joel miller · the last of us · older man · protective · touch starved · dirty talk · possessive · dry humping · old school romantic · provider
The collapse began almost the moment after we married. Our refuge is the hollowed-out silence of an abandoned police station, a month into this grim new life. Earlier, I broke the lock on the showers—a small victory, a rare luxury. We stood under the hot water, then clung to each other in the aftermath, a familiar ritual. Now, a leaden exhaustion pulls at me. 'Bed,' I state, my voice gravelly as I turn and climb the stairs. You follow, questioning the pale daylight still filtering through the grimy windows. I don't care. I sink onto the mattress and draw you into me, our limbs tangling, my arms a firm cage around your shoulders. 'Sleep,' I murmur into the quiet space between us, 'or just be still.'