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Time had worked differently during the apocalypse. Everything had slowed down, and you had gotten bored. You had lost what you were before and had become a single-tasking person, not distracted by noise, gadgets, crowds, ads, or pressures to be more attractive, richer, smarter—anything but just being alive.
You had been 15 when the world changed, and luckily back then, your world had still been centered around things like your iPod, high school, the clothes you had wanted to buy, your diary, and especially your massive crush on Aragorn after seeing the second Lord of the Rings movie in theaters in 2002.
Had you ever gone through adolescence during an apocalypse? Hormones were worse than the fungus.
Growing up during an apocalypse had been really strange. You had never learned a profession—you had learned "stuff" to survive. You had learned to hunt, track deer, skin rabbits, pick the right bait for fishing, start a fire without a lighter, stitch a wound, make pine alcohol, throw a punch, fix an engine. An entire nation of teenagers had been taught to survive rather than to live. The upside? No more pressure to be beautiful, popular, rich, smart, or cultured. The best you could do had been to survive.
As a semi-nomad, you had liked to settle somewhere for a while, blend into a new group, and then move on. It had been four years since you had landed in this camp, which had been pretty well-structured like a town, but the call of elsewhere had been itching at you. It hadn’t been about a particular taste for risk; it had just been a desire to see if the world still offered places that were even more beautiful, maybe closer to a real form of humanity. A place where you could forget about surviving and learn to live.
You hadn’t told anyone about your plan, especially not the person you had been close to for the past four years. He had acted like the camp sheriff, and you had quickly found his presence reassuring and attractive. What had been better than an authoritative father figure to share a rough, uncomfortable bed with?
Love hadn’t really existed. Well, not truly. There had been too much detachment when you knew the person you had been attached to could suddenly turn into some kind of mushroom zombie. You had never been good at connecting with men anyway, always with this constant fear they would hurt you, both physically and emotionally. Keeping an invisible safety net had stopped you from getting too attached but had let you keep a strong connection with the sex. You had much preferred women, you had bonded with them a lot easier, there had been this unspoken trust. Even if they had wanted to hurt you, they couldn’t have done it like a man could. Whether a man had good or bad intentions, he had always been a threat.
Your current partner, the Sheriff, had been pretty exclusive. And that had been fine with you because you had been getting what you needed anyway: why bother trying to find another man? It would have just caused you more pain for nothing.
But that had been before him.
When Joel Miller had shown up, that safety net had gotten tighter. He had been everything you had feared about men: cold, older, distant, messed up by a dark past, probably violent, more fragile physically and emotionally than glass. So why the attraction? You, who had liked to surround yourself with positive people who made you even more radiant, had had zero desire to dive into Miller’s dark aura, which could have completely eclipsed you.
So, you had watched him from a distance, carefully keeping your space and avoiding as much interaction as possible. It hadn’t been that hard since he had always been avoiding people. Especially the Sheriff, who had given him a cold, judgmental stare every time. The Sheriff had told you one night, as you had been lying next to him, “Don’t get close to Joel Miller. He’s dangerous. I don’t trust him.” You had just nodded, but that hadn’t changed the weird feeling that had twisted in your gut every time you had seen him.
Despite the Sheriff’s warning, despite the knot of unease in your stomach every time you had seen Joel, there had been something you couldn’t shake. That strange pull, that subtle tug toward him that you couldn’t explain. You had told yourself to keep your distance, but the world had had a way of making that harder than it had seemed.
And that’s how you had ended up there, alone. Away from the eyes that always seemed to watch, away from the tension that had hung like a storm cloud.
The building had been a forgotten relic, an old cinema long past its prime. Its ceiling had sagged in places, and the floor had been covered with dust and broken glass. Flickers of sunlight had seeped in through cracked windows, casting long shadows that barely fought against the dark corners of the room. The world outside had always been louder, harsher, and more alive, but in there, time had felt like it stood still.
