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pearlessance · 2 days

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Lust Among Thieves [part one]

Raider!Joel Miller x reader x raider!Tommy Miller

Summary: Survival is a skill that everyone had to gain after the world ended. Your father was killed in the Boston QZ, leaving you alone and forced to survive all on your lonesome. Just to eat, you had to steal from strangers, but unfortunately, you picked two of the worst people to target. What you didn’t expect was the lust that steadily built between all three of you. Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, dubcon definitely but not quite noncon, reader is held hostage by Joel and Tommy, threesome, canon typical violence, mean!Joel and manipulative!Tommy, unprotected sex, slowburn, angst with a happy ending NOTE: this is a fic i've cowritten with my bff joelmillersgirlfriend!! she has sooo many good fics over on her A03, her most recent one is called Hangover In the Sunshine and if you don't go read it I'll cry kay <3 Read on A03! MASTERLIST

It felt as if every vein in your body was pulsing, begging for a moment to stop and breathe in fresh oxygen. You couldn’t stop moving though, you had to keep running like your life depended on it - because it did.

You had grown desperate after fleeing the QZ. In the QZ there were rations, yes, but it had never been full on starvation. You had to steal from them. You had no other choice.

But now you were caught and fleeing the scene, tumbling through the thick Massachusetts snow. The sound of rapid steps behind you made you speed up, your worn boots crunching in the snow. You had seen the two men from afar, both broad-shouldered and scary. They weren’t like the other raiders you had encountered in the city, loud and rambunctious. Those were easy to spot, easy to avoid.

These two, on the other hand, were cool, quiet, and calculated. The only reason you had the upper hand was because you watched them from inside the city, following them back to the cabin they resided in deep in the woods. You watched silently from the window as they unpacked everything they had scouted out; food, batteries, medicine, even something as futile as beer.

They didn’t need everything that they had. So, every time they went into the city, you would steal little by little. You didn’t anticipate that they would actually notice. You made sure to cover your snow tracks, but they were simply too observant.

A hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back hard enough that the air was knocked out of your lungs. You huffed and fell to the ground, the snow melting around your aching body.

“Got the bitch, Tommy,” graveled a voice from above you. Before you could turn and glance up, you felt a heavy boot press into the side of your face. It smushed your face into the snow, the heat of your cheek making the snow burn as it melted against your face.

“Let me go,” you growled, flailing your body in an attempt to escape. The weight of the boot on your face shifted, a warning. You could tell that if this man wanted to crush you under the boot, he very well could.

You could hear a low whistle blow behind you, the man who you assumed was “Tommy” beginning to speak. “Damn, brother. She’s a feisty thing. Didn’t think a little girl was the one comin’ and stealin’ our food.”

“A little girl who took what didn’t belong to her. I say that we make sure that she never steals again,” spoke the voice from above you. Pathetically, your eyes watered at the threat.

“P-please,” you begged, clenching your fists into the snow. “I’m sorry, okay. I-I’ve been out here on my own, I would’ve starved.”

“Not my problem,” growled the man from above once more, his boot pressing harder into your face. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to breathe from the weight of his foot.

“Come on now, Joel, she’s beggin’ so nice. She’s young, could be real fit if we put some food in her. She could be useful,” Tommy said, tutting at the sound of your sniffling.

“I didn’t sign up for no babysittin’. She would be just another mouth to feed,” Joel grumbled.

“No,” you pleaded, whimpering when Joel’s boot heel shifted, pushing into your throat. You gasped, wrapping your hands around his thick calf. Even though you couldn’t turn your head to look at him, you still clawed at his leg, trying anything to get him to relieve the pressure. “I can be useful.”

Your words sounded more like wheezes at this point, but suddenly, both men were silent. Perhaps they were exchanging glances, silently conveying a message without even speaking. Whatever it was prompted Joel to release his boot from your neck, finally allowing you to breathe. Your coughs were rough and raspy, interrupted by you taking in deep breaths.

“She’s your responsibility. If you wake up and see her standin’ over you with your own gun, don’t be surprised.”

Instead of replying, you felt four hands grabbing you and pulling you up. Two held you in place while the other two tied your hands quickly. You didn’t even have the opportunity to glance back before you were being dragged forward, a heavy palm wrapped around your wrist.

“Names Tommy,” greeted the voice from beside you. Tommy leaned forward, his face just inches from yours. He continued to walk even as you stumbled over your own feet, overwhelmed by the sudden proximity of the stranger.

Seeing him from afar did him absolutely no justice. Long, dirty blonde hair, bright eyes, and a charming smile that made your face warm, despite the situation.

“What’s a little thing like you doin’ all the way out here? Shouldn’t you be cuddled up with your daddy in the QZ?” Tommy asked, but not with malice. He held a natural curiosity behind his words.

You didn’t speak, unable to form a coherent sentence, too busy thinking about the situation at hand. What were they going to do to you? Kill you? Torture you?

“Don’t worry,” Tommy said in a hushed whisper, trying to hide his sentence from Joel. “I won’t let nothin’ happen to you. You’re safe.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t. Not even when you got back to the very same cabin you had stolen from earlier. Not when Tommy removed your restraints, because when you finally got a good look at Joel, you knew he’d kill you if he got the chance.

All arms and frowns and enthralling gazes - just the thought of being alone with him made your stomach drop.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked Tommy when he pulled you into one of the bedrooms, sifting through the drawers to find you something dry to wear. He glanced back at you, his aquiline nose enhancing the rest of his side profile. He was certainly nice to look at, as much as he shouldn’t have been.

“Joel can be… rash sometimes,” Tommy sighed, glancing back at the drawer. “You don’t deserve to die just because my brother is throwin’ a fit.”

Finally deciding on a shirt, Tommy slunk back over to where you were standing. The backs of your legs were pressed against the rotted bed when he approached you. You had nowhere to run, nowhere to move.

You looked up at Tommy, at this staggering man who was at least a decade older than you. You should’ve been trembling in fear, scared of the anticipation of what they might do to you. Instead, you found yourself oddly excited, suddenly fearless.

Being in the QZ, you lived a strict life. Your father, the guards - you had no freedom. At least now, you could decide your fate. Try to run away, or play along. Make Tommy and Joel happy until eventually, you could slip away.

Tommy used his free hand to run across your bottom lip, pulling a stray piece of hair away. His eyes moved down from your eyes straight to your lips, watching the way they opened. He pressed his index finger into your mouth, spreading your lips slowly.

“Wonder what this mouth could be useful for, baby. You said you’d be useful for me, right?” Tommy whispered, leaning down to brush his lips across yours. Goosebumps erupted across your body, an unexpected rush flooding in between your thighs.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Tommy pull back, not quite kissing you. You glanced back to see Joel standing in the doorway, most likely watching everything. The expression on his face wasn’t one you could read, but the way his shoulders were squared off told you everything you needed to know.

“Get changed. Knock on the door when you’re done,” Tommy commanded, handing you the fresh clothes before walking out of the room. He shut the door behind him, but you could still hear the hushed whispers from the hall.

“Jesus, if you fuck her, Tommy, I’ll kick your ass back to Texas.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do with her then? We can’t kill her, Joel. She’s a little girl.”

Even with the door closed, even with a sound barrier, you can hear his frustration. “She stole from us. You got no idea who she belongs to. Could be part of a bigger group. What happens if we let her go and she brings back a whole other world of problems? She knows where we sleep, Tommy.”

There’s a single, fleeting moment of hesitation before he says again, “No. We’re not going to kill her. That’s not who we are.”

“Isn’t it?”

You don’t bother to listen to the rest of their bickering. That moment of doubt was enough to remind you how dangerous a situation you’ve wound up in, bringing you back to the task at hand.

The room is small, furnished with little else but the withered bed and beat-up dresser. There are two windows with sheets hung up in front of them, but of course, they’re both nailed shut.

The nightstand beside the bed has a lamp on it. You could use it to smash the window open, but they’d hear the shattering of glass and be on you in a minute.

You try to pry out the long, iron nails securing the window closed. The rust turns your aching fingers a sickly shade of orange, a vivid reminder of how you’re stuck and at the mercy of two strangers.

“Goin’ somewhere?” spoke a voice from behind you, making you jump in surprise. Both Joel and Tommy are standing near the entrance of the bedroom, watching you as you try to escape. They must’ve opened the door when you were trying to pry the window open, too distracted by your hopes of escaping to notice the men.

Shaking your head no, you cowered in the corner of the room, praying that Tommy would protect you from Joel’s wrath.

Tommy stood behind Joel with his arms crossed, a small expression of disappointment painted across his face. He truly had faith that you wouldn’t try to escape, which was as endearing as it was ridiculous. Of course you’d try to escape.

“Guess you can’t leave her alone, Tommy. If she eats, sleeps, pisses, you better have an eye on her,” Joel growled, his eyes staring daggers at you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your free hand still clenching the clothes that Tommy gave you. Joel’s eyes move down to the clothes, then back up to you.

“He gave you a chance to have some privacy, but you fucked that up real quick,” Joel said, nodding his head in your direction. “Get on with it.”

You hesitated, glancing at both men with wide doe eyes. “With what?”

Joel huffs, crossing his arms without even explaining any further. Both men were mirror images of each other, arms crossed and gazes heavy. You glanced over to Tommy, thinking that maybe he’d rescue you from the situation. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see the toothy grin that spread across Tommy’s mouth, his eyebrows raised in excitement.

He shrugged, but the smile on his face showed you just how much he was enjoying the situation. A wave of anger washed over you, at how much neither of them cared. They weren’t as bad as other raiders you had encountered; cannibals, rapists, slavers. Still, they were holding you hostage, upping the ante if you made any mistakes.

Your hands shook when you gripped the wet puffer jacket that was covering most of your upper half. You slowly pulled it back, the nylon material swishing against your body, dropping to the ground at your feet. Pausing, you looked to see Joel looking away, a frown etched into his face. Tommy, on the other hand, was watching you like a hawk.

The skin on your stomach broke out in goosebumps when you slid it up, exposing your warm skin to the brothers. Joel still wasn’t looking, confusing you. Why would he order you to undress for him but not even watch?

Soon, you were standing in just your worn bra and panties, reaching to grab the fresh clothes.

“How long have you been on your own?” Tommy asked suddenly, making Joel glance up at you in response. You stood there stupidly, attempting to cover yourself from their gazes. It had been months of scavenging on your own, rarely finding something to last more than a couple of days. You knew that you had lost an uncomfortable amount of weight, but you didn’t need Tommy to point it out.

“I thought that you assumed I was with a group?” you asked, your face turning pale from the way Joel looked at you. A seemingly permanent scowl reappeared on his face, the muscles in his arms flexing, like he was controlling himself not to close the distance between you.

“Okay, smart ass,” Tommy snorted, rolling his eyes at you. “I can tell you’ve been on your own, with how skinny you look,” he pauses before speaking again. “Must’ve been hard.”

You swallow, nodding stiffly at the statement. It was unbearably difficult, fleeing the QZ after you watched your father get executed. Though your relationship with him was on the rocks, he was all you had left. You had to survive on your own, on the outside. You heard stories growing up in the QZ, of how dangerous it was outside of the city walls.

The rumors were nothing compared to what you had seen.

“It has been,” you whispered. “Hard.”

Something shifted behind Joel’s eyes before he turned away, brushing by Tommy as he walked out of the bedroom. Tommy frowned at the sight of his brother exiting the room.

Turning back to you, he spoke, “Well, hurry up and get dressed so you can get somethin’ to eat. I’m sure it’ll do you good.”

You nodded, shivering in the corner of the room. “Cold.”

Tommy laughed, that Cheshire grin of his making your stomach twist. He moved over to you, rubbing his palms against the skin of your bare shoulders. His large, rough hands moving swiftly over your shoulders, the consistent friction creating a warmth that started from your shoulders and spread between your thighs.

“How’s that feel?” Tommy asked, rubbing his thumbs into the collum of your neck. He added a bit more pressure at the tip of his fingers, digging them into your now-warm skin.

“Good,” you squeaked, still clenching the shirt in your hand. Tommy’s hands left your shoulders, pulling the shirt away from you. He raised your arms up, letting his hands slide over the skin of your wrists, higher, higher. Slowly, he worked the worn, long-sleeved cotton shirt over your frame. When your head peeked out of the hole of the shirt, Tommy winked down at you, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“You’re a pretty thing,” Tommy whispered, moving down to his knees to remove your boots and help you step into the shorts he had given you. His hands slid up the shorts, warm palms spread across the apex of your thighs. You could hardly bring yourself to look down at him, the heavy look in his eyes making a shiver run down your spine. “I told you, I’m not gonna let anybody hurt you, and that includes Joel. Just try not to set him off, alright?”

You nodded, watching Tommy run his lips across the skin of your thigh. His mustache tickled your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to react to the feeling. You were frozen and your eyes couldn’t move away from Tommy’s.

He kissed a path across your thigh, creating a trail of goosebumps. “Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t,” you whispered, experimentally extending your hand to run through Tommy’s hair. It was long and shaggy, but surprisingly soft, the strands falling through your fingers easily. Tommy hummed at the feeling, those sharp canines making yet another appearance.

“As much as I’d love to let you braid my hair, we better not leave Joel waitin’. He’d get suspicious,” Tommy joked when he stood, groaning at the sound of his knees popping.

You pulled your hand back, peering up at Tommy through heavy lashes. This was insane, you were insane to be entertaining his advances. But, he wanted to take care of you. He could protect you.

“Suspicious of what?” you asked, blushing when you felt Tommy’s hand take hold of yours. He laced his large fingers through your own, grinning down at your question.

“Of me not being able to control myself. Now, come on,” he spoke, pulling you along with him, not allowing you time to process his words. Your clothed feet followed Tommy out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the tiny kitchen and living room space. Joel was using a portable burner to warm up some food, not even looking up when both you and Tommy walked in.

“Look, Joel,” Tommy said, gesturing to you. “It’s your favorite.”

