it somewhere on the floor before going for the first buttons of the shirt, Harry just letting you do everything you want to, rather enjoying you taking initiative.

“You know what you have to do now?” He asks, you nodding and leaving his shirt half open, the golden skin peeking from under it.

His hands now hover your hips, turning you so you can face the mirror again.

“You’re gonna have to look at yourself.”

Harry kisses you right behind your neck, fingers brushing away your hair, “Because last time I have bent you over the sink you weren’t looking.” His voice soft, but heavy with lust.

“I did, Harry.”

Another wet kiss, all your tensions going away, “Oh no, you did not,”, Harry teasing you.

“Well sorry if I was too busy taking your cock.”

He smirks as he grips more your ass before a hit lands on your cheek, “Oh we’re getting bold now.”

Your muscles still carry the memory from the cold marble sink in the bathroom where you had gripped your hands, Harry pounding into you, wishing you could have looked at yourself in the mirror. You didn’t though, just taking, taking and taking from him, rarely keeping your head up to glance at your reflection.

He had tried to lift your head up, his hand gently hovering the front of your neck but not even that was enough. He hadn’t pushed, but he hated that you could be thinking you weren’t beautiful, that you weren’t daring to look at yourself.

He glances at you on the glossy surface now that he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, patting his thigh.

“Come sit on my lap,” Harry’s hands grabbing your thighs, until you’re on him.

Hands skim between your thighs, letting them become wider, as he rests his chin over your shoulder, nuzzling on your skin.

His hand descends until it is over the expensive lace, his other arm around your waist.

“Eyes on the mirror, babe.” He urges, as he’s pulling the panties to the side.

“Take a real look at yourself,” Harry exhales, fingers becoming sleek onto you already.

You dare to open your eyes, to lift your look up as you grip his thigh, trying to stand still in his arms.

“See how gorgeous you are?” He kisses the shell of you ear, a wet path being left on your neck, marking his territory.

He parts your folds, licking his lips at that view.

“Look how pretty she is, my love.”

You try to steady your breath, failing already not to moan at his fingertips exploring you and exposing you on that mirror.

Your hand grips on his thigh, him locking his look with you on the reflection for what he’s gonna do next.

His fingers rub you until you’re writhing in his arms, and finally his finger gets swallowed by your wetness, not even having to push as you welcome it so well.

You fight the urge to throw your head back and rest it on his shoulder, Harry looking all satisfied when you’re still looking at yourself.

“It’s not that hard, right?” He gently whispers, closing your eyes just for a second, a fraction of it, as a second finger has made its way into you.

But one thing that is hard though, is to stay still once his hand is slapping on you, the palm hitting your clit relentlessly, and you can’t help closing your legs, trapping his arm right there.

Harry smirks over your neck, covering your skin in kisses.

The reflection is divine, he thinks, as he gets a hold of your breast and slips his hand under the lace, squeezing it lightly.

His fingers are soaked in you, whispering to your ear how gorgeous you are, how you’re taking his fingers so well.

“Gonna need you to look at yourself when you come.” He lavishly utters on your neck, as you exhale a moan.

You keep closing your legs as you start feeling the intense wave of pleasure, Harry’s hand slipping onto your thigh to have you part your legs again.

“Keep looking, darling, keep looking.” His whisper comes over his hand slapping onto your wet folds, over your moans and writhing.

And the vision on the mirror keeps being heavenly, Harry all clothed in his expensive suit and you almost all naked, all for him to admire, to worship.

You move against his hand, and it takes everything in you to keep your look on the glossy surface as the pleasure intensifies and your body is shaken by the orgasm like electricity, moans filling the room.

“There you go, my love, there you go.” Harry makes sure to whisper all the praise over your neck, your ear, kissing all over your skin, as he lets you ride the moment.

You’re hypnotised by the way he keeps holding you, and the way his fingers are slowly sliding out, Harry’s thumb flicking just a moment over the sleek folds, “Most gorgeous thing you’ll ever see, you’re just perfect.”

