When Joel had returned to Jackson and trudged through the door of his house for the first time in weeks, he immediately smelt the sticky sweet scent of honey in the air. Ellie had made him shut his eyes as she tugged him through to the kitchen by the cuff of his sleeve, demanding he not peek or else he would ruin the surprise. And although Joel grumbled about hating surprises and just wanting a hot shower and some rest, he was holding back a smile. He had missed Ellie so much that he would do just about anything if she asked him to.
Then Ellie instructed him to open his eyes, trilling a theatrical "Tada!" She lifted the tea towel that lay on the kitchen counter to unveil the cake she had made with you. "Welcome home!"
Straight away Joel knew that you were involved in the creation of this surprise. Ellie could not have done this alone and you were the only person Ellie would have felt comfortable enough to ask for help with learning to bake something. He also recognised that it looked exactly like one of your honey cakes - his absolute favourite.
Joel felt a twinge inside his chest cavaity upon seeing the pretty cake perched on top of his kitchen counter. It was an overwhelming mix of emotion that he couldn't quite identify; something akin to gratitude and love and pride. All because his adopted daughter cared enough to make him a damn cake to welcome him home. Because it was you who helped teach her.
Joel swallowed the lump in his throat and gave a short laugh of astonishment before gathering Ellie into an embrace.
"Thanks, kid," he whispered into the crown of her head. "Looks good. And ya didn't burn the kitchen down."
"Yeah, ha ha, so funny," Ellie rolled her eyes. "Your lady friend supervised me so I didn't forget to turn off the oven or some bullshit. Which, by the way, happened to Mrs. Myer last year and almost torched her whole house."
Joel and Ellie cut two slices of cake and ate them standing in the kitchen, Ellie rambling about the random mundane happenings that had occurred in Joel's absence. He looked at Ellie as he slowly chewed bites of the delicious spongey cake, only half listening to her. Although Ellie could be exasperating at times, Joel enjoyed seeing her like this - garbling about Maria's houserules around a mouth full of sticky cake, animated facial expressions embellishing her story.
When they finished eating, Joel went upstairs to shower before going to sleep. He stood infront of the mirror to undress, his limbs feeling progressively more leaden with each passing minute. Despite his body aching with fatigue, his mind was overrun with ceaseless ruminating.
With sadness in his heart, Joel thought about how quickly Ellie was growing up, how time was slipping through his fingers and stealing away more moments of their life lived together. Ellie was still the same sarcastic, witty girl she had always been, but living in a safe and equitable community had given her the opportunity to grow and thrive in ways that would have never been possible in the QZ. She had blossomed into an optimistic and confident young woman with goals and aspirations, a daughter Joel was incredibly proud of.
But with Ellie's advancement in age and maturity came fear and dread that seeped into the marrow of his bones.
The fear of his own ageing, of his own inevitable demise slowly approaching. Joel was acutely aware of his age and the increasing limitations that it came with. His joints and muscles ached from a lot less physical strain these days. He was self conscious of the hearing loss in his right ear and worried that it would worsen. Joel dreaded becoming an old man without family surrounding him, with nothing to live for. He dreaded the possibility of experiencing the devastating agony of loss again.
Sarah. Tess.
He couldn't handle losing Ellie, too.
She was already exercising her independence and slowly detaching from the exclusive life they led together - and it fucking hurt him so bad. She was even spending more and more time out with her friends and at sleepovers, leavong Joel alone at home most of the time.
But Joel still felt guilty for lying to Ellie about what happened at the hospital with the Fireflies; so there was no way he could deny her the right to the pursuit of happiness in Jackson however she saw fit, including distancing herself from him. However, the gradual distancing still felt heartbreaking.
The notion of Ellie not being in his life made Joel's brain buzz with panic. A tightness seized his chest suddenly and seemed to squeeze the air from his lungs. He had to grip the edge of the bathroom sink with both hands in order to steady himself.
Fuck, no, not again.