You watched Joel’s frowned face meet your own before dropping to look at your shirt. Your eyes followed, reading the name Bob Dylan. Tommy snickered at Joel’s expression; full of frowns and impatience. Their dynamic was interesting, to say the least.

Even though you should have felt scared of Joel, you found yourself relating to him. To use anger and lack of empathy. After watching your father die, and losing everything, you understood that empty feeling that you recognized in Joel.

“The moment I saw it, I knew you would like it. She winnin’ you over yet?” Tommy asked, pulling your hand to walk further into the kitchen. Joel rolled his eyes, propping his body up against the counter behind him. He was so broad-shouldered, you couldn’t even process how he fit in the tiny kitchen.

“Cute. Can’t say she is, Tommy,” Joel grumbled, stirring the pot that he was working on. Tommy released your hand, joining Joel in preparing dinner.

“I really am sorry,” you suddenly sputtered, both of the men looking at you in response. “I was desperate. In the QZ they always had at least some food, I-I’d never starved before.”

Tommy’s smile faltered, his eyes meeting Joel’s in a silent conversation.

“You were in a QZ? What are you doin’ out here?” Joel asked, cutting off the gas burner. You could feel a shift in the energy, though you couldn’t figure out what exactly it meant.

You nodded. “Went to the Boston QZ with my dad when the virus hit. I was there ever since.”

“But now you’re not.” Joel huffed. “Why?”

“It's not important,” you whispered.

Joel’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t test me,” he replied.

Tommy’s eyes caught yours, silently pleading for you to play along. After all, you did tell him that you would try to stay on Joel’s good side.

“They killed him there, and they were going to kill me next. I had to flee.”

He stares at you for what feels like a long time, skin burning beneath his gaze. In the moment of silence, you see the similarities between them; they share the same rugged exterior, the same aquiline nose, the same crease between their brows. Though Tommy’s quite a bit softer, face not contorted into a perpetual scowl like Joel’s.

“Your dad,” Joel says simply. Not a question but rather a demand for information. An order.

You shake your head, averting your gaze. “It doesn’t matt-” you began, but after you saw the dark look on Tommy’s face, you corrected yourself. “There isn’t much to say. He broke FEDRA rules, so they made him pay.”

“Not much of a daddy’s girl, I take it?” Joel questioned. This was the most that Joel had looked at you since the moment you met him, and the heat of his gaze was overwhelming. It felt like an interrogation, a “good cop, bad cop” scenario - with much higher stakes.

“He was all I had,” you said, tone wavering. The room was heavy, shrouded in uncertainty. Neither Joel nor you spoke or created a new rebuttal. The silence lasted for a couple of minutes before Tommy spoke.

“Come on, you two. You can play twenty-one questions later. Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

And even though Joel had only warmed up a few cans of chicken noodle soup, you swore that it was the best thing that you had eaten in years. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you hadn’t had a meal in days, but either way, it was delicious.

“Slow down, little girl. Gonna make yourself puke,” Tommy teased. He sat across from the table with you, his feet propped up the table as he ate from the bowl in his hands. Joel was sitting alone in the small living room, slowly sipping from his bowl.

“It’s been days,” you spoke in between bites. Tommy nodded, suppressing a grin.

“Yeah, we know. You really dug into our stash the last time you came. When was it, a month ago now?”

You swallowed, sheepishly avoiding his smile. “Thirty-eight days. It lasted for twenty-seven of them.”

Tommy hummed. “That’s a long time with no food. I can’t blame you, for what you did.”

“Tommy!” Joel hissed from the living room, but his brother paid him no mind.

“Come on, Joel, be serious. She’s harmless. Probably spent the past ten years livin’ in the QZ, that’s half her life. She hasn’t seen what it’s actually like out here; she hasn’t lived it.”

Joel exhales through his nose angrily, turning back to focus on his food. “I’m over this conversation.”

And when Joel said he was over, he meant it. For the rest of the night, you were a ghost to him; invisible. Even later on, you were sitting with Tommy on the small couch in the living room. Tommy was pulling information out of you - what your name was, where you were from, if you liked living in the QZ - but Joel didn’t bat an eye. The only question that made Joel shift in his seat at the kitchen table was “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” you said, suddenly very aware of how insane the situation was. Both of the men were probably almost double your age, rabid, dangerous, but you weren’t really scared. You were more so… intrigued. They had fed you, and Tommy had comforted you. Maybe being with them wasn’t any worse than being on your own.

“Christ,” Tommy exhaled, “Barely old enough to drink. Not that that matters anymore.” He reached down, pulling his bag over from the corner of the couch. His slender fingers produced a bottle of Jack, half empty. “Was gonna use it for a Molotov but I think we could all use somethin’ to take the edge off. Ever have some of this before?”

You shook your head. “I’ve only ever drank vodka,” you admitted, watching how Tommy’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “I had some friends in school who would steal bottles from some of the stalls.”

“Bad influences,” Tommy said, instantly becoming hypocritical when he passed the bottle of jack over to you. You took it from him, glancing down at the bronze liquid glowing from the setting sun. Your fingers twisted the cap off, swishing the liquid back and forth before you took a swig.

You winced at the feeling of the liquid fire running down your throat, a chortle coming from the end of the couch. Both your throat and face were burning with the way Tommy was grinning at you.

“Got a little somethin’ right there,” Tommy said, reaching across the couch to wipe up the excess liquid that dribbled down your chin. He brought his index finger to his lips, sucking the alcohol from the tip of his finger. “Mmm. Sweet as pie.”

The heat on your face made you take another sip of the alcohol. A sudden scrape came from the kitchen, with Joel standing up tall and reaching for his rifle. “I’m taking watch.”

He was out of the house before you could blink.

“He’ll come around,” Tommy reassured, taking the jack out of your hand before swallowing down a big swig.

“There’s a half-decent bed in that room there,” Tommy said, gesturing to the hallway. “You can lay down if you’re tired. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

You eyed the bedroom, gazing longingly at the queen bed. You spoke before thinking through your next words. “You’re being very nice. Why?”

Tommy locks eyes with you as he drinks from the jack bottle. “‘Cuz I think you’re cute,” he winks when he finishes swallowing. He stretches out his long legs, resting them on the small coffee table before leaning his head back. His throat is exposed, showing off his thick and unruly beard.

“Either take the bed or I’m gonna beat you to it,” Tommy paused to yawn. “I’m exhausted.

Standing, you took his advice. Tommy’s eyes were shut, not watching you trail into the bedroom. You momentarily considered running to the front door but for all you knew, Joel was standing right outside. You needed to think, work slowly to build their trust, and then try to escape.

“Thank you, Tommy,” you said from the bed, climbing in and tucking yourself beneath the sheets. He hummed from the couch, not sleeping but also not paying you much mind. It was surprising how much he had already begun to trust you. His trust would be easy to win over. Joel’s… not so much.

Stretched out in the bed, you doubted you would be able to fall asleep. Your thoughts were racing, your father's death, being held captive. It was just too much to sink in. You glanced around the room momentarily, taking note of how this bedroom lacked windows. No escaping through here.

What made things so much worse was how you found yourself watching Tommy resting on the couch. His Adam’s apple bobbed each time he swallowed, his long, slender legs stretching across the coffee table. His long, layered hair covered his face from you, and you could practically feel the way it felt between your fingers.

You thought about how he had kissed you earlier, all of his affection confusing you. You shouldn’t be attracted to him. He was holding you captive.

Pathetically, you found yourself thinking of Joel as well. Of his heavy presence, of how he could make the energy in the room shift just by stepping into it. The heat of his gaze shouldn’t have made your palms grow clammy and your head go all fuzzy; in both fear and some sort of weird attraction. Men in the QZ weren’t like Joel and Tommy, not rugged and full of pure testosterone.

Somehow, in between creating escape plans while simultaneously reminiscing about the way Tommy’s palms felt against your skin, you ended up falling asleep. Your dreams were full of images of strong, thick hands, as well as crunchy snow. You weren’t sure how long you were asleep before being woken up by Tommy.

He was leaning over you as you groggily blinked up, uncertain of what was happening.

“I’m about to take watch. Joel will be on the couch now. Everythin’ okay?” Tommy questioned, brushing his fingers across your forehead to see your face more clearly. The light from the lamp streaming from the living room into the bedroom accentuated Tommy’s features. This could be a moment where you use his flirtation to your advantage.

Without thinking, you laced your fingers through his hair. It was a quick, instinctive action that ended with you pulling Tommy in for a kiss. The kiss was rushed, fervent, an electric buzz shocking your entire body and making your pussy hum in excitement.

He took every opportunity to deepen the kiss, nipping and licking at your lips. You’re manipulating him, using him to your benefit. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s only natural for your body to react to the feeling of his hands running across your throat.

“Well, good mornin’ to you too,” Tommy laughed into your mouth, pulling away. A web of spit connected between your lips, both of your eyes moving to watch the string break. “Fuck. Aren’t you full of surprises?”

He glances over to Joel, who is stretched out on the living room couch. His arm was thrown over his eyes to block the light of the lantern, not paying any attention to what you and Tommy were up to.

After realizing that Joel wasn’t watching, he used both of his hands to cradle your face. He kissed you so passionately that it was almost hard to breathe, a mashing of lips and teeth. One of his heavy hands reached down to palm your breast, experimentally squeezing a handful. The sensitive peak of your nipple brushed against your bra from the way you were arching your back, making you gasp into Tommy’s mouth.

“I’m gonna be hard for you the whole damn time I’m on watch,” he whispered, pulling both his hand and body away from you. He stood over you, adjusting himself in his pants.

“Be safe,” you said breathlessly, running your palm across his hand. Tommy shot you a toothy grin, flipping your hand over into his own.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied.

Your plan was working.

In fact, it was working incredibly well for you. You were slowly starting to gain Tommy’s trust, and you had survived past the first night. Nights turned into days and soon it was weeks that you had been held captive by the men.

Tommy couldn’t help but grow close to you, not with the way you would bat your eyes at him when Joel wasn’t looking. You clung to him like a dog, trying to work anything out of him. It wasn’t before long that he finally spilled some information.

“Why does Joel have a stick up his ass?” you asked Tommy, helping him gather the wood that he had just chopped.

“Hey now, watch your mouth,” Tommy said, but the amused smile told you that he agreed with your statement. “He wasn’t the same, after outbreak day.”

You nodded, holding a piece of wood to your chest. “None of us were. I was so young when it happened. I’m glad that I can’t remember what it was like.”

“It was terrifyin’, not knowin’ what the hell was goin’ on. But losin’ her, that’s what did it for Joel. Wasn’t no time machine to go back in time to fix it.”

He was cracking, getting much too comfortable with you. This was your chance to get something to use against Joel.

“Who was she? His wife?” you asked, making Tommy laugh through his nose.

“Joel was no romantic. She was his daughter, Sarah. Best soccer player in the goddamn world,” Tommy chortled, grabbing the rest of the wood from the snow-covered ground.

It made sense, that Joel had a daughter who died. Only a deep, soul-crushing pain could make someone as empty as Joel.

The look on your face must’ve alerted Tommy that he probably shouldn’t have told you any of that information. His eyes widened as he swallowed, chuckling nervously.

“Don’t tell Joel that you know that.”

And you didn’t. You held the information and waited. The perfect opportunity would arise where you could use it for your benefit.

For weeks you’d watched them. Memorized their patterns, their habits. You’d taken note of every rotation in watch shifts, every outing to gather food or supplies. It’s Tommy’s turn to check the snares today, leaving you and Joel alone in the cabin.

The two of you had established a routine of your own on these days. Silence, as Joel prefers, and to keep far enough away from each other. Tommy didn’t bring up your kiss around Joel, but he was just as flirtatious as ever with you.

They’d fed you, clothed you, returned the strength to your bones. Carved room for you in their lives, despite your unplanned arrival. And yet despite all of this, you knew you had to get out. And if you were to ever have a chance, it had to be today.

Joel sits in the living room, knife in hand as he carves something into the piece of wood to pass the time. You can hear the steady grating of metal, a soft hum that echoes in the cabin.

You don’t get close, too afraid to look him in the eye, too afraid his heavy gaze will deter you. Instead, you stand in the doorway, creeping slowly towards the front door. “Tommy should be back soon, right?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just whittles away at the wood in his hands.

“I hope he catches another deer,” you say, steadily creeping towards the front door. It’s less than a foot away, so close you could reach out and touch it.

But you wait, holding tight to your patience.

“Said he’d teach me how to skin it,” you continue, timing each step with your voice, with the scraping of his knife.

Joel makes a sound at the back of his throat. Not quite a response, but an acknowledgment that he’s hearing you.

You reach out your hand and take the iron lock between your fingers, trying to draw at each syllable as much as possible without sounding strange. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good at it, to be honest with you. All the…the blood, you know? I’ve seen it before, up close, but…it’s different. Isn’t it?”

This time he does respond, and the sound of his voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “Blood is blood,” he says.

Unlocked.

You reach for the handle with shaking fingers. Slowly, you twist it open, heart hammering so hard behind your ribcage you can hear the pulse in your ears.

He’ll kill you if he catches you.

But you have to try. You have to.

Gently, you ease the door open. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” you say, voice a little louder than before.

The wind is cold as it hits your face. The most refreshing breath of fresh air you’ve had in weeks, as it’s been the first that’s belonged to you only.

“Blood is just blood,” you say, stepping over the threshold. “I guess, in the QZ, it always just got washed away so quickly.”

The door creaks when it closes. You’ve memorized that, too. So you leave it open in hopes it gives you a couple of extra minutes before he realizes you’re gone.

“Sorry, Joel,” you say. “I’m sure I’m annoying you. Tommy will be back soon.”

You don’t wait to hear a reply.

The moment you’re out of the cabin, off the porch with your feet on solid ground, you start running and you don’t look back.

It’s been so long since you’ve been granted this much freedom, and in only moments your lungs begin to ache.

Still, even with no true destination in mind, you push your legs as fast as they’ll carry you. The snow crunches beneath your feet and your breath fogs in front of your face, but it’s the best you’ve felt in weeks.

