Usually you couldn’t get enough of Joel’s gravelly baritone, but in that moment, it reverberated inside your head far too loudly. Another pained whine rolled from your throat as you covered your ears. “Joel, please be quiet…”, you mumbled, eyes screwed shut. By now, Joel had made his way around the leather couch and was stood in front of you, peering down with his burly arms crossed over his chest. A sympathetic smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, a much quieter grumble passing his lips.

“C’mon sweetheart, tuck those legs up ‘n’ lemme sit next to you.”

With a groan and a concerted amount of effort on your part, you pulled your legs up toward your torso. Joel slumped into the space on the couch that your legs had previously occupied before patting his lap.

“Atta girl. You can lay ‘em back down now.”

Another groan later and your legs were strewn over thick denim-covered thighs. A calloused hand worked itself slowly over your shins, another resting on the meat of your thigh, tracing soft patterns into the skin there. It worked wonders at relieving some of the discomfort brought on by the full body ache you endured; a soft, appreciative sigh lilting from you. The delicate sound elicited a smile from your newfound masseuse.

“That feel good, baby?”

All you could muster was a slow, appreciative nod - even that made your head throb with the motion. Joel hummed, apparently satisfied with the response. His hands continued to work your aching limbs with a featherlight touch, each stroke of a palm causing you to somehow slump deeper into the upholstery beneath you. Despite the persistent pounding behind your eyes, you felt more relaxed than you had in hours.

“Skin’s burnin’ up, baby. You’re real poorly, aren’t ya?”

You couldn’t help it – the opportunity to be babied presented itself on a gleaming pedestal at his softly spoken words. Pouting your bottom lip, forcing your eyes to open just slightly in order to look over at him, you nodded once again. This was your area of expertise; you knew the man like the back of your hand, and shit, you were going to use it. Your eyes followed Joel’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard, his own eyes fixed on the glistening pink lip you stuck out at him. The hand resting on your thigh squeezed ever so gently.

“Don’t gimme that look, pretty girl…”

There was an unconvincing firmness to the rumbling voice; you could practically hear the cogs whirring and winding in his head as he toyed with the moral grey area your expression posed to him, contemplating on whether he should look after you, or look after you. Honestly, you weren’t sure what you’d prefer either.

 “Dunno what you mean…”, you whispered, your throat scratching and adding to the needy tone you took. You could tell that it would only be a matter of time before he took the bait as he removed the hand from your shins to rub the back of his neck.

“Y’know damn well what I mean, baby.”

He was right, you were all too aware of the effect that you were having on him; a familiar firmness pressing against your calf as it rested in his lap. It did nothing but spur you on, as you intentionally dragged your leg lazily over the growing bulge in his jeans. He squeezed your thigh again, his grip firmer, a small grunt rumbling from this throat as he did so. Joel moved, as if to kiss you, but you held up an arm in protest and turned your head. “Don’t need you getting sick as well”, you said softly, not wanting to offend as you resisted his efforts.

Joel smirked as he retreated, a devious twinkle residing deep in his eyes as he looked you over. The gaze he had over you made your stomach knot with anticipation; you’d reeled him in with your performance – hook, line and sinker.

“You want me to look after you, sweet girl?”

Something had shifted in his tone; the question was just as endearing as before, but now laced with intent as his voice dropped an octave. A plush pink tongue swept over his bottom lip as he let his eyes scan over you. Joel shifted underneath your legs, palming your thighs in opposite directions until one slunk off the couch. “W-What are you doing? I said I don’t want you getting sick”, you half-protested.

“Ain’t gonna get sick if I stay down here now will I?”

The logic behind Joel’s question was hazy at best, but like fuck were you going to argue, especially as he lowered his head down to press gentle kisses along the inner thigh of the leg that remained on the couch. The caress of his lips against such sensitive skin sent shockwaves straight to the building heat between your legs. A heady sigh left your now-parted lips.

Fingers tucked themselves under the waistband of your pale blue cotton shorts, coaxing the garment along your legs until they were able to be discarded. The same followed with your underwear, though once removed, the motherfucker brought them to his face to inhale deeply, a growl of desire echoing from him as he did so. Any semblance of taking it easy and resting was long gone.

Who were you to try and deny the beautiful man between your legs access? Your leg propped up onto his shoulder and you were swiftly rewarded for your cooperation as Joel pursed his lips around the skin of your inner thigh, sucking until a small purple welt bloomed there. Kisses trailed higher, wet and firm, until he looked up just as he was about to reach where you needed him most.

“Sweet girl, shoulda told me you needed me this much. Woulda kissed her better if I knew she’d been cryin’ like this the whole time.”

The rich brown hue of Joel’s eyes was hardly visible; stretched into a slender ring around his blown pupils. Joel adored eating you out - it was the perfect combination of low physical effort and high reward. Of course he loved fucking you, but his knees weren’t quite what they used to be in his thirties. Spread out in front of him, Joel could lay down and make you see stars without having to pace himself.

He blew a cold stream of air against your clit, making your hips roll gratuitously toward his mouth. A dark chuckle replaced the cold gust with warmth as he remained hovered over your slick cunt, amused by your eagerness.

“Stay still baby. Ya gotta rest; can’t take care of you if you’re fidgetin’.”

You couldn’t help the small whimper that passed your lips as a strong hand splayed over your hip, pressing down and pinning you in place. Ever the tease, Joel kept his eyes locked on yours as he lowered his head, painstakingly slow, until contact was made.

He pressed his tongue, flat and wide, against your pussy before dragging from your entrance all the way to your clit. If there was any doubt in your mind about how much Joel enjoyed the act, it was swiftly removed as his groan of pleasure harmonised with the breathy moan that was forced from your mouth. Moustache now glistening, he raised his head once more as he spoke.

“Taste so fuckin’ good baby, so sweet. Gonna give me toothache.”

The man all but moaned the words at you before diving back down between your legs, ravenous after the taste he’d just had. As he lapped hungrily at your core, you saw his hips rolling against the cushion of the couch. It was downright pornographic, as was the moan that you let out as his tongue worked its way back up to your throbbing clit.

You reached an eager hand into the salt-and-pepper curls that littered the crown of his head, threading your fingers in between the strands and tugging just so. Too invested in the sensation of your needy pussy against his tongue, he opted to groan against you, not wanting to break contact for even a second. The gentle vibration that the sound produced was better than any archaic sex toy you’d been able to find whilst scavenging in the city.

Your spine arched off of the leather, your hips still held down firmly with one hand, like a territorial dog resource-guarding its favourite meal.

“God damn, pretty girl. Gonna make a mess of you.”

“That’s it, lemme hear ya.”

“Such a good girl for me, darlin’.”

The filth that reached your ears only departed Joel’s slick-covered mouth when he came up for air momentarily. You could feel the coil in the pit of your stomach getting wound tighter and tighter; each flick of his tongue over your clit punctuated with a whispered moan of your name sending your mind and body into overdrive. The way he said your name was akin to a prayer whispered amongst pews, as if your cunt alone was the man’s saving grace.

The obscene visual of Joel grinding his hips desperately into the worn brown leather couch was the last straw. Your fingers, still interwoven in his hair, stiffened and pulled as your mind stilled, thoughts replaced in their entirety by blinding pleasure. Whimpering, your thighs trembled and Joel grunted against you, working you through your orgasm.

After ensuring that every aftershock of euphoria had been acknowledged and attended to, Joel reluctantly lifted himself from between your legs. The space between his nose and chin glistened, a testament to his devotion in getting you off. “Y-You’re far too good at that…”, you trailed off, something distracting you before you could finish your sentence.

Joel sat himself upright, snuggling himself back under your legs as he had done earlier, his cheeks flushed as he grinned at you.

“Pleasure’s all mine, baby.”

And you believed it; the small damp patch in the front of his jeans that you’d noticed just moments ago going unmentioned - he looked far too proud of himself to tease him about it right this second.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(gif isn’t mine, but sorry can you not imagine how delicious that face would look with a damp sheen over his mouth??? i’m unwell)

Each Friday, you shimmy into a too short dress and make the long drive out to the club, far enough away from the town you live and work in to avoid anyone you might know. 

You smoke, and drive with the windows down, listening to the ancient rattle of the engine, the whine that sounds like a threat, the slow buckling of delicate machinery. 

The very last thing you can afford is a mechanic. The tenuous tightrope you walk would snap beneath your feet, send you plummeting into the abyss of true financial disaster. 

It makes you sick, a curl of dread settling in your chest, writhing in the pit of your stomach along with all your other woes, until you turn on the radio to drown out the thoughts, drown out the sound of the failing engine. 

One wrong move and your whole life collapses before your eyes. The shame that wells up into the back of your throat is debilitating, to have to return home and look your mother in the eyes and say she was right, going to school was a fool’s dream, a mistake that could fill oceans of other worlds. 

So each Friday, you swing through the doors of the club, little red purse on your shoulder, fingers adjusting the hem of your dress that barely covers your ass, ready to work. 

Since meeting Joel, things have been a little easier. He tips well and you’ve been able to afford better groceries, have time to relax on Saturdays because you don’t need to work again. 

He pays you so much, you feel guilty for accepting it. Then nauseated because you’d fucked him for it, and finally shame for the whole terrible cycle. Guilt for being paid, when he was the one seeking out a whore in the first place. 

Still, he’s gallant compared to most and you don’t dare to let yourself assume Joel will be there. 

But each Friday, Joel is already there, patiently waiting for you at the bar like he never left in the first place. 

The static edges of your brain immediately settle, your worries fade from your mind. It gives you one less thing to fret over. Joel is familiar now. You know how to handle him, what he probably wants you to say and do, what gets him off the quickest, what he enjoys the most. 

You don’t have to try on a new personality, carefully consider and construct each word you speak, be the fantasy they want for a few hours. 

With Joel that all sloughs away. You don’t have to think for the next few hours. 

You aren’t willing to admit to yourself that you hardly put up a front with Joel. Often, the real parts of you unspool in his lap, your real worries and fears, desires and wants. He satisfies you like no man ever has, and you’ve told him things you don’t dare speak aloud in your real life. 

Crystal chastises you, reminds you of the few things she’d taught you, the few rules that get her through this life unscathed, the first night you tossed yourself to the wolves and got burned. 

They’re all the same. And if you start to think a man isn’t, he’ll just disappoint you. Her brow had lifted, lips puckering around a cigarette. Or break your heart. 

Chastity, on the other hand, seems to think you’re in the beginnings of a Pretty Woman situation. She’s a romantic and not yet broken, peering out at the world through rose colored glasses, even here. 

She encourages you. Even keeps Joel company until you get there some evenings, when you’re late on purpose just to see what he’ll do, half hoping sometimes that Crystal will smile and say someone else took him home with a knowing glint in her eyes.

But he’s always there, waiting patiently, guiding you out with a hand softly laid against your back, finger tracing your spine. 

This evening, Joel is nowhere to be seen. 

You’ve stalled long enough that Crystal stopped by the bar. She’d dug her nails into your arm and cautioned you again against relying on one man, smoke from her cigarette billowing into your face. “What are you going to do? Go home empty handed and cry? He isn’t here. Get over it and get on your knees.” 

You’d shaken her off roughly. “I’m deciding.” 

“Baby this is the busiest we’ve been in months. Take your fucking pick, huh?” Her cigarette ash had landed on your arm before she spun away, angry for god knows what reason. 

Five minutes have passed since then, time allotted to yourself to cool down and stop the shaking in your hands, overstimulated from the amount of people in the room, Crystal’s closeness. 

The room sways with heat, bodies jostling in cresting waves around you, bathed in unholy red light, neon and flashing. One of the dancers takes her top off and the din of men roaring at her makes something better ignored twists in your gut. 

Before you can go work the crowd, a man sidles up to the bar, a beer bottle already in hand. You don’t look at him but you can feel his gaze, appraising, assessing. 

You can’t wait any longer than you already have for Joel so you push your chest out and squeeze in your elbows. You let out a dreamy little sigh that sounds more like a moan, so your tits lift and fall, strain against the neck of your top. 

The neckline of your dress is low, plunging between your breasts, already not much left to the imagination. 

“Well, look at you. You don’t look like you’ve been run through yet.” 

Men have said much worse to you. The disgust you feel barely registers, so it doesn’t show on your face, in your body language. 

Not that he would notice if it did. 

Instead, you assess him quickly. 

What kind of woman did he want you to be? More like what kind of girl. He clearly thinks you’re young, maybe new to the job, naive even. 

You giggle and turn toward him, fluttering your lashes. “Am I being that obvious?” 

“Nah,” his eyes flick over you, hungry and wolfish in the dim, ruby light. “I’m just no stranger to a whore. How old are you, honey?” 

Joel had once asked you the same question, though in a different tone, an agonizing, guilty one. This man clearly has no such qualms. 

The back of his free hand presses into your thigh, sliding back and forth over your skin. His touch feels wrong, after so many weeks with only one man, too warm and a little damp and uncomfortable.

His hand looks ancient against your skin, leathery and unforgiving; the skin between the fingers dry and cracked. 

Joel’s broad palms flit to the forefront of your mind, the familiar creases and grooves, scarred and seasoned and skilled. You dream of those hands, long for their firm touch on your skin, between your legs and in your mouth.

You like the way Joel’s hands look against your skin, aged by not old. 

You push Joel from your mind and keep your eyes down, blinking shyly. Nineteen year old you, new to this, embarrassed at being called a whore maybe. “Just turned nineteen last week.”

“Well happy birthday, sweetheart.” 

You giggle again and fidget a little when he curls his hand around your leg, then shifts his fingers to the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt. Testing you, seeing if you’d squirm.

You do a little and he grins. “You like that?” 

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly and turn toward him. “I could, um, I could make you feel good too?” 

“Aw,” he lifts his hand to run a finger along your cheek, the edge of your mouth. “How many men you fucked so far?”

You count on your fingers, pretending to think. In your peripheral vision, you watch his grin grow. “Four? So far. But one of them fucked me a couple times.” Your voice is bright, a little defensive of your single digit number. 

“Only need one hand to count ‘em all up? You are green, girl.” 

He releases his beer and runs his finger along the bust of your dress. Crimson light pulses over his face, convulsive and metamorphic. His touch makes your skin crawl, beads of moisture slip over his fingers and onto your skin. 

It’s unpleasant to say the least. The wooden bar feels far away and sticky beneath your elbow, his touch rough and demanding when he gropes you, pinching your nipple. 

You moan quietly, biting your lip until he releases you.  “Oh, I guess so.” 

This corner of the bar is dark, and although the club is packed, there’s a breadth of space between you and the next person at the bar. It’s clear he wants to look at your tits, so you turn toward him, your back to the crowd, and push your chest into his hands. 

“And so fuckin’ sweet,” his hand trails higher on your leg. A familiar floating feeling overcomes you, your mind slipping away from your body, the comfortable distance your mind provides from the world. Only distantly do you realize you haven’t felt that with Joel in awhile. “You wanna suck my cock and I’ll be your lucky number five?” 

“Yes,” you murmur.

He laughs and squeezes you hard. “How much you cost?”

You open your mouth when you catch sight of a familiar shadow across the room. Joel, ever faithful, apparently, just a little late.

Dizzying relief washes over you, followed by a self loathing so intense you feel it curdle and squirm in your belly.”

You widen your eyes at him, then glance away. If you want me, come get me. 

The man next to you doesn’t notice, too busy staring at your chest, sliding one finger beneath the neck of your dress, pinching your bare nipple when he gets to it, muttering in your ear about fucking you right here, showing everyone what a little slut you are. His breath is hot on your skin. 

A shadow falls over you. 

“Howdy, Cherry.” 

“Joel!” You jerk back in feigned surprise. 

The man releases you reluctantly, hand sliding back from your leg and chest. Your chest feels sore from his clumsy ministrations and not in a pleasant way. “Oh god,” you say, clasping the man’s hand against the counter. “I’m so sorry. I totally forgot I was meeting Joel.” You roll your eyes, the picture of a too ditzy girl. 

“Well, now, honey, see, we already agreed—”

The shadow looming over you seems to grow thicker. Joel’s hand slots firmly against your back. 

The man clears his throat, “Hey all right, I get it.” He looks at you again, one last soul sucking appraisal. “I’ll find you some other time then, baby.” His hand lands on your ass and squeezes before he pulls away.

Joel starts to turn after him, but you hook a hand against his elbow. “No. Don’t, please. That’s just part of it.” 

“He ain’t got the—” 

“Joel.” 

He meets your gaze, eyes flicking over you, assessing for a long moment. “All right. You okay?” 

“Of course I am,” you dismiss. 

