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corazondebeskar-reads · 6 months

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ain't no rest for the wicked — chapter one

ain't no rest for the wicked series

one: ain't no rest for the wicked

series masterlist | next chapter

Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller

words: 6.2k

summary: after an unfortunate encounter, you catch the interest of two very dangerous, very beautiful strangers.

warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, poorly negotiated d/s dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), stalking, canon-typical violence, ik i usually use game joel but anna torv has me in a chokehold sry, bittersweet ending/no happily ever after

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You’re eager. Joel doesn’t need to push your face into Tess’s cunt; you’re already diving in when he does.

But he knows Tess likes it like that. He likes it like that. He thinks you like it, too, from the way you’re moaning while he smothers you in her wet folds.

He lets you struggle for air for a moment before yanking you up by the hair and licking the taste of her from your mouth. He lets you go after, lets you properly worship her.

Thing is, you’re not really sure how or why this is happening. Well, you know how you got here, factually. It just doesn’t make any sense.

You had been cornered in a dead-end alley by two thugs. They had knives and no ration cards and were looking to make a trade of sorts. You were trying to argue that maybe they could keep their knives; no, really, you weren’t in the market, but you’d gift them the cards.

They seemed concerned you’d go to FEDRA since they hadn’t bothered to cover their faces. You were wearing them down a little, trying to negotiate, when one of them hit the ground and was dragged into the darkness. There was nothing to obscure the cries and wet sounds of knuckles meeting soft flesh.

“I thought I told you to stay out of this part of town,” a woman said from behind them. It was like a scene from one of your noir detective novels with the cracked spines and crinkled pages—a shadowy alley with one flickering light, a mysterious savior from the darkness.

The other would-be robber turned on his heel to face the voice.

“We-we didn’t realize this was part of yours,” he said. “It’s basically Robert’s.”

“But it ain’t,” she said. “And you fuckin’ know better.”

If the apocalypse had angels, they’d look like her. Tall, commanding, and piss-your-pants terrifying. Her mousy brown hair was as lackluster and dirty as everyone else, but you wanted to run your fingers through it. Wanted to tangle your hand in it, searching out her dusty rose lips.

Reality returned in the form of a hulking man tossing the beaten crook onto the ground by his partner, who stopped mid-plea with the woman to check on them.

You tore your eyes away from her to look at the battered but still-breathing man and followed the line of his attacker’s jeans to look at the monster who had emerged from the shadows. You were startled to find him looking back at you, eyes dark and intense. He was broad and rugged, with blood smeared on his cheek and fists.

Your eyes darted between him and the woman.

She was speaking to the last man standing again. “You need Joel to show you out?” She jerked her head at tall, dark, and haunted.

You locked eyes with Apparently Joel again before he looked at the simpering man and sneered. He didn’t even have to say anything. The thug was pulling his partner to his feet and trying to flee without looking like they were fleeing.

“They hurt you?” Joel said. When you didn’t respond, not really realizing he was addressing you, he rolled his eyes. “You, girl. Did they hurt you?”

“Oh, um, no. They just took my cards, but I’m okay.” Your tongue stumbled under their scrutiny. They were maybe two of the prettiest people you’d ever seen since the world ended, and you could feel your face heating up. “But, um, thank you.”

You wavered in place, wanting to get the hell out of there. They weren’t quite blocking your path, but the space they took up meant you’d have to get close to one or both of them to leave.

“Y’mean these?” Joel drawled, holding up your small stack of cards.

“Yeah,” you said. You bit the inside of your lip. He wasn’t holding them out for you to take, and you weren’t naive enough to think they’d just give them back. Their motive had definitely not been to save you; it was just a fortunate side effect.

Joel exchanged a look with the woman, thumbing through what was your only guarantee of food for the next couple of days.

“Not much here,” he told her.

She looked you over, which only made your heart beat faster, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “That all you got?”

You nodded.

“How bad do you want them back? I heard what you were offerin’ up earlier.” She smirked.

You really did not think you could get more mortified. “I-I—”

She strolled closer to you. “Y-you what?” she mimicked. “Pretty thing like you should be more careful out here. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You don’t know why you told her. Okay, fine, it was because she was so close and she smelled so good, and her eyes—well, you’d probably have told her anything right then.

“I’m Tess, that’s Joel,” she said and jerked her head back to where Joel leaned against the brick of a towering complex. He jerked his head in acknowledgment, jaw twitching.

“You got anyone out here looking after you?” she asked.

You opened your mouth, but seeing Joel flipping absentmindedly through the stack formerly known as your meal tickets shook you out of your stupor. Fuck, you were too fucking bi for this. And also, you hadn’t gotten laid in like. God, had it really been three years?

Anyway, your brain kicked back into gear. “Y-yeah, I’m supposed to be getting home to my family. They’re probably getting worried.”

She smirked, and you knew you were cellophane. “Alright, get goin’ then.” She looked over her shoulder at Joel. “Give her the cards, Tex.”

She didn’t move to let you by, so you sidestepped and tried not to walk too fast, even though you knew they could probably smell your fear like the predators they clearly were.

Joel didn’t hand you the cards right away, but he grabbed your arm when you were close. “You see those guys again, you tell ‘em we’ll be watchin’.”

You looked at him with what you meant to be a questioning expression, but it felt like you probably just looked dumb. He put the stack of cards into your coat pocket and let go of your bicep.

“See you around,” Tess called as you made your escape.

See you around? See you around?? What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

When you get back to your apartment, you lock the door and slide to the ground, trembling as the adrenaline lets you realize just how fucking close you came to getting gutted.

And now there’s them.

“We’ll be watching,” Joel had said. Watching who? The leaden ball that used to be your stomach knows he meant you. They’ll be watching you. But fucking why?

Nobody’s home. Of course nobody’s home. You’re the sole resident of your tiny studio cube, save for the mice that you can’t keep out in the chillier seasons.

You probably could. But you don’t have the heart. They only come in the bathroom through the shitty insulation for the defunct vent. You keep the door shut with a towel jammed under it, and you leave crumbs on the peeling linoleum before bed.

It’s not something you’d ever have done before. But you know what it’s like now, to be cold and hungry in a world full of monsters.

Your brother used to say you were too soft for the world, and that was before the world went to shit. In fairness, you were a lot tougher now, for the most part.

Had to be, after you shot him in the head three weeks into the outbreak.

You jam your fists into your eyes and rub, clearing away the image with the ache.

Fuck, you almost died today. They had gotten the jump on you after you stopped to tie your sneaker. When you stood up, you weren’t alone anymore.

You’re upset about it for a few days, hustling through the crowds with your head on a swivel. After that, it joins the rest of your fears as an apparition, haunting your apartment’s groaning pipes and creaking floors.

All you can do is tell yourself the same lie of a mantra you do every night—I’m safe here.

As if such a thing were even possible.

The pendulum of your daily routine keeps on swinging. You keep your head down at work, quick with “yes, ma’am” and “no, sir,” quick on your feet when asked to hop to, and quick in hurrying home as soon as your shift ends.

Which is why you’re dismayed when you come in one morning to find out your direct supervisor was killed. Nobody cares why or how, just that there’s a spot to fill. They stuff you in it.

You deliberately did not overperform to avoid this, but if you refused, you’d be out of a work placement. The only thing keeping you from screaming was that the position got you a bump in ration class.

It’s barely a supervisory position, but each new responsibility is a sandbag tied to your ankles—you’re supposed to be on the same schedule, but inevitably, you’re there later and later each week.

So you become one of the apparitions in your apartment, half awake, floating through the motions while everything slips through your grasp.

Despite the better payout, you often don’t make it to a distribution stand before curfew. You can’t risk walking home with several days of class Bs, or you’d be dead in the gutter long before you made it back. So you take your one day’s worth and accumulate a little stack of cards under a loose floorboard.

You’re in the back of the line one evening, hoping you’ll make it to the front before they shut down. It’s raining in that way where the sun is out, though low on the horizon, the city trapped between two forces of nature.