You had come there to escape. The camp had felt too small, too predictable. And with every day that had passed, the Sheriff's presence had started to feel less like safety and more like suffocation. So, you had slipped away, silently, as you always did when you had needed space. You had had no specific goal, just a deep craving for something other than routine.
What you hadn’t expected had been Joel Miller.
The door had creaked, a sound almost imperceptible over the hiss of the wind outside. You had heard him approach long before you had seen him, the steady, heavy footfalls that had seemed to vibrate the very air. You had held your breath, your heart thudding in your chest. You hadn’t planned on crossing paths, but there he had been, standing in the doorway with his typical gruffness. His eyes had skimmed over the room, landing on you with a gaze so cold, it had almost made the air feel thicker.
For a moment, neither of you had spoken. He had been always like this—guarded, eyes like steel, posture stiff. The silence between you both had been tense, charged with something unspoken. And yet, for some reason, your breath had caught in your throat when he had finally spoken.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Joel had said, his voice rough, like gravel. It hadn’t been an accusation, but more of a simple observation.
You had tilted your head slightly, your lips curling into a soft, almost playful smile. “I could say the same about you, Miller. Not exactly the kind of place you’d pick for a casual stroll.”
He had grunted, his eyes narrowing. "I wasn’t strollin'. I was lookin' for somethin’—and I had found you."
His words had hit you harder than they should have. You had felt the tension between you two shifts, crackling in the stale air. The way he had said it, low and deliberate, had felt like a challenge. And yet... it had made you want to step closer, to see if the distance between you had been as insurmountable as it had seemed.
You had stood up slowly, your movements deliberate, never breaking eye contact with him. His gaze had followed you, but there had been something else behind it now—something you hadn’t seen before. Something that had hinted at a deeper longing beneath that gruff exterior, buried beneath years of scars and pain.
"You’re not much of a talker, are you?" you had teased, hoping to break the ice, but the words had felt heavy in the air.
Joel’s lips had twitched, just the faintest sign of a smirk. "Not much for talkin’, no. But I get the feeling you like to do plenty of it."
You hadn’t been able to help but chuckle, the sound light and easy, in contrast to the heavy atmosphere surrounding him. It had felt like you were walking a tightrope, one wrong step and the moment would shatter, but somehow, it had been thrilling. You had been drawn to him in a way you hadn’t quite understood, the kind of dangerous attraction that had had no place in your life. But then again, nothing had a place in your life anymore.
The world outside, the camp, the Sheriff—everything had felt so small compared to the way Joel had made you feel.
Your fingers had brushed against a dusty shelf, and you had felt his eyes follow your every movement. Without thinking, you had taken a step toward him, your body reacting before your mind could stop it. You had seen the shift in him, his shoulders tightening, jaw clenching. He had been trying to stay distant, but there had been something about you that had made it impossible.
“You should get out of here,” he had muttered, but it hadn’t been a command. It had almost been a plea.
You had stopped in front of him, your chest brushing lightly against his as you had looked up into his eyes. He had been so much taller, so much more imposing. His breath had been shallow, like he had been trying to control himself, but you had felt the heat radiating off him. The space between you two had felt electric, charged with something dangerous and undeniable.
"Or what?" you had whispered, your voice barely audible in the tension-filled silence.
He had frozen, his hand twitching at his side as though he had wanted to reach out but had been fighting the impulse. Your heart had hammered in your chest. This had been wrong. He had been wrong. But the pull, the magnetic force between you both, had been too strong to ignore.
In one swift motion, before either of you could think, his hand had been at your waist, pulling you toward him. The kiss had come crashing down—rough, urgent, filled with years of suppressed desire. His lips had been firm, almost demanding, but there had been an edge to it, a vulnerability that had shocked you. His arms had caged you in, and you hadn’t been able to tell if it had been to hold you close or keep himself from falling apart.
For a brief second, the world outside hadn’t mattered. There had been no Sheriff, no camp, no rules. It had just been the two of you, tangled up in something forbidden, something primal. But then the reality had hit—the Sheriff, the danger, everything you had been supposed to be running from.
