Archive of Our Own

There’s something almost peaceful about being in the post-apocalypse. The cities and safe havens were shit, but when you got your chance to explore the wild outside the walls and sections of limited society, it was almost magical. Mother nature was quick to swallow the world back up, uncaring that her flora covered cars and buildings like a thick forest carpet, and you relished at the sight of so much green, so much life despite it all. 

“Stop all that smiling,” Joel’s gruff voice breaks through your thoughts, drawing your attention from a family of ducks swimming in a decaying fountain. “It’s creeping me out.”

“Your lack of appreciation for the life around us creeps me out,” you tell him with a mock air of superiority. 

The older man scoffs a quiet laugh. You don’t hear that sound often, even though you’re at his side like a lost puppy almost every minute of the day, so you cherish it with a grin. Racing to be at his side, you look up at him with that sparkle in your eyes, the sparkle that just screams ‘I’m going to annoy you’. With a groan, Joel puts his palm in your face and pushes you away, trying to redirect his gaze to the path way as you both trudge onward.

“Knock it off, brat,” he grunts, but you can see the hint of a smile on his lips.

With a dramatic gasp, you point up at his face. “Oh my god, Joel! Your face is cracking!” When he looks down at you, no longer amused, you giggle madly. “Oh wait, I think it was just a smile…”

The older man reaches up to smack you in the back of the head. It’s light, just a warning, and you laugh even as you cup the back of your head for safety.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence. It hadn’t always been like this though, the first few weeks you had known Joel, you wouldn’t shut up. His presence had unnerved you, something about him shook you to the core. The intensity of his dark gaze, his simple, firm words when you finally managed to get him to respond to your incessant talking. So you filled the void by talking. And talking. And talking. Eventually it stopped getting on his nerves and just became the norm.

And now, he talks to you. He jokes with you. He walks with you. Not like you’re a burden or a tag along, but like a partner. A friend. 

Joel would never admit it outloud to anyone, but he liked you. You were young and scrapy, feisty, tough as nails for someone still so bright. He found you endearing. And attractive. 

Joel almost stopped at that thought. There he went again, thinking about you in a not very friendly way. Or too friendly, Tess would say. Lately, the last few months, he found he couldn’t take his eyes off you. People were starting to notice, everyone around the two of you, but seemingly not you. And Joel was last to find out about his own… affections towards you, funnily enough. 

Even now, as you raced ahead of him and rambled at length about some book you found and read, he couldn’t help but regard you with a softness he hadn’t given someone in years.

You stopped suddenly, almost causing Joel to slam into you. He started to scold you, but you just shushed him and bent to tie your shoe.

He liked the way your body looked when you stretched to tuck your laces- he was convinced for a while you bent over at the waist for him, until he saw you doing it around Tess too, who found it less than amusing. Still, he drunk up the sight of your ass shaped so well in your old jeans as long as possible. He could only imagine how soft the skin was and he felt his chest tighten at the thought of rounding his palms over your ass-

Perking back up from your shoe, you look at Joel; you apparently don’t notice the sharp way he almost snaps his neck trying to look away in time. 

“Are we going to stop soon?” you ask. “It’s gonna get dark.”

Clearing his throat to steady himself, Joel looked around casually. The sun was just starting to dip under the horizon from what he could see through the thin line of young trees. Pursing his lips, he turned back to you. 

“Afraid of the dark, huh?” he asks in a teasing tone. 

“You know I’m not. I’m afraid of freezing as soon as the sun goes down.” You wrap your arms around yourself and shiver against the chill autumn wind. “It’s already below forty.”

The man snorts. “It’s above forty.”

“Oh, yes, because I forget the great and ancient Joel knows all! Even the exact temp without a fucking weatherman hovering around his shoulder,” you huff with a roll of your eyes. “Regardless, it’s gonna get cold. Fast and soon. We shouldn’t pass up the next safehouse.”

Joel’s never eager to settle down, even for the night, but he knows he needs some rest. And it seems like you do too from the way you drag your feet like you’re struggling to stay up right. And the attitude, he's never appreciated the attitude but it's how he knows you're getting exhausted. Normally he would chastise your lethargic, zombie crawl and piss poor behavior but the two of you have been traveling, on foot, for almost ten hours- the longest trip yet, with an estimated two more days of walking left. 

He gently places his hand at the small of your back as you start to fall behind. You stiffen at his touch, blinking up at him in momentary surprise, as he glances down at you. 

“You sure you can make it, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna collapse.” The subtle smirk on his face has your cheeks warming up so you turn your head with a scoff. 

“The real question is can you, old man ?” You smile wryly at him, to which he just chuckles and shakes his head. 

“I may not be in my prime anymore, but I can keep up,” he murmurs; the hand on your back smooths down just a bit lower, making you shudder, before it’s gone entirely. The absence of his hands and the tone in his quiet words has your heart hammering wildly. 