Joel bowed his head and screwed his eyes shut in an effort to concentrate on keeping his knees from buckling underneath him. He gulped in breaths of air and expelled them in shuddering puffs while swirls of dread surged through his mind and body.
It's okay everything is alright Ellie is still here safe just keep breathing---
The internal monologue blurred into one continuous train of thought and quickly became a comforting sort of mantra to Joel. He remained still with his large hands wrapped around the porcelain of the sink while the dialogue rushed through his brain. He stayed like that for several minutes, until the tense coil inside his body slowly lessened and the panic eventually drained from his mind.
When Joel opened his eyes and his vision settled into focus he was confronted with the haggered image of his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than usual and his lips were chapped from the cold wind. His crown of curls were tousled and smudges of dirt marked the tan skin of his face. He looked wrecked. Like an old man.
It was at times like this that Joel wished he could swallow a cocktail of pills and chase them down with whatever liquor he could get his hands on. Anything to knock him out for a few hours, just like he did at the QZ. Joel hadn't experienced a panic attack for quite some time - infact the previous one, precipitated by you trying to leave, had been the first one in more than a year.
Joel would never admit it, but he had spent a great deal of time thinking about you while he was away from Jackson. It was always in the quiet hours of the night, after the patrolmen had settled somewhere to sleep until daybreak. He struggled to fall asleep in the open wilderness, both his body and mind too wired with adrenaline to ease into a state of slumber, and so he spent alot of time reflecting.
Joel dreamed of your pretty face, the sensual curves of your body, the sound of your breathy voice saying his name when he fucked you. Fuck, he couldn't wait to get back to you and kiss you all over and fuck you again. He imagined slamming into you over and over until you screamed and begged him to stop.
Joel recalled how needy and anxious you had been the night he left, how perfect you looked crying when you heard he had to go. He knew you loved him still, even after hurting you with the belt, sweet little thing you were. Yes, you had tried to leave. But you were his and you belonged with him. He had managed to make you stay and you still loved him. And he loved you, truly, in the deep rooted core of his splintered heart. Even if he thought he could never confess it to you in this lifetime.
******
The elation you felt when Joel returned to Jackson was short lived. It was eclipsed by the passing of Maude, the librarian and your friend, just four days after the team had concluded their mission. She was found laying in her bed by her housemate, having died peacefully in her sleep at the age of 73. Her death was unexpected but not altogether surprising, given her age and the ailments she dealt with each passing year.
Maria had knocked on your door that morning to deliver the sad news. She sat with you on your sofa as you cried, encircling you in her arms as the waves of anguish hit you. You had known Maude since you had first arrived in Jackson as a young teenager and her enduring presence in the periphery of your life gave you a sort of comfort that you never consciously acknowledged. She had come to symbolise consistency and normalcy just by being visible in everyday life; like the baker who you saw display buns and loaves of bread each morning, or the man who sat outside the barbershop and whittled wood each day.
To you, Maude's death signified more than just the loss of her as an individual. It was also a harsh reminder that the shadowy hand of death could come to claim anyone you cared about at any time. Just like it had stolen your parents away from you, leaving you orphaned and all alone in the cataclysmic nightmare of the apocalypse, so distressed that you wonder how you hadn't died of a broken heart.
You never allowed yourself to ruminate too much on this truth, though. The pain was far too complex for you to willingly analyse. Instead, you simply cried for Maude and the fact that you'd miss her.
Maria held you silently, patient and gentle, until your cries eventually died down to shuddering sniffles. She asked if you would prefer to stay home from library duty for the day, in order to give yourself space to grieve. You shook your head stubbornly.
"I'll be okay," you assured Maria as you wiped your nose with a tissue. "I need to keep busy and the library will help."
So will seeing Oscar, your mind randomly chimed. You hadn't seen him for the last few days and you missed him. The soft cadance when he spoke, the crinkles around his eyes when he laughed, his stories and jokes. You needed Oscar right now, positive that he could lighten the weight on your heart with nothing but his mischievous grin.