You tuck your hand in his elbow and tilt your head toward the door. But he doesn’t budge. “I’m serious.” 

You blink. “So am I, sweetheart. That was nothing.”

“Nothin’,” he scoffs and shakes his head, but gently guides you ahead of him. 

Joel walks you across the crowded club as he has for many, many weeks in a row now. Too many weeks. You feel the penetrating, disapproving gaze of Crystal on your back.

No doubt she saw him start to turn, how defensive the slope of his shoulders have been. It scares you a little, too, that he apparently feels that protective over you. A bigger part of you likes it, feels safe in the cup of his palm. 

The air outside is hot, penetrating in its humidity but not stifling with the acrid tang of sweat and wanting bodies. Spring had long since transitioned to summer. Even there, in the desolation of the long concreted strip of this poor industrial area, you can hear the songs of night bugs. 

“Not everyone is as gentlemanly as you, as I’ve been telling you for many months,” you remind him. “That’s just how they are. They want to treat me like a whore and I let them.” 

Joel’s jaw is clenched tight, and for a moment he doesn’t answer. “Yeah,” he acquiesces when you reach his passenger side door. “Don’t mean it’s right.”

“Remember the night we met? And I said if you were a different kind of man I’d say I was freshly eighteen?” 

“Yeah,” he answers warily. 

You lean against the side of the truck. “Well, he’s that kind of man, sweetheart.”

He’d wanted to defile you, make you feel the grimy life you’d entered into. The worse part was, as used to it as you were, it still would have stung. He still would have made you feel like trash. 

Joel doesn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze persistent in sweeping you from head to toe and back again. You wish he wouldn’t have seen what he did, because it seems to have unsettled him. He buzzes with a violent, rattled energy. “I didn’t like seein’ him touch you like that.” 

Your stomach sours, a pit opening up that your anxiety plummets through. Fuck. You’re ruined in eyes. Can’t pretend you’re anything other than what you are now. 

“I’m sorry you had to,” you breathe. “Really. I thought you weren’t coming. I’m saving to fix my car so—”

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t what I meant.” 

You blink. “What do you mean?”  

He opens the door for you, and, like always, gives you a palm to balance on as you settle into the cab. 

The answer never comes. 

Instead of shutting the door and moving back around the cab, he braces one thick forearm against the open door, and looks you over. Joel hooks his opposite hand against the back of your knee, thumb rubbing a soft circle into the flesh. 

You reach for him, untucking the hem of his shirt from his jeans to run your fingers along his belly, the indents of hidden hipbones. You get as far as unbuttoning his jeans when his free hand captures both of yours. “Hold up. I need to. . .We gotta talk.” 

“Oh?” 

“How do you—” He stops and thinks for a moment and you wait, touching him lightly again when he releases your hands. Joel’s skin is warm against your hands, sweat beading on his sides in the heat. 

You tuck your fingers in the waistband of his jeans. His face is shadowed and hard to read. “What? Whatever it is, I want to give it to you.” 

“Ain’t that,” he says, breath hitching a little. He coils his fingers around your wrists and holds them still. You let your fingers go slack in his and he squeezes. “Hell with it,” he mutters, glancing up at you to search your eyes. You tilt your head, waiting. “I worry about you damn near all the time and—”

A bright red flag swings up in your mind and you bristle, hackles raising. You keep your voice sugary sweet anyway. “Do I need to remind you of what this is? I’m not your girlfriend, Joel—”

“I know.” He interrupts, thumb tracking back and forth over the back of your hand. It sparks a confusing warmth. “That isn’t what I meant. We go through this song and dance every week, me comin’ here and pretending like we don’t know what’s about to happen.” He shakes his head and doesn’t continue, eyes fastened to the ground for a long moment as he thinks. 

His jaw works, muscle straining in his throat. Sweat beads in the hollow and you wish more than anything to taste him, sweep your tongue up his throat, feel the bristles of his beard on your lips. 

You meet his gaze and hold it for a long moment when he glances back up, deciding that you believe him, that he understands. “Say it,” you murmur softly, sitting up so your faces are close together, his breath falling over your lips. “Tell me.” 

The muscle in his cheek twitches, fingers tightening on your wrists, like you might disappear once the words flood out. “I want you to come to the hotel, stop comin’ to this godforsaken place. Just come to me.” 

“You’re asking for—you want. . .exclusivity?”

“I guess so,” he sighs, slowly releasing your hand to rub his jaw slowly, nodding almost to himself. “I’ll send you money every Friday, even if I can’t make it out here. Book the hotel, so you can still get away if you need to. If you need somethin’ I want you to tell me. For groceries, rent, hell, I can get your car fixed—”

He seems in no mood to stop talking for once, so you cut him off, shock rolling through your body from head to toe. Already the lines between you are blurred, twisted together into something more than just paid for sex.

This is something else altogether. Uncharted, dangerous waters. 

“Joel, wait, hold on. I think. . . you’re describing a sugarbaby,” you point out and he winces. “I don’t mean to offend you, but can you afford something like that?”

“You don’t gotta worry about that.” 

“Kinda do,” you say, tilting your head to keep his eyes on yours. “It’s, like, the whole point.” 

“I mean I’m good for it.” 

You eye him, still unsure. You like Joel, but you aren’t stupid enough to trust any man at his word. “Are you serious?” 

He dips his head. “Yeah.” 

It’s a much more intimate and personal, formal, arrangement. How much he would expect from you, what he would pay you?

You say as much. 

“I know. We got things to talk about. For now, would ya consider it?”

“Yes.” The agreement jumps out of you before you can stop it. There’s no harm, you tell yourself, no harm in thinking about it, talking about it. 

Joel slides his broad, warm, achingly familiar palm up your thigh instead, leaving your fingers hooked into his belt. You stroke your thumbs there, and his breath catches, sways in the warm breeze around you. 

It’s quiet for a long moment. The lot is desolate around you, the buzz, pop, and flicker of the streetlamp at the corner, the distant hum of traffic on the main road, and the ever present hum of cicadas your only company. 

“Well, okay. Good.” 

Your favorite word on his tongue, the sweet caress of it lodging in your belly, wanting. 

“Do you want me to start calling you daddy?” 

He chuckles, the sound pleasant and surprised, like a balm to your worry. 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.” His eyes slide over you, hook into your gaze as his fingers trail up the inside of your thigh. “Don’t mean much, but I’m sorry for being late.” 

“It means something. I really didn’t want to suck that guy’s dick.” You pluck at his belt buckle again, but leave it in place when his shoulders go still. “You want to tell me about it, sweetheart? Why you were late?” 

He pushes you back across the seats, the leather is warm against the wings of your shoulders. The encroaching darkness paints him in shadow, hands warmer than the humid air when they press your knees wide. “This is what I want.” 

“Okay.”

Joel looks up at you, then around the deserted parking lot. Some of the lust clears from his gaze.

“This parking lot has seen much worse, Joel.”

You get the sense that he’s forcibly letting go, unfurling, untangling the hesitation. You spread your legs wider, trying to show him it’s fine, you don’t mind. It’s not like you have a whole lot of honor to defend in any case, and the parking lot is deserted besides 

He leans over you, huge in the door of the truck, imposing.

Thick fingers tug your underwear to the side, slide through the folds of your pussy, already damp. “C’mere,” he says, the slurred word like a command, arm threading behind your back to tilt your hips in his direction. 

The position is slightly uncomfortable until Joel squeezes your thigh and shifts your leg a little, bent against the seatback. 

His gaze locks on yours, intense and dark, one finger pushing into your slowly. 

Heat blooms in your chest, travels to your throat to lie there in a thick heap. He slides a second finger into you, treading now familiar ground inside you. His fingers move at an agonizingly slow pace, building up the pulsing heat inside you. His face is shadowed, brows tugged down over his eyes in concentration. 

You arch your back, a moan caught in your throat when he strokes your walls, thumb heavy against your clit, messily trailing back and forth across your pussy. 

He fucks you slowly, watching your face until you squeeze your eyes closed and roll your hips against his hand, back arched against the seat. 

You gasp when he presses his mouth to your cunt, lips sealing around your clit, tongue flicking before he sucks harshly. 

You comb one hand through his hair, blinking down at him to watch him finger you, eat your pussy like a starved man. He groans quietly when you pull his hair, short locks falling through your fingers softly. 

He grips your ass and pulls you closer, encouraging you to close your legs around his head. 

The warm weight of an orgasm curls in your gut, twinning around your spine, reaching feathered hands between your ribs, a sharp contrast to the way his facial hair feels on your thighs, a rough burn that you adore. 

He’s patient about drawing it out, taking it slowly from you, to wind your pleasure around his fingers like puppet strings.

Joel groans against you when your cunt pulses around his fingers, the pleasure he gives you like a slow moving storm, a gradual blooming through your veins, body straining to keep his mouth against you, until it passes and exhaustion replaces it. 

His tongue sweeps through your folds, he retracts his fingers and you shiver when you feel his tongue dip inside you instead. Only when you whine does he pull away, swiping his fingers on a napkin in the door. 

You sit up slowly and adjust your skirt, flip down the vizor to glance at your face. There’s something in your features that you like and don’t like, like you’re freshly fucked but, rosy eyed too, virginal.

It’s terrible. 

Maybe Crystal is right and you’re playing with fire, asking to be ruined, but you don’t care. Not at that moment. 

“Are you at the same hotel?” You ask, just to say something, snapping the mirror closed with a bit more force than you mean to. 

“Yeah, same place as always.” 

You lean forward and reach up to swipe your thumb against the seam of his lips instead of lingering on whatever you saw in your own face. “Did you think I’d agree?” You ask, pulling your hand away, sucking your thumb into your own mouth for just a second, to taste yourself from his mouth.  

“I was feelin’ optimistic we’d, uh, spend the night together even if you told me to fuck off,” he answers, sounding distinctly flustered. The blue night air crests in gentle waves around his features. Nighttime seems to soften him. 

You smile, “Well I still haven’t really said yes.”

“Yeah,” he nods, patting your thigh, tongue running over his bottom lip. “But I got a good feelin’. You hungry?” 

“Hungry?” The word is foreign to you. You can’t remember the last time someone asked you if you were hungry. And the truth is you really are. You’ve been short on groceries for days and you can’t spare the money for that sort of thing. “I, uh—” 

“Yes or no?” The question is gentle. “And I’m payin’. Clear?” 

This is what he wants, you realize. Someone to take care of. The realization smarts, you aren’t good at being taken care of. 

This is what you’ll have to deal with, if you say yes to him. 

A fist closes around your lungs. The word is hard to produce for a long moment. “Yeah, I am.” 

“Good.” Joel stokes your thigh again. “Good girl.” He pulls back and closes the door, leaving you momentarily disoriented. It feels as though your whole world has spun on its side with one question. 

The drive is an exceptionally short one. It doesn’t even give you time to offer to blow him. 

Five minutes down the highway, a lone shack sits at the side of the road. Yellow and pink neon light blinks down at you, an electric buzz in the air as Joel parks and you stand in line together. It’s the first time you’ve been in public with him somewhere other than the club. 

Does he want everything that usually comes along with a sugarbaby? Paying for you and fucking, sure. But being out in public together? The companionship aspect? 

You watch him, wondering if you want it. Wondering if you aren’t already living some part of it. Crystal’s words flash through your mind again. 

“So, what’re you thinkin’ about?” 

Joel is squinting at the sign, bathed in a pink glow. Your legs still feel shaky from his mouth and fingers and something in your belly clenches at the sight of him just standing there. 

You peer at the menu with more ease than Joel seems to manage. “Need me to read it to you?” You ask, digging an elbow into his ribs softly. 

“Ain’t that old.”

They have ice cream, which seems to be what most people have ordered. But you need real food, something that won’t make you sick after a bite or two on an empty stomach. “Fries. And a cherry coke.” 

“Cherry, huh?” He slides an arm behind your back and squeezes your hip. Aside from a middle aged woman that glances at you sharply, no one pays you any mind. “That where the name comes from?” 

You roll your eyes. “Okay, Yeah. So maybe I have a penchant for cherry.” 

“Uh-huh. You sure you don’t want a burger or somethin’?” 

The thought of having to perform for him later, fuck him, with a full belly makes you feel ill. “Very sure.” 

He orders and pays and you try not to feel weird about him buying you a three dollar basket of fries and a coke. Especially when he apparently wants to help you with rent and to fix your car. It chafes. You hadn’t sacrificed, entered this life at all, to have someone else take care of you.

You sit on the lowered tailgate of the truck and listen to the fuzzy sound of the radio playing from the shack, slowly eating one fry at a time, watching Joel’s hands, the curve of his knee  hitched on the bed of the truck, pressed into your hip, the other extended toward the ground. 

The night is exceedingly calm, the air balmy and a little cooler than in the city. 

One by one the other diners toss their trash and drive away in a cloud of red dust, leaving you and Joel looking out over the pocked, jagged landscape alone. 

“You’re quiet tonight,” he says eventually. “You sure you’re all right?” 

He’s still thinking about that other man. 

You grin and rub a comforting hand against his forearm. “Just thinking about what you said. Do you come here a lot?” 

He shakes his head and lets you put your legs into his lap as you sip your drink, crushing his burger wrapper in his hands. “First time. I drive by it every time I come through this way though. Usually busy.” 

“How’d you know I was hungry?” You ask, offering him your drink. 

“I pay attention,” he says, taking a long sip.

You chew on your bottom lip. A ring of truth crowds his words. By Friday, you’re usually on your last couple bucks and hungry. Have you been hungry every time you were with him? You hadn’t even noticed.

You don’t have a sharp, witty come back for him, not this time. Being exposed to the night air, stars winking bright in the sky above you, the soft singing of the shack’s owner makes an intense melancholy wrap around your chest. You feel small suddenly, and like you’re making all the wrong choices, that none of it will matter in the end. Your family will still be right about you.

Joel rubs your calf slowly and seems content to sit in silence. You chew on the end of your straw and watch him. “You know you’ve never kissed me?” 

“Yep.”

If he were any other man, you wouldn’t dare ask. You brace anyway, because you’ve learned the hard way that they can flip on a dime. “You don’t want to?”

He thinks for a moment. “I wasn’t sure it was somethin’ you did. And I didn’t want to—Jesus, I already felt so bad about what I was doin’.”

Expectation lingers in his gaze, a question unasked. “Some men don’t like it, so I always wait for them to do it.” 

“Don’t like it?” 

“Who wants to kiss the mouth of a dirty little whore?” You say lightly, a joke but not really. “Putting your cock there is fine, of course.” 

He clears his throat and seems ashamed for some unfathomable reason. “Don’t get all guilty about it, Joel. I really do like blowing you.” 

“Jesus,” he mutters, shaking his head. He hesitates, then says, “I like eating your pussy, since we’re exchangin’ truths.” 

You laugh, the sound exploding out of you. He grins when you clutch your belly. He doesn’t often smile with his whole face, and he’s more handsome for it when he does. “Well,” you laugh, “I didn’t need you to tell me that. It’s painfully obvious.” 

“Uh-huh. C’mere.” 

Tears of mirth are still rolling down your cheeks when he pulls you close and kisses you. It’s surprisingly chaste, or at least begins that way. His tongue sweeps in against yours when you open your mouth. It’s intoxicating and intimate and you don’t ever want to stop. You can feel his beard scrape your cheeks and lips and you like the sharp feeling of it. 

He tastes like cherry coke. 

“Cherry,” he says against your mouth when he eventually pulls back, “Yeah, I get that now.” 

It was a week after the party when you heard your dad talking to someone on the phone. Straining your ears to hear the one-sided conversation, you could tell who he was talking to – of course he was talking to Joel. There was a brief pause, and you heard your name mentioned, followed by a swift, “Oh, alright then’ from your father. It made your stomach tense all over again.

You let your feet carry you down the stairs, where your father was slouched on the sofa, aimlessly watching something on the television. “Hey, who were you talking to?”, you asked, a tinge of anxiety in your tone. A mumble reached your ears as your dad responded.

“Just Joel. He’s been a bit funny since his birthday, God knows why. Asked if he wanted you to babysit Sarah and he said he’d already booked someone.”

Bile rose in your throat involuntarily. He’d booked a sitter for Sarah. But… you’d always done it, free of charge, ever since your families had become acquainted. Not trusting your voice in that moment, you simply nodded before making yourself scarce and returning upstairs.

Even on the days that you worked, you had always made a point of letting Joel know that you were free in the evenings if he was ever working late. The soft duvet on your bed made its way around your shoulders as soon as you’d arrived in your room, and you sat, pondering on the situation until your hands stopped shaking. Had you really fucked things up that much?