‘What a tease,’ you think as you trudge alongside him. 

The safehouse wasn’t anything special, just a small one bedroom cabin in the woods. It had started to decay in the aftermath of the apocalypse, but since your group started using it, it was really coming together again. Your touch was special, putting up lights and finding an old radio that you converted to solar power so you had some way to listen to music. Joel and Tess had done the most useful survival needs by adding a large stack of firewood under the wooden canopy just outside the cabin. 

“You go on inside,” Joel says to you. “I’m gonna grab some wood first.”

“No, no, lemme help,” you offer, and Joel knows that tone in your voice- the tone that says ‘you will accept my help’ so he doesn’t protest when you follow him to the pile of wood. 

He smiles to himself as you walk in front of him, eager to gather the wood for the night’s fire. You’ve always had this ambitious attitude to you, but Tess told him that she believed it was desperation to be helpful, to be needed, that your history of being brought up in the apocalypse drilled your desire to prove your worth into your personality like etchings on a stone tablet.

Joel often wondered what it was like for you to grow up the first nine years of your life before the apocalypse, before the collapse of society, then be stuck in it during such formative years. He hadn’t met you until you were twenty-one, and you kept your life before that vague. Not for his sake, but for your own. 

Regardless, he still enjoyed your helpful spirit. Even if you did try to overcompensate for your youth and stature constantly. Like now, when you had a stack of logs in your hands so tall you couldn’t see over them. 

You tried to sneak past Joel with your stack, but he chuckled and plucked enough from your arms to uncover your vision again, which you frowned at. 

“I was doing just fine on my own,” you tell him. 

“I know,” is all he says as he goes back to the pile for more wood.

When he bends to grab more, he notices a small patch of what looked like discolored moss. With an eyebrow raised, Joel sets his small bundle of firewood down and picks up the piece in the pile covered in the strange plant. As soon as the one slice of kindle is separated from the rest of the pile, the moss pulses, sending a thick, yellow cloud of spores into Joel’s face. 

A strained curse leaves his lips as he drops the wood and smacks his hands over his face- his eyes sting and his mouth feels cottony as he stumbles back, tripping over the cutting stump, and sending him to the forest floor on his ass. 

As he tries to wipe his face off, the spore from the moss burning the back of his throat, you rush over. Concern chokes your voice as you kneel next to him and dampen a rag with your canteen. 

“What happened?” you ask hurriedly. “Joel?”

“Something-” He hisses as the cool rag touches his burning hot face. “-something in the wood blew up in my fucking face.”

Even through blurred vision, he can see the sight of your face, the draining color from your expression, before you quickly settle yourself to clean him up. The rag feels shockingly cold, freezing, and his body is already sticky with a sheen of sweat despite the autumn breeze chilling his bones. 

“You’re gonna be okay, cowboy,” you murmur with a soft smile as you clean.

Your hand cups his face to inspect him over, make sure you got everything, and the touch makes him stiffen and grit his teeth. Then, with a smile, you pull away, and he finds himself wishing you’d keep touching him, just a little bit longer. 

“Here,” you murmur, presenting the rest of your canteen to him before standing. 

He takes it without hesitation and gulps down the last few mouthfuls before joining you on two feet. It takes a moment for his eyes to readjust, now clear of the yellow powder, and he realizes you have some on you too. With narrowed eyes, he raises a hand to your face and swipes it off your lip, just seconds after your tongue darts out to clear some of it up. At his touch, you freeze and grow hot, but he quickly pulls his hand away to look at the yellow powder. 

“Spores,” he grunts. “Shit.”

“Well, the spores could be anything,” you murmur, cringing at the taste of it in your mouth- bitter sweet like dark chocolate and yet sour like rotten meat. “Almost all fungi reproduce by spores, and… the cordycep reproduces in temperate environments. But it’s dry out here, and…”

There’s a flash of panic in your now bloodshot eyes as you look to Joel in desperation. 

“It’s okay,” Joel says slowly, calmly. “It’s not the cordycep.”

He’s right. You know he is. The cordycep didn’t look like pastel yellow pollen. It was long dredges of hair like veins that sprouted from the orifices of living things and occasionally anchored itself to walls in high traffic areas. The infection was smart, to some degree, so there’d be no use to prop a patch in random sections of overrun forests. 

“We should get inside,” you finally say after swallowing down your fear. 

Get inside and pretend that didn’t happen and hope to god Joel was truly right. So, with shaking hands, you pick up the firewood you dropped in your panic, and carry it inside. Joel waits a moment, the bundle of the now deflated moss preoccupying him for his thoughts before he eventually gathered himself together and followed you inside. 