The universe has a fucked up sense of humor because suddenly, so are you.

“Hey, sunflower,” croons a voice like honeycomb, quiet and close on your left.

You twitch forward, nearly jostling the woman in front of you, head whipping around.

“Eyes forward. Just listen,” rumbles a much deeper voice from the right.

You knew people had gotten in line behind you. You hadn’t known you’d been cornered.

“Thought you’d be eating better by now,” Tess says. “Guess you’ll have to come by for dinner. Tomorrow, right after work.”

Joel grunts in agreement. “Don’t let ‘em keep you late again.”

Then there’s silence. You wait a minute and then peek over your shoulder, but they’re gone.

What the actual fuck.

By the time you reach the front, you’ve decided it was a hallucination caused by whatever is splitting the atmosphere into two conflicting weather conditions.

But when you reach into your jacket pocket and pull out your cards, there’s a single class A ticket atop your stack. When you lift it to look closer, a scrap of paper almost falls into a puddle. You snatch it and take in the small letters, all caps in smudged black ink.

It’s an address.

It’s not until you get home that you replay the “conversation.” What had Tess meant by “thought you’d be eating better by now?”

It made sense, if they were watching you, that they’d know you’d been staying late. But what made them think you were getting better rations? Were they watching you so closely that they’d seen your tickets?

There’s a warning sounding in the back of your head, about as subtle as a tornado siren. You chuckle nervously to yourself as you stand in the middle of the kitchen-living-bed-room. It was an absurd thought. There’s no way they knew you got a promotion. And there’s definitely no way they… made it happen.

Denial brings your racing heart to a slow as you plug your ears to the danger. After all, you were a midwestern girl. You didn’t cower in the basement every time the siren went off, or you’d live life underground. So unless the sky swirled sickly green, or, say, they told you they killed your boss, you wouldn’t worry.

Nothing to it, really.

You were no one, after all. No one, who was being invited—as if you had a choice—to dinner with two violent strangers.

If only it didn’t make your panties damp, maybe you’d have the sense to skip out. You could politely excuse yourself the next time they popped up over your shoulder like a fucking slasher movie.

You can’t focus all day at work. You sit at your desk, trying to fill out the inventory sheets, foot tapping, leg bouncing. Your dad always used to tease you, “you gearin’ up to take off?” when you got nervous. It was a bit like the cordyceps. The more anxious you got, the less control you had of your body, the energy spreading and blooming and fuzzing over your brain.

By the end of the day, you’re tapping fingers, twisting your seat side to side. When your boss comes over at two minutes before you’re set to leave, you know he’s about to ask you to stay for “just a bit.” But you’ve already got your jacket and backpack on, you’re sitting on the edge of the stupid squeaky rolly chair, and when he opens his mouth, you beat him to it with a laugh that’s not not hysterical.

“Have a great day!” you blurt, and you’re up and gone before he can respond.

Once outside, though, you hesitate. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands shoved in your pockets. It’s not raining today, but it’s overcast in the foretelling of the encroaching winter. The scrap of paper crinkles in your fist, dampening a little as your palm becomes slick with nerves.

“You comin’ or what?” Joel says from where he’s leaning against your office building, just to the left of the exit.

“Fuck!” It comes out in a truly embarrassing squeak.

He raises an eyebrow.

“What was the point of the little magic trick,” you waggle your fingers at him, “with the address if you were going to pick me up anyway?”

He pushes off the wall with his shoulder and starts walking, leaving you to jog after him. “Tess thought you seemed a bit squirrely.”

“If I didn’t want to get hit by a car, I’d get out of the fuckin’ road,” you say, a triggered muscle memory morphing another one of your father’s favorite phrases. Though, it was usually after he plowed over a fuzzy little guy, and you cried about it.

Joel shoots a glance at you over his shoulder. “Who’s the car?”

Your face heats. “What?”

He shakes his head but lets you off the hook. There’s something dangerous about the quirk of his lips, though.

You follow him as he weaves through the streets and crowds. People move out of his way, a few even scrambling off in another direction. He doesn’t miss them, eyeing and seeming to make a mental note each time.

You do not want to know why they were running.

His little jumpscare and the ensuing amount of focus it took not to get lost in the throng of others helped tone down your anxiety. Instead, you become very distracted by the way his denim button-down, stretched across his shoulder blades like it was clinging on out of the same fear of Joel as those runners.

God, he’s broad. Your mouth waters a little, thinking about running your hands across the breadth of his shoulders. Maybe digging your fingernails in a little.

He checks again to make sure you are still behind him and catches you moistening your lips with the tip of your tongue; the hungry look in your eyes matched by the way you were clenching the straps of your backpack with strained knuckles.

Luckily, he misreads it. He shakes his head again. “Calm down, we ain’t gonna hurt you.” But it’s invalidated a little when he turns back forward and shrugs a little to himself, head jerking to the side as if to say, “Well, probably not.”

You weren’t scared, but you are now.

He doesn’t wait for you as he climbs the stairs of the apartment building, but he leaves the door ajar for you to follow through a minute later.

“She try to chicken out?” Tess asked Joel with a shit-eating grin.

“No!” you protest. “I was comin’.”

“Were you?” Tess steps into your space, leaning forward. “Good girl,” she murmurs and reaches over your shoulder to shove the door shut. You stumble back a little, colliding with the reminder that your escape route is gone.

Worse yet, you have to witness them share a look when her words send a shudder through you.

She laughs, a soft huff of amusement on an exhale, and turns and walks away.

You stay glued to the ground in front of the door.

Joel’s still standing in the living room, arms folded. “Get goin’,” he says when you don’t move.

You shuffle under the arch where Tess disappeared into a small dine-in kitchen, with Joel suddenly close enough behind you that you could feel the heat radiating from him. He reaches past you and pulls out a chair at the table.

You try to scoot out of his way so he can sit, and he sighs, shaking his head, and guides you into the seat by the shoulder. His palm covers the whole joint, splayed across with his fingers brushing your collarbone.

A shocked “um” slips past your lips as you sit.

“Um?” he says, eyebrow quirked.

You’re burning. You’re on the edge of a fucking volcano, apparently, with the way you’re boiling under your jacket. You shuck it off, shaking your head. “Um, nothing.”

Tess sits across from you, elbows on the table and hands folded. You squirm under her steady focus, only to startle again when Joel sets a plate in front of each of you.

“You always so jumpy, sunflower?” she asks, taking a glass of water from Joel when he comes back over. He sets another next to you.

“No,” you say weakly.

Joel sits down between you with his own plate and glass, and your head snaps to look at him. He raises an eyebrow again. “You sure about that, sunflower?”

“Um, no,” you say. And then, stupidly, you tell them your name again, because it seems like maybe they forgot.

“I know,” is all Tess says.

Joel snorts.

“Be nice,” Tess says, still not taking her eyes off you.

Vaguely, you know she’s doing it on purpose. They both are. They want you off-guard and on-edge.

“Eat,” she tells you, finally breaking away to dig into her plate. Joel’s already halfway through his, not bothering to wait.

You look down, blinking at the sight before you. There’s mashed potatoes with gravy. There’s corn. There’s mystery meat, but it looks like some kind of roast, and most shocking of all, there are spices.

It’s definitely all still canned rations, but they’ve taken the effort to do something with them. The meat’s been broiled, and the juices saved for the gravy. The corn is roasted. And the fucking spices.

You eat a lot faster than you mean to, eyes wide. You usually eat your rations cold out of the can before passing out for bed. This is… this is incredible.

“Slow down,” Joel says. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

“Where’d you get herbs?” you blurt.

It’s Tess’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You sure you want to know?”

“Oh. No, thank you.” Definitely not. You definitely do not want to know anything even potentially incriminating. You’re starting to feel like just being here is enough to get you in trouble.

The table falls into a stilted silence, and you have a bizarre thought. A memory, useless information from the before dug up by the wet blob of anxiety you try to pass off as a brain.