There’s an end to the woods somewhere, right? You needed to get out, to find someplace to hole up in temporarily. Someplace that Joel and Tommy haven’t checked a thousand times over. Someplace far.

Tomorrow, you could make a better plan. For now, away was all that mattered.

You’re not sure how long you’re running before you nearly fall against a tree trunk, rough bark scratching against your sweaty palms. Straining your ears, trying to keep your panting breaths quiet, you listen for footsteps, rustling, any sound of life apart from your own.

And when you hear nothing but the wind in your ears, you let yourself feel it for the first time since setting foot in that cabin.

Hope.

“Don’t you fucking move.”

His voice comes a second before the click of his rifle.

You don’t listen.

This time when you begin running from him, your adrenaline is fueled by much more than trepidation. You’re not running for your freedom, you’re running for your life.

Joel’s heavy footsteps are right behind you, his unheaded warning echoing in your head.

You spare a glance over your shoulder to see that perpetual scowl on his face has turned murderous, deadly.

His pace slows only long enough for him to raise his rifle. The shot reverberates between the trees, and pressure builds behind your eyes as you realize how dangerous this man is.

You’ve known it from the moment you’d seen him, but it suddenly feels much more real. He’s going to kill you.

Another shot.

He’s going to kill you.

You run faster, push your legs harder, warm tears sliding down your cheeks.

But Joel’s much bigger than you. Faster, too. And when he crashes into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground, he presses his knee into the small of your back. Pain shoots up through your spine, down to your toes.

He’s speaking but you can’t hear it, can’t hear anything but the sound of your own cries in your ears. You fight him, even knowing you have no chance, even knowing he’s going to take this opportunity to do what he’s wanted all along.

“Please,” you find yourself saying. “Please, just let me go. I’ll never come back, I’ll never tell anyone where you are.”

He laughs. It’s a sick, maniacal sound that frightens you so much more than anything else ever has. “What makes you think I’d believe a single word that comes out of your mouth?”

You can hear the sound of fabric tearing, and then he’s taking your hands in his and pining them against your back. He ties the scrap of his flannel tight around your wrists, immobilizing you.

Trying to break free of the well-practiced knot is fruitless and you know it, but you try anyway.

His breath is hot against the back of your neck. “Stupid little girl,” he says. “Know that whatever happens now, you did to yourself.”

The fear starts to fade and is replaced with exhaustion. Every muscle in your body aches but it’s your mind that simply can’t take the torment any longer. You let out a slow breath, savoring the way your lungs persistently expand, breathing sweet life into your veins. And when you exhale, you say, “Just do it.”

Joel picks up his rifle.

You close your eyes.

His hand is warm as he wraps it around your arm and pulls you to your feet. “Get up.”

He’s taking you back to the cabin? To make for an easier cleanup, you assume. But if he’s going to kill you, you’re not going to have your life to him on a silver fucking platter.

No. If you have to work for it, then so does he.

You pull out of his grasp. “Do it right here.”

“How about you do as I say.”

“Took you for a lotta things, Joel. But I admit, I didn’t think you were a coward.”

His jaw tenses but he says nothing. Just grabs your arm again, hard enough to bruise, and shoves you in front of him. The metal point of his rifle digs into your spine as he pushes it against you. “Walk.”

“No.”

This time he stabs the rifle into your spine so hard a hiss of pain escapes you. “Walk,” he repeats.

What are you to do? You can’t run, can’t hide, can’t fight him off.

You follow his order with gritted teeth. It isn’t until you’re halfway back to the cabin, adrenaline wilting away, that you realize you’re bleeding.

There’s a clean-cut slice through your right shoulder, crimson dripping slowly down the sleeve of your shirt. “You fucking shot me.”

“You asked me to.”

“No, I asked you to kill me. There’s a big difference.” You narrow your eyes at him, to which he gives nothing in response but that stupid fucking scowl.

The sun is beginning to set, casting him in an orange hue. It silhouettes his profile, accenting the scruff on his chin and that thin scar across his nose. The thought crosses your mind that he’d be really handsome if he wasn’t such an asshole.

“Walk,” he says again, announcing each letter.

“No.”

He shoves the point of his rifle into your ribs this time, knocking you to your knees. But then he waits for you to gain your composure, and says, “Make me repeat myself one more time, and I’ll pull the damn trigger.”

Joel wraps the strap of his rifle around his forearm and pulls you roughly to your feet. You expected him to push you forward again, but this time he wraps an arm around your waist and hauls you off your feet entirely.

“Asshole,” you murmur. You contemplate kicking him but know it’s in your best interest to just stay still. With how angry you’ve made him, you can’t imagine there’d be any saving you. Not unless Tommy’s returned from his hunting trip early.

But when Joel kicks open the cabin door, it’s still empty. Your one saving grace is absent.

“Must be hard,” you say as he shoulders you onto the couch. “Blaming the whole world for your fuck ups.”

His jaw feathers as he clenches his teeth. “Feel free to keep quiet.”

“Bet the two of you have done an awful lot to survive. Know you have, ‘cause I have, too. And you and Tommy have been out here on your own far longer than me. If your first instinct was to kill me, I’m sure I’m not the first wanderer to pass through here. Am I?”

He sets his rifle on the counter and runs his hands through his hair. There’s a light dusting of snow on the ends, melting as the seconds tick by.

“You ever killed a girl before, Joel? Or was I going to be your first?”

The muscles in his body go rigid. He turns to you, eyes narrowed. “Watch your mouth.”

It's his reaction, after so little of them, that lets you know you’re on the right track. Your mouth forms a satisfactory grin, which only seems to incite his anger further. “No,” you say. “I wouldn’t have been the first.”

Joel reaches to his wrist, adjusting the broken watch. “Should’ve killed you on day one,” he says. “Before you got your claws into my brother.”

“Who was it?”

“Put a fuckin’ bullet in your head from fifty yards out. Never should’ve even approached you.”

You tilt your head, trying to adjust the position he’d put you in. Your fingers have gone numb, tied too tightly behind your back. “Heard stories about outbreak day,” you say, voice taking on a manipulatively soft cadence. “People had to kill their loved ones when they got bit. Parents, siblings, children. That what you had to do, Joel?”

He crosses the room in a few short strides and takes your face roughly in his hands. “Shut your mouth.”

So quietly it’s almost silent, you whisper, “Who was she?”

In a last-ditch effort to silence you, he wraps his hand around your neck, crushing your windpipe, but all you can focus on is the way he looks at you. Those dark, haunting eyes. Filled with hunger.

Joel looks at you like he’s starving.

And even though you know it’s wrong, know it’s terrible and vulgar, you can’t shake the ache that settles between your thighs as you realize what exactly it is he wants from you.

He lets you go suddenly, running his hand down his face in exasperation. Joel disappears down the hallway for a moment, and you can hear him rustling around, but you don’t realize what he’s looking for until he returns to the living room with gauze, medical tape, and Tommy’s sacred bottle of Jack.

He pours the alcohol over your wound and every muscle in your body tightens at the pain of it. It’s not deep, just a graze from the bullet, but it’s enough to hurt. “How noble of you to treat the bullet wound you gave me.”

Joel doesn’t respond. He dabs the cut with the gauze, cleaning away both the drying blood and the whiskey.

“Can’t believe you missed,” you say, light laughter laced through the words.

But Joel’s not laughing. Not even a little as he tells you, “I don’t miss.”

It can’t be true. You figure it’s just his bruised ego, which is hypocritical considering you’re the one with your hands tied behind your back being mended while he’s got nothing to show for your near escape but a light sheen of sweat on his brow.

But if it is true…and he doesn’t miss, that means he had no intentions of killing you. Joel had every opportunity and every excuse to. Hell—you’d even asked the man to. Yet still, here you sat, untouched save for a scratch.

You’re not quite sure what to make of it.

Now, it’s you who sits in silence while Joel speaks.

“We did what we had to,” he says. “We found this place, fixed it up. It’s ours. Sometimes people get too close. Try to take what doesn’t belong to them. There’s a price for that these days.”

He stays focused on the task at hand; cleaning your wound, placing clean gauze, and taping it to your skin. “Is that why you’re so angry with me all the time? Because you think I owe you something?”

When he tears what remains of your sleeve away from your shirt, the feel of his hands on your bare, sensitive skin is foreign. Not bad, but different from Tommy’s. “You sleep real good at night. Hardly seems like we’re even.”

Joel’s hands are rough and big. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails and wind chap on his knuckles, a display that does something to you. He’s so rugged, so masculine…

“There are other ways I can repay you,” you tell him. His eyes snap to yours, shrouded in a dark mystery you can’t help but lean towards. “I bet it’s been lonely out here. No one but Tommy to talk to. No one to touch but yourself.”

He says nothing. Turns his attention back to patching you up dutifully. But he doesn’t tell you to stop, doesn’t tell you to shut your mouth, and you take it as a sign.

“I’ve been lonely too, Joel. Before the two of you, I hadn’t spoken to a human in weeks. Do you know what that can do to a person? Makes them desperate.”

You can see his pulse quicken in his throat and begin to wonder why you waited so long to try this tactic. It worked for his brother, it only makes sense it would work for Joel, too. He must be just as wanton, just as deprived.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” you tell him softly. “We can help each other. I can…I can repay you.”

When he’s finished patching you up, you stand awkwardly on your feet, hands still tied behind your back. Joel stares up at you with a heat in his eyes you’ve never seen before.

“Just because you’re used to flashin’ those eyes at Tommy doesn’t mean it’ll work on me. I know what you’ve been up to with him, workin’ him up, usin’ him. I’m not that easy.”

You step forward, stumbling a bit before Joel reaches up to steady you by holding your thighs. His palms are so big and wide, stretching easily over the expansion of your legs.

“I’m not using anyone, Joel. I’m only trying to help you out. I know how much it terrifies you, to get close to someone. To lose them.”

Joel’s palms tighten around your thighs, his dark eyes glaring up at you. “You don’t know me, little girl.”

Your heart thumped in your ribcage so loudly that you were scared Joel might hear it. Joel’s chin is almost tucked in between the middle of your thighs, his rough beard brushing against your denim jeans.

“Then show me, Joel. Show me who you really are.”

“This how you survive for so long? Sleeping with all the men you run across?” Joel questioned, one of his palms running along the inside of your thigh. His touch shouldn’t make you feel like this; ignited, aching unbearably.

“Nope,” you exhaled, “just you and your little brother.”

Joel growls, fingers twitching as they traverse higher, one hand gripping tight to the back of your thigh, keeping you balanced, the other dancing dangerously close to the seam of your jeans. “Fuckin’ brat. I bet you gave your daddy hell, didn’t you?”

His palm moves higher, slightly grazing against the outline of your pussy in your jeans. He sits a little straighter, chin pressed to your navel. When he looks up at you like that, it forces you to acknowledge just how handsome he is. Rugged and strong in a way that enhances his loveliness, shrouded in a magnetism you can’t help but fall victim to.

Joel’s hand on the back of your thigh moves slowly over your waist, around your side to the button of your jeans. You watch with rapt attention as he skillfully undoes it, wasting not a second before he’s parting the metallic teeth of your zipper. “S’a shame Tommy ain’t here to save you now, little girl.”

You watch him, but Joel watches you. His attention warms your cheeks, sets your skin ablaze. He hooks his thumbs into your waistband and tugs both your jeans and panties down in one sure movement.

The force of it has you stumbling forward, falling onto his lap. Not so much as an ounce of shame flashes in his eyes as you situate yourself comfortably, becoming acutely aware of the bulge in his jeans. He knows you can feel it. Knows, too, why that little whine forms in the back of your throat.

He looks so proud of himself, like this has all been a game and suddenly the tides have changed and you’re the one on the losing team.

If only he knew the truth.

“Let me repay you,” you breathe out, grinding yourself against him. The rough denim feels harsh against your too-sensitive skin, yet somehow like relief. “For feeding me.” You shift your hips against him with more pressure this time and his lips part. “For putting clothes on my back.” Again. “For protecting me.”

Joel leans up so quickly it startles you. The look on his face is so devoid of emotion, you’re not sure if he wants to fuck you or kill you. He says, “Should be thanking my brother.”

You can’t help the sinful smirk that tugs at your lips. His words say one thing, but his hands find the swell of your ass and squeeze, pulling your forward, pushing you back, encouraging that sweet friction. Joel’s mouth is an inch from yours, so close you’re sharing the same breath as you tell him, “I owe you both.”

There’s a moment of hesitance. A second where he just stares at you, thoughts you wish he’d speak aloud running through his mind. But then he makes his decision, and he presses his mouth urgently to yours.

Every movement is rushed, hurried as if he worries he may change his mind at any moment. Joel’s lips move against yours, tongue slipping between them, tasting you, drinking you in like a man starved for it.

Despite how desolate he moves against you, he’s strangely affectionate. A perfect balance of coarse and soft, of harsh and tender. Your hips move on their own accord now, the apex of your thighs so wet and slippery you stain the denim beneath you.

He slides his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck, crushing your mouth impossibly closer to his.

“Joel,” you pant, unable to catch your breath. He bucks his hips up against you and it makes you whimper. Again, a little stronger this time. “Joel.”

He stops kissing your swollen lips and starts biting gently at your collarbone instead. He doesn’t say it, but you know this is his way of giving you a chance to speak, to tell him what you need to say.

“My…my hands,” you say. “Please. Please, I won’t do anything. I just want to touch you. I want—oh, God.”

Joel smiles against your skin as he slips his free hand between your legs. You’re sure it pleases him to feel the mess he’s made of you, but you can’t think much of anything past the way the rough pads of his fingers feel as they circle your clit.

He sets a slow but consistent pace, desire steadily racking up higher and higher and higher. You can’t speak, can't breathe, can’t do anything but moan as he creates a bliss like you’ve never known.

This man’s a lot older than you, much more experienced, and it shows. The way he touches you is incomparable to the boys you’d been with back in the QZ, boys who liked you a whole lot more than the man beneath you but somehow knew so much less about how to touch you.