The fireplace crackles lightly as you stroke at the embers that are beginning to burn. Joel hasn’t left the couch since he came back inside, which worries you. Normally, he doesn’t sit still, always doing repairs or setting off for the next smuggling job, but now he just sits there. His dark, half lidded gaze is foggy with thought, a thousand miles away, and you want to try to make conversation, want to push him out of his own head, but you find yourself struggling to find the words, any words. With a frown, you turn back to the fire to distract yourself. 

Joel’s temperature is rising. He can feel it like a fever in his body. It makes his bones ache and his muscles sore. But the worst part is he can’t focus. He can’t bring himself to reel his mind under his control. It wanders freely. And dangerously. 

When you stretch to poke at the fire mindlessly, Joel watches closely. His throat tightens at the sight of you, the small section of skin that shows as your flannel rides up tempts him. Your skin looks so soft and-

‘Stop…’ Joel tells himself as he puts his head in his hands. His fingers move through his locks and a flash of desire sparks in his veins like hellfire as he imagines how your own digits would feel grasping his hair, curling at his scalp to pull him closer as he kisses you. 

‘Stop.’ Joel grits his teeth and closes his eyes tight to try and clear his thoughts. But it’s hard when you’re close enough he can smell you, your natural scent filling the room, filling his nostrils, filling his mind. He wonders how you taste. You smell so sweet, you must taste it too. 

‘Stop!’ He’s been hard at work putting you out of his mind when it comes to this context. It was inappropriate of him, but he couldn’t help himself. You cared about him, and he cared about you, and he refused to ruin the genuine friendship the two of you had just because he was pussy hungry. 

But it was more than that. More than just lust. And that’s what scared him. He wanted you carnally, wanted you wholly, to be his . And it was terrifying to him because he was old enough to be your dad and he knew he had to keep you at arm’s length but it was impossible when you were constantly close, hanging to him like a lost puppy. And he found himself looking forward to spending time with you. 

He realized his… attachments to you some months ago. When you were at a bar, celebrating your birthday, just the two of you. And when you were three shots in, you leaned against him and laughed lightly at nothing before pushing your nose into his shirt and taking a soft smell of him. 

That had gotten him hard in seconds. He didn’t know what to do with his hands in that moment, torn between holding you closer, pulling himself away, or pushing you up onto the bar top to fuck you senseless right then and there. In front of everyone, especially the men your age watching you like a bunch of horny teens. He wanted to take you right then and there and show everyone you were his, his, his-

“-Joel?” Your voice breaks through his thoughts. 

Startled, he looks at you, struggling to focus on the concern on your face.

“You’re flushed,” you murmur as you scoot up to him; the smell of you is overpowering and he has to freeze like a deer in headlights to not make any sudden moves. When your knuckles gently press against his face, smoothing up to his forehead as he bows into your touch, you frown. “You’re burning up…”

Joel lets out a shaky breath. “So are you,” he notes quietly, realizing there’s a thin bead of sweat starting to build on your brow. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t take his eyes off yours, can’t seem to pull himself away, and for some reason you don’t either for a long moment. Your chest rises and falls shallowly, your eyes starting to grow cloudy, until finally you force yourself to peel away from the man. 

The contact is missed greatly, but he doesn’t seek out your touch. It takes all his strength to not chase your hand as it moves back to your lap. 

“I should make us dinner,” you mutter. 

Dinner…. Yeah, Joel could eat. More than food. His eyes fix on your lips just a second before you turn back to the fire. If you asked, Joel would devour you whole. He’d eat your fucking heart up if you asked. That’s all you had to do.

Ask. 

You stand, your legs shaking, and Joel catches the way your thighs clench slightly. He stands too, clapping his knees with sweaty palms as he does so. 

“I’m going to the bathroom, wash myself up,” he says quickly, quietly, drawing your attention to him despite his best efforts. 

“Oh, okay.” You blink at him, bat those pretty lashes over those gorgeous eyes, and smile softly at him. “Don’t be too long. We gotta eat while it’s hot.”

Sinking his teeth into his lip, he nods as he rushes past you and down the hall. You watch him leave, your gaze trailing down his back to his ass where your eyes linger until he disappears into the bathroom.Your throat tightens and you turn back to the fire, ready to distract yourself with dinner. 

Joel does his best not to slam the door behind him as he locks himself in the bathroom. He finds it hard to breathe, his chest tight, as he grips the sink until his knuckles are white. When he closes his eyes, all he can think about is you. All he can smell is you. He feels like an animal in rut, like he was a horny teenager again. 

“What the fuck?” Joel groans as he drags a hand down his face. 

What had gotten into him? Normally he was much more under control than this. He could hold off these thoughts, these feelings, until he was alone. But tonight, for some reason, he couldn’t pretend, couldn’t fight it. 

His zipper was killing him. 