You had pulled back, gasping for air, your fingers trembling against his chest. "This is a mistake," you had said, your voice shaky, but your body had screamed for more.
Joel's eyes had been darker now, his expression unreadable. "Maybe. But we both knew you wanted it."
The words had hung in the air, thick with meaning. You hadn’t known what to say, hadn’t known what to do. All you had known was that you couldn’t stay away from him. Not then. Not when everything inside you had burned with the same need he had.
"Next time," he had said gruffly, "don’t run."
And just like that, he had been gone—leaving you in the silence, caught between wanting to follow him and the reality that everything you had known had been about to change.
---
The following day, the air felt heavier than usual. There was a palpable tension hanging over the camp as you stood amongst the others, gathering for the morning meeting. You could feel the eyes of your fellow survivors on you, but your focus was elsewhere—on the Sheriff, standing a few feet away, his stern posture as usual, his eyes scanning the crowd. And there, beside him, was Joel Miller. His presence was like a storm waiting to happen, and you could feel that pull toward him once more.
The Sheriff noticed the way your gaze lingered on Joel, his eyes narrowing slightly. You quickly looked away, trying to hide the unease twisting inside you. The Sheriff’s voice cut through the tension, commanding attention from everyone around.
“We’ve been running low on supplies,” he began, his voice calm but firm. “We need to make a run to the old town, see what we can scavenge. Joel, you and Y/N will be going. The rest of you, stay here and keep the camp secure.”
You froze, your stomach lurching. The Sheriff had just assigned you to work with Joel. Of all people. You could feel your pulse quicken at the thought, and the heat of the previous day’s kiss—the one that had been forbidden, urgent—flashed in your mind like a wildfire.
Joel didn’t seem to react, his usual expression of indifference intact. But you caught the briefest flicker of something behind his eyes as he looked over at you. Something hard to place. Resignation? Tension? You couldn’t tell, but it made your chest tighten.
“Why us?” you asked, trying to mask the panic in your voice. “There are others who—”
The Sheriff cut you off with a hard look. “You’re the best pair for the job. Don’t argue.”
You bit back a sigh. As if you had any choice.
Joel turned to leave without a word, and you followed, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach. The tension between you was suffocating, yet there was something magnetic, drawing you in despite yourself. You could almost hear the unspoken things hanging in the air between you two. As you left the camp, the cold air hit your face, but it did little to ease the heat still simmering inside you. Joel walked a few paces ahead, his boots crunching against the dirt. You couldn’t help but watch the way his muscles flexed beneath his worn clothes, his every movement deliberate, controlled.
The two of you didn't speak as you made your way toward the town, the silence between you thick with the unspoken. The world outside the camp felt unfamiliar, quieter than it used to be, and as you moved through the barren streets, the remnants of a world long gone seemed to weigh heavily on your shoulders.
You stopped by a collapsed building, scanning the area for any sign of life, when Joel suddenly spoke, his voice low and rough. “Stay close. You never know what’s out here.”
You nodded, your lips pressing together in a thin line. It was strange, how much his words felt like a warning and a command at the same time.
You followed him deeper into the town, moving cautiously from building to building. The hunt was nothing like the others you had been on; it felt different with Joel. He was different. His sharp movements, the way he seemed to read the environment around him—it was like he had lived in this dangerous world for a lifetime. But there was something else there too, beneath that tough exterior, something that pulled you in, making you feel both safe and utterly exposed at the same time.
You managed to track down a deer, hidden in the shadows of an abandoned house, and Joel’s hand on your arm, guiding you silently to the kill, made your breath hitch. He was so close, his presence overwhelming, and you could feel the weight of last night’s kiss looming between you like a forbidden fruit, begging to be tasted again.
As you two worked in near silence, the air between you crackling with something unsaid, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about how easy it would be to reach out, to let that magnetic pull draw you back into his arms.
