Warnings for sexy times and angst.

She presses her mouth to his with a surprising amount of gentleness; almost tender as she cups his face in her hands and deepens the kiss. His hands find her hips instinctively - it's no surprise to anyone that Tess likes being on top -, and the man pulls her down into his lap as her tongue lashes across his lower lip before she's got it between her teeth.

Tenderness gone - Tess back in play.

He's not one to sit idle - he can't possibly with the way Tess is rolling her hips against him. Christ, he forgets how dominating she can be; and how much muscle control she has in the lower extremities of her body. He grunts into her mouth when her hand slips between them, pulling his mouth from hers to suck in a breath and to grasp at her hand. He fumbles for a breath, glaring mildly at the way Tess curls her hand into the hair at the back of his head, twirling his thick hair around her fingers guiltlessly.

"Careful now," he warns her gruffly, manhandling her back around until he's pressed into the warm plane of her back. "Wouldn't want the party to end before it's really started, do ya?"

Tess snorts, arching her back into him and wriggling backwards eagerly as his hands come up to cup her breasts. "You startin' to feel your age there, Joel?" she quips dryly, jolting when he pinches a nipple punishingly. She bares her teeth and hisses, but there is no retribution from her when his fingers circle the tender skin.

"Ain't nothin' old about me, sweetheart, I guarantee you." His beard tickles against her shoulder, his mouth presses promising kisses along her skin; from the back of her ear, down to her jaw, lingering longest on the scar that's mostly healed where her neck and shoulder meet. She stiffens in his hold, but he soothes her gently with his hands. "S'alright, s'okay. It's just another battle scar, right? Just another shitstorm you got through."

She hates that she can't breathe right; hates how her throat clogs and how she can't see right through the tears in her eyes. She hates Joel for being Joel - for being such a great fucking guy that she sometimes wants to kick in the head and cuddle in bed at other times. That's always been a trait she finds infuriating in him; she knows he's got a temper like she does, knows he can be a complete dick when he wants to be, but that's the thing, right? He chooses not to be. Joel's the quiet guy, the deep guy from the South made of little words and big actions and a lot of beard.

Good guy Joel; won't say nothin' against ya, but he'll pump you full of lead.

She hates how much he knows her, trusts her, accepts her fuck-ups and flaws like everything's okay and it's no big deal that she walks around killing people for a living, or that she almost turned into a mindless walking disease. She'd convinced herself he wasn't coming back to Boston; she was so sure he'd found someplace better to settle - found a pretty little thing to settle down with and didn't look back. Not once did she ever entertain the idea of him dying - Joel's just too damn stubborn to die, but she was so sure he'd finally opened his eyes to better choices, better things than living in that shithole of an apartment with her and blasting people's heads in for a living.

She's been expecting it from him since they became partners.

But damn it all to hell - Joel came back. Joel came back and he's settling with her.

Things happen a lot faster than she anticipates them; she's so busy trying to make sense of her brain that she completely blanks out when he's inside her suddenly - one hand palming her breast possessively and his teeth marking her skin on her unmarked shoulder. She has to grip the sides of the bathtub to keep from gasping out loud; swallowing her moans and leaning back into Joel's flexing hips.

It doesn't occur to her how much she's missed him - just how much he's been her entire life for a good decade or so, or how much she's needed to feel him next to her again. She forgets how good he is with his hands, his mouth, his body in general; how quickly he can go from brutal killer to gentle lover or to the rough and tumble that she likes best when her head's swimming in the whiskey or tequila.

This time around, he's gentle but urgent; he pays such a close attention to her body it makes her see spots. It's like he's memorizing her body, taking her in, programming her into his senses to keep locked away forever.

She grips the tub so tight her knuckle white-out, but Joel takes the stone grip into his own hands, braves them as he whispers sweet nothings into her ear, coaxing her further, pushing her as far as she can go. It's maybe not as gentlemanly, but he comes first with the sigh of her name on his lips; he makes sure she follows suit immediately if not sooner.

When the first waves of pleasure hit her, the dam breaks loose, and Tess is mortified with herself when the tears start to fall and the sobs come through. He wraps himself around her like a physical barrier against everything else; a barrier to the world they live in and to all things that can hurt her, rocking her gently as she sniffles and sobs and presses her mouth to his arm to keep them from coming through.

"God damn you, Joel, god fucking damn you," it's a miserable quivering whimper, but he presses his mouth to the side of her face, murmurs in his low quiet voice soothingly as she pulls his arms tighter around her shoulders.

He lets her bite him hard enough to bruise and he takes it with nothing but a flinch and more sweet nothings, because he knows Tess needs it. She needs to hurt him or she's gonna figure out a way to hurt herself along the way. His own heart is pounding in his chest and it's got nothing to do with the sex, but it's got everything to do with her.

Tess.

Goddamn Tess.

Living, breathing, crying Tess in his arms. Sitting in the cooling water with him and getting wrinkly fingers and toes with him as her tears mingle into the water around them. Tess he's had nightmares about watching die; about failing her just the same as he did Sarah - about wishing it was him all over again.

Tess who has been alone all this while; Tess who made camp in his old apartment and watched and waited for him to come back, to find out if he's alive and okay and better off somewhere.

His partner Tess.

His Tess.

Very suddenly it's hard for him to breathe as well.

He takes her to bed again that night.

They both know there's a difference with this time and all the other times; they feel it in their bones and in the way they take their time - the way Tess actually lets him take the lead all the way and actually feels damn good about it too. The way he hovers over her like a big warm dream, caressing her face, touching her hair, kissing her lips, her cheek, her jaw; making her feel everything he can't say out loud because he's too fucking afraid to.

The way he presses himself to her, chest to chest, hip to hip, like he can't get near enough to her. He can't get enough of her. The way she whimpers and keens and gasps into his shoulder; sinks her nails into his back and pulls him to her so desperately when she comes. The way she stutters his name - it's all over for him then.

He holds her in his arms like he's afraid she'll disappear if he lets her go, and Tess seems to have similar thoughts; she's pressed into his side, wrapped into his arms and locking her leg into his like an anchor. Like she's afraid she'll wake up and he won't be there, and this will be some sick and twist dream she's conjured up after finishing the whiskey again.

For the first time in months, they sleep through the night. No nightmares, no screaming in the dark.

Just them.

Just Joel and Tess.

So, here is the question. End it here, or get the full half-assed rest of the two chapters I'm ashamed to post because my brain was far more interested in crying from the TLOU documentary and listening to Troy Baker sing?