A low, trembling groan leaves him as he leans back against the bathroom wall. He can see himself in the mirror, flushed and sweating, the tent in his pants begging for relief. There was a rolling sickness in his stomach, the pulse of strong arousal almost too much for him to handle. He has no choice. He can’t wait, it’ll kill him if he does. He honestly thinks it will. 

He unzips his pants slowly, teeth gritting together in a hiss as his cock throbs. There was the wish that it was your hands that palmed him through his boxers instead of his own. Oh, the things he would do just to have it be your hands pulling his erection out of its restraints, to have your digits wrapped around the girth of his dick, to pump him.

His thumb smooths over the dribbling slit of his cock to slicken the length; the groan he lets out rumbles deep but quiet in his chest. If he closed his eyes, head tilted back as he begins to slowly fuck his fist, he could imagine it was you. You’d start off slow, easy, just to build up confidence, and he’d pet your hair and tell you what a good girl you were, what a pretty little thing you were, how beautiful you looked. 

Those lashes of yours would bat up at him, screaming innocence, begging for whatever he’d give you- and he’d give you the world. 

Joel sucks in a breath through his teeth as his cock twitches in his hand. The rough desperation of his desires had his body hot and aching, needy. He needed more… His brows furrowed as he tries to think, tries to focus, instead of letting his scattered thoughts run wild. 

One time, he’d caught you after bathing. It wasn’t on purpose, it just sort of happened. The two of you had been out on a run and had gotten a little messy with a small horde of infected, so you had snuck away to wash up while he set up camp. He had gone to fetch you for dinner, worried about how long you were gone for, when he came upon you, you were half submerged, busy with scrubbing the gore from your favorite shirt. Your chest had been just above the water, the edge of the chill pond’s surface lapping at the very bottom of your breasts.

He didn’t mean to creep on you, he had just frozen and by the time he snapped back to it, it was too late. Then, he figured, he might as well keep watching. And jerk off while he was at it. He liked the way you looked, dripping wet like that. The way your hair slicked down and cascaded longer from the water soaked in your locks, sticking to your slick skin like glue. Your lips quirked into a small smile as you scrubbed at your scalp after your clothes were clean, cheeks pushed up to slightly crinkle your beautiful eyes. 

Joel didn’t last long that time and when you finally came back, it took him until the next morning to meet your gaze again. Since then, his fantasizing about you became steadily more and more frequent. At first, out of lust, but now-

Fuck, he needed you. He wanted more than a quick fuck, he wanted you, your body, your mind, your soul, he wanted, needed to be with you. He wanted to tell you everything that he thought about you while he pounded you into oblivion. He’d mark you up for the entire world to see, to know you’re his. Your skin would look so beautiful covered in his bruises, in his teeth marks. 

Joel was… loud . 

You stood with your back to the door, both hands clasped over your mouth as your entire body burned like molten lava. There was no way you were hearing this. Just no fucking way. 

“So pretty-” Joel murmurs, his voice muffled and husky. “Fuck, baby… feels good, so fucking good, so tight, right there, right there-”

Your blood can’t decide whether to flood your face or your cunt but you’re frozen in place, petrified, aroused. Horribly aroused. It hurts, especially when your thighs clench, it feels like your swollen clit is screaming for attention. You wished you could see him touching himself- vaguely you can see the motion of the shadow under the door. He really was going at it, seemingly without a care in the world and truly, you wouldn’t have heard him from the living room but you had come to tell him dinner was ready. 

And now here you are, cheeks on fire while your eyes are clenched tightly closed, and you wish he’d just cum already so you could scurry away. Realistically, you should have left by now and normally you would, but something about tonight has you unable to turn away from this. It takes all your strength not to touch yourself as Joel gets off, and it’s even worse when he says your name. 

Not says it… Moans it, practically whines it. Your fingers close tighter around your mouth and your thighs are trembling, shaking, tears in your eyes as you savor the way your name sounds dripping from his loud mouth. 

Does he see you the same way you see him? He must if he’s pumping his cock like that and crying out your name. It’s delicious. It’s torture . 

He says your name again, but this time it’s choked out. Warbled, strained, and you hear his pace stuttering as he finally cums. It takes you a moment to peel yourself away from the door, your legs still shaking like a leaf in a hurricane but when you do you make a quick exit before Joel can come out of the bathroom. 

"What're you reading?" Joel asked as the two of you ate your dinner; the tense silence settling over the meal was starting to get on his nerves. The deafening ringing in his ears and the thoughts still swirling in his head despite his recent orgasm had to be drowned out by something. 

You don't look up at him, but you do respond. "I was thinking."

"That's what that smell was?' 