They’re beautiful and terrifying. They don’t seem the type to do something without getting something out of it. They brought you into their lair, and you ate from their table.

Your grandmama’s tales don’t seem very far-fetched right now. What was it she always told you to do? Hang a horseshoe over your door?

Where the fuck were you going to get a horseshoe in post-apocalyptic Boston?

The thought is so absurd that you laugh out loud, drawing both sets of eyes to you at once.

“Sorry, sorry, I just—remembered something, it’s not—it’s nothing.” You bury your face in your hands.

“Stop glowering; you’re going to give her a nervous breakdown,” Tess says to Joel.

“She’s scared of you, too,” he says simply, sipping from his water.

“Is that true, pretty girl? Are you afraid of us?”

You lift your head up, and though your instincts to run like hell are flaring up, you figure there’s no point in lying. “Well, yeah.”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Tess says, and then, in a horrible moment of deja vu, she seems to rethink that and shrug with one shoulder and a tilt of her head.

You look between them. “That’s not comforting.”

“I mean, we won’t hurt you unless you want us to,” she says. Her smile reminds you of a fox.

“Why would I—oh.” You purse your lips and feel like you’re shrinking.

Joel gets up and clears the dishes but doesn’t retake his seat. Instead, he looms behind you, both broad hands on the back of your chair. “We’re not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to,” he rumbles close to your ear. “But we think you might want to.”

“What do you say, sunflower?”

It slips out. You don’t mean to say it; it’s just a habit deeply engrained from work. But when your mouth opens to ask what exactly they mean, you say “yes, ma’am” instead.

Joel chuckles, a dark and dangerous thing that blows his hot breath over the exposed side of your neck. You shudder but don’t dare look away from Tess, whose grin has turned into smug pleasure.

“Told ya,” she says to Joel, standing and coming around the side of the table to where you are and taking your chin in one hand. She presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “I know a good girl when I see one.”

She tilts your head up so you watch. “And a good boy,” she says before kissing Joel.

He melts into it, and you moan. Like for real life, out loud, watching them kiss. She pulls away from him when she can’t hold back her smirk.

His eyes are soft when he watches her step back. She tightens her grip on your face.

“All yours, baby,” she says to him.

The softness is gone when he looks at you. His eyes are dark and hungry, and he takes your face in his own hands before kissing you. Unlike the sweet exchange with Tess, this kiss is bruising, and he licks into you without hesitation. One of his hands tangles in your hair and pulls your head to the side so he can bite his way down your neck.

You’ve got whiplash, and he grins when he lets you go and takes in your glazed eyes and swollen lips.

“C’mon,” Tess says, turning to go back to the living room. Joel tugs you up and pushes you in front of him to follow Tess. You yelp when he pinches your ass, though you probably should have expected it.

Tess sits on the couch, and your mouth goes dry as Joel kneels at her feet. You drop to yours, and Tess quirks an eyebrow at Joel.

“That how you want her?”

He shakes his head and pushes you down so you’re bent over in supplication below him.

“Don’t move unless I tell ya,” Joel says. “You need or want to stop for any reason, just say so. Got it?”

You moan at his words, no longer having the wherewithal for embarrassment. You’re starting to become very aware of your place in this. And it’s fucking thrilling.

He lifts your head by a handful of hair. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, letting your head back down and running his hand over your cheek.

“You like havin’ a little toy for yourself, baby?” Tess asks him, running her fingers through his hair and tugging a little.

He moans. “Yes, ma’am, thank you.”

“See, sunflower, Joel here’s been a real good boy, but sometimes he needs to play a little rough. Ain’t that right?” She nods his head with her grip on his hair.

“Please,” he whimpers.

You’re soaked. You’re fucking soaked, and all they’ve really done is talk.

“You wanna be a good girl for us?” Tess asks.

It’s your turn to whimper. “Yes, ma’am. Uh. And sir.”

“We’ll go easy on you today,” she muses. “What do you need from her, baby?”

Joel doesn’t need to think it over. “Need to fuck that pretty little mouth,” he says.

It’s so crass that you flush, wet gathering rapidly between your thighs. You squirm a little.

“Ok,” Tess agrees. “You can have my sloppy seconds.”

And then she’s tugging her pants down, letting Joel lean forward to grab them as she lifts her hips. He yanks them off and folds them, setting them to the side.

You keep your cheek pressed to the carpet where he put you, watching the motions with rapt awe. You’re betrayed, however, by your wriggling feet.

“S’matter?” Joel says.

“What? Um. Nothing.”

He raises an eyebrow, but it doesn’t spark anything. Your eyes dart back and forth between them.

“I’m gonna let that slide, since you’re getting used to it. But if you address me, you better do it proper.”

“Oh.” The realization leaves you on an exhale. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Atta girl,” he says with a little pinch to your chin.

Tess nudges him with her foot and shoots a laden look at where you’ve fallen very still, and the taut line of your spine has softened a little.

She smirks.

It doesn’t last, though. You’re biting your lip and looking at him while your right foot taps against the floor.

He turns back to Tess, rolling her panties down until he can tug them off her feet and tuck them neatly into the fold of her pants.

He reaches over and presses his thumb to your bottom lip until it pops free from your teeth. Your mouth falls open in its wake.

“Up,” he says.

You push up onto your knees and watch as he leans forward to press a soft kiss to her cunt. He nuzzles in a little, nose nudging her clit as he tastes.

She lets him for a few seconds before tugging him back by the hair. “Don’t be selfish.”

He looks at you and jerks his head.

You shuffle forward, and he puts both hands on your shoulders to shove you between her thighs, arranging you so he can kneel, chest flush to your back.

You shiver.

“Ever eaten pussy?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you say, a little breathless, while he leans around, boxing you in with his arms while he spreads her lips. You take in the way she glistens, and your mouth waters. “It’s been a while, though.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he murmurs, deep and close to your ear. “S’like riding a bike.” He strokes a finger over her clit, and her cunt clenches around nothing.

“I don’t know how to ride a bike,” you say, and wonder why.

Joel, to his credit, just shakes his head and ignores you.

“She likes a little figure eight here,” he says, head still bowed conspiratorially as if she couldn’t hear every word. “And if you switch between fast n’ gentle here,” he presses his finger to the first knuckle inside her.

He pulls it out and pinches her labia between his index finger and thumb. “Suck here, and bite soft.”

It’s like they’ve dragged you in from a blizzard. Everything is so hot; your pulse throbs in your fingers, and you’re sweating as if bundled in front of a hearth.

“Please?” You whisper. You’re not sure who you’re asking.

Tess laughs, a soft and pleased thing you haven’t heard yet. You want more.

And that’s how you ended up here, somehow still fully clothed, swirling your tongue against her clit.

Joel pushes your shoulders down so you’re bent over at a sharper angle. He solves the clothes problem by tugging your jeans and underwear down to your knees.

“Go on,” Tess tells him around a soft moan.

You’ve worked your tongue gently inside before diving in for more, lapping at her like they hadn’t just fed you the best meal you’ve had in years.

Your efforts stutter when Joel’s hot mouth latches on to your cunt. You cry out but get your act together quickly, nuzzling in like he had done earlier.

Her fingers grasp at your head, grinding your face down where she needs. At the same time, Joel has his hands around your thighs, fingers pressing tight enough to leave a mark while he feasts.

You can’t tell, as focused as you are on your own task, but he’s studying the way you twitch and gush with each motion. He’s a quick learner and soon has you struggling to keep up.

When you press two fingers into her cunt, Tess rewards you with her orgasm as you suck and lick her clit. You take everything she has to offer, which is when Joel yanks you away from her to share in the indulgence. He works a second orgasm from her very quickly. When he’s done, he pushes you to the ground and returns to work at you.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he growls. “Come on, give it to me.”

And you do. He’s relentless, and your body responds to each touch from his broad fingers and broader tongue. You’re vaguely aware of the scrape of his teeth on your clit, the ferocious way he slams his fingers into your aching core as you shake apart around him.