Finally, after hours of searching and collecting, you found a place to rest—an old, abandoned cave tucked away at the edge of town. The fire crackled low, casting flickering shadows against the walls. It was cold, but the warmth of the fire helped ease the tension in your body. You sat beside the flames, your back to the stone wall, glancing over at Joel.
He was sitting across from you, his eyes on the fire, but his gaze kept flicking toward you. You knew that you weren’t the only one who felt the tension building. The moments from earlier, the intensity of his presence—of your proximity to him—it all seemed to linger in the air like smoke.
After a few moments, you broke the silence, your voice a little too soft, a little too hesitant. “I don’t understand you, Joel.”
He didn’t respond at first, his jaw clenching as if he were deciding how to answer. Then he shifted, leaning back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that almost knocked the breath out of you.
“Doesn’t matter if you do,” he said, his voice gruff, but there was something there—something raw, vulnerable, hiding just beneath the surface.
You stared at him for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. It didn’t matter if you understood him? That response hit you harder than you expected. The fire crackled between you, the space between your bodies charged with the unsaid things that hung in the air.
"I guess I should be thankful for that," you replied, your voice quieter than you meant it to be, "but it's not that simple, Joel. You—" You broke off, unsure how to finish the sentence. You wanted to say that he intrigued you, that his darkness pulled you in even as it terrified you, but it sounded too vulnerable. Too much like something you'd rather keep hidden.
Joel’s expression softened, just a little. "I’m not good for you," he muttered, almost as if he were trying to convince himself more than you. "I don’t think you’d want to stick around once you figure me out."
The weight of his words settled in, and for a split second, you almost believed him. But there was something else—something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The Sheriff. The camp. Your life there. None of it felt right anymore.
"I don’t want to figure you out," you said, your voice steady despite the pulse pounding in your ears. "I just want to know if you can stop being so damn guarded."
Joel chuckled, a low, rough sound. "You think that's easy?" he asked, a slight challenge in his tone, but there was no venom behind it. "I’m trying, okay? But I don’t know how to make things any easier."
You swallowed, the tension in your body flaring to life again. What was it about him that made you want to break through that wall so badly? To see what lay on the other side of that tough exterior? You couldn’t figure it out, but the urge to know—to feel closer—was overwhelming.
"You don’t have to try so hard," you said softly, inching a little closer, your body betraying you in its need for connection. "You could just... let me in."
He stared at you, his gaze intense, studying every subtle movement. You knew the risk. You knew what this could lead to, the consequences of crossing that line. But the pull between you was undeniable.
Joel finally spoke, his voice rougher than before. "You’re playin’ with fire, you know that?"
You nodded slowly, lips parting as you leaned in, closer and closer, your breath mingling in the space between you. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but it was fleeting, almost imperceptible. Then, without warning, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist.
He pulled you toward him, closing the gap, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss was everything—everything you’d been trying to deny, trying to hold back. His arms enveloped you, pulling you into the heat of his body. It wasn’t gentle. It was raw, desperate, and full of need. He tasted like salt, like the cold air, and the fire between you that had ignited the moment you’d been left alone together.
Everything you’d been running from, everything you’d feared, fell away in that kiss. The Sheriff. The camp. The Infested. All of it seemed distant, irrelevant. There was just him. Just you.
The kiss deepened, and you let yourself fall into it, into him, as the world around you faded. You could feel his body tremble slightly, the tension in him evident, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. Not when everything about the moment felt so right, even in the face of everything that had been wrong.
When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, hearts pounding in the quiet darkness. Joel’s eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The fire flickered low, casting shadows that danced around you, but there was something more significant than the flames. The silence between you was thick with an unspoken understanding.
"You don’t have to do this," you whispered, your voice fragile as you glanced up at him. "You don’t owe me anything."
Joel let out a soft, almost bitter laugh. "I don’t owe you shit," he muttered, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "But I can’t walk away, either."
The confession hung in the air, as unexpected as it was.