Your hair is disheveled, but there is a halo bathing you, a halo of pleausre.

He kisses all over your cheek, until you finally turn at him and kiss his lips, leaving that reflection on the mirror, just wanting to feel that warmth on you.

“So can the mirror stay...?” He breathes over your lips, thinking he already knows the answer.

You give him a nod, kissing him all over his jaw, the light beard tickling your lips, “It must stay, Harry.”

He smiles over your lips as you’re kissing him again, finding a little pride in knowing that he was able to let you look at yourself the way he always look at you.

“We make a really good use of it.” You bite his lip, and Harry’s mind starts working frantically already.

"It hurts don't it darlin'?" Taking the same hand and slowly pushing a finger inside you. Your mouth parting open but no sound was coming out. Thrusting the digit in and out of you for just a minute, and then sitting up and kneeling down on the floor as he gripped your hips and tugged you towards the edge.

"Joel, please I can't." Pleading with him pathetically not sure if you were able to handle another orgasm. Your battered and sore cunt had already been pounded and spanked multiple times, and it felt swollen and puffy. But at the same time you were leaking like a faucet at the thought of his mouth on you.

"Don't sorry sweetheart, I'll make you feel all better." Judging by the seductive and deep tone of his voice you knew he was going to do all that. "Just lay back and relax and let Joel take care of you."

Joel on his knees was a sight to behold. There was only one person he's ever gotten on his knees for you, literally and figuratively. You were the only person that Joel would do anything for. If you asked Joel to swim through lava just to get you an orgasm he wouldn't hesitate.

Pulling your thighs apart, and your cunt clenches around nothing, and the sight makes Joel lick his lips a hungry look on his face. Groaning at the sight of your sticky lips peeling apart, and your most intimate parts are revealed to him. His thumb gently brushes your inner thigh as he leans forward.

"This cunt is all mine tonight." Lifting your hips trying to direct his mouth to you, but Joel shakes his head as his hand comes down on your cunt in warning. Hands grabbing the sheets as the sting radiates across your entire body. And he did it again and again just to see your figure writhing on the bed in desperate need.

“Ah my girl likes that doesn’t she?” He mocked your pleasure, but it was true you liked it more than you cared to admit.

Joel says nothing, and instead leans his head and quickly attaches his mouth to your clit. Sucking on the sensitive nub, until your back is arching off the bed. Loud moans and whines slipping past your lips like you can't stop, and Joel prying them from your mouth. He was keeping your thighs spread apart so he can dive in and enjoy your taste, and feeling your legs shaking trying to wrap around his head.

"Fuck, Joel please." Unable to form a clear sentence as he looked up at your blissed out facial expression, and you could feel him smirking against you.

"Mmm just like strawberries and cream." He slurped in such a manner that would have made even the devil blush. Before hearing that kind of noise would have embarrassed you, but with Joel it only turned you on.

Feeling his entire tongue massaging your inner walls licking every inch he could. His thumb brushing your skin so tenderly and gently, in opposition to his rough and aggressive tongue. It was the perfect combination, and he knew exactly how to do it. Joel was a man that was an expert in anything sex wise, and he brought a side out of you, that even surprised him.

It was like heaven. Toes curling against his back as your hands reached down to his curly hair and pulled like you didn't want to let go no matter what. Joel growling as you tugged harder and it only made him lick and suck harder. Grinding your hips along his face feeling his beard scratching against your skin, the pricks were overstimulating but felt oh so good.

"You're there baby I can feel it." Mumbling against your cunt his licks and kisses were sloppy and messy. Pushing a finger inside you feeling your walls grip onto his digit like a vine. "Still so fucking tight."

"Joel." You speak your words barely audible even to yourself. His tongue flicking over your clit in the most delicious way. Your entire body tightening up and your creamy spend soak his mouth, and he slurps it up like it's nectar, and he was thirsty.

"That's my good girl." Praising as he spoke into your thigh letting you come down from your intense high.