When you pushed through the library door later that morning, Oscar was standing infront of the counter with his arms crossed, his mouth downturned with melancholy. He was already looking at you when you finished kicking off your boots and you glanced up at him. The sorrow reflected in his brown orbs was so raw that you couldn't suppress the sob clawing up your throat, or the impulse to rush over to him.
Oscar spoke your name softly and opened his arms open to catch you. You crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist. Oscar enveloped you against his body and squeezed your frame. You wept into his shirt while he cradled the back of your head tenderly.
"I know," Oscar whispered into your ear as you cried. "I know."
You stayed like that for what seemed like forever, basking in the warmth of his embrace as your tears poured relentlessly from the cracks of your heart. Oscar held you tightly, seeming to absorb every single drop of sorrow you expelled without complaint. It felt comfortable, so natural.
But Oscar knew your cries weren't just for Maude. Without you admitting so, he knew that there was a torrent of emotion inside you that had been desperate to break free for so long. He could identify it in the way you hesitated before revealing something about yourself, regardless of how trivial it was. He saw how quiet you became after the mention of certain subjects, eyes glazing over as you fell into contemplative silence, the gears in your brain working tirelessly. Grief plagued your soul, just like it did with all survivors, just as it did with himself. Oscar wished he could express that he understood, that he wanted you to share your secrets and fears with him and he would keep them safe, tucked securely inside his own wounded heart, just to give you some kind of solace.
Oscar knew but he did not speak, not except for the occasional whisper of comfort, hoping to God you couldn't hear the pounding of his heart in your ear. Your tears eventually subsided and you composed yourself enough to detach from his body, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. When his eyes met your beautiful watery orbs, he was sure he felt a zap of electricity between you. But then you went rigid and your eyes widened, almost like you were panicked. Oscar wondered if you were embarrassed, either by your display of emotion or the realisation of your physical proximity, or perhaps both.
"I better get to work," you quickly mumbled, averting your gaze.
Oscar smoothed his warm hands over your shoulders, willing you to look at him. He said your name and when his voice escaped his lips it sounded like a plea. But you pulled away from him wordlessly and disappeared into the solitary space of the storeroom to resume the job you had been working on lately. Oscar sighed and scratched the side of his cheek, his fingernails rasping over his beard.
He didn't want to pressure you or push you in any way, but he wanted you to share your feelings with him. He wanted to hear about your worries and fears and sadness. But maybe it was time for him to share himself with you as well.
Oscar kept his distance from you for the next few hours, letting you have some space to relax until you felt ready to talk. At around 12.30pm Oscar went to the mess hall for and returned with a small sack filled with sandwiches and fruit. He gave a small knock against the doorframe of the store room as not to startle you. You were knelt on the floor with some books and cleaning rags scattered around you.
"Got us some lunch," Oscar said tentatively, leaning his head against the doorframe. "Ready to come eat?"
"Thanks," you said without looking up. "But I'm not really hungry."
You hadn't said that for months, not since that first time working together when you insisted you weren't hungry but he served you food anyway - food that you ended up devouring with gusto. Lunch time then became something you both looked forward to on your subsequent shifts, a designated time when you could take it easy for a while and enjoy the companionship you built. While your resfual to eat concerned Oscar, he did not want to overstep any boundaries.
"Would you like to be left alone today?" He asked gently. "I have some odd jobs to do, so if you wanna have some peace and quiet I can work in the corner of the library."
You sighed and shook your head slowly before looking up at him. "Oh Oscar, you're so lovely. I'm sorry, I'm just...really sad."
"I understand, you don't need apologise." Oscar offered you a little smile.
"But I'd like you to stay close by, if that is okay?"
Oscar tried not to show just how relieved he felt to hear your request. Ofcourse he could stay close to you. He would happily remain by your side for as long as you wanted. But he just nodded and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Of course."
"Thank you," you whispered, looking down at your hands in your lap. "I haven't....lost someone, for so long. It brings up a lot of memories."