You roll your eyes as he smiles joyfully at you, clearly amused by his own joke. "Anyway," You mutter, "the spore we got blasted with is thankfully nowhere near cordyceps. I was… very worried about that, seeing as how we’re both developing fevers. But it's strange. I'm not able to see exactly what it is. That part of my book is torn out."

You lift the mycology book and dangle it for Joel. The picture of the moss and its spore is shown, but most of the description is missing, torn from its rightful place. Putting the book back in your lap, you chew thoughtfully on your lip. 

"It says something about it being harmless but there are 'serious' effects on mammals. Interestingly enough, specifically humans," You tell him. 

Joel frowns and lowers his spoon- his appetite is mostly gone anyway, so he puts the still full bowl on the table and begins to move closer to you. "Wonder what that means…"

His breath was practically fanning over your neck; the smell of his natural musk filled your nose. Heart rate skyrocketing, you sat there, unable to move, like an animal cornered and caught in a snag trap. When Joel leans into you further, his eyes glued on the book, his body touches yours. His leg brushes and presses against your leg as his large hand comes to hold the small of your back again. 

You have to bite your tongue and close your eyes tight to keep in your desperate noise. The pitiful whine dies in your throat, thankfully completely silent, but another part of you rages deeply. 

He’s close enough to kiss you. To hold you and whisper in your ear with that stupidly attractive voice of his, to bend you over the couch, rip your pants down, and claim you right here-

You stand suddenly, almost pushing Joel over. He blinks up at you in surprise but you just give him a tight smile. 

“We should head to bed!” you tell him. “It’s late. Gotta get up early in the morning! And boy, I sure am beat!” 

Humming, you walk casually to the bedroom. You aren’t tired, far from it in fact. Your body thrums with a painful arousal as you drag yourself to the bedroom. Joel normally insists on the couch, so you close the door quietly and strip down to your baggy undershirt and underwear before climbing into the bed. 

Your pussy is aching by the time you drag the sheets over you. There’s a hot fever that gives you the shuddering chills as you curl up into a ball, whimpering and internally begging for the pain to go away. There’s a part of you, a monstrous part, that wants to say fuck it and just beg Joel to take you, finally take you. But you can’t. You have to have self restraint, you have-

The door to the bedroom opens and you almost don’t hear it over your heavy breathing, but you sure as shit hear Joel’s belt hits the ground, his other clothes following suit, before he lifts the covers and climbs in next to you. His bare chest presses against your back as he molds himself around you. One of his arms slings around your waist, his hand dangerously close to your breasts. The unmistakable feeling of his hard cock pressing against your thigh makes your heart almost explode.

Your entire body is on overdrive. The overwhelming sensation is grinding you down so quickly that it almost makes you sick, and you whimper at the pulse of arousal in your cunt.

“I think,” he breathes, his voice like heaven to your ears, “it would be best if we shared a bed tonight.”

“Okay,” you murmur, voice croaking. 

The two of you are quiet for a moment. Joel shifts his hand to your thigh, his fingers gently moving up and down the flesh in a torturously delicious way. You close your eyes tight and bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep quiet, to stop the pathetic noises that threaten to leave you. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Joel sighed as he brought his lips to your neck; you gasp and shudder. “Tonight, I just… I can’t help myself. Fuck, tell me to go away. Tell me to leave and I’ll lock myself in the bathroom.”

It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts, too foggy with lust on your mind to think right, but finally you mutter, “And if I didn’t ask you to go?”

Joel groans, the sound rumbling against your back and making your clit throb. “Then I’m going to take you, right here, right now.” It sounds like he’s holding back, his voice is tight and strained, almost a growl. The hand on your thigh grips the fat and muscle, a warning, but it only makes you want more. 

“Don’t go,” you whine at him, doing your best to crane your neck to meet his dark, lustful gaze. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he grunts. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, sweetheart.”

“Then show me,” you beg as you press yourself against his erection. You feel it twitch against you as his breathing hitches and, like a taut rope, he snaps. 

His mouth is at your neck, tongue and teeth lavishing the sensitive skin there as he rocks against you; you cry out, your voice hoarse. He holds you steady with his hands on your hips, too focused on your shoulders to allow you to move away from him. 

“I warned you,” he growls against your skin, in between bites and kisses. “I fucking warned you, sweetheart. Fuck-”

One of his large hands goes between your thighs and wastes no time cupping your cunt over your underwear; his palm grinds your clit as his fingers threaten to sink into the fabric to reach your hole. You cry out, bucking shakily into his touch, and Joel laughs darkly. 

“Desperate slut ,” he murmurs and that voice, those words, sends a shockwave through your body. “That’s okay. I can work with that.”

The sound of his heavy breathing and your pitched moans fill the room as he begins to palm your clit. The friction is a god send and torture. Your body screams with desire and delight, your mouth watering at the feeling as you try to buck your hips, rock them into his palm, but forces you to still. 