Panting like you had just ran a marathon in the hot sun, your mouth was dry as a bone. Going in and out of consciousness, as tears streak down your cheeks, and your stomach was trembling. He couldn't help the grin on his face, like this was a massive achievement.

When he pulls away his mouth and chin drips with your juices, and he wipes his mouth with his fingers as sticks them in his mouth really savoring your flavor. Groaning with satisfaction and your mouth parted open as you watched his tongue swirl around his fingers.

"Just like strawberries and cream." He repeats amusingly, and you cover your face with your arm, and he just chuckles at your reaction. Sitting up so he's hovering over your body, hands on either side of your head. "Look at me darlin’."

Removing your arm as you stare back into his deep brown eyes seeing nothing but love and adoration. Joel truly loved you and wanted to give you the world if he could. Always making sure you were alright, and that he didn't push you on something you didn't want. Looking at your face to see any signs of hurt or discomfort.

"There's my beautiful girl." He smiled as he kissed you so deeply and passionately any worry you've ever had washed away. The kind of kiss that could knock you off your feet, and make you feel as if you're being lifted up in the sky. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

All you could muster was a weak nod, and that was good enough for him. “Alright let’s draw you a bath, and we’ll do whatever you want. That sound good?”

YOU.

Jackson is not what you expected it to be. When Joel told you about it — when he first lied about it — you had conjured in your mind a picture similar to the precarious conditions in which your village lived in, but Jackson is far more than that. Jackson is… Normal. The buildings aren’t in ruins and while the front walls are scary — the fucking sniffings dogs might become your worst nightmare —, the town inside looks like it’s been preserved away from the damage and destruction outside its walls. 

You get there in the middle of the night and you’re welcomed by Maria, a stern-looking woman that is nicer than you think she should be, the dogs and a small committee of armed men. They wheel Joel to the clinic while Maria brings you back to her house, letting you wash away the blood and grime and giving you some borrowed clothes after she’s sworn up and down that you’d be able to see Joel as soon as you were clean. 

There’s a plaque in the living room above the mantle. It’s a small chalkboard, the sort of thing that looks like it’s supposed to be a child’s toy; it contains two names, written in white chalk: Kevin and Sarah. 

You don’t need to do the math to know that both of them died way, way too young. 

Maria leans against the doorframe, her dark eyes watching you intently. It makes you a little nervous, even though her stare is not judgemental— She’s analyzing you, taking in the stranger in her living room and you feel entirely off put by it. It makes you shift your weight, arms crossed over your chest. 

“I’m sorry.” You point to the plaque with your chin. She cocks her head to the side, eyes glued to your face. 

“Joel told you about her?”

Her. There are two names, one for a boy and one for a girl, but Maria only wonders if you know of Sarah and you feel like there is something there, some kind of test that she’s putting you through.

“He did.” The lie escapes your lips before you can stop yourself, not wanting to let her know Joel’s been hiding things from you, that your relationship isn’t as strong and steady as you would hope that it is. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Maria doesn’t answer, but by the look on her face you can tell you just said the wrong thing.

Joel is in surgery by the time you get to the clinic— It’s a small one story house that smells of antiseptic and doesn’t hold much furniture beyond the extremely necessary. Joel is somewhere in one of the backrooms with a doctor operating on him as you pace around the bedroom he’ll be staying in as he recovers. It is a large room full of medical cots with colorfully mismatched curtains hanging between them for some privacy and there is a small tube TV in the corner that, while pitch black the entire time you’re there, stands on top of a VCR next to a modest collection of tapes. 

The head nurse is just as kind as Maria, taking her time to stitch up your forehead and clean the wound on your bicep— The bullet missed enough that you don’t need stitches there, but she smothers the wound with a smelly ointment that hurts like a bitch before carefully wrapping it with gauze. She’s apologetic when she tells you she needs to save up the pain medication for Joel and you’re so surprised that she’s actually apologizing for it that you barely have the time to come up with an answer.

She pulls a chair for you next to the empty bed Joel will be staying in once he’s out of the surgical room before she pats you on the shoulder. 

“Doctor Atkins is really good at what she does. Your dad is going to be just fine.”