“If I knew playing with this sweet little pussy was the key to getting you to shut up, I’d have done it ages ago,” he says. But there’s no irritation in his voice. Instead, it’s filled with something that sounds a lot like admiration.

You breathe out his name, right on the precipice of an orgasm, when he pulls his hand away. It’s been so long, and you’d been so close, that pressure builds behind your eyes. Your shoulders drop, your head falls forward. “Please,” you say. “Please, Joel—I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I swear, just—!”

“Shh,” he coos, unbuttoning his jeans. “S’enough of that cryin,’ now.” He pulls down his zipper and shoves the denim down just enough to pull himself out. It surprises you, in truth, to see just how big he is.

Yet still, you find yourself lifting on your knees, making it easier for him to slip inside. You ease down onto him and the stretch is somehow both painful and delicious, the low groans Joel makes like music to your ears.

He reaches behind you and pulls at the flannel scrap that binds your hands together, freeing you from restraint. The blood flows back to your fingers, making them tingle. You place both hands on his shoulders and begin to move slowly, experimentally, easily finding a rhythm and an angle that has you hurtling toward euphoria once more.

He’s so big and warm beneath you, cock filling you so full, and you can’t hear anything but the sound of his voice as he begins to murmur such filthy things.

“Told Tommy to leave you alone,” he says. “Told him not to touch you…I can see why he’s been ignorin’ me now. He’s been blinded by all those pretty smiles you give him, all those nice little kisses. But it’s this he wants, ain’t it?”

Joel squeezes your hips tight in his hands, holding you still while he thrusts up into you. This feels impossibly better, his cock nudging the sweetest spot, and your heart hammers in your chest in response. “God, Joel, I—!”

“Wants this tight little pussy,” he continues. “Should be him fuckin’ you good like this, by all rights. But Tommy’s not home, an’ girls like you just need’ta be filled up, huh?” His pace quickens, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the empty cabin. You can feel him throb inside you, holding himself back. “Might be my brother you want, but it’s my cock you’re soakin,’ ain’t it?”

You think if your brain wasn’t scrambled, reduced to mush at the sultry cadence of Joel’s voice, that maybe you would’ve heard the creak of the door being open.

But you don’t, and neither does Joel. Not until Tommy’s voice cuts through the lusty fog. “What the fuck, Joel?! What happened to not fucking her?!”

You reached down to cover yourself, but Joel smacked your palms away, continuing the movement of his hips. “Christ, Tommy. We’re almost finished,” Joel growled, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you in place. His grip tightened the closer he got, exposing his neck to you after throwing his head back.

Tommy’s eyes were burning a hole into the side of your face, and you couldn’t help but look over at him. His brows were knitted together, a deep crease between them. His lips twitched as if he wanted to yell an objection, but he swallowed down the words.

You bat your eyes at Tommy, reaching down to trap your clit in between your nimble fingers. Every time Joel pushed up into you, his cock stretched you in the most perfect way.

Tommy couldn’t pull himself away, actively watching his brother fuck some girl that they’d both been holding hostage. Just the circumstances should’ve had your stomach churning, but instead, you felt another wave of wetness rush against Joel’s cock.

“Oh, God,” you whimpered, watching the way Tommy’s mouth was parted, frozen mid-breath. The muscles in his jaw tightened when he finally watched you orgasm, speared on Joel’s dick. A deep tremble in your thighs had you shaking in Joel’s grip, your entire body jerking at the feeling of Joel continuing to use you for his benefit.

Joel pulls your focus back into him by lightly slapping the side of your face and turning your head to look at his. The strained expression on his face, the veins bulging from his neck, the way his teeth were clenched in frustration showed you just how close he was.

“Bet you’d like it if I filled you up, huh?” Joel asked, not paying any attention to his brother, who was still stupidly watching. “You wouldn’t even be able to stop me. You’d just let me treat you like the little slut you are.”

You nodded your head desperately, trying to push him further and further until he was finally falling. Joel’s lips were parted slightly, stuck momentarily before quickly pulling out of you. Long ropes of his semen splattered across the skin of your thighs, warm and sticky against you.

The muscles in Joel’s face, which were usually tense and solid, suddenly melted into soft, languid lines. It was nice, looking at him for a moment, imagining what he would’ve been like before. Was he a nice man, who worked a usual 9 to 5, minimum wage job to keep the lights on? Or had he always had a darkness inside of him, one that existed before the world ended?

Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“Care to give me a goddamn explanation now, or do I have to wait another ten minutes?” Tommy said. Even though he looked incredibly intrigued not even a handful of minutes ago, he was back to the angry demeanor he had upon walking in.

Joel’s eyes watched yours momentarily, his cum drying on your thighs as you watched him back. You thought that you saw a sliver of something on his face; remorse? Tenderness? But it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

Joel stood, his frame towering over yours. He tucked himself back into his jeans as if nothing had changed and explained, “Your little girlfriend made her grand escape while you were gone. Well—tried to, anyway. You should keep a better handle on her, teach her some discipline. ‘Cause next time I have to waste a bullet on her, it won’t be a graze.”

Tommy sputtered, glancing between Joel and you. You were desperately trying to cover yourself now, left grabbing for clothes while both Joel and Tommy stood over you.

“You tried to fuckin’ escape?” Tommy asked, but there was no malice behind his words. Instead, he seemed genuinely disappointed, and for a second, you actually felt bad for letting him down.

You looked over to Joel for help, for something, but his eyes were back to staring through you like you were a ghost. Like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless.

“Come on, go get cleaned up. I’ll deal with you later,” Tommy said, a hand on his hip as he shook his head at you. Why was it that you felt embarrassed for what you had done, your failed attempt at escaping the two men? You were embarrassed for trying to finally be free, yet you didn’t even regret letting Joel push himself inside of you.

“I’m sorry,” you began, standing and covering yourself with your hands. “You both have to understand my position. I know that you’re not bad people, I know that you don’t trust me, but keeping me here isn’t right.”

“I told you that she was just playin’ with your emotions. She doesn’t care about you, she just wants you to let your guard down,” Joel scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest.

You stepped closer to Tommy, needing to get your point across. “I do care about you, Tommy. I know that you’re a good person, just trying to survive. I’ve had to do the same.”

Joel moved towards you, trying to square you off from his brother. “You don’t know us, little girl. Just because you let us get between your legs doesn’t mean that you know either of us.”

Stiffening up, you squared your shoulders and stood as tall as you could. You locked your gaze on Joel’s, not allowing him to have the upper hand in this conversation.

“I’m not Sarah, Joel. You can’t control me, as much as you wish you could.”

The expression on Joel’s face was deadly, and if looks could kill, you would be lying in a pool of blood at his feet. He closes the short distance between you, his teeth clenched and fist balled tight.

“If you ever say her name again, it’ll be the last thing you say,” he hissed, his fist wavering by his side. “Do you understand?”

As much as you wanted to spout something back at him, you knew better. If you kept pushing him and pushing him, he would eventually bite you right back.

“Fine,” you spat, turning your head away from Joel. It made no sense, he had just given you the best orgasm of your life, but now you wanted to fucking kill him. You understood what it was like to lose someone, to have scars so deep that they never fully healed. It could turn you into a monster. Joel, unfortunately, had succumbed to the latter.

“Deal with your fuckin’ girlfriend. I need some air,” Joel said, grabbing his rifle before walking out of the cabin. The air in the cabin was still tense with the heat of Tommy’s eyes burning through you.

“I fucked up, Tommy, I know. I’m so sorry,” you begged. His mouth was a hard, narrow line, clearly trying to keep his fury at bay.

“The one thing I asked, the one thing, and you couldn’t do it.”

He scoffed, glancing down at your still half-naked body. “And then you tried to run away, brought up Sarah, and slept with him? Christ, what a fuckin’ mess.”

Tommy couldn’t even bring himself to look at you, and it made the pit in your stomach sink a few more inches down.

“I’m sorry Tommy. I care about both of you,” you tried to explain, but Tommy just shook his head.

“Go wash up. Should have some water in the tub,” Tommy said, dismissing you. You paused, hesitating to leave the conversation. You hadn’t gotten any resolution - it wasn’t fair. Joel and Tommy couldn’t just expect you not to retaliate.

Talking to Tommy wasn’t going to resolve anything. You’d have to gain their trust back again, slowly, and you would be lucky if you even got it back through just time. No, you would have to prove it to them.

Time passed since then. It was getting towards the end of winter, the snow less harsh and cold a little more bearable. With the way things were going, winter would be finished in just a few weeks. With winter being over, you could survive on your own again, you could take the risk to escape.

You just needed one distraction. Anything.

You did everything you could to regain Joel and Tommy’s trust. Preparing dinner, tagging along for any wood gathering; you had even cleaned the house when Joel complained about the dust lining the kitchen cabinets.

When Joel had returned home from patrolling the perimeter, the look of surprise to see a spotless cabin made you bite back your smile. Even though he didn’t say thank you, he gave you a bit more of his food in a silent reward.

He had even gone out of his way to search the basement for tampons for you after he heard you complaining to Tommy about it. Joel acted like he hated you, but something made him sleep with you. Something was there.

Though Tommy still didn’t let himself grow incredibly close to you, things did get somewhat better. He allowed you to spend time taking watch with him some nights, spending the night talking about whatever came to your mind first. Whether it be “What would be your dream job” or “if you could time travel, would you go to the past or the future” - the conversation always felt easy with Tommy.

It felt like he was trying so hard to not trust you, but the moment he sat down with you, he talked to you like an old friend. Maybe it was because he had been tied to Joel for so long, years of the same conversations over and over again. You were new to him, a new presence to absorb. You understood why it was so easy for Tommy to fall into old habits.

You were sitting up with Tommy when it happened. Joel was asleep in the bed, and you didn’t have it in you to lay with him. Sometimes you shared the bed with Tommy, and Joel would take the couch, but you had never laid with Joel. After what had happened, the intimacy you shared with him - sharing a full-sized mattress would feel like a prison sentence.

So, you stayed up on watch with Tommy while Joel slept. He had passed you the bottle of Jack one too many times, and you were buzzing a little bit in your seat.

“I hope the snow lets up before I gotta go out and do my rounds. I’m gonna end up freezin’ my dick off,” Tommy groaned, stretched out on the couch. The light from the lantern lit up the small space, casting shadows over Tommy’s face.

He was a handsome man, you had to admit that. Just like his brother, who was softly snoring a couple of meters away.

“You better make it quick. I’m not going out there to find your dick if it falls off,” you said back, making Tommy snort in amusement.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that. Probably wouldn’t even give it back to me,” he said. His legs were stretched out, his knee pressing into the meat of your thigh. Tommy’s warmth comforted you, as much as it probably shouldn’t have.

“You’re sick,” you said back, trying to get a laugh out of Tommy, but he was suddenly shockingly serious. His eyes widened as he straightened up in his seat, hand reaching down to the revolver at his side.

You followed his eyes, turning your head until you finally saw it. Three people standing in the tight hallway, directly in front of Joel’s room. They must’ve snuck in from the cellar since you didn’t hear the sound of the window breaking.

Tommy’s hand lifts quickly, aiming the gun at the group. His free palm pulls at your arm, standing up to tug you behind him. He uses his back to shield you from the group. He’s protecting you.

“Y’all don’t have any business bein’ in here. I’d suggest you go back out the way you came from,” Tommy spoke, loudly, as if to wake Joel. They were blocking the door so neither of you could see if he was still asleep in the bed.

The group was made up of two men and a woman. They almost mirrored you, a short woman with two hulking men surrounding her. The way that they were dressed revealed that they were raiders, with one of the men wearing a necklace of teeth. A hum started buzzing through your brain at the situation - this was bad.

“Seems like it’s quite cozy in here. You wouldn’t believe how bad it’s snowing outside. You should let us stay,” the woman spoke, grinning up at Tommy. Her smile was sinister, laced with wickedness.

Tommy stiffened up, cocking his revolver before raising the gun directly at the woman. “I won’t ask again.”

Before anyone could even react, a gunshot rang out. The man with the teeth necklace had a bullet rush through his brain, gasping before dropping down to his knees.

“Johnny!” the woman shrieked, her other male partner swinging around to see where the shot came from. They finally parted from the front of the bedroom door, revealing Joel aiming his own rifle at the group.

The lantern that was sitting in the living room barely cast enough light to even see Joel, but you were able to see enough. He looked deadly, like death himself. You hadn’t seen him like this before; even with you, he had never come off that furious.

The man who was still standing lunged at Joel while he was attempting to reload, both men fighting over the gun.

Tommy spun to you, cradling the side of your face. “Stay back. We got it, okay?”

He turned back, approaching the woman who just unsheathed a machete. As soon as she lunged at Tommy, you heard the flash of a gunshot light up the room. The bullet swished past your face, a hair length away from touching your skin. You could feel the heat of the bullet.

“Fuckin’ bastard,” you heard Joel shout, jumping onto the man to rip his rifle out of his hands. Tommy had wrestled the machete out of the woman’s hands, but his own gun was a couple of meters away, tucked under the table in the corner of the room.

A loud clatter from the bedroom showed Joel and the man wrestling around on the ground, the rifle long forgotten about. The brothers were fighting for their lives, it was no longer up for debate.

You have to do something. You glanced over at the front door, unblocked and easy to access. You could leave. You could run out into the snow and run for your life, and let these two groups fight to the death.

It would be easy. Your jacket was right at the door, you could grab it on the way out. It could work.

But then you looked over at Joel, who was straddling the intruder. His biceps were bulging from how hard he was choking him, muscles flexing in the excitement of the kill.

Moving your frantic eyes back over to Tommy, you saw the woman lay a rough punch to the side of Tommy’s jaw. His head snapped to the side with a sickening crack that made her cackle in pleasure. Tommy was momentarily disoriented, which the woman took advantage of.

She turned to lunge at the machete while also ripping her own gun out and aiming it at Joel in an attempt to save her friend. You found yourself jumping on top of her before you could even throw one last look at the front door. She hadn’t even reached the machete yet, thank god, but you still had to rip the gun out of her hands so she wouldn’t be able to shoot Joel.

