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In the box	By : LuluDreams Category: S through Z > YOU Views: 113 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: all characters belong just and only to the marvelous Caroline Kepnes, Netflix etc, I just own my sick ideas, lol

Chapter List
- 1-The radio squawked
- 1
Setting: Season 5, between episode 1 and before the ending of episode 4, it depends by the shot, they don't have a chronological order.

Pairing: Joe/Bronte
Hello everyone, I know I’ve already another story about those two going on (although probably it’s an epic fail, judging by the lacking feedback ^^’ ), but this is another idea that hit me, also thanks to a challenge.
By the way, the title of every one shot is the prompt of said challenge.
Plus, it’s sort of fun to be the only one who writes about those two XD

Warning: when its about Joe’s fantasies things could become rather hot, you know the pervy he is, lol ;P
Disclaimer: all characters belong just and only to the marvelous Caroline Kepnes, Netflix etc, I just own my sick ideas, lol
Uh, another thing: please, be kind, English is not my native language (actually I would need some beta reader’s help), sorry for possible mistakes.

The radio squawked

You said this morning you couldn’t come here to work.
There was no need for me to follow you, because, contrary to many others girls before you, you told me the truth: there was another estate sale, this time for antique pieces and you would have liked to have a look.

How did I know it was the truth?
Well, because this morning I’ve followed you, just until I was sure you were heading there… but that was not the point.
This only proved how much I could trust you, Bronte, so I was not going to follow you the next time you would tell me you wanted to go to some place.
Well….maybe.

And when you got back, you were holding something, but it was covered, as if you didn’t want to show me what it was.
Just when you decided you had found the perfect spot, aka a small round table in the center of the shop, you took away the shopping bag, revealing it.

“Look at this jewel, Joe, isn't it just perfect? Vintage calls Vintage!” You chirped, as happy as a kid.

In a word, cute.

I inspected the item that towered over the table.
It was one of those classical Vintage radios. Dark brown outside, light brown inside, rectangular, with two knobs at the side.
It was a jewel, indeed.

“You know, Bronte, I must admit it’s a perfect match for the casebound covers of the books on that shelf, they have almost the same colour.” I commented, rather pleased.

“I know, right?” You beamed, so proud of yourself for your indisputable good taste.

“Okay, very nice purchase. The radio can stay. Switch it on now, so we can hear some music.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“Wait, what? Do you even want to switch it on?”

“Sure, why not? I bet that the customers will also appreciate some good music.”

“Well, it could distract them from the reading.” You bit your lips in such an irresistible way.

- No, please, don’t do it; it’s dangerous! - Was what I thought, agitated.

“Well, it’s a bookstore, not a damn library. I expect the customers to buy the books here, not just read them and walk away!” Was what I replied, keeping my inner instinct at bay.

“Well, it didn’t seem important to me, actually I didn’t ask the seller if it still works; I thought you would appreciate it simply as a vintage piece of furniture.” You babbled, half nervous, half panic stricken.

You don’t like letting me down.

“Instead, guess what, Bronte? I don’t mind things that work!”

Was I referring to us then? Maybe.

“Okay, okay, let’s find out.” You gave in, turning the knobs, before switching the radio on.

And the music filled the store, much to your relief.

But it was temporary, just a few seconds after, it started squawking.

“Well, save for this little noise here and there, it is not that bad.” You shrugged, acting with no chalance, something you are very good at.

“Are you kidding? This is fucking cacophony!” I struck back, as I covered my ears with my hands, before switching the hellish thing off.

“I’m so sorry, Joe, I was sure I was doing something that would make you happy,” you murmured, upset. “Here, let me take it back to the seller, maybe I’ll get the money back…”

You were about to lift it from the table, in order to put it back into the bag, but I grabbed it at the very same time, to prevent you from doing that.
And our hands got in touch for a fraction of a second.
Sparks of what could have turned into a devouring fire.

However, I managed to snatch the radio from your hands.

“No, please, Bronte, don’t. There’s no need to be so dramatic, maybe I can try to fix it.”

“But it’s not a ripped book.” You made me notice.

Oh, your naivety is so pretty.