“Be patient,” he tells you in a dark, quiet tone. “Don’t rush this.” You whine but obey. He nods to himself, returning to biting your neck, this time you can feel teeth breaking skin enough for him to lash his tongue over the small wound. “Good girl…”

The hand on your pussy moves and, while you miss the contact, when he rips down your underwear, you make no complaint. Instead of his hand going back to your now naked cunt, his thick, hard cock brushes between your folds. You stiffen and mewl at the feeling while Joel hums in obvious appreciation. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispers huskily. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Waiting for you? Had me feeling like a disgusting old man, pining after you, you know that?”

“Jesus, Joel,” you weep, clenching your thighs around his cock as he begins to rock his hips. 

“Shit, even the way you say my name makes me wanna cum.” He laughs, breathless, and holds your hips steady in his hands as he begins to move. The length of his shaft brushes against your clit. 

It’s enough to make you see stars. One of your hands grip the pillow under your bed so tight you threaten to tear it apart while the other finds Joel’s thigh. Your nails sink into the well developed muscle, earning a hiss from the man and encouraging him to buck into you harder, faster. 

“Say my name,” he demands, the words slurred as he mouths your shoulder; teeth scrape against the round of muscle. “Say my name, like a good girl.”

“Joel,” you moan. “Joel, Joel, please, hah- I’ve wanted you too. So long. So long, never touched another man, only wanted you-”

“You’re a virgin?” he asks; his hips still for a moment before quickly picking up where he left off. The sound of wet skin on skin fills the room, accompanied by the two of you breathing and panting and moaning like rutting animals. “Really?”

“Yes,” you whine as your eyes roll back into your skull. “Didn’t want anyone until I saw you… Joel, please, I wanna cum, make me cum-”

“I’m gettin’ there, darling,” he soothes, kissing at your jaw. 

One of his hands slides up from your hip and to your breast. He molds his palm around your breast, cupping and massaging, until his fingers find your hard nipple. He gives it a gentle but firm tug, earning a cry of his name as your hips stutter. 

“Oh, you like that, huh?” He laughs and does it again, giving your nipple a slight twist this time. Again, you cry out and beg wordlessly for more. Joel is more than happy to provide that. “Mm, fuck. I’ve spent months thinking about how you would sound in a situation like this. It’s even better than I imagined.”

Your thighs clench again. The room is hot, the air feels heavy, the tension of your approaching orgasm is not gentle. It demands more, more, cumming-

Voice dying in your throat, you soundlessly gasp and clench your thighs so hard it feels like you’re milking Joel. He groans, surprised, but doesn’t stop. He keeps rocking, bucking, moving his cock between your soaked folds until your tight body relaxes enough to twitch. 

“That feel good?” he asks, slowing himself down. 

“Yes,” you answer. “But, please. Don’t stop-”

You sit up, shifting to kiss him on the lips. He moans into your mouth as he lets your tongue explore him. Your hands pet desperately at his broad chest as his own hand cups your cheek. 

“Don’t worry,” he says as you pull apart to breathe. “We got all night. And I don’t plan on stopping until I fill you up past your limits.”

Your cheeks, already hot, burn at that statement. Joel, aware that you’re unsure of what to do now, takes one of your hands in his and slowly guides it down to boxers. Since his cock is already out, he allows you to take his length in your hand. It’s slick with your juices and his precum which makes your job easier. 

The sound he makes when you start to pump his cock in your fist is heavenly. His eyes close as he leans back against the stiff pillows and, slowly, his hand leaves your wrist in favor of gripping the bed. His other hand smooths your hip. 

“Feels so fucking good,” he whispers. 

There’s a boldness in your actions when you lift the bedsheet enough to lower yourself down. Joel regards you with surprise, but doesn't dare stop you. His wide eyes focus on you as you settle yourself at his lap. Keeping your eyes on him, you lean in to kiss the head of his cock. His breathing hitches, fingers curling harder in the bedsheets.

Your tongue laps up his length until you reach under the head of his cock where you press your lips and suck lightly. The noise that leaves Joel is heavenly and sends a delight to your clit. His large hand palms the back of your head as you finally guide him into your mouth. His fingers tremble at the effort not to just start forcing you down, but he does curl his digits around your locks in encouragement.

He tastes like how you imagined. Your tongue swirls and pets over every inch it can reach as you take him deeper and deeper, until you finally seem to hit your gag reflex. The rest of his length you take in your hand, pumping him as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Hollowed out cheeks provide the best suction as you move your mouth on him. 

“Fucking Christ, darling,” he pants out. “You’re a natural. Don’t stop… don’t you dare fucking stop.”

Emboldened, you reach up your other hand to gently massage Joel’s balls. He grunts in surprise at this, the noise turning into a deep, rumbling chuckle; your thumb rolls over his balls, gentle but firm, eliciting a low moan from him. The fingers in your hair twist your locks to control your movements. 