A drawn-out breath left your mouth before you stood, reaching for your phone. This shouldn’t, no – couldn’t, become a hyper-fixation. Scrolling through messages with a newfound urgency, you typed out a message in your work group-chat; a call to the masses, if you will. You hit send, waiting for a response as people read the message you’d sent, hoping that someone would bite and agree to go out tonight.

Sounds good :)

I’m down! Where are we headed?

Time?

A sigh of relief replaced the deep breathing you’d taken on whilst waiting; working in an office with people your age was a blessing in this very moment. You shot over the name of a new-ish bar in town, not far from where you all worked. People ‘liked’ the message, and mission Get Over Yourself was in action.

Following a swift shower, you rummaged through your wardrobe. Whatever you ended up wearing, you knew it had to be hot; after all, the best way to get over someone was to get under someone, right? Your hands skimmed the different fabrics hanging in front of you before yanking out a dress. Low-cut in the chest? Check. Barely long enough to cover your ass? Check. Perfect.

After squeezing yourself into the skimpy little number, you shrugged on a denim jacket and made your way down the stairs. It was already late; you slipped on a pair of shoes and darted out the door, not wanting to miss the last dregs of sunlight as you started walking toward town. The evening breeze whipped around your hair as you walked, granting some relief from the humid air.

The walk was pleasant enough to put you into less of a sour mood as you arrived, already spotting a few of your colleagues chatting amongst themselves outside the bar. One of the women from your department waved you over with a cheery grin. Pulling a fake smile in return, you joined the huddle.

“Not like you to be out on the town – why the change of heart?”

The question was spoken with a playful lilt by the same coworker that had called you over - Steph. “Just fancied a switch up”, you shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Steph raised an eyebrow - you’d worked together for several years now; she knew when you weren’t telling the truth after seeing it in so many meetings and conference calls over time. “I’ll tell you later, maybe”, rolled out of your mouth under the scrutiny of her brow.

Satisfied with your response, Steph walked toward the doors of the bar, holding them open as she beckoned yourself and the group inside the dimly lit space. Tepid air hit your face, and the thrum of a live band ricocheted in your ears as you entered. It was heaving with people inside.

You noticed a few men looking over at you; none that took your fancy, but if they were already ogling you, it was probably for the best anyway. Steph took your wrist and squeezed the pair of you through the mass of bodies hovering around the bar until her free hand reached the counter. She grinned, nodding to you as the bartender approached. “Double rum and coke, and two shots of tequila please”, you half-shouted, wanting to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the crowd.

“Shit, you’re really going for it ain’t ya?”

Steph stood looking at you, a little dumbstruck, before ordering the exact same. Her surprise wasn’t entirely unwarranted – you rarely went out to begin with, and adding tequila to the mix was a sure-fire way of indicating that something was up. “Just loading up in case the bar gets too busy later”, you chuckled. You received an eyeroll in response as the bartender set down the drinks and shots.

Once you’d pushed a few crumpled bills across the bar, you slung back both shots consecutively, face contorting as the alcohol burned down your throat. Even the wedge of lime you swiftly jammed into your mouth didn’t do much to alleviate the scorch. Steph followed suit, taking her shots like a champ. You both grabbed your drinks and wormed your way back to the rest of your coworkers.

~~~~~

Several drinks, a drunken slow dance with someone’s mother, and one heated argument with a man that had tried to cop a feel later – you were absolutely shitfaced. Steph and a random woman that you’d befriended had walked down the street with you and were listening intently as you vented about the whole Joel situation.

 “He s-sounds like an asshole… don’t even waste your time.”

The incoherent babble from the random woman spurred something in Steph; snatching your phone from your hand whilst it was still unlocked. As you went to protest, she held up a hand before quickly typing something and locking the phone, handing it back to you. A groan left your lips as you unlocked the phone, swiping to check the last app she had been on… oh no. No, no, no.

yuor a dickhead joellllll lol

The words on your screen burned themselves into your retinas. This couldn’t have gotten any worse… until Joel started typing. You locked your phone and shoved it into your… wait, where was your jacket? Groaning loudly, you started to walk off in a strop in the direction of the bar; more alcohol would remedy this, or at least help you forget it until tomorrow, and you wanted that damn jacket back.

You saw your phone screen flash in your hand, and you gripped it tighter, trying to ignore the notification. You’d deal with the Joel situation eventually, but whilst inebriated? Not a fucking chance.

Somewhere along the way, you’d ended up taking a wrong turn. Squinting at the map on your phone, you ended up back at the bar half an hour later than anticipated. As you approached the door again, the bouncer simply blocked the entrance, shaking his head. “The fuck? Let me in, I need to get my jacket!”, you protested, words slurring together. As soon as you heard your voice out loud, the realisation dawned on you as to why you weren’t being allowed back in.

Grumbling profanities, you tried to focus your eyes on the screen of your phone, typing out a few messages to your dad.

drubk too much

at new bra in town

*bra

*bar

As you went to type another message, your phone screen went black. Fuck. Checking the map on your phone with your torch on had sapped the last of your battery; the pavement grew increasingly more inviting as you toyed with the reality of your current situation. With an exasperated huff, you sat yourself on the curb, elbows propped on your knees, and your head resting in your hands.

It wasn’t until the screech of tires and the slam of a vehicle door startled you that you realised you’d closed your eyes. As blurry as everything appeared to be around you, a figure approaching you came gradually into to focus. A firm hand around your elbow tugged at you, bringing you to your feet.

“Up, c’mon now. Hell were you thinkin’, gettin’ in a state like this?”

The once beloved grumble reached your ears… Joel. As you tilted your head to look up at him, everything wobbled and you swayed where you stood. A strong arm caught you, wrapping around your waist, holding you upright with a disgruntled sigh. “The… the hell a-are you doing here?”, you mumbled, hiccuping once as you started to speak. No response. A high-pitched whine rumbled in your throat, hand swatting weakly at the arm around your waist.

“You quit actin’ like a brat. Might think ‘m a dickhead, but ain’t nobody else savin’ your ass at 3 in the mornin’”

Feeling his grip tighten on your waist a little more, you let him lead you over to his truck across the street, defeated. There was a tense silence between the two of you before you stumbled over an apology about the text, trying to convey that you hadn’t sent it in the first place. Joel simply picked up his pace, and as you both approached the truck, he pulled open the passenger side door.

“Get in.”

The tone he took was stern but not as cold as you had expected. Your foot slipped as you climbed into the seat with all the grace of a newborn deer, and he caught you by your hips, grumbling under his breath as he pushed you up and onto the worn leather. No sooner had you sat, your head lulled back against the headrest, spinning.

“Christ, you’re a fuckin’ mess kid. C’mere, lemme buckle you in.”

As the frustrated whisper registered with you, Joel leaned over your lap, extending the seatbelt and clipping it in. He backed up, looking you over as if to ensure you weren’t going to slump out of the seat, before closing the door and heading to the driver’s side.

Slamming the door behind him, Joel quickly buckled his own belt and his hands found the steering wheel. He inhaled deeply with his eyes closed, fingers flexing, grounding himself before speaking again, this time in a much softer tone.

“Bottle of water next to ya. Drink.”

Your head, feeling as though it weighed three times more than before, swung forward. Closing one eye in a desperate bid to focus your vision, you grabbed at the water; half of it sloshing over your dress and bare legs as you clumsily tugged at the lid before bringing it to your lips. Joel sighed as you chugged back the remaining liquid from the bottle, taking it from your hands after you'd finished.

The truck growled as Joel turned the key, throwing a cautious glance your way before moving off and heading in the direction of your house. "H-how'd you know where I w-was?, you slurred, looking over to him with heavy lids. Despite how tense things had been since his birthday, you couldn't help but enjoy the fuzzy view of him that you had as he kept his eyes on the road and replied.

"Your old man called me, said you were drunk outta your mind. Asked if I could come get ya 'cause he'd had a drink too."

Humming in acknowledgement and blinking lethargically, you spoke again. "Hmm... thanks Joel" - you paused for a moment, drunken cogs whirring in your mind as you contemplated asking about the past week. The alcohol searing through your system ultimately made the decision for you. "I... I'm s-sorry if when we kissed-", you managed to stammer out before Joel cut you off.

"Don't. I made a mistake, crossed a line; 'm the one that should be apologisin'."

Joel's words were tender, a perfect juxtaposition to the way he white-knuckled the steering wheel as he spoke. Brows knitted together apologetically, he spoke again.

"Shouldn't have let myself drink so much... 'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable kid."

God, he sounded genuinely pained. Part of you wished that he wasn't having this conversation with you right now, knowing that any response you gave would be borderline incoherent. You swallowed hard. "Joel, I... I wasn't uncomfortable", you mumbled, trying your best to sound sober. A sharp inhale of breath followed suit from Joel, shaking his head ever so slightly as you rounded the corner onto your road.

"You're half my age sweetheart; it ain't right - you shouldn't be tryna spare my feelings right now."

Frustrated, you groaned a little. Why wasn't he taking you seriously? Before you could argue back, the truck came to a halt at the end of your driveway, and Joel exited the vehicle, walking around to assist you from the passenger seat. He extended a hand, palm turned up, for you to brace yourself on as you slid out of the door.

The same strong arm wrapped around your waist once again, guiding you as you walked in tandem up the path to your front door. Your hand found Joel's resting on your hip and you gave it a tentative squeeze. Words were beyond you now as the depths of your inebriation took their toll on your ability to speak. Joel's hand flexed under yours, barely noticeable, tightening his grip on your hip just a little more.

Once you'd knocked on the front door, Joel stood and waited with you until your father appeared, tired and disgruntled. He reached out for you, taking your hand as you wobbled through the threshold. With a thankful nod to Joel, he closed the door behind the pair of you and guided you up the stairs to your bed, muttering with frustration as he went.

~~~~~

The sun beamed gloriously through your curtains when you woke up. It made you want to hiss, to curl up under your duvet and block the world out as you nursed your self-inflicted hangover. You couldn't even remember the last time you had felt so rough. Every blink sounded like sheet metal being shook directly next to your ears.

Sketchy memories of the evening's antics slowly rolled in; blurs of conversations, the fact that your jacket was still unaccounted for. Joel collecting you. If only you could remember a single element of the chat you'd had on the way home. You laid there, racking your aching brain for as long as you could muster, before rolling over and swatting for your phone amongst the pillows.

Bless your dad - he must've put your phone on charge after getting you settled in bed. Copious amounts of notifications filled your phone screen; photos sent into the work chat, missed calls from Steph, a random number asking 'Who's number is this?'. Just the usual stuff.

Fingers found themselves hovering over your messages with Joel, his only response to Steph’s insult last night being a simple question mark. A grimace crept onto your face as you reflected on the state that he probably found you in, as if it wasn’t awkward enough as it was. With a sigh, your thumbs danced over the keyboard of your phone and hit send.

Hi Joel. Thank you for last night - sorry.

You locked your phone and tucked it under your pillow before submitting to the pounding in your head, closing your eyes once more and eventually drifting off into a fitful state of sleep.

Bonus Content: Joel’s POV (Golden Brown)

It couldn’t have been later than 2am when Joel’s phone vibrated against the oak bedside table to his left. Who the fuck was messaging him at this time? Thumb and index finger pressed against his eyes, rubbing away sleep, he used his free hand to reach over and grab his phone, nearly knocking off one of the several coffee mugs that had accumulated there throughout the week.

Your name stared back blankly at him, a near unintelligible message beneath it. He felt his heart skip a beat, followed swiftly by a tenseness in his stomach as he processed the words. A dickhead? Joel knew all too well that he was one, but needing to mention it before the sun broke from the horizon line was a little unnecessary. He shot back a single question mark; brain still in the throes of a sleep-induced stupor.

Sleeping was no longer on the cards. You were out somewhere, drunk to the point of belligerency, and it made his stomach turn. He contemplated calling you for a moment but thought better of it; what right did he have after the way he'd been acting for the past week? Pushing himself into an upright position, he sat with his back against the wooden headboard, waiting to hear back from you.

He must've dozed off; his phone buzzed angrily in his hand, startling him into consciousness once again. Without thinking, he raised the phone to his ear, not checking the caller ID. Taken aback by the sound of your father's voice, he cleared his throat with a small cough.

"Everythin' good?"

It didn't take long for your father to start reeling off his blatant frustration at the texts he had received from you. Joel sat and listened intently - he had to know that you were safe. All the moisture in his mouth disappeared as your father furthered his explanation of your evening; not seeming the slightest bit surprised that none of his calls were going through to you anymore.

"... I'm sorry to ask Joel, but could you swing by the bar and drag her ass home for me please? If she kicks up a fuss just give me a ring - I'll have to walk to go and meet her."

Your father had barely finished his sentence before Joel was out of his bed, haphazardly shrugging on the denim shirt he had been wearing during the day, putting the phone on speaker and letting it lay amongst the sheets.

"New bar in town, right? I'll be there, call if you hear anythin' from her in the meantime."

The words huffed out of his mouth in a moderately frantic tone as he shimmied on his grease-stained work jeans, stabbing at his phone with a single finger until the call hung up. Socks didn't even make it to his feet before steel-capped boots were shoved on. Joel pressed his head to Sarah's door, greeted by the soft, peaceful sound of restful breathing before he quickly headed out of the front door.

As he sat behind the wheel of his truck, typing a message out to his sleeping daughter in case she should wake, his leg bounced with trepidation as if it were willing his thumbs to hurry up. The text was sent and, without any further hesitation, Joel was flying down the quiet neighbourhood into town.

The ten minute drive felt arduous; every red light taunting him with its crimson glow as he rapped his fingers against the steering wheel, impatient. Would you still be there when he arrived? Or would he be left to hunt you down, wild goose chase-style? Would you be safe? A flash of green reached Joel's eyes and he was off once again, making the last turn onto the street housing the bar.

Joel's eyes darted rapidly over the faces of those lingering outside, the hazy smog of cigarette smoke billowing above them cast in an amber glow from the neon signage above the bar. That's when he saw you - half-asleep on the curbside, head lulled into your palms, your shoes sat in a neat pair beside you as your bare feet clung to the asphalt below them.

His foot hit the brakes, hard. He could see your bare arms and legs trembling ever so slightly, exposed to the crisp evening air; his gut wrenched at the thought of you being sat there a second longer, and his legs propelled him toward you with an unmatched urgency. Your eyes fluttered open as he approached, squinting at him as he leant down and grabbed your elbow to hoist you to your feet.

Christ, you were drunk. Really drunk. He could smell the booze emanating from you, equally as strong as the perfume that lingered on your skin. Your knees buckled as you attempted to right yourself under his grip - he curled his arm around your waist, pressing his side flush to yours with a grunt as he bore your weight for you. The usual melodic lilt of your voice was tainted with an alcohol-adjacent sloppiness as you mumbled something imperceptible to him.

Out of no where, you started to flap your hand at his arm, batting at his grasp around your waist. It was such a feeble attempt that he almost felt bad for snapping at you as he squeezed you closer to him, beginning the trudge back to the truck. You felt cold to the touch under his palm despite the few beads of perspiration on your forehead; the urge to glide his thumb against your waist as you walked only just being stilled.

As you both approached the passenger side door, a nauseating urge to not let go of you overwhelmed Joel. You were soft to the touch; so small in stature compared to his own breadth. Your hair, despite how frazzled it had become over the course of your evening, smelt so much like you, untouched by the scent of liquor. Shaking the thought from his mind, he reached out his free hand and swung open the door to the vehicle, grumbling at you to get in.

Relinquished from his grasp, you took a clumsy step up into the truck, your footing immediately lost as the second foot left the ground. Instinctually, Joel's hands flew forward to catch you, holding you up by your hips. The tiny dress you had worn had ridden up so high that it teetered just below the curve of your ass, making his cheeks warm and his mouth pool. Fuck, what he wouldn't do to have this view under different circumstances. With a shift of his biceps to help, you finally climbed the rest of the way into his truck, body limp as you rolled your head back against the plush upholstery.

The previous thoughts in his mind shifted to that of protection as he saw just how drunk you really were, already halfway to being unconscious. How much did you drink to get like this? He'd seen you drunk before; cheeks flushed, a flirtatious joke here and there that would linger in his mind for weeks after - this was a different level.

You made no protest as he leaned over your lap, chest grazing your bare thighs, buckling you in. He gave you a once over before making his way to his side of the truck - walking around the back so you couldn't see him run a hand through his hair, trying to get a fucking grip. It was like his body couldn't come to an agreement with his brain; a battle of morals raging on inside him as he eventually took his seat behind the wheel once more.