“He’s not—” You shake your head, her comforting words dragging a laughter out of you. “He’s my soulmate.” 

The woman startles and then blushes so hard it looks like she might be considering crawling into a ditch. She stutters, and then loiters for another uncomfortable second before she nods and leaves the room. You’re just as embarrassed as she is, even though you don’t really understand why she’s the second person in less than twenty-four hours to presume he is your parent— Sure, Joel is older, but is it really that odd? You’d been paired up with an older man at your village too and hadn’t really considered that others might find it strange.

You’re still brooding over that when Maria comes into the room, her eyes guarded and her hands full with a tray of food. She sets it in silence on the small table next to you and you think she just might leave but, instead, Maria pulls up a chair and sits down by your side. 

You’re not sure what to make of her. She is, in some way, the reason as to why all of this happened. The reason as to why you had to leave the farm, the reason why Joel has been shunned away from his family, the reason why he is now on an operating table. You want to bare your teeth and drive her out of the room but she’s been nothing but gentle with you, feeding you and clothing you and letting you and Joel through the gates even after she decided you weren’t allowed to. You eat in silence, mostly just shoveling food into your mouth without paying attention to it, your foot tapping against the ground. 

“He’ll pull through.” She says at last, her dark eyes full of pity. “If there’s one thing that bastard knows how to do, it's to survive when he shouldn’t.” 

“I know.” You chuckle, but your stomach tightens at her words. You don’t like to even consider a worst case scenario and it becomes a little too hard to swallow as you think of your Joel, always so big and strong and powerful, laying in a hospital cot just a few doors down, unconscious as the doctor works on him. Your eyes bounce around the room, trying to come up with something — anything — to get your mind off of it. “Do you think he’s too old for me?”

“Yes.” Maria responds without a second of hesitation and it makes you chuckle again. She smiles, but her eyes are serious. “You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to. I know Joel is… A lot. But you don’t have to stay with him.”

“He’s my soulmate.” You say, mostly because it’s easier than explaining that you love him— You haven’t told him yet and it feels like a desecration of your bond to share such an intimate thing with someone else first, especially someone that clearly doesn’t care for him.

“Soulmates aren’t the end all be all.” Your head snaps towards her and she raises her hand, silently asking you to not interrupt. “Yes, it… It affects your mental health if it takes you too long to meet them, but you don’t have to stay with him after that. Not romantically, at least. There are plenty of soulmates that are strictly platonic. A girl your age… You shouldn’t doom yourself with a man that has, what? At most another ten good years before age catches up to him and his body starts to break down?” 

The both of you fall into silence, a heavy and pregnant pause as your brain reels from her words. Joel had never even implied that a platonic relationship was possible— You hadn’t really considered it either, not with how attracted you are to him. 

“There are ways to revert it.” Maria says when you give no indication of talking, her voice lower, conspirationally. “The bond, I mean. It’s not pleasant, and it’s not easy, but it can be undone. You’re not stuck with him, kid.”

“We haven’t—” The words die in your throat, face burning with embarrassment at revealing something so personal but Maria is the first woman you talk to since leaving your village and the way she looks at you with so much openness makes you comfortable enough that you speak without thinking how weird it is to admit something like that to a woman you’ve never spoken to before. “It’s not like that.” You switch courses, hoping she’ll drop the subject. “Joel doesn’t make me feel like I’m stuck with him.”

She just hums, her tone free of judgement but you can tell she doesn’t agree with you. “Well, just know that you have other options. Jackson would welcome you with open arms.”

You don’t say anything, but you wonder if she’d still be this kind if she knew the truth about Jesse.

Ruptured spleen, internal bleeding, possible brain damage. The doctor uses the word ‘miracle’ a lot once she sits you and Tommy down to explain Joel’s condition, while Tommy prefers the word ‘stubborn’ — You think you agree more with the latter than the first, having seen how Joel had dragged himself down the stairs and into the car and how tightly he held onto life. The doctor explains how Joel is still not out of the woods, how the surgery — which took about eight hours in total — is finicky and dangerous in the current state of the world but that he’s responding better than expected. It calms you, just a little, but you still stick to the side of his bed for the four hours that it takes him to wake up from the anesthesia.