He’s hesitant to pull away when you come down from it, but you’re squirming a little from the intensity, and he’s got a dark look in his eyes anyway. “My turn?” he says.

“Go ahead, baby,” Tess says. She’s sprawled languidly on the couch, one hand between her legs, gently rubbing at her clit while she enjoys the show.

Joel pulls his cock out, and even though you’re exhausted to the point where you can’t hear your thoughts over the pounding of your heart, you lurch forward immediately.

It’s gorgeous and engorged, impatient after waiting so long. You reach for it first, one hand cupping his heavy balls and the other sliding down the velvety length of him. Your mouth follows close behind, licking at the slit.

“Think you can take it all?” he says. “You ever deepthroated someone my size?”

“No,” you admit, “but I’m a quick learner.”

His responding grin is wicked. “Good. I got a lot to teach ya.” And without further acclimation or dramatics, he grabs the back of your head and pulls until his cock hits the back of your throat.

You gag, of course, coughing and sputtering. He eases up to let you back, but you don’t pull all the way off. You take a minute to breathe around him and swallow him back down.

He lets you set the pace for a minute, groaning as you bob up and down, swirling your tongue around and moaning at the way his salty musk mixes with the sweet tang of Tess.

He lets you pull off, even, watching to see what you do when left to your own devices. You stroke his cock in one hand and cradle his balls in the other, nuzzling and licking them before taking them in your mouth one by one to roll on your tongue.

He moans but tugs you away after you properly worship both.

“Y’got a sweet little mouth, sunflower. But I need ya chokin’ on it now. Just stay nice and open for me.”

With no further preamble, he holds your head with both hands and fucks into your mouth.

You’re not too surprised to find yourself on the edge of an orgasm. Back in the day, when you were still trying to pretend normal life was possible and playing at being a girlfriend, sucking cock had been a favorite pastime.

Granted, Joel’s cock was another beast entirely. Maybe literally. Your brain pulls itself together long enough to reconsider the fae theory before he fucks the thought out.

It’s a fucking mess. You can barely close your lips around him, drool slick on your chin. The only mercy he grants is when a particularly rough thrust has you tapping his leg, afraid you might puke.

He pulls back, hand tipping your chin up to check you over, but you’ve recovered already and strain to get your mouth back around him.

He relinquishes, letting you slide him down as far as you can.

He chuckles. “Looks like we got a real cockslut here,” he says to Tess.

She grins. “I dunno; I think she might just be a slut in general. Pretty needy for my cunt, too.”

His hand strokes your cheek as he picks the pace back up. “That’s a good girl. Fuckin’ take it. Shit,” he groans as he works deeper yet.

“Ah, fuck,” he gasps, tearing his eyes from you to seek out Tess. “Please?”

“Please, what, baby?”

“Please, can I cum down her throat?”

“Not yet,” she says.

He whimpers but doesn’t dare disobey. His thrusts are frantic and harsh as he fights the urge.

“Sunflower, d’you think you can cum when he does?”

Your eyes roll back in your head. “Mhmmm,” you moan around him.

“Alright, baby. Give it to her.”

And fuck, does he ever. He buries himself deep, and for a moment, you think you’re not actually going to be able to handle it. But the feeling of him twitching and the sound of his pleasure are enough to push you over the edge, overriding your gag reflex.

“Oh fuck,” he repeats. “Oh shit. That’s it. Fucking take it all.”

When he pulls his softening cock from you, you sway forward a little. He catches you with hands on your shoulders before sitting on the ground in front of the couch and pulling you roughly into his lap. From the couch above, Tess reaches to run her hands through his hair before rubbing a hand on your shoulder.

You wrap a hand around hers, hoping she won’t pull away. She doesn’t, instead tucking a thumb over your hand to hold you there. Your head tilts back against Joel’s shoulder as her other hand cups the back of his neck.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and then leans his back to rest against her hand.

The sun has tucked down behind the rise of the city, and the post-orgasmic reality is settling on your shoulders. As much as they had made a place for you for that blissful fragment of time, you’re suddenly hyperaware of your intrusion.

“Where’s, um. Where’s your bathroom?” You ask.

Tess directs you, and you pry yourself from their warmth and tug your jeans back up. You wipe away the evidence of your adventure and stick your face under the cold faucet to clear the lingering haze from your brain.

They’re still sitting when you come back out. Joel’s on the floor with his knees bent and legs spread, leaning back to where Tess has his head in her lap. She’s running idle fingers through his hair.

You don’t want to linger and get kicked out. It’s not that you don’t know what this is; you just want it to end on your terms. When you shoulder your bag to broadcast your intentions, Joel gets to his feet.

“Let me walk ya home,” he says.

“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

He scowls. “It’s gettin’ dark.”

You give him a wan smile and rub the back of your neck. “I’ve been walking myself home in this city for years.”

It’s not like you’re stupid enough to think they don’t know where you live. But this way, you can still pretend.

“Yeah, and look where that got you the other night,” he says.

Tess stands and stretches and nudges Joel. “Down, boy,” she teases. “Let ‘er go.”

“But really,” she says while you tug on your boots. “We thought you’d be eating better. You need another promotion?”

You look between her and Joel. “No, I do not.”

“It’s an easy enough problem to solve,” he says with a shrug.

Oh god. “No, please don’t solve anything. Let’s, uhh, let’s just never talk about this again.”

“We can just—“ she starts, but you plug your ears.

It’s too late. Joel’s smirk could silence the birds. And you know, once you’ve heard the whistle, the twister’ll be deciding your fate soon.

“Suit yourself,” Joel says.

“Okay, well, um,” you say, backing into the hall. “This has been really great and so weird, but, um, it’s almost curfew and—“

“See you later, sunflower,” Tess says as you close the door behind you. It doesn’t sound like a casual, rote farewell. It sounds like a promise.

next chapter

*title from "Ain't No Rest for the Wicked" by Cage the Elephant

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x tess servopoulos #joel x tess #joel x reader x tess #joel miller x reader x tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos x you #ain't no rest for the wicked series #the last of us fic #the last of us smut

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corazondebeskar-reads · 6 months

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ain't no rest for the wicked - chapter two

ain't no rest for the wicked series

two: trouble will find you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller

words: 6.9k

summary: After weeks of nothing, you finally hear from Tess and Joel again.

warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, bittersweet ending/no happily ever after, poorly negotiated d/s-style dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v, degradation, face slapping, pussy slapping, spanking, stalking, canon-typical violence, threesome, cum eating, light rope bondage, shower sex

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Weeks go by, and nothing weird happens. You can’t say you aren’t disappointed, but they didn’t say it was going to be a repeat thing. They definitely implied it, sure, but you could be cool about it.

So you had the best orgasms of your life with two of the most unhinged people you’ve ever met. Who needs hinges, anyway? And why do people say unhinged?

Wait, does it mean open? Like they’re unhinged because they have no door? Because, in that case, they’re two of the most hinged people you’ve ever met.

God, you miss when you could ask Google. Or Yahoo. Or Jeeves. Man, the internet was so cool. You bet your fucking Neopets are dead.

By the time you circle back and decide that you’re pretty sure unhinged does not mean open, you’ve autopiloted home.

You turn the key until it clicks and push open the door to your flat. At first glance, there’s no explanation for the way the world seems tilted just so.

Except for the little folded scrap of paper on your shitty rusted table. When you pick it up, something garishly yellow flutters to the ground.

It’s unmistakably a sunflower petal. It’s winter. Where the fuck—

No. Nope. You do not want to follow that thought; you want to let it fuck right off.

You rub the petal between your fingers. It’s so sinfully soft, there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s real.

The paper just says “tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow what? Tomorrow when?

When you open your cabinet to grab a can of soup, the first can you pick up rattles. It also doesn’t have a lid, so. There’s that.

You groan out loud. If you don’t look and just put it back, will it disappear into the other dimension from where it came?

In the end, you peek anyway, and yep. Sunflower seeds. Baked and salted, from the smell.

