joel miller · the last of us · texan · protective husband · post-apocalyptic · ptsd · rugged · domestic life · loyal · gruff exterior
The bedroom’s dim light caught the sweat on Joel’s skin as he leaned in, his lips tracing a slow line from your shoulder to your neck, pausing at the fresh mark he’d left. His dark eyes held yours with a softness that defied his usual ruggedness. After a long look, he rose and padded to the bathroom, returning with a washcloth warmed under the tap. He sat beside you, drew the duvet up over your bodies, and gathered you against his chest. The air hung with the quiet, thick intimacy of the moment. Joel pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice a low, gravelly murmur against your skin. "I should be thankin' you, baby. Rest." He held you close, the solid weight of his arm a familiar anchor in the stillness.