Another steeling of nerves ensued after he caught a glimpse of you in his periphery; chest rising and falling, lips parted just so. He felt like a criminal, like a pervert, for being so close to you whilst you looked like that. Maybe he was, he thought, fingers flexing over the steering wheel - why else would someone have such an interest in a girl half their age?

You're hoping the haze of cigarette smoke and the dim lighting can combine to hide the hurt and the jealousy in your eyes. Bitterness curls the edges of your heart inwards, blackened and ugly like dying rose petals. The tequila on your tongue now tastes bitter. You slam down your third shot of the night and nod to the barkeep for another. "No lime, no salt. This ain't a fuckin' bachelorette party," you grumble. Sighing, he pours you the bottom shelf stuff. You don't give a fuck. Whatever gets you wasted and takes your mind off Joel dancing to Tim McGraw with the latest bimbo to just turn twenty-one.

When you met Joel a few months back you clicked instantly, finding in each other a like soul, both blunt and world-weary, though where he was quiet and unflappable, you were quick to anger, a slave to your feelings, the worst ones in particular. Like right now, it's taking strength from the Lord himself for you to keep from running at that little slut in her too-short dress, who's trailing her dainty little manicured fingers along Joel's arm, his flannel rolled up to let his bicep peek out.

And if you run at her you'll knock her down, smash her teeth in. Joel wouldn't find her so pretty then.

As if to ready yourself for a fight your fist squeezes hard, your short nails making marks on your palm. The tequila hasn't caught up to mellow you out yet. Your innate anger is too inborn, too much a part of your natural existence.

That was what Joel said he loved about you. He called you "Spitfire", often right before claiming your mouth in a hot kiss, pressing you to the nearest flat surface as his hands grabbed every curve of your body. He was the only one who could tame you. He could bring you to your knees in a way no man ever had before, and he'd convinced you into doing things you never thought you'd like so much.

Not that you ever became serious. He'd found you right here in this bar, admiring your ass as you bent over to shoot some pool and had taken you home to fuck you just half an hour later. He didn't stay but he left his number. Every now and then you call, come by his place or he comes by yours, and the magic would happen all over again.

"We don't need to make this an official thing, right?" he'd said, nuzzling your ear as he thrust into you from behind one lazy Sunday morning. "Just havin' fun."

Your whole life you swore you weren't the type of girl to need a relationship, nor ever settle down. You liked having your fun where you could get it, often with cowboys like Joel. No point in fishing in such a small pond. You ran into ex lovers almost every day. No point in getting bent out of shape about it.

"Just havin' fun," you agreed, breath catching in your throat as he'd angled his hips to drive in deeper.

At fifty years old you thought men your age were past their prime while you were just finding your own groove, comfortable in your skin, knowing full well what you wanted from a man and from sex in general. Men Joel's age were supposed to be one-and-done, unable to keep up with the demands of younger lovers and content to turn on a movie or a football game after the one and only round.

But not Joel. He coaxed orgasms from you that you swear you hadn't had since you were in your twenties. When you thought he was done with his fingers, he'd use his mouth, taming you little by little until you were just a puddle on the bed.

And his dick, my god..

He made you feel like a virgin every single time, and you were far from maidenly when you met him. It's rare to find a man so god damn blessed in his jeans and knows what to do with it. You've screamed his name so loud the neighbors know who he is, and even the cops have been called by your place on a few occasions due to "noise complaints" but you and Joel just laughed it off, kept right on fucking once the squad car pulled away.

Joel was a homebody anyway, and a date with him would have felt forced. Him in a suit and you in a fancy dress, eating lobster at an ooh-la-la frou-frou kind of restaurant? Never.

So you fucked and sucked, content to be under the radar with him. Not that either of you didn't fuck other people in the meantime. You had hookups and so did he. If one of you was "unavailable" on a certain night it was basically a sign that you were heating the sheets with someone else. No harm, no foul. Just fun. Better sow those wild oats while you can still get wet, you always said.

Problem is, you've just never had to witness it for yourself. You liked to assume Joel was banging other middle-aged women. You liked to think he had a type just because he liked you: a little rough around the edges personality-wise but soft where it counted. Grandmas and PTA moms were who you envisioned Joel fucking.

Not some Miss Teen America third runner up.

The music changes, snapping you out of your reverie. Now Joel and his little tramp are walking back to their table, smiling and laughing. She's either tipsy or just pretending to be, wobbling slighlty in her pink cowboy boots, little black dress clinging to her tiny frame. What honest-to-god woman wears pink boots? Answer: someone with daddy issues and a push-up bra. You already know those booted legs are gonna be hooked over Joel's shoulder when they get home. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, anger bubbling inside you even as your cunt clenches in envy. You know exactly how good she's gonna feel tonight.

There she is, Playmate of the Year, leaning on his shoulder and rubbing her hand on his jean-clad thigh.

In between rounds, when you're waiting for Joel to get it up again, he'd set you on his lap so you could ride his thick, muscular thigh as he sucked your nipples and left love bites on your breasts, the only evidence of your relationship that's barely visible beneath your black tank top, the hickey fading.

Does she know she's touching your seat? If she kisses him is she gonna taste you at the back of his throat?

You could easily make a scene. You could march over, demand to know who she is and to inform her politely (in your own way) that she's treading on your territory. Maybe even throw a drink in her face before slamming her head onto the table. Better yet, throw a drink in Joel's face. That'd serve him right. He'd be angry and embarrassed and you'd likely never see him again.

Caught between a rock and a hard place. Except you desperately wish that hard place was Joel right now.

A young guy approaches you and you roll your eyes. Probably fresh out of college as most of these newcomers are. He's wearing a baseball cap, blue and white flannel long sleeve, and brown cowboy boots, and he buys your next shot. It's a kamikaze, sweet in comparison to your tequila. He orders it for himself as well, probably assuming it's the strongest thing you can handle. You exchange names but immediately forget his. You don't need to know it.

You really shouldn't, but arousal stirs deep inside, the jealousy you've been stewing in all night now giving way to a desperate need to feel something good, and soon your hand is on his lap, stroking upward. It doesn't take much for men his age. He's young enough to be your son, but apparently everyone's fucking out of their generation these days.

Another glare in Joel's direction shows he's leaving the table, letting little blondie lead him to the restrooms. You know exactly what they're going in there for.

"Come on," you mutter to Baseball Cap, leading him outside to your truck.

He's eager, and it's a boost to your bruised ego when his hands roam everywhere, lingering on your tits and your ass. His tongue invades your mouth and you wonder who the hell taught him to kiss. It's not your job to fix what he's doing. All you're concerned with is riding his dick.

You taste the lime and triple sec on his tongue as you pull your jeans and underwear off then his. He's lacking in the dick department, but you're not in a mood to be picky. You can still get yourself off..

..because you're thinking about Joel and wishing it was you in that restroom, bent over the sink, or with your pants down around your ankles as he fucks you in a restroom stall against the graffiti left on the dark green laminate.

For a good time call Joel Miller.. he never says no..

You ride him hard, as if punishing him, fucking all your anger away, projecting it into passion as you usually do. His full length isn't even able to reach where Joel always could. You circle your clit with two fingers as you grind yourself against him.

How dare he? Right in front of you? Is the god damn town really that small?

It is, but you okayed the situation you're in. You brought yourself here, answering every late night text, believing each time could be a stepping stone to something more, a substantial, meaningful... relationship.

There must be something wrong with you to be feeling this way.

"Grab my ass," you tell your young guy, eager to get out of your own head, taking control of your pleasure, wresting it from the hands of this amateur, doubling down on the pressure on your clit.

By the time you're already coming, your boy toy is thrusting up into you, wheezing his pleasure into your ear as you feel the reassuring warmth of his come inside you.

Convincing him you don't want to leave just yet (at least not with him) you make your way back inside together just as Joel comes out of the restroom with his date.

From across the room you make eye contact for the first time tonight.

Heart pounding away, another man's come now seeping down between your thighs, you give Joel the smallest of smiles, wrapping your arm around the young guy who's responsible for the glow in your cheeks and the odor of illicit pleasure coming off you.

He smiles back, giving his date a slap on her pert ass while keeping his gaze on you.

Maybe it's a challenge; maybe he's simply saying "well done, Spitfire."

Later, when you're in bed and letting the tequila do its magic in getting you to sleep, your phone pings loudly with an incoming text. You already know who it's from.

1:13 A.M. Joel Miller

You up?

dividers by @enchanthings 👑

taglist: @pedrospookie @itwasntimethatdidit40 @joelmillerisapunk

@la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @joelalorian @slimybeth69

@myownwholewildworld @probablyreadinsmut @lotusbxtch

When you tell Joel you think you’re pregnant he doesn’t believe it for a full five minutes (which you find amusing after how hard he tried to accomplish just that) — then he cries

He worries a lot during your pregnancy and babyproofs the house best as he can, using materials Tommy & Maria can spare

One thing he loves about your pregnancy is that whenever you have sex, he doesn't have to pull out, and he makes good use of that newfound freedom

He builds a cradle by himself, surprising you one evening with a set-up nursery: he painted the walls while you were on greenhouse duty with some paint Maria gave him, and even found some cushions to put into the cradle

When you get insecure about the way your body changes, he lets you know how beautiful you are to him, regardless of size or skin condition or anything else

When you start to show people start whispering because of your difference in age, but he brushes them off, so proud to be your baby daddy

He holds your hand the entire time you're in labour, and you squeeze so hard you bruise his bones – the midwife says his fingers might be broken, but he doesn't pay her any mind, not when your baby is almost here

When your little girl is born, Joel is terrified of holding her small body, afraid he'll drop or hurt her somehow, but you reassure him he can do it, and when he does, her tiny body fits into his arms perfectly

You've never seen him cry so much as during the first couple of weeks – a yawn, or sigh, or blink from your daughter will do it, tears streaming down his cheeks

He asks Tommy to be Godfather, and after he accepts, any past fights are forgotten and they start spending more time together

As your daughter gets older, Joel and her bond over all sorts of things. She's fascinated with bugs, so he takes her "bug hunting": they try and find as many insects as they can, Joel drawing small pictures of them into a notebook, while she observes their behavior. By the time she's seven, she's got her own bug lexicon

Sometimes you and Joel disagree on certain rules or privileges for your daughter: you figure self defense is an important skill, but Joel doesn't want her to touch a weapon, ever. In the end you settle on teaching her combat

When you see the pride in Joel's eyes whenever he looks at your daughter, you jokingly call him Daddy – that night he fucks you so deep you think you're having ten more babies just from that

You're adamant about teaching your kids a healthy perception of gender-roles, and you know the age difference between Joel and you sometimes results in traditional roles. Joel agrees with you and asks Maria to get a day a week off of patrols to do household chores, etc.

While your daughter is little, you're allowed to stay home with her, but as soon as she starts classes in the little makeshift school in Jackson, you start working again – sometimes in the greenhouses, sometimes on patrols, and sometimes in the kitchens

Joel and you never go on patrol together – partly because someone has to watch your kid, and partly because of how dangerous it is outside of Jackson. You want to make sure if something happens to either of you on patrol, she still has a parent left

Tommy and Maria take her one night a week so that you and Joel can have some time to yourselves – between clickers, kitchen shifts and raising a kid, romance tends to fall a little short

Some nights you have dinner in your house and cuddle up on the couch together, finally having a whole evening to talk to each other and enjoy each other's presence, and often Joel sneaks you a little surprise treat, like a peace of chocolate, a flower he found on patrol, etc.

Most weeks your free night results in sex – before you had a kid he fucked you almost every morning and night, but there's less time for that now. In the beginning you miss it a lot, but you quickly learn to appreciate the built up, week-long tension: Joel is insatiable, using your precious hours to find as many ways of making you come as he can. It's worth even Tommy's knowing grin in the morning, when both of you have to stifle your yawns

When your daughter is old enough to want to play with toys, Joel starts carving wooden animals for her. He's more handy than you realized, the little toys have lots of character, and Joel's face always lights up when he watches your daughter name them

He loves singing her to sleep, his deep honeyed voice perfect for soft lullabies, and you often catch him making up sweet texts to familiar melodies

You know he wants more children, but he doesn’t press it, not wanting to rush you into the decision. Sooner than you thought you start to miss being pregnant and the magical time after giving birth. You know you’re one of the only people in the world able to have children in safety, and every day you watch your girl grow up healthy and happy you’re thankful for it

When you tell Joel you want another one during one of your date nights, he’s over the moon and makes love to you as often as he can “to make sure it takes the first time ‘round”. By the time he’s done with you, you’re an exhausted, happy, dripping mess

a/n : this fic is just the silly fruit of me daydreaming while listening to old-school like electro music, I gotta give a shout out to David Guetta (lmao) cause the title and this whole idea is coming from his song Let’s go (and specially the line « wait the bouncer is kind of hot »… bouncer joel miller popped up in my mind and yeah…) the rest of it ? all the credit goes to @joelmillerisapunk , for entertaining this idea and being my draft again, and creating a perfect selection of pics to help me make the moodboard, love you baby 🩷. And a big thank you to my sweet @sawymredfox for her constant support love you 🫂 and to the pretty @evolnoomym and her naughty brain for inspiring me some smut, love ya 🩵🌙. I hope you will enjoy this 🤭✨.

masterlist | joel masterlist | dbf!joel recs | ao3

Standing in the line in front of the Surrender, you let the cold night air grazing your cheeks, calming your nerves as you wait for your turn to enter the club. It’s crowded, not surprising for a Friday night, the bouncers seemingly taking their sweet time letting the patrons in. Your friends Chloe, Jade, Yasmin and Sasha are ecstatic, impatient to hit the dance floor, and have a couple more drinks inside. They have talked about the pretty pink cosmopolitans they serve here all evening.

You’re not that excited though. If it has been your decision to make, you would have headed further downtown, to your regular local bar, the one you’ve spent all your Saturday nights at since your teenage years, listening to live country music, chatting happily with your friends while eating French fries. But the girls insisted, they wanted to do something different, to head somewhere fancier. You’re only here for a couple of days after all, a little break before the finals season at college, and you all deserve to have a nice time.

And that’s why Cameron, Chloe’s boyfriend, suggested the Surrender. You were in the middle of getting ready when they called, your phone on speaker discarded on your bed, trying to choose which jeans to wear. Your heart stopped when you heard the name, and then it started beating faster. Your brain was already making plans, your silky purple dress off the hanger in an instant, the brand new black sparkly tights that were sleeping in your closet were finally useful. You quickly put the unfolded clothes back in their place, and went to change, spending extra time doing your hair and makeup. Applying shiny highlighter on your chest, some fruity gloss coating your lips, you sighed, trying to persuade yourself that you weren’t getting all dolled up for him. That you weren’t expecting anything more from him than a courteous smile and a polite greeting. But deep down you knew that the only reason you needed to be perfect for tonight was the slight chance of seeing him there. 

Now the closer you are getting to the entry line, the tenser you are. Sasha is standing next to you, head resting on your shoulder, your long black wool coat drapped over the both of you. She didn’t bring any jacket and her tight burgundy dress isn’t really suited for tonight’s weather. 

"Are you okay? You seemed off all night babe" she asks in a whisper so the others aren’t jumping on the topic. 

You’re not okay. The perspective of seeing him after the risky text you sent a couple of weeks ago makes you want to throw up.

It was easier to act bold when you were miles away. Now it’s another story. 

"I am fine, just a little bit tired and cold but it will be better once in the club, don’t worry" you fake a smile, and join the others in their conversation again.

At some point, Chloe and Jade announce that their boyfriends are waiting for you inside. They were at the beginning of the line, way before the club’s opening to make sure you’ll get a table. They prepaid your entries and put your names on the list. Smart move. 

You weren’t expecting the wait to be that long for people already on the list, but… it’s the Surrender after all. One of the best clubs in town, the fanciest that’s for sure, considering the people waiting next to you. They’re making 5 figures a month, the Saint Laurent high heels moving on the pavement and Cartier bracelets around their bare wrists are clear indicators. You start to overthink your whole outfit now, taking glimpses at your friend’s dresses and shoes, more…classical, fancy, but not too much unlike you…it’s too late now anyway. 

The line moves up a little and you finally get a good view of the security team filtering the entries. "The bouncer is kind of hot" Yasmin giggles. Jade and Chloe are bragging about how their boyfriends are hotter.

And you… you’re not listening anymore, daydreaming about the bouncer you’re looking for. But he isn’t there. Your stomach drops, disappointment slowly sinking in. You have to silence the voice in your head whispering that it was all for nothing, and that you should have spent less time in front of your bathroom mirror… but you feel pretty and that should be all that matters even if the chances to see him are lower than ever now. 