“Little bitch,” the woman hissed when you slipped your hands around her neck. She clawed at your palms, your wrists, leaving jagged nail marks embedded into your skin.

Your ears were ringing, your face hot and pulsing. It had been so long since you had killed anyone, it felt simply barbaric. To watch the life slowly drain from her eyes, empty and gray.

“P-please,” she gasped, punching her fists softly against your chest. Your head was pulled back high, glaring down at her without an ounce of remorse on your face. She had tried to rob you, to hurt Tommy, to hurt Joel. She deserves this.

After a couple more tight grips of your palms, she stopped struggling beneath you. Heavy, breathy gasps left your throat while a low gurgling sound left hers. The sound of death was never a comforting one, but you found yourself unable to release her throat. Long after she had taken her last breath, you still found yourself strangling her, your knuckles white from the pressure.

“Hey… kiddo,” graveled Joel from behind you. He pressed his palm against your shoulder, his hand heavy and distracting. You stop, glancing up around the room. All three of the intruders were now lifeless, lying haphazardly around the cabin. Thank god that there wasn’t too much blood.

“It’s over,” Joel whispered, rubbing his palm in circles against your shoulder. “Let her go.”

You didn’t even feel yourself release your iron grip - instead, you watched, like you were in an out-of-body experience.

Tommy’s hand is warm on the small of your back. He gently pulls you away from the woman, her body still warm under your palms. He holds you into his grip, trying to make you meet his eyes as he speaks. “Hey,” he says, voice filled with tenderness. “It’s okay. It was her or us, alright?”

He’s speaking to you as if you’re fragile, as if you’ll break. But your hands don’t shake, and even though her eyes are open and watching you lifelessly, you don’t feel any regret. Tommy’s warmth seeps beneath your skin as he attempts to comfort you, but it’s Joel who you look to for answers. “I did what I had to,” you say. “Right?”

Joel nods, eyes full of certainty. “You did what you had to.”

Tommy and Joel took care of the bodies, even leaving you alone while they did it. Killing her had gained their trust. She was the key.

But still, you didn’t leave while they were gone. You couldn’t bring yourself to. So, when they returned, they comforted you and allowed you the have the entire bed to yourself.

“Won’t be able to sleep now anyways,” Joel muttered.

You move through the next day in a thick fog. You’ve seen death your whole life, and have done your fair share of bloody deeds. But for some reason, this feels different. Weighted. Like maybe fleeing when the opportunity presented itself instead of killing them will have lasting effects.

When Tommy suggests that you get some rest early in the evening, you agree with him. He sees you safely to the bed, pulls the blankets over you, and urges you to sleep.

But you don’t, of course. And when the door creaks open again, Joel’s heavy footsteps enter the room. The mattress bows beneath his weight as he sits beside you. “What you…” He stops. Reaches up to squeeze the scruff along his jaw. “What you did today…I know it’s not easy. But…I want you to know, too that it’s…that I appreciate it. You saved Tommy. Saved me. So…you know. Thank you.”

Though you’re unsure what exactly possessed you to do it, you find Joel’s hand in the dark and slide your fingers through his. His grip is strong and his palm calloused, but there’s a gentleness in the way he cradles your small hand in his that surprises you. The urge rises in you to ask him again, to hear those reassuring words that the decision you made in killing someone with your bare hands was the correct one.

But you already know the answer he’ll give, because your brutality means he gets to see another day. What you don’t know, however, is why he leans over and softly presses a kiss to your forehead. You don’t know why it ignites a fire in your chest, either. Something akin to desire but not quite.

“Dinner’s ready,” he says. “Tommy fixed you a plate.”

And for the first time, it’s a dinner without the weight of Joel’s glare from across the table. His stare is now filled with something different, something that feels a whole lot like adoration. Like he was truly grateful for what you did.

You help Tommy with the dishes, and when you tell him you’re ready for bed he wraps an arm around your shoulders and promises to fend off nightmares, promises you only good dreams.

But you realize as he wraps himself around you, smothering you in the masculine, pine scent of him, that it’s not just good dreams you want.

You want him.

Tommy leads you back to the bedroom, and on the way you pass the bloodstain on the floorboards. A stark reminder of what had happened, of what you’d done for them.

For both of them.

You can feel Tommy’s gaze on the side of your face as the two of you linger in the doorway of the bedroom. Joel sits on the couch, whittling knife in hand, permanent crease between his brows. He’s so handsome, so dark and brooding and mysterious in a way that keeps you on your toes, a way that draws you in like a moth to a flame.

It isn’t just Tommy you want. When you look back at him, you think the yearning must be written on your face.

Because he doesn’t even ask the question, doesn’t even seem surprised by it. Tommy just nods once and says, “Go on, then. Ask him.”

You swallow, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself for what is about to happen. For what you wanted to happen.

“Joel?”

He raises his head to look up at you. There’s a moment of hesitation as he stares down your outstretched hand that reaches for him, but then he’s setting his knife down on the table and wrapping his calloused palm around your fingers instead.

Tommy crawls into the bed and lifts the blanket for you, a beacon of warmth, of familiarity, of kindness. You melt against him, and it feels good, but when Joel toes off his boots and you can feel him at your back it’s different. Better than good. It’s…perfect. Satisfying. Wedged between them, a soft center to all their strength, you wonder how this sick desire that rumbles low in your belly has managed to go undetected for so long.

You turn between them, facing Joel instead. Tommy’s hands find your waist, dipping beneath your shirt, the tips of his fingers brushing against the bare skin just above the hem of your jeans. Joel’s eyes are heated and intense, drinking you in, swallowing you whole.

He brushes a stray piece of your hair behind your ear at the same time that Tommy’s hand dips beneath your waistband.

Silently, you wonder if they can hear the way your heart beats behind your ribcage. A loud, incessant hum that reverberates in your ears.

Tommy’s hand sinks lower, wriggling in the small space between your skin and the denim. He slides his fingers gently over your clit, and when your lips part in a gasp Joel traces over your mouth with his thumb. You can feel Tommy at your back, cock hardening as he presses it against your ass. He kisses your shoulder over the fabric of your shirt and says, “Wet already, filthy little girl.”

There’s no sense in denying it. No sense in fighting it off, not when your desire has overcome all sense, drowned out by nothing other than the aching need for them. For both of them.

Joel slips the pad of his thumb into your mouth, rubbing it against the tip of your tongue. “Suck it. Put that mouth to good use.” You nod, obeying his command before hollowing out your cheeks to suck on his thumb. You whimper around it at the feeling of Tommy’s middle finger rubbing tight circles into your clit. His pointer finger spreads your folds, working at the wetness pooling in your panties.

“You always get this wet?” Tommy asked, finally pushing his finger into your throbbing heat. You gasp, looking up at Joel through a hazy gaze, watching the dark expression on his face. “Or is it just because of us?”

You nod your head, rocking your hips against Tommy’s palm. “Fuck, yes,” you moan into Joel’s thumb, not even properly answering the question but neither of them seem to mind. Tommy’s finger still works through your pussy, curling around in your tight, wet heat.

“Playin’ with her pussy shuts her up quick. We should've done it together weeks ago,” Joel teases before reaching down to unbuckle his pants. The sound of the metal belt clanging and his zipper being pulled down makes you shudder into Tommy’s body.

Should you feel guilty for how much you enjoy this? Feeling worshipped? Feeling wanted. For so long you had drifted, never truly having a place. After the death of your father, it was solidified, that you weren’t important to anyone. Nobody had come to your defense, nobody had tried to protect you.

But Joel did, and so did Tommy. And even though the situation was a little fucked up, you couldn’t help the way your hips stuttered when Joel pressed his cock against your lips. Without hesitating, you wrapped your tight mouth around his girthy length, humming pleasure at the feeling of his dick stretching out your throat.

“You belong to us, don’t you?” Tommy asked, playing with your clit as he continued to finger you. The combined sound of Tommy’s fingers slamming into your cunt and your mouth sucking Joel off had your head spinning. It was overstimulation of the best kind, Tommy’s cock hard and chasing relief by rutting into your ass.

You nodded, watering eyes still glued to Joel’s face. The look of pure pleasure on his face was enough to tip you closer to the edge, a ragged whimper moaned into Joel’s cock. His neck was flushed, knuckles white, and clenched into a fist. It was empowering, having this big, brooding man at your mercy.

They’re both so stubborn and strong but for you, they break. It’s this thought, combined with the fullness in your mouth and the feel of Tommy’s fingers working between your thighs that sends you reeling, an orgasm wrenching through you mercilessly.

Within seconds, before you even get a chance to come down from the height of it, Tommy’s dragging your jeans down your legs and unbuttoning his own. “S’only fair I get you first, sweetheart,” he says. He wraps his hand around your knee and drapes your thigh over his hip, positioning himself behind you.

And you want him, you do, but every nerve ending flares on edge. Every inch of your skin feels too sensitive, too tender. You pull your head back, making just enough room in your mouth to mutter around Joel’s cock, “Tommy, slow down, wait-”

“Nah, baby,” he says. “Wanna show you what you’ve been missin’. Waited too fuckin’ long to spread these legs of yours to wait anymore.” And then he’s pushing into you, the sticky remnants of your orgasm smoothing out any resistance he encounters.

Joel takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a strangely gentle touch, and says softly, “Mouth open, little girl.”

You look only at Joel as Tommy grips your hip and begins to rock slowly into you, breath hitching in your throat as the head of his cock nudges against the deepest parts of you. You part your lips, and Joel slides himself back into your mouth, down your throat.

Tommy’s heat behind you blankets you in a sweet warmth, and despite his eagerness, you’re delighted to hear the groans that leave his mouth. You like that this is making him happy, you like that you’re making him feel good. “So tight,” he murmurs against your shoulder. “Always knew this pussy would be good. From the moment I saw you, baby, I knew it. Can feel her squeezin’ me, wanna feel how wet she gets when I make her cum a second time.”

The thought of it makes you whimper around Joel’s cock. He laughs, thumb stroking lightly over your cheekbone. “Think she’d like that, Tommy,” he says.

It’s so strange to see him like this. Scowling, uptight Joel-soft and delicate as he cherishes you, as he worships you as if you’re something holy. As if killing for him has altered his brain chemistry, flipped a switch, and made him see you in a brand new light.

Joel reaches between your legs and presses the tip of his middle finger against your clit. It aches beneath his touch, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. “Wouldn’t you? Hm?”

You can’t speak, but you moan around his cock and hollow out your cheeks, sucking him harder. A flush creeps up Joel’s neck and he lets out a low groan in response.

Tommy thrusts his cock into you at a steady pace, pawing at your hip. You clench your walls around him and his rhythm falters. “Oh, she likes that, Joel,” he says. “S’that feel good, baby?”

It’s all too much-the filthy words, the pressure on your clit, the fullness in your belly, the ache that settles in your jaw. And then there’s the way Joel looks at you, and before you realize it you’re shuddering, your second orgasm ripping apart what remains of your defenses.

You may have stolen from them but the two brothers have stolen from you, too. Stolen connection and fondness and sentiment—things you’d sworn off long ago.

But as Joel strokes your clit sloppily, attention faltering as he chases his release with you, how can you keep yourself from feeling something for him? How can you see this big, brooding man become delicate for you only, and keep yourself from the edge of devotion?

“Yeah, there you go,” Tommy whispers. “Cum for us. Soakin’ my fuckin’ cock, little girl. That’s it. That’s it, baby.”

Joel’s release is salty as it hits the back of your tongue, but you swallow it down, taking him into your mouth as far as you can.

“Goddamn,” he hisses, and it’s like music to your ears. A crude praise. His hands tremble as he slowly descends, that permanent crease between his brows finally smoothing over.

Tommy’s hips stutter. You reach your hand back and thread your fingers through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. His grunts fill the room and you can feel his cock as it twitches inside you. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.”

You don’t register the fact that he already is until it’s too late, until the stickiness spills out of you, coating the inside of your thighs. There’s so much, and you’d be angry about it if it didn’t make your skin ignite with desire, another fresh wave of arousal.

Because as stupid as it is, as irresponsible as it is for him to cum inside you, you like that for once, he didn’t ask—he just takes. As if you belong to him, as if you always have.

He sighs contentedly, and slowly pulls himself out of you. “Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had, sweetheart,” he says, falling back against the pillows.

Joel tucks himself back into his jeans and crawls onto the mattress beside you, stroking your hair as you lay your head on his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a soothing beat.

“Which was the best dick, little girl?” There’s a little bit of amusement in Tommy’s tone as he asks it. “Which brother was better?”

Joel leans up just enough to scowl at Tommy. “That’s enough,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Let it go.”

Tommy laughs, and you fight off the smile that threatens to form on your face as the three of you settle back into the sheets. “Alright, fine,” he says. “Joel, you take watch. I’m exhausted.”

Within moments, Tommy’s soft snores fill the room. You lay there in silence, your head on Joel’s chest, for so long you think he may have fallen asleep, too. But after some time, his chest rises as he inhales a deep breath.

He says, “I always plan for the worst. Don’t like surprises. But…I’ll admit, I didn’t plan for you. Kinda blindsided me.”

Joel’s words blindside you. This had always been the plan, to gain their trust just enough to escape, to be successful your second time around. But you’re not sure why it hurts, or why his dance around an admission makes your chest pull tight. But maybe you’re taking it out of context, maybe you're assuming too much. “What do you mean?”

For a moment he just stares at you, eyes roaming over every minute detail of your face, pupils blown wide. Finally, he says, “Nothin.’ I’ll explain another time.” And before you can change his mind, he’s shifting out from under you and lacing up his boots. “I’ll go and do the rounds. Get some rest, alright?”

Joel glances down at you, his eyes still full of contemplation and something else that you couldn’t quite read. He leaned down quickly, pressing a heavy kiss against your lips, taking your breath away. The rough hair of his beard scratched your face in the most delicious way, but the kiss also felt heavy. Like Joel had something on his mind but could only bring himself to express it by tasting your tongue.