Oscar slipped into the storeroom and lowered himself to the ground to sit a few feet away from you, directly opposite the spot where you were kneeling. He hummed to convey that he was listening, to encourage you to keep speaking. You had never spoken about these things to anyone before - death, mortality, your parents, your own grief - but now it seemed like the words and emotions wanted to tumble from your mouth on their own accord.
"Maude...." you began, voice wavering, your gaze focused on your fidgeting fingers. "I knew her since I came to Jackson...everything always seemed so safe here. I guess I just never really...thought about someone dying inside the gates."
Oscar watched you silently with his chin resting in the palm of one hand. He waited for you to continue.
"And it makes me think of my life. Like what if I end up alone? What if I die without starting my own family?" Rivulets of tears were beginning to stream down your face and you speak so softly that Oscar has to lean forward and strain his hearing.
"J-just like my m-mother and father, how they didn't escape...but I did," you wept, gently shaking your head. "I survived but I didn't want to without them. I survived but I'm so scared."
Oscar's soulful brown eyes watched you intently as the raw emotion poured from you. He longed to cradle you in his arms but he knew you needed this, this cathartic like confession without any disruption.
"I shouldn't have." You croaked, covering your eyes with your hands like you were hiding from the truth of your own words.
"Shouldn't have, what?" Oscar reached over and gently touched your forearm.
"I-I shouldn't have lived," your throat was thick with your tears. "I don't deserve to. I should've d-d-died."
Oscar whispered your name and fell forward on his knees to crawl close to you. "Hey, listen to me. Don't ever say that, okay?"
He enveloped you into his arms gingerly and cradled the back of your head with his palm. "You do deserve to live. You deserve to live here, safe and happy. You were meant to survive. And your parents would be so happy that you made it here. They would be so happy and proud of the woman you are today."
You continued to sob and sniffle miserably but you allowed Oscar to hold you. The vague scent of cinnamon filled your nose when he pressed you closer to him. You both stayed like that for a long time, until your cries died down and became tiny sniffs and sighs. Oscar remained still as he embraced you. It was only when he was sure that you were somewhat tranquil that Oscar chose to speak.
"I survived, too," Oscar whispered. "And I spent so many years hating myself for it."
You pulled away from his arms just enough to peer at his face. His mouth was down turned in that pensive frown from earlier and his eyes, usually so warm and twinkling, were now downcast and full of woe.
"She...my wife..." Oscar's voice choked. "She was bitten before I could stop it, before I could protect her. I should've been right by her side but I wasn't." He swallowed thickly.
Without thinking you instinctively raised your hand up to Oscar's face and gently cupped his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact and a single tear slipped out from under his thick eyelashes.
"Oh, Oscar..." You whispered, staring at him closely.
He shook his head ever so gently and sniffed, then brought his own hand up to enclose over yours. He opened his eyes and met your gaze.
"But I came to learn that hating yourself for surviving isn't the right way to live." Oscar stated solemnly. "There's no point in living if it is in misery. It kills your heart and your peace, slowly."
Oscar slowly removes your hand from his scruffy cheek and lowers it to his chest, where he cradles it reverently with his own, still looking directly at you.
"We owe it them to continue living. To live as best as we can, to allow ourselves happiness and love - because that is what they would want, and because it honours their memory. And those feelings we have...that hate for ourselves...that guilt...it does nothing to help us. It may never really go away, but holding onto it so tightly...it makes life impossible to live."
You nod ever so slightly, totally enrapt in the truth of Oscar's words and the conviction in his tone. You've never heard someone speak in such a way that penetrates your heart like this, never identified with someone else's insight so deeply before.
"If we let the hate and hurt eat us alive, then we won't ever be able to remember the good memories. I will never forget my wife, I promised myself a long time ago that I would keep her memories close to my heart. Her smile...her laugh..."
Another tear rolled down Oscar's cheek but he did nothing to wipe it away. Your eyes were still locked on each others.
"And they remind me that life can be worth living, that she would want me to keep going. I bet your parents would, too. And so would Maude."