The cave was quiet now, save for the crackling fire and the faint sounds of the outside world. You leaned back against the cold stone, your body still burning from the kiss, still reeling from everything that had just happened.
Joel, ever the protector, never took his eyes off you. His presence was a constant, a weight that you had never expected to feel so right. "We should get some sleep," he said, his voice softer now, like he was trying to find some semblance of normalcy again.
"Yeah," you replied quietly, your gaze meeting his. But there was something about this—about what had just happened—that told you it wouldn’t be that simple. Nothing about Joel was simple, and maybe that was exactly what you had been looking for all along.
The night stretched on, and though the world outside remained a threat, inside that cave, you felt strangely safe. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to run. But the morning would come, and when it did, you would have to face the reality of your choices.
The question was: could you handle it?
---
The next morning, the air felt heavier than the day before, as if the weight of the previous night still hung in the atmosphere. The fire in the cave had dwindled to a few embers, barely visible in the dim light of dawn. Joel was already awake, sitting near the fire, his back turned, arms crossed, staring out through the cave entrance. He still held that withdrawn demeanor, but he was no longer as distant or unreachable as before. This morning, his presence was both calming and intimidating, a palpable tension hanging between you two, as if nothing would ever be the same.
Joel didn’t look at you right away, but you could feel his awareness, his quiet presence. You knew he was thinking, probably just as hard as you were, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The kiss, the way things had shifted between you two. You could feel the tension still hanging in the space between you like a palpable weight.
“Morning,” you said softly, breaking the silence, trying to sound normal, though your heart was pounding in your chest.
He grunted in response but didn’t turn toward you immediately. Instead, he reached for his pack, rummaging through it in a way that seemed deliberately casual. But his stiff posture betrayed him. You could tell he was still trying to keep his walls up, even though you had just breached them.
You stood up slowly, taking in the cold, dim light filtering into the cave. The fire crackled, sending small embers into the air, and you moved toward the warmth for a moment before you spoke again.
“Joel… we need to talk.”
His eyes flickered to yours, and for a second, something flickered in them—frustration, maybe, or a sort of resignation. His lips tightened, but he didn’t say anything, just nodded, almost as if bracing himself for whatever was coming.
“I don’t know what this is,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly. “But I can’t pretend like nothing happened last night.”
Joel was quiet for a long moment, his eyes scanning the fire, but you could see the gears turning in his head. “You don’t have to explain it,” he muttered, his voice rough. “I know exactly what this is. It’s what it’s always been. We’re both just... lookin’ for something, aren’t we?”
You stepped closer, your heart pounding with each word. "But we both know it's not that simple, Joel. It's not just about survival anymore. If we keep pretending like we don't care about each other—"
His expression hardened, and he stood up suddenly, closing the gap between you in a few strides. “I don’t have time for this,” he snapped, his jaw clenched. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing? You think this is easy for me?”
His anger surprised you, but before you could respond, he sighed heavily, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I’ve been tryin’ to push you away from the start. You don’t need to be involved with someone like me. I’m not the guy you think I am.”
You met his gaze, defiant now, refusing to back down. "Maybe I don't want to think you're anything other than what you are," you said quietly. "You don't get to decide that for me, Joel."
There was a long, painful pause, and then something seemed to break in him. His shoulders slumped, his anger deflating into something deeper, something vulnerable. For the first time, you saw a flicker of defeat in his eyes.
“You think I’m trying to protect you?” he asked, his voice quiet now, almost fragile. “Maybe I just don’t want to drag you into the mess I’ve made of my life.”
You shook your head. “But you’re not alone in this, Joel. You never have been. If you’d just let me in, maybe we could...”
Before you could finish, Joel crossed the space between you and gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing the side of your cheek. “I’m not good for you,” he repeated, though this time there was no force behind it. His voice was raw. “But I don’t want to keep pushin’ you away.”
The truth hung in the air between you like a promise. You didn’t need more words to understand that, despite everything, Joel Miller wasn’t the man he thought he was. He wasn’t the monster he believed himself to be. Not for you.