His forehead pressed against your own momentarily before he raised back up. Joel’s large palm held your face gently, his touch completely different from the Joel you’d known so far. The man who had shot you, who had fucked you into submission. You knew that there was something in him that was soft and malleable. You had finally found it.

“Sleep,” Joel said, pulling his fingers away from your face. The tips of his fingers left goosebumps in their trace, and you felt the weight of the situation set in. This was it. The moment Joel left to do his regular route, you could go the opposite way. Joel’s route was one that you had memorized because you went on the same one with Tommy. It would be easy to avoid him. It would be easy to leave.

Joel left the room quietly, cracking the door closed behind him. It only took him a couple of minutes to shrug on his jacket, grab his rifle, and head out of the front door. If you timed it right, in ten minutes he should reach the east corner of the cabin’s perimeter, which would give you enough time to leave before he is even near the cabin.

Sitting up slowly, you glanced over at Tommy, who was still softly snoring. You slide off of the bed, rifling through the side drawer to grab Tommy’s pocket knife. Quietly, you go through one of the unused canvas bags, pilling up the same supplies you had stolen so long ago. Food, ammo, batteries - anything that could help you survive on your own.

You stood at the doorway of the bedroom, watching the lantern light wash across Tommy’s face. After being with him for so long, it hurt to walk away. Even though it was a sticky situation, quite literally, you still found yourself caring for the brothers.

‘Goodbye, Tommy,’ you thought to yourself before leaving the bedroom. Striding across the living room, you could feel your heart thump in your throat at the sweet taste of freedom. You grabbed Joel’s spare jacket, tugging it over your shoulders.

This is it. You don’t have to stay here.

You remembered the feeling of Joel’s lips on your lips, the way Tommy rutted against your hips. The feeling of being wanted. The feeling of being protected.

You were scared to leave. But you had to.

The snow crunched under your feet when you walked out of the cabin’s front door. It was late in the night, the air crisp and heavy in your lungs. You saw your feet running before you actually processed that you were sprinting through the woods. The more you ran, the deeper the snow got, the icy slush melting into the bottom of your jeans.

You didn’t run into Joel, or Tommy, or anyone else for that matter. You couldn’t remember how long you ran for, or how far you had gotten, but your legs continued to stomp into the wet ground beneath your feet. The heat from the morning sun warming up your face was enough to let you know that you were finally free.

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moody-alcoholic · 2 days

Text

These Violent Delights

Chapter 4 - The Distance

MDNI +18 explicit content.

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe. 8.7k words. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder.

CW: MDNI +18 explicit content. a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, nightmares, mentions of torture, mentions of past abuse, mentions of past SA, choking, receiving injections, sex, anal sex, spanking, handjob.

AN: The writers block has been ROUGH but hey ya get your first smut for the series. It is a poly fic after all. XD

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

You’re sitting in John’s office with Dr. Piper while he’s looking through some folders. You’re trying hard to not be nervous. It reminds you of the times you would be called into the Professor's office. It was rarely for anything good. John puts the papers away, locking the drawer on his desk. It’s way too familiar for your liking, but John doesn’t look mad.

“We’re going to be leaving for a few days, 3 at the most,” John says.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“Wisconsin.

“You shouldn’t need us. I’ll leave you a way to contact us but if you do I’m going to assume it’s an emergency.” He looks between you both. Now you’re worried about him, all of them. They’re probably going away to do something dangerous. You could never see them again, they’re soldiers after all.

“What are you going to do?” you ask.

“Dr. Montgomery let us know where we can find some of the formula. We’re going to get some so it can speed up her research,” John explains. So they can find a cure sooner. You’re still not sure what to think of this, but you know they want a cure.

You look over at Dr. Piper. She’s listening to him. You shouldn’t care, it’s your job to be a good omega and do whatever your alpha wants. John and Simon both want a cure. You’re not really listening to the conversation but Dr. Piper nods at him now and then. They’re going to be gone for a few days. You can live with that, just a few days.

“We’ll be back before you know it.” John smiles. You smile back at him.

“When are you leaving?” you ask.

“Tonight.”

Tonight comes quicker than you think. Everyone had been so busy that Johnny and Kyle didn’t even have time to eat dinner with you. It’s the first time you’d been to the mess alone. You missed the days when Dr. Piper would bring you your meals and you didn’t have to leave the barracks. She said getting out of the barracks is good though, a nice change of scenery and fresh air.

You can’t sleep. You're not sure why. You’re turning around in bed and whatever position you’re in feels uncomfortable. You can see the light coming in under your door, you can hear their voices in the common room. You want to see them again, one last time before they leave. You slip out of bed pulling your arms around your chest. With the window open your room is always cold.

You crack open the door and you can see them all moving around the common room. You see John’s back as he gives orders in a low voice. You’re sneaking down the corridor. You don’t know why you’re trying to be sneaky. It’s not like you’d get into trouble for wanting to say goodbye to them. You see Johnny leave the building as you make it to John, and it’s almost like he senses you before you have time to reach out to tap him on the back. He turns around, looking at you, resting the tablet he has in his hands down by his side.

“You should be sleeping,” he says.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admit. A little smile forms on his lips as he puts his hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll be back soon,” he says. You look up in his eyes, his deep blue eyes. He looks sad, his expression soft. Maybe if you beg, he’ll stay.

“What if you get hurt?” you say. He lets out a chuckle, his hand moving up to your face.

“No one’s getting hurt. Not on my watch,” he says, and you believe him. What if he gets hurt though? You don’t think you could live with yourself if any of them got hurt.

“Cap, the truck’s here.” You look past John to see Kyle sticking his head around the door. He pauses when he notices you. John waves him away before turning his attention back to you.

“You’re not going to worry while we’re gone are you?” Price says. You shake your head, and he leans down kissing the top of your head. You wish he didn’t have to go. His scent strong in the air, you project your scent onto him. It’s all you can really do. You see him react to it, his thumb stroking your cheek. He sighs, dropping his hand and turning to leave. You smile for him. That's what he needs, for you to be a good omega for him and not worry, or at least make him think you’re not worried.

“Stay safe,” you call as he leaves out the door.

“Always,” he says, smiling. You watch as he leaves, the door closing behind him. The place already feels empty. You hit the switch on the wall and the building goes dark. You walk back down to your room, there’s already a pit forming in your stomach. You almost want to wake up Dr. Piper just so you’ll have someone near you so you won’t be alone. You walk into your room seeing your nest. It’s all you want. You rush over to it, flopping down on the pillows, pulling the blankets over you. They’ll be safe, they know what they’re doing.

Your dreams are filled with visions of everyone dying. Johnny dies quickly, always shot in the head bleeding out on the floor. Kyle’s not so lucky, some kind of chemical that burns his skin and his lungs as he screams in pain. Simon’s next he takes the longest to go down, fighting to the bitter end, his body punctured with knives and bullets.

Then there’s John, it’s always the Professor who gets him and tortures him just like every other alpha he’s slaughtered. You hate the Professor being in your dreams, you hate that you’re riddled with nightmares. Dr. Piper said it’s normal—something called PTSD. You hate that they’ve all left, you hate Dr. Piper, they're doing this for her, for the cure. You don’t even want a cure. But you have to do this for them. Be a good omega.

—————————

It’s been 24 hours since they left. You’ve been lonely. You didn’t think you were going to miss them as much as you do. You miss Johnny and Kyle keeping you company, lunches have been too quiet. Dr. Piper has been so busy you haven’t seen her much, and she’s been skipping lunch. You hate being alone. The mess is loud and busy. It’s the only other time you see any other soldiers. Sometimes you see them training around the base but then they’re caught up in whatever they're doing.

You miss John the most. Dr. Piper said it’s normal to miss your pack, to feel like this. It doesn’t make it any easier, especially when you’re not sure when they’re going to be back. You hope John’s safe. You hope they all are.

In the mess people stare. You hear them talking under their breath. It makes you uncomfortable, so you eat faster, their eyes drilling into the back of you. It’s not their fault, they just don’t understand. You’re sick of being called a freak. You heard a new one yesterday, ‘barracks bunny.’ At least that doesn’t sound bad, and bunnies are cute. You miss having an alpha around, and you miss having someone you can go to for safety. Dr. Piper was right, John is a good alpha. When he comes back you want to go for another walk in the forest.

You’re not allowed to leave the base alone. Maybe you could sneak out though, figure out another way through the fence. There has to be a break in the walls somewhere. Then you could see the lake whenever you want. You sigh as you finish your pudding, it's custard flavor this time. You should take a sandwich to Dr. Piper, she probably needs it. She’s been working so hard. You throw your tray away and pick up a chicken sandwich. You walk out the mess passing soldiers coming in for a late lunch.

‘She’s fucking some SAS soldier,’ a voice says, followed with laughter. ‘Really an SAS soldier?’

Why should you even care? You shouldn’t care, all they think is that you’re some sex toy. Maybe that’s what John wants? You haven't had time to talk to him about it. He’s always been so soft, so kind. When he’s in heat, he’ll be different though. At the end of the day, it’s all you really are. An omega made for an alpha, to breed with an alpha make more omegas.

You walk over to the lab still squeezing the sandwich in your hands. You’re going to start going for food later, maybe then you can avoid the rush of soldiers. At least here you’re accepted, people won’t stare or judge you. You walk in the scent of beta is strong in the air. It’s relaxing, and you stop squishing the sandwich.

“Hey.” You turn to see the alpha looking at you, his hands behind his back as he leans forward. He’s not like other alphas. If he didn’t smell so strong, you’d presume he was a beta. Even the way he holds himself is like he’s shy.

“Dr. Miller right?” you say, keeping your distance. He nods.

“I’ve been working on a hormone blocker for Lieutenant Riley, would you like to see?” He says moving to the side of the table he’s working on. You can see a microscope set up. You nod, feeling intimidated by his presence, but you're too curious. You walk over to the table. He smiles at you and you press your eye up to the microscope. You don’t know what you’re looking at but it looks pretty.

“Awesome right?” he says, sounding enthusiastic. You back up, smiling at him.

“Do you think it will help him?” you ask. He shrugs.

“I hope so, that’s why I’m working on it.” He looks at you sympathetically.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you offer. It feels right. He smiles at you.

“I’ll let you know,” he says. You nod at him. He seems nice, he makes you think of John, kind and smiley. You walk across the lab to Dr. Pipers office. You knock and she calls you in. Her office is small, not like John's; there's no personality in it, just lab equipment and a massive window looking out into the lab. She’s sitting behind a desk typing on the computer as you sit down.

“I got you a sandwich,” you say, putting it down on her desk. “Have you ever had your own office before?” you ask her as she moves to look over at you.

“No. Are you missing them yet?” she asks.

“It’s only been a day,” you say. You do miss them though.

“They’re your pack. I would expect you to be missing them after a few hours.” She leans back in her chair. You nod.

“They’ll be back before you know it. I did ask John if one of them could stay but he said they were all needed,” she explains. You would have liked it if one of them had stayed, if not to just eat with you.

“How are the nightmares?” she asks. You hang your head, you don’t want to talk about it.

“I hear you screaming at night. We could try some sleeping pills?” she asks. You look up at her. You don’t know if you want that. Would it even help? You shake your head.

“It’s not that bad, I don’t remember them anyway,” you lie. You’ve always found lying so easy to Dr. Piper or betas in general. Even so, you can tell she doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t push it any further.

“Think they’ll be back tomorrow?” you ask.

“I don’t know. They’ll be back when they’re back. John said it could be 3 days at least.” You nod, you don’t know what you were expecting her to say. You wonder what constitutes an emergency, what would have them racing back across the country for you.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you ask, looking out the window and seeing scientists working.

“No. You should get some rest, things are going to get busy over the next few weeks. You should appreciate the down time,” Dr. Piper smiles. You sigh, you’re sick of being stuck in the barracks, the TV can only keep you occupied for so long.

“Think it would be possible to get some books?” you ask. You used to read in the bunker. There was a bookshelf in one of the rooms, and you must have read each book about a million times but it was something to do.

“I can talk to John about it when he gets back.” She rolls away on her chair and picks up a bag pulling a book out. She hands it over to you. You take it out of her hands, it’s a pretty book with a picture of a cat and a girl on the front.

“Alice in Wonderland. It’s a bit on the nose, I was going to wait to give it to you,” she says.

“What do you mean?” you ask, flicking through it. It’s old, the pages are turning yellow on the edges, and it's got the old book smell you like.

“It’s about a girl who follows a rabbit down a hole into a mysterious land where she has adventures. It’s a classic book, if you like it I can definitely get you more.” She smiles, her computer beeping capturing her attention. You smile back getting up to leave, excited to have something to do other than watch TV.

Dr. Miller waves as you pass him, clutching the book. You rush back to the barracks. It’s starting to rain and when you make it back to your room you can hear the pitter patter of drops on the window, there’s a cool breeze brushing through and you can smell the pine from the forest. It’s perfect as you crawl into your nest, throwing a blanket round your shoulders.

You open the book surprised to see your name written on the first page. It’s signed by Dr. Piper. Happy 13th birthday. It makes a lump form in your throat. She’s had this all these years. You wonder why she never gave it to you, or maybe it was the Professor stopping her. It makes you smile. You shuffle deeper into your nest and make a mental note to thank her later as you start reading.

——————————

Doctor Montgomery and Price both agreed if there was going to be a sample of the formula it would be in Professor Hale’s mansion. He hardly spent time at his other properties, just used them when he needed to travel. Besides this was where his home lab was. It wasn’t hard to get blueprints for the mansion. The place was huge, the lab suspected to be in the basement.

“Place looks quiet, no lights, no movement.” It’s Ghost’s voice in Price’s ear.

“Copy,” he replies. The place was quiet, no cars, no one in or out for hours. The sun is starting to set and no lights are being turned on. If the Professor was here, he wasn’t letting them know. They should move in now in case someone comes back in the evening.

“Let’s move.” Price looks over at Soap and Gaz kneeling next to him on the forest's edge. He hears Ghost say copy as Soap leaves the cover of the foliage to meet him. Gaz moves too, standing up out of the bushes. Something’s different now, he feels more on edge then normal, like his senses have been turned up to the max.