The girls take off their coats before facing the bouncer, so you do the same, basking in the city lights, waiting for your turn, watching your gorgeous friends smile their way in.  But when you stand in front of the bouncer and give him your name, the guy just shakes his head " no" and gesture for you to head back to where you’re coming from. 

The girls are waiting in front of the door, wondering what’s going on.

You have no idea why everyone went in and not you. 

The tall man named Al, from what you gathered while waiting on the line, let a couple more people in, without any hesitation. So you decide to step in front of him again. 

"Hi. Good evening. I am on the list. I need to go inside to meet my friends " you simply state. 

"Uhhh yeah. No. Sorry. Not tonight." He doesn’t even spare you a look.

"That’s not… There must have been a mistake or something. Can’t you just let me in? I can pay for the entry, that’s not a problem" you ask, starting to search for your wallet in your clutch. 

"Babe?" You hear Chloe calling from the door "Cameron and Dylan are waiting so we’re going in, we see you inside right?" she asks and you wave for them to go before emptying the content of your clutch to find the money. 

Sasha is still standing behind the bouncer, trying to figure out a solution. 

You finally put your hand on the 50 dollars bill and hand it to the bouncer while the line is queuing up behind you. Some people are trying to pass with the other bouncer to avoid losing too much time. The guy sighs, scratching his head.

"Sorry miss… it’s 150 dollars for a last minute entry. "

"What?" you let out, exasperated, while Sasha tries to search in her purse for more cash. 

"That’s ridiculous… I’ve seen you letting people in with only 50 dollars not even 10 minutes ago." 

"Prices have changed. If it’s too expensive for you feel free to go to another club" he says blandly, pushing you aside to continue his job. 

You sigh, watching Sasha mouthing you "What do you want to do?"

You shrug. You don’t know. You can maybe try to flirt your way in, but you don’t even know if you have it in you to do something like that… and that Al looks hermetical to your charms… but maybe you haven't tried hard enough. 

You turn around, rearranging your dress to accentuate your cleavage, pushing your hair behind your shoulders to give him a clear view of your neck, and take a deep breath, confidently making your way in front of him one last time, exaggerating the sway of your hips, internally cringing at what you’re about to do. Sasha laughs behind her hand, pushing her chest up to give you some silent indication of what to do. 

You mimic her, before murmuring another syrupy "hey" to the stoic bouncer. You can see the beginning of a smile rising on his face, his eyes dropping exactly where you wanted, a hint of red showing up on his bare cheeks. 

People around you are starting to complain about your attitude, but you turn around and shush them, before focusing on the bouncer. 

"Al. Please. Just for tonight" you ask, a little hesitant.

But he shakes his head, face turning back to serious mode. 

"I am sorry".

"But why?" you feign innocence, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

He looks at you dead in the eyes, and the next words coming out of his mouth aren’t what you expected at all.

"You are not pretty enough to get inside our club". 

The sentence rings in your ears. Sasha gasps behind him, shocked. You feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach, shame rising in your throat, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. 

"Oh." you exhale, stepping aside and heading to the back of the line. 

Sasha asks the bouncer if she can go see you real quick, and he nods. She runs your way, telling your that he’s an asshole, and advising you to don’t be afraid to be a Karen, and call for the manager. You just tell her to go inside, and have fun for you. She kisses your cheek and leaves.

You tie your coat around yourself, hiding your embarrassment. Now you just want to go home, you’re not feeling like partying anymore. Alone, dragging your black high heels on the sidewalk, you wonder if you should go back there again to tell that prick what you’re thinking about his disrespectful behavior. You’re fuming. You want to slap him so hard for saying something like that to you… Who the hell does he think he is? 

And before you can realize what you’re doing, you are climbing up the line again, eyes never leaving your target.

"Hey! Hey! " you shout to Al. 

"Sorry for this " he excuses your behavior to the other clients looking you up and down. 

"That was really mean you know? " you throw his way, pointing him with your finger, trying your best to sound menacing. 

He doesn’t answer, ignoring you.

"That’s not because you’re living a stupid life that you have to take it out on others alright? Now you don’t want me in your stupid overpriced club? That’s fine by me. The atmosphere is lame anyway. Drinks aren’t even that good. And the staff is disrespectful!" Al closes the line on his side, nodding to his coworker before heading your way, threatening, determined to make you shut up. 

"See? That’s what I was saying. Sorry guys you should head somewhere else for tonight this club doesn’t deserve your money" you shout at the crowd, trying to escape him. 

"You should stop making a scene. Go take a cab and leave"

"hm hm. No, I am not leaving. And you know what? I want to see your manager"

Al laughs at that.

"What the hell do you want to see my manager for?"

"Well I am going to tell him exactly why you said I can’t enter this club you asshole! See what he has to say about that. I bet he won’t like that very much, what do you think Al?" you spit, dragging the only syllable of his name exaggeratively.

Al laughs harder, raising his hand in the air as if he is giving up, before whistling towards his coworker, gesturing for him to call for the manager. 

"Sorry to let you know that he won’t let you in either… but take your chance doll" he says, going back to his spot again letting you alone on the side of the line. 

The flow of patrons getting in without extra fee or mean rejection is really making you feel stupid, sad, and mad. The purple light illuminates your silhouette, waiting next to the entrance. You sigh, feeling super silly for the scene you just caused but you couldn’t let that slide, could you? 

All introspective thoughts come to an end as soon as you hear him. Deep voice coming from behind the stupid bouncer, southern drawl accentuating his annoyance.

And you immediately know that you are in trouble. 

"What’s the matter here Al?"

"Nothing boss I told her she couldn’t get in and she insulted me, started to shout at the clients… and then she asked for the manager… so…"

That man that rejected you, feeling all mighty not even 10 minutes ago, looks like he is shrinking inside his own shell right now. 

"I’ll take care of it. Now slow down the entries we are almost full for tonight. And I don’t want any drunk assholes inside, y'got it ?"

"Got it boss"

And with that, Al returns to his job. 

Joel steps aside, emerging from the crowd, and you can’t help but whisper a curse. His eyes are on you, his intense stare making you lose your train of thought. 

This tall, handsome man, illuminated by a purple neon, the slight strands of grey shining in his hair, broad shoulders stretching perfectly his t-shirt… walking towards you. You can only focus on his big muscular arms on display, and the way he crosses them on his chest making your heart beating faster… it’s ridiculous how he can sweep you off your feet. A couple of heads are turning in his way in the crowd, women smiling and giggling and trying to catch his attention. He's used to it... but there’s not a single chance that he would care about it now that he sees you.

"Hi mister Miller." you manage to say, embarrassed, voice coming out shyer than you intended to. 

He shakes his head disapprovingly. Unreadable. Not the Joel you’re used to sitting next to at your parents’ dinner table. Not the Joel you shared drinks with in his garden while the day you were returning home from college last summer. Not the Joel you daydreamed about every single day since you last saw him. 

"You asked for the manager" his deep voice tears you out of your little analysis. 

That sounded like a question: it is not. You just look at him, dumbfounded. 

"Well, now here I am sweetheart. What’s the issue there hm?"

You struggle to word this in the less childish way possible…

"I wanted to know why I couldn’t get in. That’s not fair. All my friends are in there and I just have to go back home?"

Joel chuckles. He cannot believe it. He couldn’t believe it when he saw your name on the list earlier this evening, not thinking that you would ever show up here, and he wouldn’t have imagined for a second that you were the kind to cause trouble in front of a club. But here you are.

"’Bouncer’s the one who decides if you go in or not. If he says no then the party’s over. That’s the rules, you know them. You can try to find another club"

"Are you serious?" you let out a little louder than expected. 

"Dead serious."

He looks dead serious indeed. It’s like he’s a complete stranger right now and you’re regretting asking for him so badly. Maybe he’s punishing you for the stunt you pulled the other day. It’s his way of making you understand that he’s not interested. And he’s not here to deal with your bullshit. 

But you can’t shut up, the disappointment is too strong for you to just retreat and move on. 

"That’s so fucking unfair. I’m alone now. And…there’s no other club and you fucking know it."

"Yeah well… you better go home then, it’s late anyway, and a girl like you shouldn’t be here."

"What the fuck? A girl like me?? What does that even mean?" you say pushing on Joel’s chest. 

He stumbles back a little, before grabbing your elbow firmly with his big hand. 

"Careful sweetheart, my patience has limits and you’re very close to the edge"

Despite the sweetheart, Joel looks like he isn’t kidding at all, but you’re too pissed off to care. 

"What are you going to do about this hm? Call me ugly like that asshole did?" You throw at him boldly, despite feeling your confidence slipping away at the reminder of what happened with the other bouncer. 

Joel has heard enough. He tightens his grip on your arm, before yanking you out of the way and leading you to the back of the club.

Joel walks way faster than you and if he wasn’t holding you by the arm, guiding you, you would have torn your ankle. Stupid high heels. 

"Where are we going?"

He doesn’t answer, stops in front of the backdoor, pulls out a magnetic card from his jeans pocket, and holds the door open for you. 

The heat coming from the club contrasts with the cold outside, a cloud of steam surrounding you.

"What the fuck Joel?" you say, out of breath, taking off your coat to cool down. You’re really mad at him, not knowing what to expect from his weird attitude. 

Joel towers over you and forces you to lean against the wall. It silences you right away. He stops a few inches from your body, hands resting on his hips. 

He was about to start talking, when a couple of bartenders coming out of their restroom, a case of gin bottles in their arms, clinking with each of their steps, interrupt him.

"Hey Miller, good luck for tonight!" they greet him, and he nods with a tight lip smile, watching them walk away. 

"Hey!" You snap your finger in front of him. "What’s your problem Joel?" you ask again, angrily. 

"What’s my problem…" he repeats, chuckling sarcastically, stepping closer to you. "My problem is you being in front of my club in the middle of the night while you shouldn’t even be here, creating a scene in front of the fucking clients, insulting my crew, and not listening to a goddamn word I said. That’s my problem"

This is the first time you’re seeing Joel losing his composure. He never spoke to you that harshly before and you hate it when people are mad at you. You never thought about the fact that Joel might actually be mad at you. The guilt starts to creep up in your heart.

You wait for a beat or two, observing him trying hard to calm down, before adding very softly. 

"That’s not your club, buddy. You don’t own it. And you and your little friends don’t get to decide who is better and richer and prettier and get to go inside or not. That’s fucked up"

You can’t mask the emotions showing in your eyes and Joel has no intention of stepping back. He can feel how heavy this incident is weighing on your mind. He sighs, face softening a little. 

"Is that what this is about?"

"What?" you ask, focusing on the plastic cases stacked right next to him. That’s a lot of empty champagne bottles.  

"The pretty thing?"

You just shrug, but he notices the sadness in your eyes. 

"Godammit" he curses, leaning back on the wall in front of you. 

You don’t want to admit this to him. It sounds ridiculous. But he’s not blind, he sees the way you’re just losing your light at the recollection of what happened earlier. And Joel can’t let you believe something about yourself that is not true. He needs to give you the real reason, even if it’s going to lead him on a dangerous path.

He says your name for the first time since you’ve met him tonight, trying to catch your attention. You shift your focus on him, wondering why he looks so reticent to speak right now. 

He drags his hands on his face, letting a couple of second pass. 

"Look…When I saw you were on the list…I told my guys not to let you inside alright? This has nothing to do with how you look and how pretty you are…This idiot must have say that to make sure you’ll leave or…I don’t know".

"What?" you gasp in shock.

"Yeah."

"Are you serious Joel?"

He winces, wondering if it’s going to make you mad again. 

"Did my dad ask you to do this? Because I swear to God Joel I’ll call him right now and I…"

"No need. Your dad has nothing to do with this"

"So what … You just … blacklisted me?" you laugh in shock.  

"Yeah I did" He affirms, avoiding your angry stare. 

"Why?"

Why… Good question. How the fuck can he explain this without saying something stupid, something that would make this situation way more complicated than it already is? Taking a deep breath, Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, walking to you. His hand finds your shoulder, and he keeps it there while trying his best to find the right words. 

"Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. You’re right. That’s not my club. But I work here. And this club isn’t a place for you, trust me on that. I don’t want drunk assholes hitting on you all night long and offering you drinks and dancing too close to you or touching you …"

You try to swallow but your throat is suddenly really dry. You can only focus on the warmth of his hand resting on your naked shoulder. 

"Don’t fight me on this sweetheart. Now put on your coat and go home"

You don’t even want to protest anymore. The way he just admitted this so sincerely... You don’t want to let your brain create false hopes, but it seems like Joel cares about you. And maybe a little more than what a friend of your dad should.

“Okay. I won’t. Thank you Joel“ you respond, smiling softly. 

“Alright, let’s go now, I’ll walk you out” Joel concludes, mirroring your smile, stepping back and aiming for the door. 

In Joel’s mind, it feels like a victory: defusing the situation in the smoothest way possible. Not revealing too much about what he really feels, not hurting you either. You’re going to head back home soon, he’ll go back to work, no need to worry about you all night, to wonder if you’re dealing with unsolicited advances, if he should look for you in the middle of the patrons and make sure nobody will try a dumb move on you or put something in your drink. 

But in your mind…You just can’t part ways with him right now. Not after what he just told you. You need more time; to talk to him, to admire him in his work environment, to store images of him in your head for future fantasies: new stills for your Joel collection, scenarios unlocked you’ll happily replay in your head instead of paying attention to the lecture you spent thousands of dollars to follow, sitting at the back of the amphitheater, doodling his name on the empty pages of your notebook. 

“Wait…Can I just use the bathroom first?" you ask, folding your coat over your chest. 

Joel nods, turning back on his heels and leading you through the corridor, towards his office. 

Walking silently behind him, you realize it is further away from the main room of the club than you expected. There’re concert posters, magazines pages upholstering the walls, more pink and purple neon illuminating the space, it looks like the backstage of a concert venue…or the room of a rebellious teenage girl? You’re not sure, but clearly not what you expected from this “fancy club”.

Two bartenders are passing next to you, returning from their smoking break, downing cans of Red Bull. One of them winks at you, whispering a hey, but you don't even pay attention to this guy, to busy watching Joel struggling to find the keys to his office. He’s starting to get impatient, patting his front pockets, with no luck. 

An old school electro mix is playing, all the 2000s classics, and you can hear the loud cheers coming from the dance floor. 

"It looks like the DJ is doing a good job" you say, breaking the awkward silence. 

"Not my kind of music but… I reckon Jared is pretty good" he mumbles before taking out the keys. Joel finally feels like the worst is behind him, you will be gone soon, and he’ll be able to breathe properly again. 

But you catch his eyes taking your dress in appreciation for the first time tonight while passing in front of him, and you can’t miss the opportunity to ask him a little question. 

"So... I was just thinking about what you said earlier…does that mean you think I am pretty mister Miller?"

He can hear the smile in your voice. And Joel feels lucky you can’t see him right now. Because he is smiling too. He coughs, pushing the office door open and lets you enter. You stop in front of him, waiting for his answer, scanning his face.

"Bathroom is on the right. I’ll wait here" he states, but you can see the faint blush on his cheeks.

You’ll take that as a yes, smiling proudly. 

"Thank you mister Miller" you reply with a wink before disappearing. 

Joel waits for you to close the restroom door before exhaling the breath he was holding since you stopped in front of him. 

Fuck. He needs to get you in that cab as soon as possible. 

Joel is sitting in his chair checking some paper nonchalantly when you come out of the bathroom, your lips shining with a fresh coat of gloss. He heard the door opening, but he can’t risk looking at you right now. He doesn’t give a fuck about rearranging the schedule to make sure Jimmy can go to his sister’s wedding next Friday and yet here he is, focusing on this printed excel spreadsheet like his whole life depends on it. 

You walk in, heels clicking on the floor with each of your steps, progressing toward the only bookshelf in the room, where accounting books and a couple of folders are set next to a lava lamp. It gives this place a nice purple hue, and it’s a good thing because this room is gloomy. The walls are painted in a dark shade of green, there are bars at the windows, and the only luxurious items here are Joel’s huge wooden desk and his leather chair. The rest is… rudimentary. A couple of lights with black lampshades in the corner of the room, and a large metal closet. No plants, no carpet, no colored item. Just that lava lamp drawing shadowy bubbles on the ceiling and wall behind you.

You’re silently flicking some pages of the books you found, and Joel takes the chance to look at you, drinking in the way your dress fits your body perfectly. The music coming from the club is loud, even with the door closed, resonating through your body. Joel notices the way you’re resisting the need to move your hips to the rhythm of the bass. You snap the book closed, putting it back in its place, and before you can realize he is watching you, Joel pretends to look for something in his drawer. 