“Fuck, where’d you learn that?” he asks, beginning to move your head at his own pace. Your eyes water as he sheathes himself into your mouth fully. 

He isn’t patient or gentle; even though he’s forcing you further down his cock (which has your vision growing spotty), he thrusts his hips up into your mouth. The noises you make are loud, wet, muffled gags as your nails dig into his thighs to hang on for dear life. Your eyes roll into your skull as he throws his head back. 

“I’m close,” he groans, voice threatening to give out. “Fuck, baby, you gonna take all of me? Gonna swallow my load?”

You do your best to nod. The hand not gripping your hair pats your cheek. 

“Good girl. Fuck, hah, I’m almost there, almost, right there, right fucking there-”

His hips jut off the bed, forcing you to take his cock in one swallow. The salty taste of his cum fills your mouth and you do as he asked, swallowing as much as you can while your eyes sting and water and your pussy begs for more. The way your throat clenches around him swallow after swallow has him hard again in seconds. When he pulls you off his cock, your mouth being freed with a loud, wet pop, he groans at the sight of you. 

“Come here,” he murmurs as he brings you to lay on your back. You follow him, allowing him to guide you down. “Lemme return the favor, sweetheart.”

“Ruh- return the favor?” you pant. Your wide eyes watch him as he says nothing, just smirks like he’s going to cause trouble, and helps you take your shirt off before sinking down to his elbows. 

A squeak of surprise leaves you as he grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders. Propped up, you watch him intensely as he presses a kiss to your thigh. His teeth nip at the flesh, causing you to shudder, and he laughs lightly. 

When he spreads your lips with his thumbs, you gasp. Not even a second later, he’s mouthing against your opening. His tongue drawls up and down, side to side, not yet touching your clit, just teasing at your wet hole. You squeal, your thighs closing in tightly around his head. He groans into your cunt, savoring the sounds you make, devouring the taste of you and committing it to memory. 

“An…” Your words catch in your tight throat as you lay back fully; hands scrabble to find purchase, the sheets too loose, too hot, so you grab at Joel’s hair, which has him moaning against your pussy. “An aphrodisiac! That… that must’ve been what… what, oh fuck, what the pollen wa-as!”

“Don’t care,” Joel murmurs as his tongue slides up to your clit. He circles around it a few times, edging you until you’re begging incoherently. “Wanted this for too long. Fucking Christ, girl, you taste god damn amazing.”

“Joel, please!” you plead and this time, it’s you who rocks up. 

The older man takes it in stride, eager to swallow you up, as his lips close around your clit. He sucks at it, swirling his tongue over the hardened nub like it was what he was made for. You don’t think you could get any closer to heaven until he slides a finger into your aching hole. The action has you arching your back. The way his digit, quickly met with a second one, pets against your walls has your entire brain full of static. 

He scissors his fingers inside while he sucks hard at your clit. You scream his name, begging, pleading, desperate , prone for him, wanting more, wanting all of him, all he can and will give you. 

The heels of your feet dig into his back as you lift yourself off the bed in an eager attempt to feel all of Joel. He smiles against your flesh and, knowing your orgasm is quickly approaching, hums against your clit. The vibration is the last thing you need to send you over the edge. His name dies on your lips as you gasp and buck like a wild stallion into his mouth. He allows you to keep moving until your body falls to the bed, exhausted but not spent. 

Joel crawls over you, kissing at your neck sweetly before pressing his lips to yours. When his tongue explores your mouth, you moan at the taste of yourself. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says tenderly, cupping your face and rolling his thumb over your cheek. “So fucking beautiful, sweetheart.”

There’s an overwhelming wave of emotion building in your chest and you sob out as he kisses you. “Joel, please,” you beg, “please, please, I need you- inside me. Please .”

“Mm, whatever you want, baby.”

With a roll of his shoulders, he sits up and looks down at you. Your body is aching, quivering, ready for him, needing him just as bad as he needs you. Like this, you’re beautiful. You’re everything. 

One hand steadying your hip, his thumb drawing circles over your skin, he takes his cock and guides it to your dripping hole. You take in a sharp breath as he gathers the wetness, swirling it around with his head. 

“Don’t tense up so much,” he breathes out. “It’ll hurt if you do.”

“I’m trying,” you mutter. “I’m nervous.”

With a soft smile, Joel leans down and kisses you softly. “It’s okay. I got’cha. I’m right here for you. I’ll be gentle.”

Sitting back up again, he begins to push his cock into your pussy. You take his advice, trying to relax your muscles as he slides inside, and it’s surprisingly easy. You’re not sure if it’s the aphrodisiac that does it, or Joel, or both, but your body welcomes him eagerly. 