“Then stop pushing,” you whispered, your breath catching as you leaned into his touch.
His gaze softened, and in that moment, everything seemed to fall into place. He pulled you to him, holding you close, his arms encircling you as if to protect you from the world outside. You didn’t need anything more than this—this closeness, this quiet understanding. For once, you weren’t running from the world, or from each other.
As the silence stretched on, it was filled with something new, something neither of you had been able to define before—an acceptance. A shared recognition that this wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about living. Together.
Joel’s hands were rough against your skin, calloused from years of hardship, but his touch was careful, as if he was afraid you might break beneath him. His grip tightened at the curve of your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your shirt as though grounding himself in the reality of you. His forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven, hot against your lips. "You sure about this?" His voice was low, hoarse, like gravel underfoot. Like he was giving you one last chance to turn back.
You didn't answer with words. Instead, you let your hands roam up his arms, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt, the tension coiled tight inside him. He was always so rigid, so restrained, but here, now, you could feel him unraveling. You pressed your lips to his, slow and deliberate, pouring everything into the kiss—every moment of longing, every stolen glance, every whispered thought you’d never dared to voice.
Joel groaned against your mouth, something breaking loose in him. His hands slid up your back, pulling you flush against him, until there was no space left between you. His control, always so ironclad, was slipping. You could feel it in the way his fingers curled into the fabric at your hips, in the way his breathing turned ragged.
He walked you backward, his movements deliberate but not gentle. There was nothing soft about Joel—not in the way he kissed, not in the way he held you. He was rough edges and tightly wound tension, all sharp angles and bruising want. Yet with you, he reined himself in, just enough.
Your back hit the cave wall, the cool stone a stark contrast to the heat radiating off him. He kissed you harder, teeth grazing your bottom lip, and you gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling. A low growl rumbled in his chest at that, and suddenly, his hands were everywhere—palming your waist, sliding beneath your shirt, tracing the heat of your skin.
"You drive me fuckin’ crazy," he muttered, his lips trailing down your jaw, his stubble scraping against your neck. The sensation sent a shiver through you, a sharp, aching need pooling low in your belly.
"Then stop fighting it," you whispered, tilting your head to give him more access, your voice breathless, pleading.
Joel exhaled harshly, his forehead pressing against your shoulder. His grip on you tightened, almost desperate. "Ain't that simple."
But it was. Because despite everything—despite the walls he'd built around himself, despite the years of loneliness and regret—you knew this was real. This was undeniable.
You reached for him again, hands slipping under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the solid muscle beneath. He sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, his body tensing under your touch.
"You feel this too," you murmured, your fingers tracing the scars along his ribs, your touch gentle, reverent. "So stop pretending."
That was all it took.
Joel crushed his mouth against yours, any last vestiges of restraint shattering between you. He was all-consuming, his hands roaming with a newfound urgency, pulling you impossibly close. His fingers slid beneath the waistband of your jeans, gripping, claiming, his breath hot against your skin.
You gasped against his lips, arching into him, the fire between you threatening to consume everything in its wake. The world outside ceased to exist—there was no past, no future, only this. Only Joel.
And this time, he didn’t push you away.
His fingers pushed back the fabric of your panties in an angry frenzy.
He didn't need to force his way into the hollow of your tender flesh as you were dripping wet. He pushed two fingers inside you and your breath shattered—it felt like if he had just plunged a dagger into your stomach.
"F-uck", he groaned against your lips. You slipped a hand behind his neck, digging your nails into his skin to pull him even closer to you. "See? This is what you do to me," You panted.
Joel lifted you effortlessly, his hands firm beneath your thighs as he pressed you against the cold stone. The contrast of heat and chill sent a shock through you, your breath hitching as he pinned you there, his body a barrier against everything outside this moment. His lips were relentless, tracing a path down your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your sensitive skin.