“Well, maybe I'm a man full of resources.” I smirked, walking towards a closet where I took my DIY toolbox.

I chose the most suitable screwdriver and opened the little lid that allowed me to inspect the transmitter.

A book is always the answer; but since right then I couldn't have a physical instruction manual, I got content with a virtual one.

“If this taught you how to open a padlock, it can teach me how to repair a radio!” I waved the ‘WikiHow’ page in front of you, making you laugh.

Oh god, you’re so beautiful when you laugh.

Luckily for me, I’ve always been a fast and clever student, so it didn’t take long before I made that knowledge mine.

I just had to figure out which was the transmitter antenna and the demodulator and work a bit on them both, trying to tighten or loosen them. I also cleaned them a bit, for good measures.

And I could feel your eyes on me, all time long, as I was engrossed in the fixing, with screwdriver, clamps and a magnifier.

You did crave me, Bronte, didn't you?

“It seems funny, I want to try it too.” you said, out of the blue, and before I could realize it, your hand was grabbing the screwdriver, right above my hand.
You were holding so tight.
Then you raised your gaze and looked at me so eagerly, adding fuel to the fire that was already surging in me.

I made you turn some random screws that wouldn’t have changed anything, just for the sake of it, and then I put the lid back on the rear of the radio, and we fastened it together.

“The moment of truth.” You singsonged, switching the radio on and it rewarded us with a clear sound.

As clear as your eyes made of sky that were still focusing on me.

“Well, well, Joe Goldberg, do you have any other hidden talent, perhaps?” You asked me, the tip of your tongue so damn slowly caressing your upper lip, your eyes locked with mine so deep you could read my soul.

It was such a delightful invitation, I couldn’t refuse it.

One second later, I was crushing my lips on yours, our tongues battling fiercely, our mouths devouring each other.
There was no need for delicacy with you, because you were burning with my same ravaging desire.

As our savage kiss went on, your hands played with my hair, while, with much less poetry from me, I preferred grabbing your tonic ass though the fabric of your flappy, floreal miniskirt.

Not that you were going to wear it for any longer.

My bold third finger slipped under your panties, proving how much you were ready for me.

“Oh, Joe, please, take me now!” You begged me, nibbling at my ear and not even very gently.

Geez, if possible after that I have become even harder for you.

And probably you figured it out on your own, after grabbing my crotch, through my jeans.

All it took was for us to look at each other to understand we wanted the very same thing.

We were still standing still as you eagerly dealt with the belt of my jeans.

I lowered both your skirt and panties, you kicked them out of your aknles and helped you get rid of my jeans. Our kissing never stopped.

Once I was wearing only my dark blue shirt and black boxers and, you, your white tank top, I lifted you and your legs wrapped around my waist, as if they always belonged there.

Everything felt so scarily natural between us.

Oh, Bronte, I couldn’t wait to make you mine, to give you all I had to give.

We both were gasping, panting, sweating and so eager for more.

That was only the beginning.

The flawless music had been our sexy background for all the time.

The radio didn’t squeak anymore, but our mattress would, If I had got you into bed.

For that time the carpet on the floor would do.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I take a deep breath and relax a bit, walking around the private room of my bookstore, before sitting back at the desk and checking what I’ve typed so far.

And since it ends with my right hand mucking around in my boxers, it means I did a rather good job.

And this is what I got only for glancing at a window of an electronic second hand shop whileI was taking a walk with Kate, this afternoon.
And she didn’t notice that, of course, she barely sees me in these last days, why should she ever care about what I pay attention to?

And I did find something -or rather someone - worthy of all my attention.

Oh, Bronte, what are you doing to me?

As much as I’m really tempted, I can’t risk this much for you, there’s too much at stake.
My son. My marriage. My reputation of a caring, good husband and father.

But nothing prevents me from keeping you in the box, a safe place where no one will ever find us.

So long and goodbye, till my next sexual fantasy about us.

And, please, next time wear one of those of your cardigans, you have no idea how much they turn me on.

--

THE END
Notes:
I hope you'll like it, if I don't ask you much, leave a tiny little comment , although I don't have great expectations, almost no one likes this pairing ^^' , but I'll go on with my battle, LOL
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In the box

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