Singing along, you walk slowly around the office, swaying your hips, moving your arms above your head. Joel takes a few more glimpses at your silhouette, but you don’t notice. You movements expose the curve of your breasts, the cleavage of your dress making his head spin.

Hell he is trying to be respectful here. Really trying…

Outside, the music changes, and you quit your little act, frustrated that you failed to captivate Joel's attention... Not enough for him to leave his stupid papers alone. You decide to try harder, change your method. You don’t know when you’ll get the chance to have him to yourself next, and you want to see how far you can tease him, eager to know if this is another non reciprocated crush you’ll need to get over quickly, or if this time, there’s a chance for this … thing you feel for Joel to grow into something more. 

You stop in front of his desk, facing him, laying your palm flat on the dark wood, pushing up your breasts to make it more difficult for him to ignore your presence. 

The movement makes Joel raises his eyes from the spreadsheet, and when they finally land on you, you flash him a smile. Waiting patiently for him to drop his stare for an inch or two or three. But they don’t stop on your cleavage. Not once. 

You pout, disappointed, trying to figure out what you should do next. Maybe you should give up on this completely. It would be safer. 

Joel sighs, fighting hard to keep his eyes on your face before adding. 

“You’re good to go?”

“You are in such a hurry to get rid of me Mister Miller…”

He chuckles, shaking his head. 

“That’s not… I don’t want to get rid of you. ´Just need to go back to work, check on my guys, customers can give trouble and who knows, maybe they will want to talk to the manager too…” he teases, nodding towards you. 

"Very funny mister bouncer, I didn’t know humor was required for this job. But don’t worry, you can go back to your shift. I’ll stay there, enjoy the party, go find my friends on the dance floor… “

Joel tenses in his chair, laying on the backrest. 

“Sweetheart… you said you wouldn’t fight me on this. You can’t stay here. You need to go home” his voice is soft, pleading. 

Your cheeks start to grow hot at the nickname and the way he is talking to you. 

 “Come on Joel…. Just for a couple of songs!” you insist, begging with your eyes and pouty lips. 

Joel’s face is stern, unimpressed, he shakes his head no and you lean over the desk, getting closer to him. 

“What if you give me a tour?”

“A tour… not happening either” he laughs.

“Just to say goodbye to my friends then, I’ll be quick!” you try again, your head between your hands, elbows resting on the desk, upper body nearly flat on the surface. 

Joel can’t help but think about the sinful view he would have if he was on the other side of the room. You’re driving a hard bargain, but he really doesn’t want you to get hit on inside this club… 

“No. And these girls you came here with? They don’t deserve your goodbye. Not very friendly of them to leave you alone outside while they’re partying instead of looking for another place where you could be together."

You didn’t expect Joel to confront you with such a brutal truth. Biting your lips, you replay the events quickly in your head… you know he is right… 

"So no, you are not getting in the club” Joel affirms, observing your reaction to what he just said about your friends. 

“That’s so unfair !” you whine, standing up quickly, straightening your dress.

“That’s how life works. Now take your coat and your bag, I’ll call you a cab and wait with you outside”

Joel takes out his phone, and gets up from his chair, ready to lead you out of the office, when the first notes of one of your favorite song echoes in the room. 

"Oh you gotta be kidding me !! Joel I beg of you…" you squeal, pretending to get down on your knees "Let me just listen to this one and then we can go, please please please"

Joel doesn’t have the strength to say no again, not when you’re looking at him like that, not when you’re looking like that. 

"Fine, just this one…"

He sits back down, watching you humming the lyrics while slowly dancing along, hips moving, tilting your head back. 

It’s getting cold baby, I want your hot hands on me

Joel’s not one to pay attention to electro music lyrics, but the words you’re singing right now ? They don’t sound innocent at all. He curses under his breath, you’re not giving him any break tonight and he has no idea if you’re doing this on purpose or not.

You look completely absorbed by the music, not caring about Joel, about the show you might be involuntarily putting on for him: the way the hem of your dress is shifting higher on your thighs while you move makes Joel wants to bite his fist, but he just exhales the sigh he’s holding since you started instead. How can you move so gracefully on those heels ? He has no idea, but he is very grateful for the way it makes your legs and your ass look so good. 

Picking up a pen, Joel taps to the rhythm of the music on the dark wood, trying to give himself something to do other than admiring you. But he is mesmerized by you…and he’s grateful you’re ignoring him right now, doing your thing. That’s good. He wishes you would be closer though. So he could feel the heat of your body, smell the scent of your perfume, touch the softness of your skin. 

Your eyes suddenly finds his across the room, and Joel knows he’s fucked as soon as you start getting closer to his chair.

Oh you weren’t ignoring him at all…

"What are you doing?" Joel asks, reclining further back on the chair, surprised by your bold move. 

"Just enjoying the song, you know ? Dancing…I love the lyrics"

You’re playing coy. Your hands start to brush his knees, and you stop right between his parted legs, slowly squatting down in an undulated movement. Joel can only focus on you, and his heart pounding in his chest. 

"You don’t like my little choreography Joel?"

"You should take a step back" He says, clenching his fists on the armrests.

You slowly get up, stumbling backwards on your heels, a little hurt by the cold tone of his rejection. 

Flicking your hair over your shoulder you give him a look, before noticing the way his chest is heaving. You pretend to leave, but you turn around his chair, crouching down to his side.

"Actually I think I should dance a little closer" you tease,  whispering in his ear. 

You let your hands slide down his chest but Joel suddenly stops you right above his heart. He grips your hand gently, keeping it firmly there, and you can feel the ecstatic rhythm of his heart beating behind the firm muscles. 

"I think it would be a mistake baby. Let’s go".

Baby… that’s all you can hear now, the way it rolled off his tongue so sweetly… Joel seems like he’s trying everything not to snap, and you… you feel like it’s your one in a million chance to get what you’ve always dreamed of. 

"I think you’re lying mister Miller. I think you’re enjoying this"

You’ve never been this close to finally get the answers to the questions that are invading your mind since last summer: does Joel likes you ? Or does he only see you as his friend’s daughter, the one who has an annoying crush on him since you met months ago ? Was he about to kiss you that night ? Why didn’t he answered your text ?

The music finally changes, and Joel secretly hopes that the new one won’t be your favorite. He can’t handle another of your choreography.

Give me silence silence I just need your touch

Joel wants to kill Jared and his stupid mix right now…

You grin, knowing you won’t keep your promise to Joel. There ain't no way you’re leaving that office now. It doesn’t seem like Joel wants you to leave either. 

You perch yourself on the wooden desk, the cold surface burning under your thighs, crossing your legs, too lost in a staring contest with Joel, tempting him, pleading him, silently, to make a move and Joel is trying really hard, to keep his composure, to pretend he’s not affected by any of this ... 

But… he’s just a man after all, he can’t ignore the way you’re teasing him, your body so beautiful and inviting, your perfect thighs, the hem of your sexy dress stopping at a dangerous spot.

"Oh yeah? What makes you think I do?" He smirks, leaning in.

He knows you can see how much you arouse him. It wouldn’t be the first time. But he shouldn’t be willing to see how far you’re ready to go this time. Joel knows the limit he settled between the two of you. But tonight you’re playing with him, and he struggles to see if there’s a real meaning behind all this except making him pay for your failed night out. 

He looks at you boldly, waiting for your answer. 

But that answer doesn’t come. You riled him up, and you wonder if you can handle what’s coming next. You didn’t think this through… and the prospect of finally having what you want is making you feel nervous. 

Joel gets up from the chair, walking closer to you, and cages you in. You start to lean back on the desk, resting on your hands, puffing out your chest, cleavage on full display. You part your legs, and Joel stops right in between them, leaning forward, inviting you to go further.

Your thighs brush against his jean, your breathing becomes erratic, you don’t even know how to act anymore. 

"What’s the matter baby? Where’s that teasing attitude now hm? You’re quitting that little game of yours once it’s getting interesting?" his hands are resting on the desk, on each side of your thighs.

You need him to touch you. 

"Joel…" you whisper, taking one of his hands in yours and putting it on your thigh, the warmth piercing through the thin fabric of your thights. It’s rough under Joel’s fingers. He slides his thumb below the hem of your dress, tempted to go further, to explore the shape of your hips, to slide his hands underneath the tights and feel your bare skin.

Joel shudders at the thought. He wouldn’t be able to stop any of this.

But before making a mistake, he retreats his hand from your skin, acting like this slight touch just burnt him. 

He whispers your name softly, and your breath hitches.

"We shouldn’t cross that line. You know that. Now get off that desk and let’s go". 

You sigh, already disappointed… You were so close…But there’s not enough will in the way he speaks. And he doesn’t move. It feels like he is trying to convince himself more than anything… You can’t shake the feeling that you didn’t hallucinate this whole situation, whatever you can call this thing. He offered half an answer to your questions already. You can push a little harder to get the whole truth.

Your blood is boiling in your veins and you feel brave enough again. 

"Why?" you ask taking his hand back in yours, bringing it in front of your mouth, moving your lips to the inside of his wrist, pressing a kiss there, before repeating the motion on each one of his fingertips, slowly. 

Joel closes his eyes, enjoying the press of your lips on his skin. He shouldn’t. 

"You don’t think I am pretty ?" You blurt out. 

Not that question again… Joel feels like he is cornered now. And with you sitting so close to him, touching him…He hisses, clenching his teeth. 

It’s over. He knows it. If he answers this question, he won’t be able to stop what’s coming next. He is not even sure why he’s trying so hard to resist you anyway.

Out of respect ? Lines have been blurred a while ago, and god already knows what is going on inside of his head when he’s alone at night, redirecting all his thoughts on you : you, smiling at him from the kitchen while helping your dad cooking the dinner he was  lucky to have been invited to taste, you laughing at his joke when you lead him outside with a plate full of the chocolate cake you said you made specially for him, you getting on your tip toes to kiss his scruffy cheek and whispering a "goodnight Joel" in his ear.  He tried really hard again that night, not to read too much into it, not to lose control and push you against the ivy covered wall of your front porch, out of your parent’s sight, and kiss your pretty mouth. Your eyes have been pleading him to do it, just like they are now. 

He went back home instead, and in the silence of the night, the cold water flowing down his shoulders as a background noise, Joel gave in. Wrapping a hand around his cock, he gave it a few hesitant tugs, head resting on the tiled wall, cursing under his breath, before abandoning himself to what felt like debauchery, and making himself come to perfectly mind-crafted images of you, with your name dying on his lips: you taking off your shirt for him, you laying your naked body on his navy blue sheets, you asking him to fuck you harder while soaking his cock with your perfect pussy.

It’s been a recurring sin, one that brings him slowly more pleasure than guilt, and each time he has the chance to see you, his will to resist seems to erode further away. 

He laughs, his hands sliding off yours, moving to gently caress your cheeks. 

"Oh trust me I do think you are pretty. Prettiest girl in the world. That’s exactly why I don’t want you inside this club. Don’t want any of those wannabe lawyers and their filthy hands on you" 

He sounds conflicted, and you feel like you’re floating on a cloud right now, your chest swelling with fondness and adoration, a twinge of fear, about what this could really mean, what this could finally become. 

"So why can’t we just…"

"Your father would kill me" he cuts you off, taking your hands in his, pressing them against his chest. 

You snort. It feels like such a cliche. This whole situation is actually, very much like a movie.

"He would probably kill us both Joel... I know my father. But I don’t care because I want you"

You’re getting up from the desk, forcing Joel to withdraw in his chair.

"You can’t say that… you’re just…"

You step closer, silently compelling him to sit down, and Joel’s shoulders seem to relax, the weight of the confession leaving his body. He didn’t read too much into it. He wasn’t an old fool to think there might be something else behind your shy glances and polite talks.  

"Why not ? It’s the truth, Joel. I want you. "

Elbows set on the armrest, Joel clears his throat, tilting his head back on the chair. 

You don’t give him the time to protest, you sit on his lap, straddling his denim clad thighs.

Your name weakly comes out of his mouth, a last warning, a desperate attempt to make you go away, to do what he convinced himself was right. One last shot, completely lost in advance considering the way your body fits perfectly against his, but he tries anyway. His arms have to resist the urge to circle your waist, to pull you closer against his chest. He stays put, but the heat radiating from your body makes him tense. 

You let your hands wander on his chest, looking at him intently :

"Joel. Don’t give me the "you don’t know what you want… you’re too young" excuse, it won’t work on me…"

"You just…"

You shush him, your finger resting on his lips. 

"Joel. I am serious. I’ve been trying to get you to understand for a while now"

Joel’s lasts bits of resolves slowly crumbled with each batting of your eyelashes and bright smile directed his way in crowded rooms, each brushes of your knees against his thighs under the tablecloths, each flick of your hair above your shoulders while nobody but him was paying attention, each heartfelt laugh you let him hear, each murmurs of his name on your lips, each tug of your warm hands on his lonely cold heart. And tonight there’s nothing left. 

This moment feels surreal. The wayJoel's eyes are staring straight into your soul…It looks like he’s begging you to end his suffering. 

You take one of his hand in yours again, and put it on your rib cage. Joel’s hand tenses, but he doesn’t retreat anymore. 

"Did you get my text the other night Joel?" you ask, carefully. 

Did he get your text the other night ? Damn right he did. 

He hasn’t been able to cross the street to say hello to your father since then. He still can feel the tightness in his chest, and in his pants, when he got your picture. A selfie, your limbs sprawled out on your bed, your breats covered in a pretty lace, the hem of your matching panties appearing at the bottom of his screen. He threw the phone on the coffee table immediately after he opened the text, head resting in his hands. He thought it was a mistake at first, that you sent it to the wrong number. He wasn’t supposed to see this, but fuck... he did take another look at that picture right after. It was even better than what he imagined. It was so wrong to look at you like that but at the same time…it felt inevitable.

He nearly missed the text that followed, too caught up by the way your body was spread on your bed:

"Heard about your tough week. I’m sorry Joel. Thought this might cheer you up a little bit. Xo"

Yeah it was definitely not a mistake. You took this picture for him. He didn’t known what to do, how to answer to this, he didn’t even know if you expected an answer. He left you on read instead, spent the whole night spiraling about how to handle this, wondering how he’ll be able to talk to you next time you’ll be in town, falling asleep to the thought of you coming apart under his tongue. 

Now the time to think is over, he admits to himself as he lets his hands roam down your sides. 

"I did" he confesses.

He knew full well the two of you would get there eventually. 

You danced around that blurred line all night, slowly getting closer to his surrendering, and further away from his resistance, from the lies he tells you and himself to avoid facing the truth and taking what he really wants. 

"Why didn’t you answer me then?"

You guide his hand further up, keeping it on your left breast. You bite your lip at the feeling of his strong hand on you. 

"It wouldn’t have been right. I’m not… I am not supposed to think about you like that. I’m just trying to do what’s right for the both of us sweetheart…. That’s why we should stop…"

His mouth is saying something that his mind, heart and body don’t follow at all. Instead of stopping, he cups your breast with his left hand, letting his thumb slip inside your cleavage to find your perked nipple, brushing it softly. You squirm on his lap, biting back a moan. 

His other arm finally circles your waist, and makes you slide further down, your crotch resting against his. You grind your hips back and forth just once, feeling him growing hard against you. 

You smile, leaning forward to rest your forehead on his. 

"It doesn’t make any goddamn sense now that your hands are touching me like this Joel". 

"I reckon I lost the point here baby…" he chuckles before adding in a whisper "are you sure you really want this?" 

You laugh and nod before pressing your lips on his softly. It’s a really shy kiss. Joel’s lips are moving against yours slowly. You’re not sure he’s letting go completely. You want to tell him that it’s okay, he’s not going to break you, but then his hand leaves your breast and slides up your body, finding its way at the side of your neck, his thumb caressing the skin of your throat, and you’re the one wondering if you can handle this. His tongue plunge into your mouth and the kiss has you feverish. 

It’s not enough. 

"Joel, I need you to touch me" you murmur between heated kisses. 

He frowns, but you know he doesn’t need much convincing to fold now. 

You slowly slip the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders, revealing your bare chest to his hungry eyes. 

"Fuck… baby you’re…you’re gorgeous" he says, blushing. 

You whisper a thank you, and a second later, his mouth is on you, kissing the skin of your throat, further down your neck, his beard leaving a slight burn on the soft skin of your breast, and when his mouth finally closes around your nipple, sucking it gently, you moan his name, gripping the hair at the back of his head, grinding on his lap. His other hand fondle your left breast, pinching your nipple, and you throw your head back, whimpering. 