Joel’s first groan as he wakes feels like a balm to your soul. You’re cramped in the uncomfortable chair next to him, wrapped in a blanket that Tommy brought at some point, and you shoot out of your seat in a second. His eyes are hazy and unfocused but they snap to your face as soon as you enter Joel’s line of sight. 

“You’re okay.” You tell him, hand hovering over his shoulder almost as if you’re afraid to touch him. “We’re in Jackson. Let me get the nurse.” 

You don’t cry until the two of you are alone, after both the nurse and the doctor have fussed over Joel, checking his wounds and vitals and giving him another giant dose of painkillers.

“Hey,” Joel calls when he sees you trying to stifle the tears, his hand — shaky and weak — coming up to brush the wetness away from your cheek. “ ‘M alright. You did incredible, darlin’. How’d you get us to Jackson?”

“Tommy.” You say, almost embarrassed to admit that you weren’t the one deserving of the credit. “He was at the farm. Drove us here.”

His rough thumb brushes your soft skin and you lean your head into it; you want to close your eyes but you can’t, not when you were so close to never seeing Joel’s shy smile again, his eyes still hazy but softer. 

“ ‘N you got us to the farm. Knew you could do it, babygirl.” 

The praise settles warm in your chest and you start crying in full again, folding yourself over him so you can press your forehead to his temple, your hand searching for the mark on his chest over his clothes. 

“I thought I was going to lose you.” 

“Don’worry.” He says, the words slurring together. The doctor had warned Joel would be a little loopy from the pain meds but you don’t like how vulnerable he sounds. “Gon’ take more than a lil’ stab wound to get t’me.”

You chuckle despite yourself, pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead. Joel’s eyes are close, and he looks more at ease than you think you’ve ever seen him. 

“Nap a little, old man. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“No,” He shakes his head, eyes still closed. “Wanna talk t’ya.” 

Joel is already snoring before you can settle down at the edge of his bed, fingers intertwined with yours. 

Joel’s recovery is slow. The doctor says it’s normal for a man his age but you can tell he’s annoyed by it, snappy and short with everyone, frowning even at you. So, after the fourth time he snaps his teeth at you over nothing, you start to spend a little less time at the clinic— It’s been almost three weeks and you haven’t left Jackson yet: Tommy managed to find someone willing to crash at the farm and take care of it while you’re gone and you’ve been rotating between sleeping at the clinic and Tommy and Maria’s couch when the chair at the clinic gets too uncomfortable or Joel’s mood gets too sour. 

You get it. You do. Joel is a terrible patient because he can’t stand being vulnerable and being the one that needs care, the man so used to taking the reigns and giving all of himself to make sure the ones he loves don’t want for anything; plus he’s in pain, the doctor weaning him off of the pain meds when their supply starts running dangerously low, and you can tell he’s been having more and more nightmares.

Sarah’s name comes up a lot while he sleeps, slurred and whimpered between his snores and you want so desperately to bring it up, to ask him who she is and what happened and why you never heard of her but you know it’s not the time, not when he’s barking and scowling at the sound of the birds outside his window. 

“He’s an ass.” Ellie tells you one evening after you’ve stormed off from the clinic. “But he means well. Sometimes.”

She’s passing a blunt back and forth with Cat, who is working on a tattoo stencil of a drawing that Ellie made and you think she might be too young for the drugs and the tattoos but it really isn’t your place to say anything. She’s… A normal teenager. Ellie doesn’t seem too special, if not for the mangled burn mark on her forearm that she’s currently working on hiding underneath the drawing of foliage and moth. And yet here she is, an immune girl sitting in someone’s bedroom, smoking weed and making a permanent decision on her body before her brain is fully formed. You like her, and you think she’s starting to like you back now that you’re able to be around her without gawking.

“I know.” You sigh, staring at the ceiling, sprawled like a starfish on Cat’s bed. 