The implications are unsettling. In their minds, are you cannibalizing yourself at their whim? Are you consuming yourself in a pursuit of pleasure?

Are you really fucking overthinking it?

Tomorrow. For cripes sake. There’s no way you sleep tonight.

Except once you’ve had your soup and nibbled away at most of the sunflower seeds, your full belly lures you into the quiet of the night.

You’re nearly as jittery at work as you were the first time. Granted, you’re a little less afraid of them and more anxiously excited, but the thought of them sends your leg bouncing.

Your chair squeaks the whole time.

“Hey Sam,” you say as casually as possible to your deskmate.

“What?” He says warily.

“Do you know where I could get a horseshoe?”

“A… what?”

“A horseshoe, you know, like horses wear.”

“A singular horseshoe? Do I even want to ask why?”

“Yeah, just one. And no, probably not? Let’s say I’m just really into country chic decor right now.”

Sam turns back away from you.

Typical.

You’re getting ready to leave when you realize you don’t actually remember their address. You’re pretty sure you could find the right building since you walked yourself home, but there’s an uncomfortably large margin of error.

Also, the stupid note didn’t give a time. Should you go home first? Maybe they’ve broken in again to leave a little clue?

You’re saved from figuring it out when you find Joel in exactly the same place as before. You don’t startle this time—you’d peeked around the corner on purpose.

“Hi,” you say, fingers wrapping around your backpack straps.

“Hi.” It’s brusque and he’s scowling, doesn’t even look at you.

“I-I could have walked over. I don’t wanna inconvenience—“

“You’re not. I don’t want you walkin’ by yourself.”

“Ok.” You kind of wish Tess was there. You like Joel fine, but she’s at least a little more talkative. Even if everything out of her mouth throws you off center.

Actually, this is probably fine. Maybe you’ll still have your wits about you when you get there.

He keeps a little distance ahead. Not enough to lose you in the crowd but enough that it almost looks like you aren’t following him. Like he doesn’t want to be seen with you.

You don’t have hurt feelings. It’s fine. People might think he was cheating on Tess, you get it.

Whatever the fuck they were doing with you was certainly not cheating.

Tess is already in the kitchen when you get there. Joel hovers in the living room until you head in, like he thinks maybe you’ll snoop through the apartment if he doesn’t keep watch.

You’re not that stupid. That’s a fucking death wish.

She’s cleaning a pan. Joel grumbles at her about leaving it for him, and she rolls her eyes while he pulls out your chair.

You remember this, at least, and manage not to make a fool out of yourself.

Tess dries her hands and sits down across from you. “Hey, sunflower. You miss us?”

You burn up immediately, wishing it were literal. It’s like she knows you’ve had fingers stuffed up your cunt every night, remembering how they felt. How you buried your face in the pillow and wished it was the soft folds of her.

She chuckles. “Don’t worry, we missed you too. We’ll show you how much later.”

Joel sets hot plates down in front of you both, followed by glasses of water, before he takes his own seat.

You wonder if this is a special production or if they’re letting you see their natural domesticity.

If you thought dinner last time was a delicacy, nothing could have prepared you for this.

The slab of meat is unmistakably pork and rests on a bed of baked apple slices beside yellow squash and pale zucchini rounds.

You look up from your plate with wide eyes.

“Best not to ask,” Joel says.

You nod. This time, you go slow, savoring each bite. It can’t be real, you think. It can’t really be yours.

But they let you eat everything on your plate. No one snatches it away or scolds you for touching something you don’t deserve. Tess seems downright pleased when you set your fork down for the last time.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You finally blurt.

Tess quirks an eyebrow. “Thought we made ourselves clear last time. When you’re here, you’re ours.”

“And we take care of what’s ours,” Joel says. When you snap your head to look at him, his eyes are dark and narrowed. Like he’s angry at the insinuation that they wouldn’t.

“O-okay,” you say, fixing your gaze back on your plate.

He stands up and clears the dishes, piling them in the sink.

Tess takes you by the hand and leads you out of the room. You expect her to stop at the couch again, but she takes you into what must be their shared bedroom.

Joel shuts the door behind him when he comes in. The room is warm and dark, the winter sun having retreated for the day already.

They don’t give you a moment to work yourself up. Tess is already kissing you as she walks you back to the bed. Instead of pushing you into it like you expect, she tugs you to a stop when your knees run into the mattress.

Her mouth moves down your neck as she easily discards your clothes. You shrink a little, and she tugs on your hair, forcing your head back so you look her in the eye.

“No being shy, now,” she warns. “S’ours to look at anyway.”

She peels your arms away from where they had instinctually folded across your breasts. Moving to one side, she smirks at Joel.

“Look at your little pet, baby. Ain’t she pretty?”

His hand brushes the curve of your breast, barely making contact but drawing a shiver from you anyway. “Sure is. A real sight for sore eyes.” His thumb finds your nipple, and you moan, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He pinches it, smirking when you gasp.

“You look like you got a plan,” he says to Tess.

“You want two cunts to fuck today, baby?” She says.

You can almost see the switch flip in his brain. “Yes, please, ma’am,” he says.

She presses a much chaster kiss to your lips before patting the mattress. “Hop up, sunflower. On your back, head right here.”

Once you’re situated, she tucks a pillow under your head and climbs on top of you, settling her cunt right where you need it. When you try to touch her, though, Joel stops you, catching your wrists.

“Keep ‘em by your sides, or I’ll tie ‘em down.”

Tess laughs, dragging a finger through your folds. “I think she wants you to, baby.”

He crouches down by your head. “S’that so?”

You look at him from where you’re trying to reach Tess with your mouth, but she’s lifted her hips just a little too high. You whine.

“Yes, sir.”

His grin is otherworldly, all sharp teeth and shadow. “Attagirl,” he says, patting your cheek.

His hands are gentle but competent as he binds each wrist to the bed, stretched out to the posts of the footboard. Tess sits on your face while he works, letting you overstimulate yourself between her wet cunt and his control.

Once you’re secure, she leans forward and flicks her tongue over your clit, pulling a gasp that deepens into a drawn-out moan as she continues.

You whine when she lifts her hips back up just too far for you to lick inside her. Joel grabs your hair and holds you in place, dipping his cock into your mouth.

“Get it nice and wet for her, sunflower.”

You try your very hardest to give him the sloppiest blowjob you can while being held still.

When he pulls out, he presses his balls to your mouth, and you respond with soft licks as he notches his tip at the slick entrance of Tess’s cunt.

“Lick her,” he grunts, resisting the urge to plunge in all the way.

You’re on fire. This has to be, hands down, the filthiest thing you’ve ever done, but he props the pillow up more so you don’t have to strain your neck when you lick down his cock to where he’s splitting her open.

She moans into your pussy.

He holds you there, with your tongue flat against where he pushes in deeper. When he’s buried, you flick your tongue to his balls and back.

“Suck them,” he pants, and you obey, stretching your mouth around him.

He starts to thrust gently, not wanting to jostle himself against your teeth, but he loses patience eventually and yanks you off to shove you to her clit.

You’re squirming as she works you over, three fingers deep, stretching you to get you ready for Joel. You suck and lick at her clit as she cums, meaning to lick her through it and keep going for another.

But Joel tugs you back to lick where she leaks around him.

You’re glad he tied you down. It’s all so much, almost too much, and you don’t think you could have held still. The rope’s embrace holds the last shred of your sanity.

At some point, you started whimpering against them, pleading as best you can without pulling your mouth away.

“Aw, you wanna cum?” she mocks with an affected simper.

“No,” Joel grunts, his hips snapping hard against her. “Only way she's coming tonight is on my cock.”

You sob a little bit, and she pulls back to slap your aching clit. Your hips buck, and you nearly lose the fight.

“Oh, she fuckin’ loved that, baby,” she tells him.

“‘Course she did, she’s a fuckin’ slut for us.” He says.

You moan. You think you should probably care that they’re talking about you like this. Actually, you do care. You care a lot. It’s so fucking hot.