"Oh gosh Joel you’re just…it’s so good"

"You’re so soft baby, so pretty sitting on my lap like this…"

"I really really need you to touch me Joel" you beg, taking his hand in yours, sliding it down your stomach. 

Joel looks at you, asking if you’re okay with him taking off your tights, and you nod, raising from his lap to slide them down your legs.

"I wore them for you" you tell him, starting to move them further down your leg.

"Really?"

"Hm hm. Do you like them?"

Joel breath is stuck in his throat, he wonders how the hell he has the chance to get such a beautiful girl like you stripping for him… His pants are growing tighter, he doesn’t have the patience to wait for you to get them off the way. 

"I do… but I won’t feel sorry for doing this" he rips them off your thighs, leaving the sparkly fabric teared up on the lower half of your legs. 

"Joel!" 

"They’re cheap baby. Shouldn’t come off as easily as that!" 

"Is 25$ cheap to you?"

"I’ll buy you another pair, something more resistant, don’t worry" 

He slams his mouth against yours again, before letting his hand slip inside your lacy thong. 

You moan as soon as his warm fingers trace the outline of your pussy, smearing the wetness that gathered there since you started teasing him. 

"You’re so wet baby… can you feel the mess you’re making all over my hand?"

You nod frantically, whispering for him to make you come. 

"So needy already… You want my fingers baby ? 

"Need you inside" You beg, and Joel gently pushes one of his thick fingers inside of you. 

"Fuck Joel…" you curse, suddenly wondering how the hell you’re gonna take him inside of you if it’s how you feel when you only have one of his fingers. Joel starts moving a little faster, the palm of his hand moving against your clit. You’re already on the verge of breaking down.

"You think you can take another one? Yeah?"

"Please Joel."

He inserts another finger, stretching you a little more, curling them inside of you, his thumb finding your clit, drawing circles there, watching the way you’re panting, admiring the sight of you biting your lips, slowly coming apart on his hand. 

"You’re close baby, you’re gonna come for me?"

"Yes yes yes please Joel" you chant, before your orgasm hits you, warmth diffusing inside your body, your pussy clenching around Joel’s fingers. 

"That’s it darling… you’re being so good for me"

"Oh my gosh…" you whine, trying to catch your breath, kissing Joel fiercely while he pulls out his hand from between you legs. 

"I need more Joel…" you whisper, letting your hand slide down his chest, towards his belt buckle. 

Joel is tormented. Again. And he can’t get rid of this feeling, despite the fact that he just made you come on his fingers… 

"Baby… I don’t think that’s a good idea…"

"Oh you definitely don’t…" You smirk, palming him through his underwear. 

Joel’s rich laugh makes your body shake against his… He can’t hide now, betrayed by his own body. 

"I just…"

"Want to do this right ? Hm… We don’t have to if you don’t want to Joel, that’s okay."

"Well…" he starts to think about an excuse, a reason to give you, but his mind is empty, visions about you coming undone underneath him replacing all coherent thoughts. He never thought he’ll get the chance to touch his dream with the tip of his finger but here he is. 

"Tell me you haven’t thought about me like that and I’ll stop" you ask him, tightening your grip on his half hard member. 

Joel chuckles, shaking his head. 

"Can’t lie to you darlin’"

"Good. Because I trust you Joel. Do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you… but this… this is different" 

"You had your fingers inside of me 2 minutes ago Joel…" 

"Yeah but that’s not…" Joel doesn’t even know how to escape this anymore… 

"I guess I’ll just have to keep imagining what it feels like…"

You let your fingers trail along the waistband of his boxers, before slipping your hand inside, finding the tip of his hardened length, caressing it with your thumb. 

"Oh"

Oh. You can’t even finish what you were saying, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his big cock against the palm of your hand. 

Joel moans, letting his head fall backwards on the chair. 

"You were saying?" His breathing is getting heavier. 

"I was saying… that I’ll just have to keep imagining what it feels like to…have you deep … inside of me…to come apart on your big cock…while I touch myself" you whisper in his ear, accentuating each word with a gentle stroke along his length. 

"Darlin’…Why am I even trying to resist you?" He manages to say, swallowing a moan.

"Pretty please Joel?" you pout, raising your hips to take off your underwear.

"You sure as hell know what you’re doing here… finding the right words to convince me tonight darlin’"

You seal your deal with a kiss, before taking his hard cock out without hesitating, coating the tip with your wetness, brushing it against your folds, watching Joel lose his mind over your actions. 

"Baby you should… you should slow down" he says, feeling you helping him inside of your warm pussy. 

You moan his name as soon as the first inches of his cock passes your entrance, your grip tightening on his shoulder as you adjust to the burning sensation.

"Joel…" you beg, and he kisses you again, pushing the rest of his cock inside of you. "…feel so good…so big inside of me" you mumble, voice heavy with lust.

"Gosh sweetheart you’re so tight" he says, relishing the way you feel around him. Your cunt is gripping his length, your walls pulsating around his cock, and he realizes that he could come just like that, not even 2 minutes after having you wrapped around him. 

You feel him contract under you, tensing. 

"Joel… hey… look at me"

He obeys, eyes focusing on your pretty face. 

"Relax okay?"

"I am trying darlin’"

You kiss him, sliding your tongue along his lips, before sinking down onto his cock again. 

"You can move Joel you’re not gonna hurt me" you whisper, desperate for some friction. 

"I know baby, it’s just… I want to take my time. Never thought you’d grant me this so…I am a little bit overwhelmed here" he states, pushing a strand of hair from off your face. 

Oh. It suddenly occurs to you he’s trying not to come already. Your face grow hot, and you kiss him again, biting his lower lip, swallowing his moans.

"Hey. It’s okay. I don’t care if you don’t last long. I need you to fuck me Joel" you take his face between your hands, forcing him to look at you, while starting to move your hips up and down faster. 

"Fuck… I didn’t know you were that greedy…"

"Only for you Joel"

You let your hand slip underneath his tshirt, caressing his chest.

"Only for me uh? You don’t know what you do to me, come here…"

Joel’s warm hands find your waist and he guides you, meeting your thrust as best as he can, limited in his movement by the fucking armrests. He tries to set a good rhythm, one that has your tits bouncing against his clothed chest, the sounds of skin slapping skin punctuating the echoes of Jared’s mix, moans escaping your mouth louder with each thrust of his cock inside of your cunt.

But it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. 

"Joel… I…"

You’re too lost in the feeling, unable to prevent your heart from beating faster, Joel’s name slowly sewing itself onto it, with each second passing having him inside of you, your eyes never leaving his, your hand caressing his beard, your mind racing with thoughts that shouldn’t even come to you in this moment. It’s too intense and your stupid brain is according so much meaning to this… 

He sees it. Instantly. This fleeting glimpse of something more painted across your face. He closes his eyes, moaning your name, trying to ignore the way his heart swells underneath your soft hand. 

"More… more… I need more Joel" you whimper, tilting your head up, focusing on the ceiling instead, on the way the bubbles from the lava lamp are dancing above your head.

It’s more… reasonable. 

"I got you baby don’t worry" he groans, but Joel starts to grow frustrated; not able to move as he would want to, not able to feel you as deep as he knows he can. 

He suddenly stops, stilling his movements. 

"What’s… what’s wrong Joel?" You ask, out of breath, a little worried.

"That… that’s not enough, come here, get up baby"

He slips out of you and you gasp, already missing the way he was filling you up. 

Standing from off his lap, your dress falling back into place, muscles numb, unsure of the amount of weight you can trust your legs to carry around, you let him manhandle you until you find yourself bend over his desk. A shiver runs down your spine in anticipation. Your breast are pressed against the cold surface of the wood, making you feel more aware of the warmth radiating from Joel’s body behind you. 

"You’re okay like that?" He asks, laying over you to press a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

"Hm hm…give me something to remember Joel… please " you manage to say. 

"Shouldn’t be saying shit like that to me baby" he sighs, stroking his cock, unable to replicate the feeling of your touch on him.

You feel him ease slowly into you again, but this time there’s no stretch, your pussy already used to having him there. You scream his name, the sound transforming into a long moan, the deeper he goes. But he doesn’t move yet, taking all his time to enjoy the way you feel around him. This is way better. 

"Stupid armrests…Fucking hell baby… you’re gonna be the death of me" Joel curses above you, his hand finding the small of your back, holding you still on the desk, impeding you to thrust back on his cock.

Your hands find the edge of the desk, gripping it tightly. 

"Oh yes… you’re so big Joel… I knew you would make me feel so full…" you whine, feeling warmth spreading over your stomach again.

Joel starts pounding into you, the sound of his thighs slapping against your ass cheeks is just obscene. 

"Your pussy’s so sweet darlin’… Lord have mercy" he sighs, eyes searching for a sign on the ceiling. Nothing but dark purple clouds again. He choses to ignore it, he doesn’t believe in omen anyway.

You giggle, feeling warm at the praise. 

"Don’t stop Joel" you beg.

And despite the new dj set echoing outside, you can only focus on the noises you’re making and Joel’s grunts. 

"I am gonna come… Joel don’t stop… harder… need you harder…"

Joel doesn’t even know how to give it to you harder… he pushes on your back, pressing you against the desk, accelerating his thrusts, before letting his hand slip in between your legs, finding your soaked clit. 

"M’close Joel… so close"

He’s all you can feel, all you can hear, all you can think about. It’s overwhelming and it feels so good you could cry.

"I got you darlin’. Let go for me" 

Your pussy clenches around him, a jolt of electricity coursing through your body. You come in a long plea, eyes getting blurry with pleasure, your grasp tightening on the wood. 

Joel’s chasing his own orgasm behind you, moaning your name. 

"Darlin’ I am not going to last…where do you want…"

"Inside… come inside of me Joel… need you inside, fill me up" you whine. 

"Gosh you’re too good to me darlin’… too fucking good to me" 

He keeps thrusting into you, before coming, whimpering your name, letting your pussy milk his cock dry, his spent sliding down your legs, staining the glittery fabric of the tights resting on your calves. 

"You’re okay there sweetheart?" Joel asks, swiping a bead of sweat from of his forehead with the hem of his shirt. He pulls out of you, chest heaving, trying to realize what just happened, completely hypnotized by the way his cum is drooling out of your pussy.

You’re completely exhausted, unable to rise from the desk, body aching from the way he fucked you, the skin of your waist so sensitive. 

You nod, humming in response. The truth is that you don’t really know if you’re okay… 

Standing over you, Joel buckles his pants back up, admiring your exhausted body resting on his desk, storing this picture in his mind for later. A hint of worry slides accros his face for a quick second… but now is not the time to think about the consequences. 

"Don’t move, I am getting you something to…clean up our mess" he says before disappearing in the bathroom. 

"Not planning on going anywhere right now…"

Joel steps in a couple of minutes later, a warm paper towel in his hands. 

You’re not bent over the desk anymore, just resting against it, facing him. 

"Not the best material I reckon but…"

"It’s fine." 

He helps you clean up before slipping your thong back in place, sliding your dress down your waist delicately. You slip the straps on your shoulders, covering your chest. 

Before any of you can say anything more, someone pounds on the door, popping up the soap bubble the two of you were wrapped in since you came into his office.

"Shit…". 

"Joel ! I can’t go out like this! Look at me? Look at my legs!" You panic, forcing Joel to realize the mess he made of you. 

"Boss ?" A voice shouts on the other side. 

"Gimme a minute" Joel yells back, grabbing your discarded coat on the floor, pulling it around your shoulder and tying it gently around your waist, making sure the knot won’t fall off. The black fabric is long enough to cover you up to the ankles. 

"You’re ready to go?" He asks, looking suddenly very pale. 

You nod, not inquiring further, letting him lead you out. 

You’re in the corridor in a blur, Joel’s hand splayed wide on the small of your back, pushing you out while talking to his guy. 

The music comes back in force now that you’ve left the office, making it hard to hear what this is all about. Your body is numb, mind unable to function properly anymore, the feeling of Joel’s skin on yours the only thing that you care about now. 

"Be right back in a minute, take Jimmy, Al and Rachid with you. Marcos is goin’ to the front alright?" Joel’s deep voice finally says loud enough for you to hear, right before he opens the backdoor. 

The cold night air hits you suddenly, and the cab Joel ordered a while ago is there, waiting for you. 

"I gotta go. Go home safely, alright?" Joel says mechanically before kissing your forehead, your eyes never meeting once. 

You just nod against his lips, closing your eyes, tears welling up in the corner. 

Joel opens the door for you, and you slide in the backseat, watching him going back inside the club through the window. 

You mumble the address to the driver, and your voice comes out so weakly that he turns towards you, hand resting on the headrest of the passenger seat. 

"You’re okay Miss?"

"Hm hm. I am fine. Thank you" 

"Alright"

The engine starts and the cab goes away in the night. 

Fidgeting with the lock of your purse, you focus on the city lights brightening the dark sky reflecting on the window, unable to stop yourself from wondering if this fleeting moment you shared with Joel, the one where you made this silly dream of yours a reality, wasn’t just big mistake after all.

a/n : thank you so much for reading all this, I hope you enjoyed it, reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💜

tagging some moots that were interested in the wips (no pressure at all 💕) : @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @gothcsz @almostfoxglove @almostempty

The walk felt endless, the sun beating down relentlessly until you finally reached the run-down building they used to stash their contraband. Inside, it was cooler, the peeling wallpaper and damp air making it feel like a tomb. Tess disappeared into the grimy excuse for a kitchen, and Joel dropped onto the sagging couch beside you. His presence was heavy, commanding, like he could fill a room without trying.

“Here,” he grunted, shoving a sandwich into your hand. It was rough around the edges, hastily made, but it was the kind of thing Joel did.

“I don’t want it,” you snapped, pushing it back toward him. The bite in your tone surprised even you, sharp and ungrateful. You didn’t know why you were acting like this.

Or maybe you did.

The tension had been simmering all day, coiling low in your stomach like a knot of barbed wire. It wasn’t just anger—it was something else. Neediness, frustration, something primal that made your skin feel too tight.

Joel’s eyes darkened, his hand freezing mid-air as he processed your rejection. “’Scuse me?” His voice was low, gravelly, carrying the kind of weight that made you want to shrink under it.

“Don’t be a brat,” Tess called from the kitchen, her tone dripping with disdain. You clenched your fists, heat crawling up your spine as the familiar burn of shame and anger flared to life.

“Stay out of it,” you snapped at Tess, the words cutting through the tense air like a whip. For a moment, everything stilled. Tess froze mid-step in the kitchen, her hand gripping the edge of the counter as her jaw clenched. The heat of her glare burned into your skin, but you didn’t care. Not today.

You looked at Joel, his eyebrows lifting, just for a split second. A flicker of something almost playful, like he couldn’t decide whether to be pissed or impressed. Amusement, maybe, though it was gone before you could be sure. His lips pressed into a hard line, but the corner twitched like he was fighting the urge to smirk.

“You ungrateful little—” Tess started, her voice sharp and venomous.

“Stop.” Joel’s voice cut through hers, low and commanding. Tess turned her glare on him, but he didn’t flinch. His gaze didn’t waver, locked on you with that same unreadable intensity that made your stomach twist. “It’s fine,” he said, though his tone carried no softness, no reassurance. “She can go to bed hungry.”

The words stung, and your throat tightened. Joel turned, grabbing his pack from the floor and slinging it over his broad shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said to Tess, already heading for the door.

Tess huffed, her irritation radiating off her in waves, but she didn’t argue. She shot you one last icy look before following Joel out, her boots heavy against the worn floorboards. The door slammed behind them, leaving the room eerily quiet.

Your eyes drifted to the counter, where the sandwich sat untouched.

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The room was dark except for the faint orange glow of the streetlights filtering through the cracked blinds. You lay on the mattress in the corner, curled on your side, the silence wrapping around you like a heavy blanket.

The muffled sound of boots on the hardwood floor broke through the stillness, steady and deliberate, before stopping just outside the doorway. You knew it was him before he even spoke.

“You eat the sandwich?” Joel’s voice was low, rough with exhaustion. He stepped into the room, the faint creak of the floorboards following him as he settled down beside the wall. He slid down until he was sitting, one knee bent, his broad shoulders resting against the peeling plaster.

You turned onto your back, staring at the ceiling. “Where’s Tess?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Outside,” he said simply, nodding toward the living area. “Cleaning up.”

You rolled onto your side, looking at him in the dim light. His head was tipped back against the wall, his eyes half-closed.

You hesitated for a moment, the words catching in your throat, but the day’s tension—weeks of it, really—forced them out. “I hate her,” you said, your voice flat, but the edges of your words were jagged.