He groans as he sheathes himself fully inside you. There’s no pain, amazingly enough, and for that you know you have to thank the aphrodisiac.

“God, you’re tight,” he tells you gruffly; his hands smooth up and down your body. “Like a warm, wet vice… fuck.”

He arches over you, palms planting on the bed at each side of your head, as he slowly begins to pull out. It’s not enough to pull out fully before he’s pushing abc into you. Your teeth bite your lip as you hold onto his wrists, wrapping your legs around his hips as he sets a slow, steady pace. 

Joel groans. “How’s this? How’s this feeling, baby?”

“Fuck,” you mewl out. “Good, so good, Joel, please… mm- more-”

“Easy there.” His lips meet yours for a moment. “Take it easy, don’t rush. God damn, girl, I wanna savor this.”

His laugh rings in your ear as he pulls one hand down your belly to your clit. The pad of his thumb circles over it, firm but slow. You whine and mewl, doing your best to meet his hips from below him. The way he touches you sparks electricity in your veins, a dangerous addiction to his cock hitting the right spot inside you starts to build. 

He fucks like his life depends on it. Like he’s fucking you into the mattress. Pounds you hard and fast until your breathing comes out in choked stutters. His tongue lavishes your breasts, lips suckle at your nipple, teeth nip at the flesh. 

“Gonne make you cum on my cock,” he pants against your skin. “You want that, don’t you? You wanna cum for me?”

A moan leaves you as you nod furiously. “Yes, Joel! Please, I’m close, please, please, god-!”

“Then fucking cum,” he growls into your ear before nibbling at your lobe. 

Pathetically, you do so almost on command. Your eyes close so hard that flashes of colors and shapeless patterns dance behind your lids. Your nails dig into his back as he keeps thrusting into you, your legs tighten around his hips almost to the point where he can hardly move. 

“Inside me,” you beg. “Please, please, cum inside me, Joel, please-e!”

“How can I not when you-re, god, fuck, when you’re begging me like that?”

He arches back as he cums deep inside you. His pace stutters, jerks, but doesn’t slow down until you feel like you’re leaking onto the bed, so full of him. The feeling is pleasantly welcomed, making you bite your lip as you watch his expression- while in the throes of cumming inside you, he’s even more handsome than before. 

“God damn!” he pants out. “I can’t stop, I need… need to fuck you again.”

Eyes wide in surprise, you don’t even get a moment to breathe before you’re on all fours. He pushes your shoulders down to half way bury your face in the pillow before he’s inside you again, staking claim to your aching pussy. 

“Joel!” you squeal, toes curling. 

The call of his name has him bending over you, morphing him to your shape. 

“Yeha? What’s it you want, baby?” he asks, breathless. “C’mon, use those big girl words of yours… I know you can.”

“Joel, mm, too much… too much-”

His hands are on your hips but he doesn’t slow. “Want me to stop?”

“No! Fuck, god, keep going!”

You can feel him smirk against your shoulder as he wraps an arm around your throat. “Good choice, baby.”

With how tight his arm is around your throat, you have to gasp for air, but you don’t dare ask him to remove the arm. Your hands hold it firmly against your throat, gripping for dear life as he pounds into your already abused pussy. 

“Fuck, you’re so god damn beautiful. Pretty little thing, taking me like a good slut.” Joel groans and nuzzles his nose into your hair. You try to arch yourself, give him more leverage, and he chuckles darkly. “That’s it. Christ, you’re perfect. So fucking perfect. You’re mine, you got that?”

You nod, but it’s not enough for him. He loosens his choke hold on you just enough for you to suck in a lungful of air. 

“Say it,” he demands. “Say you’re mine. Tell me whose pussy this is.”

“Yours!” you cry out. “All yours, Joel! My pussy is only for you! Please!”

“Good girl…” His lips kiss at your temple as his arm tightens around your throat again. His spare hand reaches around to your front to play with your clit again. You’re dizzy, tipping over the edge, every muscle in your body aching and burning and so delightfully sore. Your pussy squeezes around his cock, eagerly cumming for him again.

The deep groan in his chest rumbles against your back as he cums, the way he breathes and pants seems like his own orgasm surprised him. After a few more hard, jerking thrusts, he begins to come down from his high. The foggy lust that had come over the both of you is dwindling and Joel, ever the gentleman, helps you onto your back again. 

“Christ, you’re all bruised up,” he murmurs as he reaches for your canteen on the nightstand. He opens it and holds it to your lips.  “Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you tell him, voice hoarse as a smile spreads on your face. “I liked it.”

“God damn, I did too.” He settles beside you in bed, bringing you close to him. “So…”

“So?” you yawn and blink up at him. 

“How do you like your breakfast?” he teases, kissing the top of your head. 

“With you,” you answer as you lay your head on his chest.