“You’re just our little whore, sunflower?” he says.

You nod minutely with Tess’s clit pinched between your lips, and she cums again, her slick rubbing on your face with each stroke of his dick.

“Alright,” she says, tapping his hand where it grips her hip.

He pulls out and unties your wrists. Tess lets you keep lapping at her for a minute, but when you’re free, she slides off you and sprawls, languid and satisfied.

He gives you a light slap on the cheek. “Trade places.”

You sit up and lay on your stomach to the side to let Tess move to where you had been. But first, she rolls to face you and pulls you in for a deep, slow kiss.

You go to tangle your fingers in her hair, but she catches your wrist, rubbing her thumb over the ridges left behind.

“That’s enough,” Joel growls, yanking you by the ankle.

Tess laughs. “Don’t wanna be left out, baby?”

“Wanna get my fuckin’ dick back in one of ya,” he says.

She gets situated with her head down at the end of the bed and tugs at you to climb over her. You waste no time diving back into her cunt until Joel smacks you hard on the ass.

“Did I tell you to start up?”

“No, sir,” you say, voice breaking a little with desperation and a little shame.

He slaps the other side of your ass for good measure. Unlike the way he eased into Tess, he doesn’t wait to push into you.

You’re so grateful for Tess stretching you out before. His cock feels impossible. You cry out into her bush.

Your wriggle, and she holds you still with a powerful grip on your hips, licking at your clit while he shoves forward.

“That’s right. Shit,” he slaps your ass again when you squirm. “Hold still and fucking take it, girl.”

Your cries are muffled, but you’re not protesting. It’s just so fucking much.

Tess distracts you from the sting and pinch of him by gently biting your clit, which hurts a hell of a lot more but also makes you a hell of a lot wetter, ultimately easing his passage. Enough so that he slams the rest of the way in.

Your mind whites out when he starts pounding into you. Tess shifts to lick at where you’re broken open on him, and your fists tighten in the sheets.

“Please,” you whine, breaking away from her cunt only long enough to beg.

“What d’you think, baby? She been good enough for you tonight?”

He rubs his hand over the side of your thigh and hums. You hold your breath. You’re pretty sure he’s just teasing you, but it’s a fucking struggle not to cum.

“Yeah, she’s been a real good girl,” he says. “Go on, sunflower, cum on my fucking cock.”

It hurts. It hurts where you clamp down around him. It hurts where Tess is relentless against your clit. But it’s maybe the hardest you’ve ever come—you’re pretty sure you blacked out.

When the world filters back in around you, you’re laying with your head on her, giving pathetic little kitten licks to her clit. Joel’s fucking you down into her, and when he sees that you’re semi-present, he shoves your head back into her folds.

“Again,” he snarls, and your body listens. Spasms. Falls apart again.

Vaguely, you’re aware of him begging Tess and desperately asking where he’s allowed to come. Whatever they decide, he pulls out abruptly. She slips out from under you and yanks you onto your back, swinging a leg over your hip to grind against you.

You reach for her with limp arms, and she finally, finally lets you cup her breasts as Joel tugs his aching cock and warm cum splatters across your face, tits, and arms.

You don’t even hear him walk away, but he comes back a minute later with a warm, damp towel to find you scooping some of his cum into your mouth. He groans, cock twitching.

“You gotta stop that, sunflower, or I’m gonna need that mouth again.”

You look up at him with wide eyes and part your lips.

He fists his cock and looks at Tess. She’s dozing off already but nods. He cleans her first, gently wiping away incidental splatter and residue of her own pleasure from her thighs.

You wait patiently with your mouth open and he rewards you by easing gently into your throat. He’s fully hard again now.

He fills your throat easier at this angle. Well, easier for him.

“Breathe,” he says, gripping the back of your head. “That’s it, sunflower, just breathe. You’re takin’ it so well.”

He helps himself to handfuls of your breasts, rubbing and tugging at your nipples while he chases his second orgasm.

“Cum with me. Show me what a fuckin’ cumslut you are,” he grunts between thrusts.

Tess leans over close to you. “Don’t swallow, sunflower.”

He pulls out a little right as he cums to let it pool in your mouth. It’s a fucking struggle as you let your own orgasm roll over you. When he pulls out, Tess pulls you in for a kiss and shares in his spend.

Again, the fucking filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You’re not sure how you managed it, but you’re not going to voice a single damn doubt, not going to risk whatever this is.

He finally cleans you off and putters around the room, tossing the towel in a hamper and tugging his clothes back on.

“I’m followin’ her home,” he murmurs to Tess while you’re in the bathroom.

She sits up. “What happened?”

“Tell ya more when I get back. But her place is too close to the boundary, and I caught a little tip-off when I was waiting to pick her up.”

Tess frowns but by the time you come out, dressed and refreshed, they’re lounging on the bed.

“C’mere,” Tess says before you can speak or move for the door. She tugs you down to the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good,” you say automatically. You’re not actually sure. Everything’s a little fuzzy; the world wrapped in a cotton ball. You may or may not be shaking a little.

“You sure you’re okay to get home safe?”

“Mhm.” Your eyes are heavy, though, and the way her nails are tracing swirls up and down your arm is making you woozy.

You must have dozed a little because Joel’s coming back in the room and you didn’t know he ever left.

He hands you a mug of tea and sets a plate on the bed beside you.

“Gotta eat something. Y’look like ya might faint on your way,” he says at your crinkled face.

You sip from the tea and close your eyes as the warmth and sweetness crawl through you. “Thank you,” you say.

Tess has you leaning against her still, and you stay that way while you eat the sandwich Joel made. As it dwindles, your awareness of the situation grows stiff and uncomfortable.

You sit up. “Thank you, but um. I better get going.” You’re only a little dizzy when you stand up.

Joel takes the dishes out of your hands. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Yep,” you lie. “So, um. Have a good night.” It feels stilted, after what you’ve all just shared, but what else do you say to your two-time hookups? You skedaddle before it can get weirder.

You would have said yes this time, you think, if he had offered to walk you home again.

It’s only a week later when there’s a knock at your door.

There’s never a knock at your door. No one visits; there’s no one to visit.

You stare at the door for a minute, sitting on your bed eating room-temperature peas out of a can with your only spoon. The noise had startled you, and now you’re going to have to launch a search and rescue mission.

It knocks again. Well. Not it, you suppose, not the door. Whoever is on the other side.

You stand up, spoon hanging from your mouth, and open it with the chain still latched.

“Y’ain’t even gonna ask who it is?” Joel snaps.

You shut it and remove the chain, opening it all the way to reveal his scowl.

“Hi,” you say through clenched teeth where they hold onto the spoon. You’ve got one hand on the door and the other on your can of peas.

“You don’t even have a peephole. What’re you doing, just opening the door for strangers?”

“You’re not a stranger.” You’ve stuck the spoon into the remaining peas so you can speak clearly.

“You didn’t know it was me.”

You step back to let him in, eyeing him as he steps through the doorway.

He narrows his eyes at you. “What? I got somethin’ on my face?”

“No,” you say, not at all suspiciously, and cringe internally when your eyes can’t help but dart up and then back to him.

He turns and looks above the door where you’ve nailed a blue plastic horseshoe. Despite his apprehension, Sam had actually found one—leftover from some children’s game.

Though now you were wondering if it was less about the horseshoe shape and more about the properties of a ferried shoe. Maybe intent? Maybe the metal? Maybe it had to have been worn by a horse? You had never really listened to your grandmama. She was just a crazy old lady.

Or at least, you thought she was. But now there are mushroom zombies, so. Who knows.

Joel looks back at you with an eyebrow raised. “Doing some decorating?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, trying not to feel embarrassed. Then you remember that Joel being here is the weird part of this situation. You refuse to feel weirder than that.

“So, um,” you start.

He steps closer and tucks his fingers under your chin, thumb brushing over your cheek. It’s impressive how little it takes now for your brain to shut up.

“Hi,” you squeak.