“Think he’s out?” Gaz asks, breaking Price’s train of thought.

“Think so,” Price responds, getting up and walking with Gaz over to a side door. The Professor’s not a threat, but it would be nice to be able to deal with him now. He’s lucky they still don’t know where he is. The sun is low in the sky. The view from the back of the mansion is nice. Sprawling fields broken up by woodlines, he takes a moment to soak it in.

When they get to the side door Price signals for Gaz to get the crowbar in position. Everyone is stacked up on the door. He nods at Gaz who presses down on the crowbar as the door pops open. Price gives the order for Ghost and Soap to enter. They walk in. There are no alarms—that's not good. It’s almost too quiet. Everyone funnels in. Price let’s Ghost take the lead as they walk through the kitchen into what looks like a living room.

“Where’s the entrance to this basement?” Soap asks.

“Main lobby,” Gaz replies. Ghost keeps walking, scanning each corner as he moves. They make it to the lobby. Price can see the front doors. The place is quiet, there's no one here.

“Ghost, Gaz, clear the next floor, Soap let’s go,” Price says gesturing to the next room. He can see Soap smile in the dark as he moves into the next room. It doesn’t take long for Soap and Price to finish clearing the ground floor. Dr. Montgomery said it was normal to hear and see things better. One of the perks of the formula, it makes clearing rooms easier when you can sense what’s in there before you enter.

Soap was already good at sweeping rooms before this but now he’s like a fine tuned machine, Price watches his nostrils flare as he enters each room, every source of noise being snapped to in an instant. It’s mainly creaking floors, rats behind the walls. Maybe he’ll have to look into some training to help them all get better at using their senses to their advantage. At least until they have a cure.

Price can hear Ghost and Gaz upstairs, their methodical steps, the opening and closing of doors. Definitely the best thing is being able to see better even in this low light, that’s a massive advantage. The building loops round and before they know it they’re back in the lobby. Price looks for the stairs to the basement as they wait for Ghost and Gaz to come back from upstairs.

“Place is clear,” Ghost says as he comes down the stairs with Gaz following behind. Price nods and they all follow him to the open door. They make it down into the lab. The place looks ransacked. Maybe Dr. Montgomery was right and he’s fled with the only known sample of the formula. A light comes on and now Price can see the extent of the damage, it doesn’t look like there is much left. Gaz and Soap are already pulling drawers and cupboards open.

“What are we looking for exactly?”

“Medical vials, anything labeled, omega project or omega initiative,” Price says going over to a computer.

“Do you ever read the briefs?” Gaz asks.

“‘Course,” Soap replies. Gaz hums. To Price’s surprise the computer turns on as he moves the mouse. Unsurprisingly the whole thing has been wiped.

“Price!” Ghost calls from round one of the corners in the room. Price goes round seeing Ghost leaned over a computer. He presses play on the video. It's you, although you look younger, thinner. Your hair tied back, you look pale, sitting in a chair, your head slumped forward.

“How do you feel?” asks Dr. Montgomery. She’s the person sitting on the other end of the table, just out of frame. You don’t respond, just sniffle.

“It’s been 5 days, and you’re coming down from your–” there’s a pause “—19th heat.” Your head looks up, your eyes swollen with tears. There’s bruising too, on your cheeks and on your neck. A knot forms in Price’s stomach.

“Have you got any pain anywhere?” she asks. You shake your head.

“The water is for you,” Dr. Montgomery says sliding the glass closer to you. You reach out to grip it with a shaking hand. There are marks around your wrists. The video glitches and skips along.

“Heat experiment 15 was a failure.” It’s another voice out of frame. It’s a low male voice, it must be the Professor. There’s the sound of a door opening interrupting his speech.

“You said they would leave her neck and face alone.” It’s Dr. Montgomery, she sounds mad.

“Doctor, you know I cannot control people’s actions,” the Professor sighs. “Is she going to recover?”

“Physically, yes the bruising is already improving.”

“Then what is the problem?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

“She is becoming more and more aware during her heats. Mentally this is taking a toll,” Dr. Montgomery says. Simon skips to the next video. This time your hair is wet sticking to your face, blood running down the side of your head. The table is gone.

“You keep pushing and pushing. How are you ever going to be a good omega if you keep pushing your alpha!” It’s just the Professor and he sounds mad, the anger is almost radiating through the monitor. The Professor steps into frame pressing his face up against yours, you flinch trying to lean back as far as you can.

“No alpha will ever want a disobedient omega.” His hand grips your throat, choking you, pulling your neck up. Your hands grip his wrists, feet flailing.

“You will stay here until you’ve learned your lesson!” he snaps, letting you go. You fall forward out of the chair and onto the floor pulling your knees to your chest. The Professor walks out of frame for a second then comes back, pulling your hair up. You yelp in pain as he places something on the back of your neck. You scream as the Professor holds your hands away from your neck, then your body goes limp. Ghost steps forward pulling a USB stick out the computer the video stops playing.

“Soap!” Price shouts. He walks round the corner. “Did you listen to the part of the brief about which explosives to bring?”

“‘Course, sir,” he smiles. Price looks at Ghost. There’s anger in his eyes. They both just witnessed the same thing, and that was only a snippet. There’s a pit in his stomach that he hasn’t felt in years.

“Set the charges,” Price says, pushing past Soap.

“Let’s find the formula, then blow this place further into the dirt.”

——————————

“Hey, stranger,” Dr. Miller says as you walk into the lab. It’s been over 48 hours now and you’ve still not heard if they’re coming back yet or not. You smile at him as you watch him pipetting something into a test tube. He’s alone, it is getting darker out and you’re surprised anyone is still working other than Dr. Piper. You can’t remember what you came in here for. You just wanted some company from someone who understands. It didn’t take you long to finish the book, and you read it twice before falling asleep yesterday.

“Still working on the hormone blocker?” you ask him, and he nods. You pull over a stool to watch him.

“I think I’m a bad omega,” you say as he squirts more solution into another tube. The chemical changes colour.

“Missing your alpha?” he asks sympathetically. You nod, but it’s not just John. Your whole pack is gone, you miss them all.

“When did you leave the bunker?” you ask. He looks over at you for a second.

“I managed to get out a few months before Professor Hale started to kill off the alphas.”

“You were lucky,” you say. You remember the mass slaughter. The stench of blood was thick in the air for days. You remember how the Professor told you it was your fault. You were not being a good omega. You thought you remembered every alpha, the Professor made you scent all of them. Maybe there were more than you remembered.

“Do you think there can be 2 alphas in a pack?” you ask him. He sits back in the stool humming.

“I think your pack situation is very unique. I think Lieutenant Riley is very controlled,” he says. It’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Why do you think you’re a bad omega?” he asks, changing the subject.

“I don’t know if I want the cure,” you say.

“That doesn’t make you a bad omega, that makes you human,” he says, smiling as he picks up a vial of something shaking it in his hand.

“What about you, do you want a cure?” you ask him. He pauses for a second.

“A lot of us had very normal lives before working for Professor Hale. Being in a relationship with kids, it’s hard when you have all these new instincts. Not to mention you’re the only omega we know that exists. That’s not easy for alphas knowing the only shot we have of getting an omega is one who’s already claimed,” he explains.

You didn’t think about it like that. You know what it’s like, the burning drive to find an alpha. You’ve lived through not having one for years. Maybe the Professor was being kind when he killed all the alphas, it was that or condemning them to a life of pain, searching for something they’ll never get.

“Did you have a family?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I had a mother who lived in Oregon, she died a couple of years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. That’s what you’re supposed to say when someone dies. He looks at you and smiles.

“I have some samples I need to test on you. They’re just simple compounds. I can give you them now. It would be a really big help.” You can smell his sincerity in the air. You nod before you even realise what you’re doing. He smiles going into a drawer and taking out two syringes.

“Actually, I should ask Dr. Piper,” you say.

“Don’t worry it will only take a few seconds, there’s no need to bother her, she's so busy.” His alpha is strong in the air. You don’t really have much of a choice. Before you’ve even realised it you're nodding, rolling your sleeve up. You turn to the side for him, as he cleans your arm.

“Sharp scratch,” he says pressing the first injection in, you don’t feel anything.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Captain Price is going to claim you right?” You nod. His alpha is almost suffocating, it makes nervous goosebumps rise on the back of your neck. You forgot what question you asked.

“Will it help them?” you ask. He smiles, injecting the second syringe.

“Of course, everything you do here helps them.”

“They really want a cure,” you say as he finishes and you pull your sleeve back down.

“What do you want?” he asks, turning to write something down on a clipboard.

“I want to make them happy, and be a good omega.” It doesn't matter what you think. It’s whatever they want, especially John. You want to keep him happy. He looks over from the papers to you.

“You know I have been working on an idea with Dr. Montgomery. I think maybe if you could give us a hand we could figure it out quicker.” He looks at you, you don’t know what to say. You should talk to her first.

“It would really help them. We might even be able to get a cure sooner,” he says. You swallow the lump in your throat. You should do this for them, be a good omega. You remember how angry Simon was a few days ago, even asking to be discharged. You nod reluctantly.

“I’ll talk to Dr. Montgomery, will you come back tomorrow, early morning around 6?” You nod hopping off the stool.

“You’re a good omega for this. Captain Price will be very proud.” You smile at the praise. John will be happy. The sooner they can find a cure, the happier they will be. You smile at him as you leave the lab. You wonder why Dr. Piper hasn’t approached you about helping before. Maybe she’s not ready yet, or maybe she’s just trying to give you a break.

You don’t care, she’s lied to you before, for years. Maybe Dr. Miller is closer than he thinks to a cure. The least you can do is help. You walk back to the barracks. It’s already evening and the days feel like they’ve been going faster. That’s good, at least. Hopefully they’ll be back soon.

——————————

You wake to the smell of alpha in the air. You sit up straight looking around. You’re laid out on the sofa. You don’t remember making it to the barracks or turning the TV on, or falling asleep. Your head is swimming, the scent of alpha is strong, you see the door open as Price and Johnny walk into the room. You smile when you see them, you want to throw yourself in John’s arms instead you pull yourself off the sofa.

“Hey lass did ya miss us?” Johnny says, you nod going over to them. John’s alpha scent washes over you, and you project your scent into the air for him. He looks tired.

“Yeah, it’s been boring.” Maybe you should tell them about your conversation with Dr. Miller. No, you want to wait until you have something more concrete to show them. No point in getting their hopes up for nothing.

“Did you get the formula?” you ask as Gaz walks in the building.

“You bet we did!” Johnny calls swinging a bag over his shoulder. You smile at him. That’s good, you’re happy for them. Now Dr. Piper has one less obstacle, and with the help you’ve been giving they could have a cure in a few months. John comes over to you, his scent strong. There’s something else there too. Sadness.

“Let’s have a quick chat,” he says, leading you to his office. You’ve missed him, missed being around him, missed his scent. He sits down on the sofa patting the spot next to him. You smile sitting down.

“We went to Professor Hale’s house. That was where Dr. Montgomery said we could find a copy of the formula.” Your breath catches in your throat. You dig your nails into your palms. Why didn’t they tell you?

“D-did you kill him?” you ask, swallowing hard.

“No, he wasn’t there. We got a copy of the formula, it should help Dr. Montgomery find a cure quicker.” You nod ignoring the pain in your palms. You feel relief. You shouldn’t be relieved—he was a bad man—but for some reason you’re relieved he’s not dead.

“I saw a video, a video of you—”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you say getting up. You’re embarrassed, you want to cry, you want to run away. You turn away from him, you can’t look at him right now. You were happy in the fact that you thought everything from the bunker had been destroyed. Of course the Professor kept videos of you. You can only imagine what John saw, and none of it is good.

“It’s okay,” you hear him say as he gets up off the sofa.

“I know he would take videos. I know.” You can’t stop the tears now. Cameras were just part of your life, he would record everything for research. He especially liked to record your heats. You’re lucky you remember so little of them, you wish you didn’t remember any of it. You feel John rest one of his hands on your shoulder. You freeze up. His hand is warm, strong. He’s not going to hurt you, but he could. It would be so easy for him to slip his hand on the back of your neck and it would be over. Everything in your body is telling you to protect your neck, to run. His scent is suffocating, the smell of sadness is gone. You smell something else.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says. You smell the betas worry through the doors. You know they’re standing there listening, they’re projecting, they're trying to mask your scent without even realising it.

“I’m okay.” It’s a lie. You’re being a bad omega, you’re lying to your alpha. You hear him sigh. He can tell. You tense up even more than you thought you ever could. You wait for the anger, the shouting, anything. His hand leaves your shoulder. It's not what you’re expecting, your hand goes up to the back of your neck. You swallow hard letting the betas scent relax you and turn to face John. His expression is soft. His hand slowly comes up to cup your cheek. You let him, keeping your eyes on him as he brushes your cheek with his thumb.

“They hurt you,” he says as a matter of fact. You look down, you can’t look him in the eyes right now. You can’t tell what’s embarrassment or what’s sadness.

“I only got what I deserved,” you say, looking back up at him. You can’t look in his eyes. He might not want to punish you now but he will eventually. You’re a bad omega. His hands come back to your shoulders, and you almost flinch away. His hands grip you strong and firm keeping you in place.

“If anyone tells you that you deserved what you went through, you send them my way, all right?” he asks. You nod. You trust him, you trust him.

You press yourself into his chest, your arms wrapping around him as you sob, trying your best to keep quiet. His scent fills your nose and you relax into him. He’s your alpha, you’re part of his pack.

“What are you going to do, kick their ass?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

“Worse,” he says, kissing the top of your head. You believe him. For a few seconds you let yourself imagine him kicking the Professor's ass. He would be able to, the Professor is bigger but John’s a trained soldier. You hum into his chest, letting your scent fill the air as his hand rubs your back.

“I trust you John, I'm just not used to trusting people,” you say, opening your eyes, the tears run down your face. He pushes you off his chest, you almost want to whine from the break of contact. His hand comes up to brush your cheeks.