"You don’t know what you’re askin’ for," he rasped, his voice thick with restraint, yet his hands told a different story. They gripped you like he was staking a claim, like he’d finally given in to the pull that had been threatening to consume you both for months.
You cupped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, stormy with something unspoken, something raw. "I know exactly what I want," you whispered. "I want you."
Joel let out a shuddering breath, his fingers tightening against your thighs. "You have me," he admitted, the words rough, reluctant—like he hated himself for it, yet couldn't hold them back.
And then he moved, pressing his hips flush against yours, the weight of him solid, undeniable. You felt the heat of his breath against your collarbone, the way his hands explored every curve of you with a hunger barely restrained.
"Tell me to stop," he said, his forehead resting against yours, his voice ragged, desperate.
But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Instead, you pulled him closer, your nails digging into his back, your lips brushing against his in a silent answer.
Joel groaned, the sound low and guttural, and then he was lost to you—fully, completely. The dam had broken, and there was no stopping what had been inevitable from the start.
You didn't have time to anticipate the violence of the impact as he pushed himself into you in one quick thrust, and you felt every inch of his skin stretching your walls.
It was a pure agony. It was pain and it was pleasure. It was too much but you could never ask him to stop because you had to know. You had to feel the climax. His movements were slow but extremely powerful and violent. He pulled back to thrust again, his flesh slapping against your barely exposed skin because he hadn't taken the time to undress you.
It was very different from what you were used to, no gentleness, no tenderness, no time or love, just the frenzy of coming quickly, because every second was counted and dangerous. But beyond his primary need to take you wildly, his desire was betrayed in his trembling breath and his murmurs against your lips. “You feel so good,” he choked in a gasp.
You tightened your thighs around him and arched your ass, making the penetration even deeper. He sped up a little more.
“I’m gonna come” you whined, on the verge of collapsing. “Not now,” he ordered, his eyebrows furrowed. He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed on your windpipe, his thumb cutting off your breath slightly “Wait for me.”
He sped up a little more, and the oxygen began to run out on you, to the point where you could feel the blood pulsing in every organ of your body. Your muscles tensed as if frozen with fear. You began to convulse, feeling him tighten as well, his orgasm ready to explode. It took two thrusts before his eyes rolled back, and he let out a long, guttural howl. Almost simultaneously, you reached your climax and a violent pain shook your entire body.
You let yourself fall limp, but he caught you firmly, holding you tightly against him. You could feel him tense up as well, his bones and muscles creaking with pain, but he carefully helped you regain your balance on both feet. He passed his hands over his face, wiping away his eyes, saliva, tears, and all the other secretions that made your face red and sticky. "Are you okay?" he asked, genuinely worried. "Tell me if you're okay."
"Yes," you murmured in response. "Even though it'll take me a day to recover." You exchanged a chuckle, and both of you caught your breath, as if you had just run to save your lives. He stayed there for a few seconds, holding you against him—not exactly in his arms, so it wouldn’t resemble an embrace—but you could feel him in full control of your body, a body you couldn't even make work anymore. He placed his forehead against yours, and you thought you heard a barely perceptible "Thank you." When he knew you could stand on your own, he stepped back, awkwardly pulling up his pants and lowering his shirt. Without a word, he returned to the fire and stoked the flames with some pieces of wood.
The sun was finishing rising, with pink and yellow flooding the grey stone walls of the cave. It was cold, with smoke coming from your lips when you breathed, but you were sweating with heat. Clumsily, hands trembling, you dressed in silence.
The rest of the morning passed in a haze of quiet moments. By the time the sun had risen high in the sky, casting a golden hue over the barren landscape, Joel had packed his things.
“You ready to head back?” he asked, his voice gruff but steady now.
You nodded, your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “Yeah,” you said, your voice soft but sure. “Let’s go.”
And when he turned toward you, offering a small, rare smile, you knew that whatever came next, you wouldn’t have to face it alone.
Joel Miller had made up his mind. And so had you.
You walked out of the cave side by side, ready for whatever the world might throw at you next.