You can't stifle the sob that escapes your lips and you find yourself lunging into Oscar's body to hug him once again. He hugs you back, sure that you can both hear each other's heartbeats.
******
That night you sat crossed legged on Joel's bed cocooned in his blanket. Just as he had requested (or rather, ordered) the previous night, Joel wanted you waiting at his house for when he finished his patrol shift. As he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots, you told him the news about Maude's death.
"She lived til an old age," he said brusquely, letting his boots drop to the floor with a clunk. "Longer than alotta people. Ain't not use mournin' someone whose time is up."
You knew he was right; Maude had lived a long life by apocalypse standards, and many of them had been spent within the comfortable confines of Jackson,
but the coldness in his words still stung. Joel's pragmatic nature was clearly vastly different from your more emotional disposition, but he also had more life experience than you, you reminded yourself. Maybe it was better to be a bit more like Joel for the sake of self preservation.
You sighed and hummed a halfhearted agreement.
The mattress creaked as Joel stood to undress. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders and watched Joel wordlessly as he removed his jacket and flannel shirt. Your eyes wandered over the expanse of his thick shoulders and broad back - you could see the light scratches on his flank from where you'd dug your fingernails into last night when he'd pounded into you. You smiled softly to yourself.
You loved to watch him in various stages of undress; whether it was after a long day at work or right before he fucked you, the display of his bare body evoked a hunger inside your lower belly that made you ache for his cock. Even with the litany of scars covering his skin, nothing could detract from how sexy he was.
Joel pulled off his t shirt and tossed it and the flannel onto the floor by his dresser. He glanced at you and caught you shamelessly gawking at his half naked body. He smirked ever so slightly.
"What're you starin' at, little girl?" Joel teased.
You blushed and hid your shy smile behind the tips of your fingers. "Just you, how sexy you are."
Joel chuckled under his breath padded over to the closet to hang up his jacket. When he returned from the closet and slowly paced toward the bed, your heart skipped a beat to see that he's cradling the Polaroid camera in his hands. It's the same one from the shoe box that was hidden in his closet. The one you snooped in.
Shit, you hope he hasn't found out that you went looking through his stuff. You were sure you had returned it to the correct spot, had it angled in the same position you'd found it in on the shelf.
You swallow thickly and watch Joel's face cautiously. He is quiet and concentrated as he rubs the pads of his thumbs over the plastic black exterior of the camera, examining it as if he has never used it before, as if he's not entirely sure if it even works. It is worn but in good condition; a relic from the past, now a rare tool that was used to capture and eternalise scenes and faces before the end of the world. You briefly wonder who it belonged to once upon a time.
You chew your bottom lip as you watch him come to stand a few feet away from the bed. He looks up at you and holds the Polaroid up in his hand.
"Know what this is?" Joel asks.
You nod, and even though you do know what it is, you still sound slightly dubious when you respond."It's a camera, right?"
"'Thats right." He nods and turns it around to study the front of the lens. "Found it a while ago on a mission. Was gonna give it to Ellie but seems she's...more interested in her comics, or somethin'."
His voice trails off into a mutter at the end. He almost sounds sad, or disappointed. You feel bad for him, knowing he would be struggling to accept Ellie wanting to move out of home.
"It's a very thoughtful gift to give someone." You smile at Joel, trying to appear upbeat. "I think it is really cool. Have you taken any pictures with it?"
Joel shakes his head. "Nah, ain't tried it out yet." His eyes flicker up to you and he tilts his head, regarding you with a kind of curious contemplation. You raise an eyebrow at back at him.
"What?"
Joel's lips quirk into a sly little smile. "Wanna give it a go, see it in action?"
You can't hide your intrigue as you sit up straighter. The blanket slips off your shoulders. "What do you mean? Do I wanna take a picture?"
"I mean, how 'bout I take your picture?" Joel explains. The tone of his suggestion sounds more decisive and less of a request. He sees the uncertainty on your face and quickly clarifies his words. "A picture of you for me to remember you by. For when I'm at work, or you ain't here."