“Y’said that already, sunflower.” He takes the can from you and sets it on the counter.

“Right,” you say, feeling a little ensnared by his gaze. “You have really pretty eyes.”

To your surprise, he blushes a little. His eyes go wide and his lips part. Instead of a response, he hides his reaction by kissing you so you’re too close to see the pink of his cheeks.

He turns you so he can press you against the door, licking into your mouth and pressing a thigh between your legs. It turns hungry very quickly, and you moan, spurring him on to slide his hands up your shirt.

“Not that I—“ you try, but he doesn’t let up. “Ah—hang on,” you turn your face.

He takes it as an invitation to nip and suck on your neck. You’re still distracted, but at least you can attempt to string together a sentence.

“Not that I mind,” a gasp draws out the words, “but why-yyy are you here?”

“Wanted your advice on interior design,” he says, jerking his head to the horseshoe, “but I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“Oh, shut up,” you try to say, but he’s latched back on to the sensitive area near your shoulder that has you abandoning your train of thought.

“Need you,” he says against your skin before he breaks away to tug your shirt over your head.

You can’t argue with that. Well, you could, but why would you want to when he’s got his hands and mouth on your breasts?

He grabs and pins your wrists above your head in one hand. The other pinches at whichever nipple isn’t currently in his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp.

He smirks around his mouthful before biting down so you cry out. His fingers find the seam of your leggings, stroking over to feel you squirm.

“Please,” you whimper.

He slaps your breast. “You wanna try that again?”

“Please, sir.”

“Down.”

You sink to your knees, but he doesn’t pull his cock out right away. Instead, he cups your cheek in his hand, watching closely as your eyes flutter shut and you lean against his hand.

“You still okay with all this?” he says, immovable gruffness betrayed by a hint of genuine concern.

You nod against his hand.

He draws his hand back, and a whine from you. It’s cut off by a sharp, but clearly restrained, slap. “Words, princess.”

“Yes, sir.” It caught you off guard, but you find you like the faint sting and heat of it.

“Yeah? Even that?”

He seems serious, no hint of a smirk or glint to his eye, so you pause to consider.

“I liked it,” you decide. “Felt nice. Made me want to please you.”

Now he grins and slaps you again. It’s not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to make you gasp.

The heat spreads through you, and your mouth falls open, eyes following his hand as it drags away from your face to grasp his length through his pants.

“See what you’ve done?” He grips your chin tight with his other hand. “Gonna take care of that for me?”

“Please, sir.”

He pops the button open on his jeans and drags the zipper down unbearably slowly. You whine, and his fingers dig into your jaw.

“Be good,” he says. He draws his cock out and gives himself a few strokes just an inch from your mouth.

You look up at him and stick your tongue out. You want to whine, but you’re afraid if you’re not good, he’ll just fuck his hand.

He releases your chin. “Go on,” he says.

You kiss the sticky tip, licking the residue from your lips before taking his cock into your mouth. You moan in tandem, and his hand finds purchase on the back of your head.

“This place is kind of a shithole,” he says, looking around your tiny cube of a home.

“Gee, tha—“

He doesn’t let you finish, shoving you back down on his cock.

He fucks into you for a while, enjoying the way you moan around him when his dick bruises the back of your throat.

When he yanks you back suddenly, you gasp for air but try to get your mouth back around him.

“No, stop,” he says. “I don’t wanna cum yet. Want your cunt.”

You whine, and he almost caves, looking at the pure hunger with which you’re regarding his swollen, angry cock.

“I said no,” he says instead, jerking your head a little.

“Sorry, sir,” you say with a sigh.

He looks over your shoulder. “Y’ain’t even got a fuckin’ bed.”

You follow his gaze to your perfectly fine mattress. “I do so!”

“That ain’t a bed, sunflower. That’s a mattress with no box or frame.”

“Wait, hang on, haven’t you been here already?”

“Nah, that was Tess who stopped by.”

“That’s a funny way to say broke in.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You complainin’?”

You look up at the horseshoe for a moment. “Nah, I guess not.”

He looks at it, too, and back to you. “I don’t wanna know. You got a shower?”

“You hate my bed that much?”

“No, I’ve been shovelin’ ash all day. M’not gonna fuck you like this, just need to rinse off.” He should have gone home first, he knows, but going back to an empty apartment just compounds his anxiety. He took a hard labor job on purpose, hoping it would distract him from the tightness in his chest.

It’s not that he doesn’t know Tess can handle herself. He just hates it when she goes alone for a deal.

“Yeah, okay,” you say. Before you move the towel away from the bathroom door, you stomp hard a couple of times and then wait a moment before opening it.

He decides not to ask.

“C’mon,” he says, tugging you by the hand into the tiny bathroom. At least you have a combination tub, so it won’t be too tight of a squeeze.

You start the shower for him and dig around in the cabinet for a clean towel. He reaches past you and grabs another.

“Wh—I got you one,” you protest.

“Y’ain’t gettin’ in with me?”

Oh. “Oh,” you say. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“But do you want to?” he asks, suddenly very close, backing you up against the sink. His hand lingers at the side of your throat.

“Uh-huh,” you nod.

“Then get in,” he says, tugging you away from the counter and giving a smack to your ass.

You yelp and strip down as he does the same. But he stops halfway through shucking off his pants after looking at the tile where his shirt landed.

“Do you eat in here?”

“What? No.”

“There are crumbs all over the floor.”

“Oh, those’re for Estella and Georgie.”

“I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Probably not.” You pause. “On second thought, you should. They’re mice. Please don’t hurt them.”

“Estella and Georgie are mice.”

“Yeah.”

“From outside.”

“Yeah.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. His exasperation does not, you’d like to point out, stop him from stepping into the shower behind you.

His body cages you in, wrapping himself around you from behind. He rests his chin on your shoulder for a moment while his hands dance down each rib and over your stomach. They slide back up to your breasts, crossed to hold you against his chest while he gropes you.

You arch a little, as much as you can in his iron grip, and revel in the press of his hard cock against your ass. He groans when you roll your hips against it. You whine when he releases you, and he swats at your thigh.

“Let me get clean,” he scolds. “That was the whole point of this.”

Still, he can’t resist lathering your tits with his soapy hands and drinking the moans from your lips.

“I thought you were gonna fuck me,” you whine.

His fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze just so, sending sparks down your spine.

“I thought you were gonna be my good little girl,” he growls in your ear.

You whimper, involuntarily grinding back against him. “I want to. Please, I want to be—”

“What? Say it, baby.”

“I wanna be good,” you say.

His hand tightens until you squeak a little. “No, no, baby. Say, ‘I want to be your good little girl, sir.’”

You’re burning up. You can’t even blame the shower, because even the hottest water you get isn’t that hot. You whisper it back.

He eases up on your throat. “Can’t hear ya. Speak up.”

“I want to be your good little girl!” you blurt. “Um. Sir.”

He chuckles, dark and low, and the breath sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. “Yeah? You want to be my good girl and take my cock?” His hand slides down, almost where you need it, but he stops short of parting your lips, the tip of his finger brushing gently.

“Please,” you whine.

His middle finger dips in just enough to graze your clit. “I don’t think you want it bad enough.”

You grind back against him; a frustrated sob lodged in your throat. It slips free when he rubs a slow, gentle circle. “Please, sir. Please fuck me.”

You cry out when he pulls his hand away, but it’s only so he can push you up against the wall, hand between your shoulder blades to bend you forward. You brace yourself on the chilly cheap plastic.

He takes himself in hand and rubs the head of his cock against your slippery cunt. “I dunno. Doesn’t seem like you really want to get fucked.”

“But I’m so wet,” you protest.

“We’re in the shower, sunflower, ‘course you’re wet.”

You’re rapidly losing your grip on your sanity and also the wall, so you reach back and grab his hips, shoving yourself onto his cock. You’re not stretched enough to take it all, not even with your momentum, but the fat head of him pushes into you.

You and Joel gasp in unison, his hands tightening where they hold you, fingernails digging in. You moan, bringing your hands back to the wall as he pushes forward, voice breaking into a keen as he splits you.