“You’re good for him.” Ellie goes on when you don’t show any sign of engaging further in the conversation, twisting her arm this and that way to check the stencil Cat has just finished placing on her forearm. 

“Yeah.” The other girl agrees, taking a step back to look at Ellie’s arm as well. “He was a fucking animal before.” 

Ellie frowns and lightly kicks Cat’s shin. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“It’s true, though. There was something wrong with that dude.” 

You smile fondly, trying to picture Joel as something else other than the quiet, caring man you know him to be, the memory of how scared you’d been those first few days escaping you somehow. 

“He’s nice.” You say and, to that, even Ellie gives you an odd look. “He’s just going through some shit.”

The conversation ends when Cat turns on the janky tattooing needle, though, and you scoot a little closer, both curious and terrified of the loud buzzing sound as she starts to trace the pen marks on Ellie’s forearm, a reckless idea forming in your brain.

Tommy is by Joel’s bed when you finally arrive at the clinic mid-morning the next day. They’re talking in a hushed tone that doesn’t seem all too friendly, staring at each other with similar scowls on their faces. Tommy takes a big step back when you walk in, tilting his head in greeting before he slips out of the room. Joel stares daggers at his back the entire time and you take a deep breath, readying yourself to the brunt of his bad mood but Joel scoots as much as he can before patting the empty space next to him. You climb onto his bed without a word, careful of his injuries as you rest your head against his shoulder. 

“ ‘M sorry.” He says, his voice so low you barely hear it. “I’ve been told I’ve been acting like an asshole.”

“You have.” You agree, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Joel takes your hand in both of his, holding it tight. “It’s fine, I understand. I’d be pissed if I was trapped in this bed too.”

“You deserve better than a cranky old man like me.”

The sentence rings alarm bells inside your head and you sit up, frowning at him. There’s something painful behind his eyes and it takes Joel a moment to blink it away. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Joel answers with another question: “Are you happy?”

“Right now? Not particularly.” He squeezes your hands in reproach, and you sigh. “Of course I am, Joel. I— I love our home. The chickens and the bunnies. The sound of the birds in the morning and the crickets in the evening, the smell of the grass when it rains, the bees buzzing around the fruit trees. What more could I need to be happy?” 

Joel shrugs, his face searching yours. “How do you like Jackson?”

“It’s not home.” You say immediately. “It’s… It’s not bad here. But it’s not the farm.”

He kisses your knuckles and ends the conversation without another word, but you can tell he’s pleased.

It takes, in total, over a month before Joel is discharged from the clinic— He’s still not allowed to make the trek back to the farm, the horse ride too taxing on his still healing body so you take up residence in the pool house behind Maria and Tommy’s place. It’s small, cabin-like and the dark woods of the floors and ceiling makes you think of home, but there are too many windows turned to the main house and it makes you almost feel like an exotic fish in a fishbowl— The pool itself is empty and cracked, the sort of damage that would need a specialist to fix and far too many resources than it made sense to spend, Joel told you one night, but you still liked to sit by the edge of it in the evenings, wondering what life would’ve been like had the world not gone to shit. 

“Do you think we would’ve lived in a house like this?” You ask him, feet dangling from the diving board. “If the Outbreak hadn’t happened.”

“No.” Joel snorts from the lounge chair he’s sitting in just a couple of feet away. “I wasn’t made of money back then, this was a rich folk’s house.”

You hum, but you’re not disappointed— You like the pool and the diving board but the main house feels too much, more of a lodge than a home, two stories and full of windows and wood paneling; it fits well with the neighboring houses, all of them imposing in their own way, but it doesn’t bring the coziness of the farm. 

“I had a nice place in Austin, not as big as this one but— Yeah, it was a good house. Good bones, nice yard, space to expand if we wanted to.” Joel goes on. “Still would’a given you a good life.”

“I know.” You smile, leaning back on the diving board. Joel moves, like he’s about to reach for you before he grunts out the word ‘careful’ and leans back on his own chair. “Did you have a pool?”