The sentiment behind his idea makes your cheeks warm. The idea is sweet, romantic. Perhaps Joel is more sentimental than he appears, you think. Your eyes light up and you smile eagerly.
"Okay!" You giggle. "Lemme stand up and get dressed."
"Nah," Joel shakes his head. "Just stay like that. Don't need to wear anythin'."
Your brow creases with confusion and you gesture to your body, still clad only in your bra and panties. "But Joel, I'm almost naked."
Joel sighs - a small sound that borders on mild exasperation. He looks at you with an expression of reproach that makes you feel small and a bit foolish, like you can't quite comprehend something and it frustrates him. You expect him to reprimand you or revert to being curt, like how he spoke about Maude just a few minutes earlier. However, when goes to speak next his voice comes out gentle.
"'S just me, darlin'," Joel assures you smoothly. "Ain't no one gonna see these pictures except me. And I think you look perfect just as you are right now."
Your lips curl into a tiny smile at his praise but you cannot disguise the indecision in your eyes. It isn't that you're ashamed of your body - it is the idea of being half naked and captured, eternalised in a physical medium like a photograph, that makes you slightly uneasy. It almost seems obsence and lewd, as if you're giving a sacred piece of yourself away permanently.
Joel can see your hesitation as clear as day. He narrows his eyes at you and speaks in that rich Texan drawl that sounds so sweetly coaxing, firm yet loving. "Babydoll, you got no reason to be shy. I just wanna have a picture of my pretty girl to look at whenever I want, that's all."
He smirks and gives you a cocky wink. It sends a hot rush of desire to your pussy and you giggle shyly. That's all it takes to win you over.
"Okay, okay, hold on." You clear your throat and wiggle a little to get comfortably posed, back straight and shoulders relaxed, fingers toying nervously with the blanket that covers your legs. Joel watches you, still smirking.
"Good girl. Now show me that sweet smile."
You look directly at Joel and manage a coy smile. He holds the camera up to his eye level and presses the little button to take the picture. The camera flashes for a second and makes a short whirring sound. You're momentarily stunned but laugh. A square strip of white film slides out of the camera and Joel pulls it out.
"That's it? It's all done?"
"Takes a minute to show up," he explains. He sets it on the window sill to develop. You grin and lean back on your palms.
"I hope I look okay."
Joel turns back to you and there is now a hungry, dark look in his eyes. One of his hands still hold the camera while his other hand hangs by his side, flexing slowly. He stares at you silently for a few beats and his jaw ticks.
"How about we try somethin' a little different," Joel murmurs. You recognise that sultry lilt in his voice, the silky drawl that you know means he is thinking of something dirty. "Somethin' a bit more...private, just for me."
You chew your bottom lip, not really sure where his train of thought is leading to. Joel swaggers the few paces over to the bed. You watch the softness of his tummy as he moves, the growing bulge at the crotch of his jeans. You can feel yourself starting to get wet.
Joel stands before you and tilts his head down at you. His hand reaches down and he drags his thumb over your shoulder in soft circles, his eyes roving from your face down to yours breasts, then back up again.
"Uhm, what do you mean?" You ask hesitantly. You're not quite sure what he's alluding to.
Joel smirks. "Well, when I don't got you around, I get a little lonely. I start missin' what we do together...start missin' more than just that pretty face."
You tilt your head to the side so your hair hangs over your shoulder and you grin playfully at him. "Ooooh," you giggle, "what else do you miss?"
"Well, I miss those perfect tits." Joel purrs, his fingers toying with the strap of your bra. "I think about how they feel in my hands, how gorgeous they look bouncin' around when I'm fuckin' you."
His hand shifts down and cups your breast in his palm, his thumb brushing over your nipple underneath the material of your bra. A shiver skates over your body and you moan softly.
"Let me see 'em, baby," Joel commands, slightly breathless. "Take it off and show me."
Joel seems to possess you in these moments, robbing you of rationality and lucidity, consuming and devouring your body until all that is left is a soulless vessel completely fucked out and used. You reach your hands behind your back and unclip your bra. You slide it off your shoulders and discard it on the side of the mattress. Joel inhales audibly and groans lowly at the sight of your bare breasts.