He groans and grinds in deeper. “What a greedy fucking slut,” he says, having regained his senses. “Couldn’t wait, huh? You need it that bad?”

“Uh-huh,” you pant between thrusts.

“Alright,” he says, and then he stops. He holds still, buried balls-deep.

“No,” you sob.

“What?” He cracks a hand across your ass, grinning when you moan. “You want it that bad? Go ahead. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

You do. You rock yourself on it, trying to chase your pleasure on him. He grabs a fistful of your hair, to which you sputter a protest. You’d been careful so far not to get it wet.

“You got something to say?” He spanks you again. “Spit it out.”

But you’ve already forgotten about your hair, because no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to get the angle right. Your orgasm lies far out of reach.

You whine instead. “Please fuck me.”

“What’s the matter? You’re the one who helped yourself to my cock. Now ya don’t know what to do with it?”

You think you might actually cry. No, yep, tears are stinging in the corners of your eyes. You look back at him over your shoulder and hope you look pathetic enough for him to take mercy.

“Aw, baby, look at you,” he croons. “Shouldn’t have been so greedy, huh?”

“M’sorry,” you say. “M’sorry, sir, I promise I’ll be good.”

“You better,” he says, and then finally, finally shoves roughly into you.

The pace he sets meticulously takes you apart. His cock batters at you, his tight grip on your body unrelenting as he takes and takes and takes.

“So much better now, huh?” he says.

“Yes—oh fuck, s-so much. Thank you, sir.”

“Attagirl,” he moans. “Touch yourself, baby.”

You’re quick to obey, longing for his thick, calloused fingers.

But he knows that already. “See? Ya just can’t do it right yourself. Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

You’re nodding before he’s done talking. He wrenches your hand away and reaches down to pinch your clit.

“Now,” he growls. It’s a good thing, too, because you were already starting to fall apart.

He fucks you through it, and another, and another. Between the contrast of the warm water and cold wall, the brutal slap of his hips against your ass, and the dizzying pleasure, you feel fuzzy around the edges.

“Ah, fuck,” he groans. “Kneel.”

He steps back just enough to let you turn and drop to your knees. The water ricochets off his back as he plunges into your waiting mouth, and you swallow him down.

When he eases out, you’re soaked from the spray.

“Think we need to clean up again?” you say.

“Nah, why bother? I ain’t done with you yet.”

“What?” you gasp.

“Not a chance, sweetheart. Dry off and go lay on that sad little thing you call a bed for me, alright?”

It’s actually easier for him this way, he tells you with a smirk. “Ain’t gotta worry about my knees.” He’s lowered himself to the floor, with your ass perched on the end of the mattress.

Practically lounging, he’s spread your thighs to carve a space for himself, holding you as he takes his sweet time. For a goddamn eternity, all he does is kiss and bite your thighs, with the occasional soft lick to your folds. But he doesn’t dip in, doesn’t seek out your pleasure.

No, it’s very clear that this is for him. Which is not to say he doesn’t want you to feel good; he very much does. But tonight, he has the luxury of time and a comfortable angle to do whatever the fuck he wants.

You’re shaking, legs trembling, when his tongue finally nudges inside, just a quick flit of his tongue into your cunt before he drags it up to your clit.

“Please,” you sob, much like you have been. But this time, it’s different. He can tell from the way you’re squirming and clenching down.

“Give it to me,” he growls into you, and sucks at your clit until you come.

It feels like hours. There’s no way it can be, really, but he works you over again and again until you can’t take it anymore. You’re crying, real tears sliding down the sides of your face, and your hips move of their own accord in an attempt to escape.

He doesn’t let you out of it that easy. His hand comes down against your cunt before you realize he let go of your leg. And fuck, it feels good, but also, you might be dying?

“Can’t, I can’t,” you whine.

“You sure? I think you got one more in ya.”

“Fuck,” you sob.

He eases up a little, fucking you with his tongue while his fingers rub gently around your clit. When you cum, you have to bite your fist not to scream. He holds you down with a strong arm across your hips as you buck and struggle.

But he backs off as soon as you’re coming down. “Attagirl, that’s it. So good for me,” he murmurs, climbing up onto the mattress beside you.

He rolls you over into his arms and kisses your forehead, nose, and lips. “Such a good girl, takin’ everything I wanted.”

You’re limp. You think maybe he’s one of those vampires. What did they call them? Energy vampires? Or are you thinking of some kind of demon?

Anyway, you think he drained your life force out of your cunt. You can’t keep your eyes open, and your limbs are heavy. You’re sleepin’ with the fishes, you think, and giggle a little.

“You okay?” he says.

“Mhm, m’just so sleepy,” you mumble. Even your lips feel too heavy to move.

“I gotcha, sunflower; you can sleep.” He kisses your forehead again and tugs your comforter up around you both.

There’s a knock on your door for the second time in twelve hours. That’s more than the last twelve months.

You startle awake and yank the sheet up to your neck, but relax a little when you see Joel. He’s already hefted himself up and approached the door.

The knock comes again, but this time you notice there’s a pattern to it.

“Who is it?” he says anyway.

“Just me,” Tess says.

Joel unlatches the locks and lets her in.

“Thought I might find you here,” she says, low and quiet.

“You okay?” he says.

“Yeah, but I need your help with some cleanup. How’s she?”

“Good,” you whisper.

Tess does a double take. “Thought you were sleeping, sunflower.”

“Was, but people keep banging my door down today.” You yawn and for some reason, reach your arms up.

She obliges your sleepy plea, coming close enough to bend down and kiss you. “Don’t worry,” she says. “We’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree. But something falls in your spine, something sad and heavy and taboo.

“I gotta go back out. Meet me downstairs,” she says to Joel, who’s getting his filthy clothes back on. She gives you a kiss on the forehead. “Be a good girl and go back to sleep.”

You hum your agreement and lay back down against your pillow.

Joel crouches down by the mattress. “Sorry, sunflower, we gotta get goin’,” he says, giving your cheek a brief caress.

The disappointment is there and gone so fast, he thinks maybe he imagined it. Maybe he just wanted to see it.

But it was real, much to your displeasure. You didn’t want them to think you were getting greedy, that you felt any entitlement to their time.

“Okay.”

“Need ya to lock up behind us.”

“Just turn the thingy before you close the door,” you mumble, trying to spare your poor feet the pain of the frigid floor.

The look he levels you is nothing short of furious. “You tryin’ to be funny?”

“No?”

“That flimsy little joke ain’t gonna protect you. Your hinges are too weak; anyone could kick that in. At least the deadbolt and chain would buy you a minute.”

“It’s cold,” you whine. But you know he’s right. After all, Tess got in and out without causing any damage. Hang on, though. What was that about weak hinges?

Does that make you… unhinged? You laugh out loud at your joke. Your daddy always said it was a good thing you thought you were funny, ‘cause no one else would.

He ignores it and yanks the blanket off you.

“Hey!”

“You can have it back when you get up.”

“Mean.”

“You think this is mean? I’m fixin’ to put you over my knee and change your little attitude.”

Your eyes go wide, and there’s a tell-tale heart(beat) buried beneath your panties. “You wouldn’t.”

“You damn well know I would.”

You swallow hard around the sudden ache in your throat where his cock should be.

You get up and shuffle over to him. “Alright, quit yer bitchin’. I’m here, and I will lock all the locks.”

He wraps the blanket around your shoulders. “Good girl,” he says and presses a brief kiss to your forehead. Before you even register it, he’s gone, door clacking shut behind him.

You lock all the locks and climb back in bed, but sleep doesn’t find you again.

next chapter

*title from "Trouble is a Friend" by Lenka

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #tess servopoulos x reader x joel miller #tess x reader #tess x joel #joel miller x tess servopoulos #joel miller x reader x tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x you #tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopolous x joel miller x you #tlou smut #tlou fics #the last of us fics #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #fic: ain't no rest for the wicked

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