“Not, not really. Bought the house just before Sarah was born and I was afraid she would drown.”

This is the opening you’ve been waiting for. You don’t even hesitate, don’t stop to consider the consequences of your words or how it might affect him— It feels like fair game, since he’s the one that brought it up first.

“Who’s Sarah?” 

Joel looks at you as if you just shot him, his face draining of color and his eyes widening.

“Joel, who is she? ” You try again when he doesn’t answer fast enough to your liking. “You say her name in your sleep.”

“I—” Joel sits there for a long moment, his mouth half open, staring at the grout between the tiles as if his brain needed a second to reset. You’re about to press for a third time when the faint sound of an alarm goes off from inside the house. “Gotta go take the antibiotics.” He looks so relieved it twists your stomach, and you sit there in the dark as you watch him painfully hobble towards the house. 

You don’t mean to freeze him out, but you’re simply so disappointed with Joel that you barely say a word to him; you shower on your own, and then you keep your face shoved on the book you’re not actually reading as you wait for the cracked kettle to boil— The two of you ate dinner in the mess hall along everyone else, Joel needing the exercise of walking to and from the building, and now you’re sitting in the small kitchenette next to the rickety stove, waiting for the kettle to start hissing so you can pour yourself some tea. 

You don’t set a second mug alongside yours and, while Joel keeps giving you long, puppy-like stares, he doesn’t join you even when you take twice as long to finish your drink. 

The space between the two of you feel much larger than what the rickety old double bed allows it for; you lay on your side staring at the wall while Joel is behind you, on his back. You don’t need to look to know he has his hands folded over his stomach, his head most likely turned towards the door, watchful for an enemy that is never going to appear. The silence between you feels stale, the walls of the bedroom caving in over you as the silence stretches on, sleeping evading you— And evading him, too, if the lack of snoring is anything to go by.

“She was my daughter.” Joel speaks so low so that you barely hear him, even with the silence outside. “Sarah.” 

You don’t think a parent should ever have to speak of their child in the past tense. 

“How—”

“Outbreak day.” Joel responds, though that is not what you’re trying to ask. “A soldier thought she was infected. She wasn’t, but he still shot us both.”

You roll over then, squinting in the darkness to see Joel’s face; he’s staring at the ceiling, hands clasping so tight to his sleepshirt that the fabric bunches between his fingers, his brow creased. 

“I was just going to ask you how old she was.” You say, bringing a hand to wrap around Joel’s bicep.

“Thirteen.” He breathes out, raspy and unsteady. “She was just thirteen.” 

You nod, unsure of what you can possibly say to make things better. “At least she wasn’t bit. Or worse. This world isn’t kind to women.”

“I would’a kept her safe.” He answers immediately and then his frown deepens and you know exactly what he’s thinking: If that was true, if he really could protect her, she’d still be alive. “He shot her in my arms. Bullet went through her and into me. I should’a just—”

“That’s kind of sweet.” Joel’s head swivels down to look at you, confusion etched all over his face. You feel your own burn with embarrassment and you shrug, drawing little patterns on his bicep. “I mean, the idea of the same bullet hitting the two of you. She was part of you, and she left part of herself in you. Her blood mixing with yours at the very end.”

“You’re a weird lil’ freak, y’know that?” There is fondness in his tone, enough to make you bashful, even if his face is still twisted with sadness. 

“ ‘M just saying.” You mumble, shrinking in on yourself as you roll back to stare at the wall. Joel comes with you this time, a little slower, grunting underneath his breath as he presses his chest against your back. 

“I love you.” He says it so casually you don’t think he even realizes it’s the first time he said it. You take the arm he’s wrapped around your middle, pulling his hand upwards, his forearm nestled between your breasts. “ ‘M sorry I didn’t tell you ‘bout her sooner. It’s… It’s a hard thing to talk about.”

“I love you too.” You say it casually too, as if your heart isn’t about to gallop out of your chest, as if that is not the first time you’ve ever said those words to anyone.

next chapter (coming soon).