"So gorgeous, sugar." He ghosts the pad of his calloused thumb over one of your nipples, making it pebble. "And all for me, ain't that right?"
"Mm-hm," you nod. Joel gives your nipple a light pinch and you moan again. Your cunt throbs with rapidly growing desire.
Joel takes a step back and nods to the camera. "Gonna take a picture of these pretty titties, baby girl. Play with 'em, want you to feel good while I'm doin' it."
You obey and bring your fingers to tease your nipples, staring up at Joel with your eyes glazed with lust. Joel's own pupils are blown wide as he watches you intently. He grips the hard outline of his cock straining in his jeans.
"Fuck yeah, thats it."
Your heart swells to witness Joel in this moment. It is because of you, because of your body and actions, that Joel looks how he does right now. Hungry, feral, undeniably aroused. The knowledge of this makes you feel powerful and sexy and wanted. It also deepens your own desire for him.
"Take the picture," you purr seductively to Joel.
A growl rumbles in his throat and he holds the camera up once again and directs it at you, then clicks the button. It flashes again and deposits another white square of film out for Joel to accept. This time he holds the picture and watches as the image slowly develops on the page. A wicked grin eventually spreads over his face and he licks his bottom lip.
"Hot little slut for me," Joel rasps. His eyes lift from the photograph back to you. "You like makin' me happy, don't you, babydoll?"
You nod eagerly and squeeze your tits in the palms of your hands. "Yes, daddy, I do."
"Look how pretty you are." Joel holds the picture out towards you and you sit up on your knees to reach over and accept it from him.
You gasp when you see it. You are instantly shocked. But God, you're also so turned on. The photograph shows you sat on the bed but only from the waist up, omiting the blanket covering your lower half so it appears you're completely naked. Your eyes twinkle and your mouth is parted slightly, somehow exuding wanton sensuality and natural sweetness all at once. Your breasts look round and soft while your fingers play with your nipples. It's fucking hot.
"I look good," you whisper incredulously.
"Told ya, baby." Joel chuckles. "Don't stop now. Gonna prove how fuckin' sexy you are, how crazy you make me."
You would have never dreamed of doing such a thing before. It is debauched and so exciting, like a dirty secret, and you feel emboldened by the boost of dopamine. You toss the picture on the bed and flip your hair over your shoulder.
"Show me, daddy. What do you want me to do now?"
Joel does not reply. Instead, he strides to the bed and swiftly grabs a hold of the back of your head to pull you into a passionate kiss. It takes you by surprise but when he pushes his tongue into your mouth with desperation, you moan with pleasure and wrap your arms tightly around his neck. Joel's tongue laps at yours in thick strokes, moaning low and growly as he savours your taste. You crumble against him, surrending once more to his will.
He is more than happy to show you, to prove to you how much he desires you. How you will always belong to only him.
******
In the couple of days following his return, Joel noticed subtle differences about you that had developed during his time away. He noted the tint of colour on the apples of your cheeks. He could feel the slightest bit of extra softness to your flesh, as if you'd been eating a little more lately. You were smiling more often, too.
If Joel didn't know you, he would've guessed you had been fucked really good and had some kind of post orgasm euphoria. But he did know you, and he knew that wasn't a possiblity. You were his good girl.
You couldn't be pregnant, either. Joel loosely tracked your cycles along with you so he knew when you were ovulating and when he would have to settle for a blowjob instead of risking impregnating you. He knew the changes in you weren't due to any kind of pregnancy glow.
So just why you were more spirited than you had ever been before, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was because that stupid wedding you were so excited about was happening soon. Or maybe it was because Christmas was approaching. Joel remembered how much you liked baking during the festive season, how much you relished gifting your friends homemade treats like gingerbread men. Whatever the reason, it didn't really matter. Pretty soon, Joel was going to make sure you wouldn't be preoccupied with anything else except pleasing him.
******