“I know.” He’s gentle, his hands move slowly as you look in his eyes. You didn’t want it to just be a biology thing. You like him. You wish one day you could maybe love him. His head tips down as he leans into you, you look at his lips. He wants to kiss you, you want to kiss him. Panic rises in your chest—what if you’re a bad kisser, you’ve never kissed anyone before! You don’t have time to worry about it as his lips meet yours. You close your eyes. His lips are soft but his beard tickles your face and it makes you smile. You don’t know if you’re doing it right but you must be on the right track as he pulls you closer to him, his arms running down your body, his fingers mapping out each curve.

You don’t even realise you’re not breathing until his tongue presses against your lips and you gasp opening your mouth for him. Just like his touch his tongue is gentle too, he moves slow like he’s taking his time to explore your mouth. His hands grip your waist pulling you tighter as he continues his slow movements. You can smell it in the air now, arousal. You try to ignore it, it’s strong though almost as strong as his alpha. He senses your change in body movements and pulls away. You open your eyes looking at him, his eyes glossed over as he comes back up to stroke your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, you feel yourself blushing.

“Nothing.” You say smiling up at him. “That was nice.” He kisses your forehead, you wrap your arms around him and he pulls you into the hug. You can still smell the beta’s through the door, you feel embarrassed now, they’ve been listening to this whole thing.

“Johnny and Kyle are standing outside the door.” You smile breaking away from the hug as his hands drop down to your waist. He walks around you to the door. When he opens it you can hear them scuttling away. He turns to you and you walk back into his embrace.

“How about a cup of tea and some horrible reality TV?” he asks. You smile at him.

“All I’ve done is watch TV for the last few days.”

“Great so you’ll know all the best channels,” he says. You let him wrap his arm around him as you both walk out into the main common room. Johnny winks at you from the kitchen.

“MacTavish, Garrick, get some rest,” he says to the room which is followed by ‘yes sirs.’

“Where’s Simon?” you ask.

“I’m sure he’ll be around soon,” John says as he moves you over to the sofa. You sit down as he heads into the kitchen.

“How do you take the tea?”

“I like it milky and sweet.” You see him smile as he turns into the fridge. You turn the TV on flicking through the channels till you find something.

You watch him work in the kitchen, spooning sugar into mugs, then water, then milk. He brings the mugs over and you move over making space for him as he sits down next to you. His arm rests round the back of the sofa and he motions for you to lay in his arms. He wants you to lay in his arms, your alpha wants you to lay in his arms. You pull your legs on the sofa and scoot over resting your head against his chest and your arm around his stomach. The show on the TV is familiar, you recognize the people, actors? You can’t tell.

“So what’s this about?” he asks, wrapping his free hand around you while he sips his tea.

“These women all live near each other in these big houses. The blonde haired woman is always upset about something,” you explain, cuddling into him. His arm is warm, you can hear his heartbeat, you can feel each muscle and scar under his shirt.

“John, I like spending time with you,” you say as you find your fingers run across his stomach. He kisses your head again.

“I know, we have all the time in the world.” That’s a lie if you’ve ever heard one. It’s what you need now though, his familiar scent filling your lungs. It’s what you need. It’s making you dizzy. His arm runs down your back then back up to your arm making goosebumps stand up on the back of your neck. You’ve missed him, you’re glad he’s back and safe.

“I’ll be a good omega for you,” you breathe as your body gets tired again. You feel safe, you are safe. You close your eyes.

——————————

Simon walks into the lab letting the door slam behind him. He doesn’t care if she knows he’s here or not.

“Welcome back,” she says, watching him walk across the room. He doesn’t say anything as he stops at the table she’s working on. He puts a small crate down on the table. She stands up and clicks it open, running her fingers over the vials then looking up at Simon smiling. He used to like her smile, now he just sees the evil behind it. She takes the vials, turning to put them in a fridge behind her.

“How did it go? Smoothly?” she asks, turning back to look at him.

“Classified,” he grunts.

“Well omega’s been missing you,” she sighs, he can hear the annoyance in it. He huffs, shaking his head. She missed Price, not him.

“We got what you needed, and this,” he says, throwing the USB on the table.

“What’s this?” she asks picking it up.

“Maybe you’ll find something helpful. If not, well.”

“Well what?”

“Thought you might enjoy some memories.” He turns to walk away.

“Memories? What are you talking about?” she says confused.

“You stayed to keep her alive. I saw what it was like for her.” His voice is harsh in the air.

“Simon—”

“No. You kept her alive. You kept her alive to be tortured.” He doesn’t want to talk to her right now. He wants to be with you, and he can’t even do that.

“So what? I should have let her die? Hale would have picked another omega, another subject,” Dr. Piper says.

“So what?” he snaps. “She’s a human being, she’s a person. You let her suffer. You let her suffer and that's on you.” His hand rests on the door handle.

“Simon. I tried so hard for her. I put my life on the line for her.” She steps round the desk towards him. He huffs letting his hand fall from the door handle.

“No more excuses. You made the choice to let her go through it,” he says, turning to face her. Her eyes dilate for a second and she takes a step back. He wants to trust her, but everytime he lets his guard down with her something reminds him of who she is.

“I’m not making excuses,” she says.

“You are, you just don’t realise it.” He opens the door and leaves.

——————————

Simon walks through the door into the barracks. He looks at Price on the sofa with you laying up against his chest. You’re asleep breathing steady against him. You’re safe, calm in his arms. He can smell you in the air, always something sweet, strawberries or cherries. He remembers how you looked in the videos, how you looked so helpless. Price told him to destroy the USB, but he already decided he was going to give it to Dr. Montgomery.

“You gave her the formula?” Price asks as Simon closes the door behind him.

“Yeah, she’s working on it,” Simon says, coming over to the sofa. He moves round to the other side, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over you. Price nods at him. Simon knows all about Price’s glances, knows what they mean. He wants to be left alone.

“How is she?” Simon asks, stepping back round the TV.

“She’s fine, missed us,” Price says. Simon can hear the hesitation in his voice. Simon sighs, soaks you in: eyes closed, mouth open slightly, your arm wrapped round Price’s stomach. He wants nothing more than to climb onto the sofa with you both, pry you out of Price’s arms and into his. He knows you haven’t missed him. He just hopes you’re not scared of him.

“You good?” Price asks. Simon doesn’t want to lie to him.

“All good, sir,” Simon replies.

“If you want to talk about it, you know I'm around,” Price says.

“It’s okay Price, I’m good.” Simon’s voice is harsh in the air, his heart pounding in his ears as your scent fills his nose. You’re relaxed, you’re safe. It’s nothing like the videos, it’s nothing like the reports he has seen.

He’s jealous. He wishes you were in his arms. He doesn’t want to be jealous of Price but he can’t help it. There’s an ache there, something he can’t put his finger on. It hurts like a deep pain in his chest, something he hasn’t felt in years. He remembers what Dr. Montgomery said; it’ll get easier once you’re claimed. He wishes it was him doing it instead of John.

He picks his bag up then heads to his room walking past Johnny’s open door, his kit spread all over the floor. Typical, he must be the one in the showers since Gaz’s door is closed. He goes into his room throwing his bag down. He grabs a towel and a change of clothes. He needs to blow off some steam.

Simon walks into the bathroom, his nose filled with the smell of Johnny. It’s a good smell, soapy and fresh. It reminds Simon of a warm summer's day, clean sheets in the breeze. Johnny’s head pokes out from one of the showers.

“Hey LT, come to cop a look?” Johnny winks at him from across the room. Simon rolls his eyes, stripping his clothes off, pulling his mask over his head. He can feel Johnny’s eyes on him. Simon likes when Johnny’s eyes are on him, and he’s not sure why. There’s a new scent in the air, he could faintly smell it when he walked into the building earlier. Vanilla, only this time it's heavy in the room, he makes his way round to the showers. Simon can see Johnny trying and failing to avoid his gaze. Maybe it was just Johnny’s shower gel this whole time.

“See something you like, Sergeant?” Simon asks, turning on the shower. He holds his hand under the water as it starts off cold.

“It’s nice and warm in here, sir,” Johnny says, leaning on the wall between them. There’s the smell of vanilla again, this time it hits Simon fast, right at the back of his nose. He looks over at Johnny with that cheeky grin on his face and before he knows it, he’s turned off his shower.

Johnny’s eyes follow him around as he steps into the cubicle with him. Johnny’s hands immediately run up Simon’s chest, his hands are soft, and his touch is nice. Simon presses closer to Johnny backing him up against the wall. Johnny leans up, planting his lips on Simon as he grips his waist. Simon’s hands run down Johnny’s arms as he forces his tongue into his mouth. Johnny’s touch is familiar, he knows where to touch him, how to kiss him. Simon relaxes into it letting Johnny’s hands run over him. Simon moves one of his hands up to run through Johnny’s hair letting his fingers massage his scalp.

“It’s been a while,” Johnny says between kisses. He was right, it had been a while. Simon had missed Johnny’s touch. Maybe this is what he needed, a true way to relax and destress. Ever since you showed up in their lives everything had just been a mixture of emotions, everything had been moving at a million miles an hour. Simon could use a break, and Johnny always knows how to make Simon feel good.

Johnny’s mouth moves to his neck, he grips Simon’s cock, thrusting his hands down his shaft pressing his thumb on the underside the way Simon likes it. Johnny looks back up at him smiling before he plants another kiss on his lips. Johnny shuffles his body like he’s about to get on his knees, but Simon grips his arms instead. Johnny looks at him confused, tipping his head to the side.

“We’re skipping the foreplay,” Simon says in a low voice that sends shivers up Johnny’s spine. There’s the cheeky grin again. Simon doesn’t change his expression, leaning down to kiss him before spinning him around. Johnny doesn’t need to be asked twice bracing himself on the short shower wall. This was definitely what Simon needed, he grips Johnny’s ass parting his cheeks digging his fingers into his skin.

It doesn’t take long for Johnny to relax too, the air being filled with the smell of something musky Simon can’t quite put his finger on. Even though the act is familiar, the sensations and the smells are new. That heavy scent of vanilla that’s making Simon’s head spin, the smell of beta filling the air and the other scent Simon can’t place.

Johnny lets out the most beautiful moan Simon has ever heard as he eases himself into him. One of Simon’s hands reaches around to find Johnny’s cock. He pushes Johnny’s hand out the way, replacing it with his.

“Christ Si, desperate?” Johnny moans as Simon starts to thrust into him. Simon brings his free hand up to cover Johnny’s mouth.

“Quiet MacTavish, unless you want Price and the omega to know whats going on.” He gestures towards the wall. Johnny nods and Simon releases his hand from around Johnny’s mouth. Johnny keeps quiet but doesn’t relent with the snarky comments. Simon’s almost not paying attention, letting Johnny run his mouth, enjoying hearing his voice and letting himself get lost in the pleasure. His senses feel heightened, he can tell Johnny feels it too, Johnny’s panting becoming faster as Simon wraps his arm round his stomach hitching him up so he’s bouncing down onto him.

The smell of alpha is strong in the air and it only gets stronger the closer Simon gets to cumming, it makes the hairs stand up on the back of Johnny’s neck, his moans becoming more like whimpers as he gives into the scent. It’s intoxicating. Simon isn’t thinking when he cums, his hand pumping his fist on Johnny’s cock, letting Johnny get as loud as he wants as he thrusts into Simon’s hand. The smell of beta and vanilla fills the air. Johnny goes limp in Simon’s arms and he holds him against the wall.

Simon’s head is spinning, his body tingling, he’s never felt pleasure like this before, Johnny's arms are slumped over the short wall as he pants, Simon’s hand still holding his spent cock. Simon rubs his thumb over the tip causing Johnny’s whole body to twitch and shudder up against him. Simon slowly moves Johnny back under the warm water holding him up against his chest.

“Fecking incredible sir.” Simon can’t help smiling as he lets go of Johnny letting him stand by himself.

“Not too bad yourself Johnny,” Simon says, slapping Johnny's ass as he leaves the cubicle, going into the one next to him. This time he lets the cold water hit his skin, and his mind turns to you, the smell of strawberries fills his nose. He tries to shake it away, but it’s not long before the pit forms again in his chest like there’s something missing. Simon looks over at Johnny.

He’s finishing up, turning the shower off to leave. It’s not the same anymore, the burning pain of needing an omega is too strong. He wanted Johnny but he needs you. He closes his eyes, turning up the heat on the water. He lets it burn his shoulders as he hears the door to the room open and close.

He’s alone now but he doesn’t want to be. He wishes it was you in the shower with him today, not Johnny. He can’t keep doing this, he has to get over you, for the team's sake. You’re Price’s omega not his, and until there is a cure it has to be that way. Frustration builds in him as he goes to leave the shower, drying his body and pulling on the fresh change of clothes.

He has to break this up. There's no other way to do it. He picks his mask up, rubbing his thumb over the fabric before pulling it on. Simon can feel whatever he wants for the omega, but Ghost can’t care. It’s just a job, you're just a job, the job is to find a cure and leave this world behind. He picks up his towel leaving the steaming bathroom.

He looks over at the sofa. Price is asleep now, his head tipped back snoring softly. You’re still asleep against his chest, the blanket pulled all the way up to your face. Ghost sighs reluctantly. He can’t let Price sleep on the sofa all night, he’ll fuck his back up. He walks over and shakes Price’s shoulder, it doesn’t take much for him to jump awake.

“You should go to bed,” he says once Price meets his eyeline. Price looks down at you still sleeping. He moves like he doesn’t want to wake you. Ghost sighs, he turns to walk away. He did his job and woke Price up. He hears Price waking you up as he goes back into his room. He moves fast, closing the door behind him and leaning up against it. He smells the unmistakable scent of strawberries as you pass his room. He closes his eyes, breathing it in. He smiles as your scent fills his nose. That’s it, that's the last time he’ll do that. From now on, for everyone's sake, you’re a stranger to him.

Next Banners by Plum98 Thank you as aways to rememberwren who told me my work was good when my brain was telling me it was shit <3

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