grumpy and irresistible - joel miller. (pt 2)
The first time changed everything.
You both pretended it didn’t. At first.
After that night, nothing was said. No what does this mean?, no should we talk about it?—just another morning, another day of walking, another city to pass through.
But things were different.
Because it happened again.
It was never planned, never talked about. Just something that built between you, something thick and heavy that neither of you could hold back. It happened in the dead of night, in the soft glow of a dying fire, in the cramped spaces of abandoned houses, in moments when exhaustion and tension cracked open just enough to let something else slip through.
Joel never said much, but his body spoke for him. The way he held you down, the way he groaned your name into your skin, the way he fucked you like he needed you—like he couldn’t stop himself.
That became obvious in the little things.
Like how he let you sleep against him afterward. How his hands, rough and calloused, ran up and down your spine absentmindedly. How, instead of pushing you away in the mornings, he started waking up with his arm still around you.
He didn’t talk about it. Didn’t try to define it. But he didn’t stop, either.
He still sighed when you wandered too far ahead. Still grumbled when you talked too much. Still muttered, pain in my ass, under his breath when you teased him too hard.
But his touch had changed.
He was always touching you now.
Not just when you were tangled together under a blanket, not just when his hands were gripping your waist, pulling you down onto his cock, not just when his fingers were buried in your hair as he kissed you senseless.
His hand on your lower back when he guided you forward. His fingers brushing against yours when he handed you something. The way he sat closer now, close enough that his thigh pressed against yours.
And he didn’t seem to realize he was doing it.
The fire was burning low, crackling between you, and you were both full—for once. Joel had managed to hunt a rabbit earlier, and now, with warm food in your stomach, with the stars hanging low and bright overhead, everything felt softer.
Joel sat against a tree, his legs stretched out, his arms resting on his stomach. He looked relaxed, eyes half-lidded, watching the fire dance.
You sat beside him, knees pulled up to your chest, the warmth of him just inches away. You could feel his body heat radiating toward you, familiar, steady.
You sighed, leaning your head back against the tree. "Feels nice," you murmured.
Joel hummed in agreement, his fingers twitching slightly against his stomach. Then, after a moment, he shifted, stretching his arm out behind you—casually, like he wasn’t thinking about it.
You hid your smirk, letting your head tilt to the side, just enough to rest against his shoulder.
Joel didn’t move. Didn’t tense. Didn’t pull away.
Instead, his fingers moved. Light, slow strokes along the back of your neck.
You let your eyes flutter closed, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath you.
"Joel," you whispered, teasing.
"You’re touching me again."
You grinned, biting your lip. "You like touching me."
He sighed heavily, fingers still trailing lazily over your skin. "Pain in my ass."
But it didn’t sound like an insult. It sounded like something else. Something softer.
You shifted, stretching your legs out, moving even closer. You turned your face into his shoulder, pressing a small, absentminded kiss to the fabric of his shirt. Just a little thing. Nothing serious. Nothing big.
Then, so quietly you almost missed it—
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your heartbeat suddenly loud in your ears.
Joel was staring into the fire, his jaw clenched slightly, his expression unreadable.
But you saw the way his fingers tightened on your shoulder.
The way his throat bobbed when he swallowed.
The way he knew what he just said.
"Joel," you whispered, a teasing lilt to your voice, because you had to push him. "What did you just call me?"
"Don’t." His voice was gruff, warning.
"You called me baby," you pressed, lips twitching into a grin. "You never call me that."
Joel sighed, running a hand over his face. "Jesus Christ."
"You did!" You laughed now, nudging him with your shoulder. "You called me baby!"
"Joel." You turned your body toward him now, hands braced on his chest, climbing onto his lap, straddling him. His hands immediately gripped your hips, his fingers pressing into your skin like muscle memory.
"Say it again," you whispered, your nose brushing against his.
His eyes flickered to your lips.
You watched his throat move as he swallowed.
And then—softer this time, like he wasn’t even aware he was saying it—
Something warm, something impossible, spread through your chest.
Your smile softened, your fingers tracing over his jaw, feeling the roughness of his beard beneath your touch.
"You’re getting soft on me, Miller," you murmured.
His hands squeezed your hips, his lips twitching. "The fuck I am."
You grinned, tilting your head. "Liar."
Joel exhaled sharply, shaking his head. But he didn’t deny it.
Didn’t stop you when you leaned in, pressing your lips to his, slow and deep, his breath hitching just the way you loved.
Didn’t stop himself from kissing you back.
And when you pulled away, when you traced your fingers over his chest and whispered, Say it again, he didn’t even hesitate.
And that’s when you knew.