Joel’s head turned, his gaze locking on you. His eyes flicked over your face, searching, reading you in that way he always did—like you were a puzzle he didn’t quite know how to put together. He let out a breath, the kind that wasn’t quite a sigh but close, and scratched at the scruff along his jaw.

“She’s not so bad,” he said finally, though his tone wasn’t convincing. He looked away, his hands resting loosely on his thighs. “She’s just... Tess.”

You huffed, turning your face back to the wall. “She’s awful,” you muttered, the heat in your voice undeniable. “She’s bossy, mean, and she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Joel said, though the weight in his voice betrayed him. He sighed, long and slow, like he didn’t even believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

“Yeah, right,” you replied, the bitterness laced thick in your tone as you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself.

Joel shifted, his knee creaking as he adjusted against the wall. “Hey,” he said, his voice firm but not harsh. “Why are you actin’ like a brat?”

“I’m not,” you shot back, sitting up slightly, the mattress creaking beneath you. “She’s weird with me because of you,” you added, your voice sharpening, each word cutting like glass.

His head tilted slightly, eyebrows furrowing in that way he did when you said something he didn’t like or didn’t understand. “What?”

You huffed, your frustration bubbling to the surface as you leaned forward, staring him down. “She likes you, Joel. That’s why she’s always a bitch to me.”

Joel blinked, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and disbelief. And then he laughed. It was dry, humorless, and sharp, like the idea was so ridiculous he couldn’t even begin to entertain it.

“You’re fuckin’ delusional,” he remarked, shaking his head as he leaned back against the wall again, arms folding across his broad chest.

“I’m not,” you snapped, glaring at him. “She looks at me like I’m some kind of... threat or something. Like I don’t belong.”

Joel’s face tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly. He didn’t respond right away, his jaw working as he chewed on your words.

“Doesn’t matter,” Joel said gruffly, his tone sharp and edged with irritation. “You don’t gotta like her. Just don’t act like a brat about it.”

“I’m not,” you shot back, your temper flaring hot and unchecked. “You’re not my fucking dad, so don’t tell me what to do.”

That did it.

Joel’s jaw tightened, and in one swift motion, he pushed himself up from the floor, his boots scraping against the wood as he rose to his full height. Before you could react, he was in front of you, his hand gripping your wrist firmly as he pulled you up from the mattress like you weighed nothing.

“What’d you just say to me?” he barked, his voice low and dangerous, his dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. His presence was overwhelming, his body towering over yours, unrelenting as he waited for your answer.

“I said you’re not my dad, so fuck off,” you hissed, your eyes locking with his in defiance. But your voice wavered, trembling at the edges, betraying the confidence you were trying to project.

Joel’s nostrils flared, and in one swift movement, he pushed you down back into the mattress and leaned down over you, bracketing you in with his broad shoulders and forearms. His presence was overwhelming, his weight shifting slightly as he hovered above you, his eyes dark and unrelenting.

You froze, your breath hitching as his knee pressed into the mattress between your thighs, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against your core. The sensation sent a jolt of heat through you, sharp and unexpected. A sound escaped your lips before you could stop it—a soft, needy whimper that felt deafening in the tense silence between you.

Joel stilled, his brows knitting together as his dark eyes flicked to your face, searching for something. “The fuck was that?” he muttered, his voice low and sharp, more curious than angry.

Your cheeks burned, your breath catching as you tried to will your body under control. But then his knee shifted slightly, brushing against you again, and you couldn’t stop the way your body arched instinctively, a traitorous whimper slipping free once more.

His gaze hardened, his lips twisting into something between surprise and smugness as he looked down at you, reading every inch of your flushed face. “You just fuckin’ whimper?” he asked, his voice rough and almost disbelieving, like he didn’t trust his own ears.

“No,” you stammered, your cheeks burning as you squirmed beneath him, trying to twist away. “Get off me.”

Joel didn’t move. If anything, he seemed even more planted, his presence overwhelming as he leaned closer. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his dark eyes glinting with amusement and something else—something darker, something that made your stomach churn and flip all at once. “Oh,” he drawled, his voice slow and dripping with condescension. “So that’s what this is about, huh?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you snapped, trying to keep your voice steady, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. The way he looked at you, like he could see right through you, made it impossible to breathe.

“Poor little thing,” he murmured, his tone mockingly sweet, each word cutting deeper. “So wound up you don’t even know what to do with yourself, huh?” His thumb brushed lazily over your hip, the contact light but enough to make you squirm. “That’s why you’ve been actin’ like a goddamn brat all day, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t—” you started, your voice shaky, but Joel cut you off. His hand came up, rough and steady, cupping your jaw and tilting your face up toward his. The motion was firm, commanding, leaving no room for protest.

“Don’t even try to lie to me,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent shivers racing down your spine. His dark eyes bore into yours, unrelenting and sharp, as if he could see right through you, peeling back every layer you tried to hide behind. “I’ve got you all figured out. You’ve been beggin’ for attention, haven’t you? Too damn stubborn to just ask for it, so you throw a tantrum instead.”

"Fuck off Joel," you said, but your words lacked conviction, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and something else—something darker. There was no fight in your tone, no real weight behind the demand.

Joel laughed, low and rough, the sound rolling from his chest like thunder. It wasn’t warm or comforting; it was sharp, mocking, cutting into you with ease. “I fuckin’ knew it,” he drawled, his tone thick with condescension. His lips curled into a wicked smirk as he leaned in closer. “Knew I could hear you at night. Moanin’ like a needy little thing. Horny as hell, weren’t you?”

“Joel!” you shrieked, mortified, your voice cracking as your face burned hot with embarrassment. You squirmed beneath him, trying to twist away, but his weight pinned you down, unyielding. “Stop it! Oh my God, stop—”

But Joel didn’t stop. If anything, his smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “That why you don’t like Tess?” he murmured, his voice laced with teasing cruelty.

“What?” you sputtered, whipping your head toward him, your voice high and defensive. “Of course not!”

“Thought maybe you were jealous,” he continued, his tone slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every word. “Thinkin’ I was fuckin’ her.”

Your glare sharpened, your hands balling into fists at your sides, but the heat crawling up your neck betrayed your frustration. “I don’t give a fuck what you do with her,” you spat, your voice laced with defiance.

Joel tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening as he studied you, his gaze heavy and unrelenting. “Admit it,” he murmured, his tone coaxing but sharp enough to sting. “You’ve been wantin’ this—wantin’ me—for a long time. Haven’t you?”

“You’re a freak,” you snapped, twisting beneath him in what you tried to pass off as resistance. But it was half-hearted at best, your body betraying you completely.

The heat pooling low in your stomach, the electric buzz coursing through you—it all told the truth that you refused to say out loud. And you knew Joel could see it, could feel it.

His smirk widened, cruel and smug, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. Without warning, he stood up, dusting off his jeans with deliberate nonchalance, as though nothing had just happened. The sudden loss of his weight, his heat, left you reeling, your skin still burning where his touch had lingered.

“Alright,” he said, his voice casual, dismissive, as he turned toward the door. “Sleep well.” The words were thrown over his shoulder like an afterthought, his tone dripping with indifference, and he didn’t even spare you a glance.

“What?” you blurted, sitting up so fast the mattress shifted beneath you. Your voice was laced with panic, confusion. “Where are you going?”

Joel stopped in his tracks, turning his head just enough to look at you, his expression smug and infuriating. “Where am I goin’?” he repeated, his voice rich with mockery. “Thought you didn’t want me here, darlin’. Thought I was a ‘freak.’” He let the word roll off his tongue, slow and deliberate.

You opened your mouth, your pride fighting against the words clawing their way out. “Come back,” you said softly, barely above a whisper, the vulnerability in your voice betraying you. It hung in the air, raw and desperate, and you hated yourself for how much you meant it.

Joel stopped mid-step, his shoulders stiffening before he turned his head just enough to look at you. His smirk returned, slow and lazy, as he pressed a hand to his ear in exaggerated mockery. “What was that?” he drawled, “Didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart. Magic word, maybe?”

“Please,” you bit out, your voice sharp, but the heat in your stomach betrayed the anger in your tone. When he didn’t move, you groaned, throwing your head back against the wall. “Fucking hell. Please, Joel.”

That did it. His smirk softened, his eyes darkening as he took a step back toward you, then another, his movements slow and deliberate. “There it is,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he stood before you again, towering over you. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t fight him.

"Alright, lay back," Joel said, his voice low and rough, a command, not a request.

You didn’t hesitate, the tension in the room thick enough to suffocate you. You ripped the covers off and leaned back against the mattress, your body buzzing with anticipation. Joel settled beside you, one knee pressing into the bed as he took his time, his dark eyes trailing over you like he was trying to figure out what to do with you.

Excitement coursed through you, and you shifted, your legs falling open instinctively, one thigh brushing against his leg. It was bold, shameless, and you didn’t care. Not when he was this close, not when his gaze was this heavy.

“Jesus,” Joel muttered under his breath, shaking his head as his eyes flicked down to where your thighs parted. “Like a bitch in heat.”

Your face burned, the words cutting through you like a knife, sharp and cruel. “Don’t be mean,” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of indignation and need.

He snorted, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “Mean?” he repeated, his voice dripping with condescension. “You were the one actin’ like a brat all day, weren’t you?” His hand reached out, rough and calloused as it slid up your thigh, his touch firm and unyielding. “So that’s how I’m gonna treat you.”

Your breath hitched as his hand moved higher, the warmth of his palm searing against your skin. His eyes locked on yours, dark and intense, daring you to argue. “You think you deserve nice?” he drawled, his voice soft but laced with a cruel edge. “After the way you’ve been runnin’ that mouth all day?”

“I didn’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a sharp laugh.

“Don’t even try,” he said, his thumb brushing against your inner thigh in a way that made your legs tremble. “You wanted attention, didn’t you? Well, now you’ve got it, darlin’. So be a good girl and take it.”

Joel’s thumb pressed firmly against you, the rough fabric of your clothes doing little to dull the sensation as he dragged it slowly over your aching, wet core. The friction sent a shiver through you, and you couldn’t stop the soft, desperate sound that escaped your lips.

“Fucking hell,” Joel muttered, his voice low and thick with disbelief. His dark eyes flicked to your face, studying your side profile, your lips parted and your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. “How’s it possible to be this wet?” he said, almost to himself, his tone rough, like he was mocking you for being so undone already.

You groaned, the heat in his voice igniting something primal in you. Your hips lifted instinctively, chasing the pressure of his fingers, desperate for more. He chuckled, low and rough, the sound vibrating through you like a current.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his tone mocking but laced with something darker, something hungrier. “Couldn’t even wait, huh? Drippin’ all over yourself like this. You really are just a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, your pride burning at his words but the ache between your thighs drowning out everything else. His thumb moved again, slower this time, teasing, torturous, as he watched you squirm beneath him. “Joel,” you breathed, his name slipping past your lips in a mix of frustration and desperation.

“Take ’em off,” Joel said, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver straight through you.

Your hands moved instantly, no hesitation, hooking into the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your legs, clutching the flimsy fabric in your hands, your body buzzing with a mix of anticipation and shame.

“Give ’em to me,” he said, holding out his hand.

You hesitated for a second, just a second, before you placed them in his palm. He didn’t even look at them, just shoved them into his back pocket like it was nothing. The action, casual and deliberate, made your cheeks burn.

“Pervert,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at him even as your stomach twisted in want.

“Hey,” he said sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Watch it. I can walk out that door right now. That what you want?”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. “No,” you said quickly, your voice soft and desperate as you shook your head.

“Good,” he said simply, his smirk returning as he leaned back slightly. “Sit back.”

The cool air hit you, and you flushed even hotter, knowing how exposed you were, how much of a mess you must look.

Joel’s gaze dropped between your thighs, his lips twitching into something between a smirk and a sneer. “Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re drippin’ all over yourself.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers ghosted over your core, not quite touching but close enough to make you squirm.

“You touch yourself?” he asked, his tone low and almost mocking, his fingertips brushing just barely against your slick skin.

“Yeah,” you admitted, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your hips twitched toward his hand.

He hummed, nodding slowly. “How much?” he asked, his voice thick, his fingers still teasing, never giving you what you wanted.

“Every night,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You didn’t care how filthy you sounded, didn’t care how his lips curled into a smirk at your confession. You just needed him to touch you. “Every single night.”

“Christ,” Joel muttered, his fingers grazing you just enough to make your breath hitch. His eyes flicked back up to your face, dark and intense. “What do you think about?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest, before your gaze locked with his. “You,” you admitted, the word barely above a whisper. And then, before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

He stiffened for half a second, the shock evident, but then he relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut as he let you kiss him. That alone surprised you—Joel wasn’t the type to give, not like this. His lips were warm, firm, and they lingered against yours, almost tender in a way that made your chest ache.

“Hm,” he hummed when you pulled back, his eyes still half-lidded. “Sweet,” he said, the word muttered so quietly it felt like it wasn’t meant for you to hear.

A small smile tugged at your lips, the warmth spreading through you despite the tension still coiling in your stomach.

But Joel wasn’t one to stay soft for long. His smirk returned, sharp and teasing. “Still a fuckin’ brat,” he said, his voice low and rough. “And brats get punished.”

You groaned, the words sending a shiver through you as your hips lifted instinctively, begging for more of his touch. His dark laugh rumbled low in his chest, and he leaned back just enough to watch you squirm.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his tone dripping with condescension. “So desperate you don’t even know what to do with yourself.”

Your brows furrowed as you glared at him, frustration boiling over. “Joel—”

“I’ll do you one better,” he interrupted, sitting back slightly, his legs spreading slightly. His smirk deepened as he saw the confusion flicker across your face.

“Take my pants off,” he said simply, his voice commanding, like he didn’t expect you to argue.

Your breath caught, the tension in the room growing impossibly thicker as his words sank in. His gaze never left yours, heavy and unwavering, daring you to hesitate. But you didn’t. Your hands moved almost on their own, reaching for the button of his jeans, your fingers trembling as you fumbled with it.

Joel chuckled low and dark, his hands resting lazily on his thighs as he watched you. “That’s it,” he murmured, his tone dripping with amusement. “Good girl.”

The praise made your heart stutter, your cheeks flushing as your hands trembled, tugging his jeans down slowly, the fabric dragging over his muscular thighs. Joel shifted slightly to help you, lifting his hips just enough, the casual dominance in the movement sending a thrill racing through you. He made it look effortless, like he was still in control even when you were the one undressing him.

Your hand moved instinctively to touch him, but his voice stopped you cold. “Nuh uh,” he said, his tone low and firm, a quiet command. His eyes darkened as he leaned back slightly, watching you. “Shirt off too,” he instructed, his voice steady but thick with anticipation.

Your breath hitched, and you hesitated for just a moment before obeying. Your shirt joined the pile of his clothes on the floor, leaving you bare before him. Joel’s eyes dragged over you slowly, taking in every inch of your exposed skin.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his teeth catching his bottom lip as his hands shot out, rough and deliberate. He grabbed your breasts, his large palms squeezing, his thumbs rolling over your sensitive nipples. “Fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, his voice low and full of reverence, though his touch was anything but gentle.

Your back arched instinctively into his hands, a gasp escaping your lips as the roughness of his calloused fingers sent shocks of heat spiraling through you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable, your entire body trembling under the weight of it all—the tension, the teasing, the slow build that had been driving you to the edge for what felt like hours.

“I need you,” you blurted, the words breaking free before you could stop them. Your voice cracked, raw with desperation. “I need you bad, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he muttered, his voice rougher now, low and dangerous, like he was savoring every second of your unraveling. “You that needy, huh?” He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips. His hand slid lower, gripping your waist firmly as he smirked again, this time sharper, hungrier. “Gonna cry for it, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard, the tears threatening to spill as you nodded, your hands clutching at the fabric of the mattress beneath you. “Please,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I’m—I’m begging you, Joel.”

Joel exhaled slowly, his hand coming up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek as if he were testing you, seeing how far you could unravel before breaking completely. His eyes roamed your face, his gaze heavy and unrelenting. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low, almost to himself. “So desperate you’re fallin’ apart.”

His thumb caught the edge of a tear sliding down your cheek, and his smirk returned—soft but laced with condescension, sharp enough to make your stomach twist. “You’re a mess, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement, though there was something deeper, darker beneath it.

A shaky breath escaped your lips, your chest heaving as you tried—and failed—to hold back a sob. “Joel, please,” you whispered again, your voice breaking, trembling with need. You hated how small you sounded, but the ache inside you drowned out the embarrassment.

Joel’s eyes darkened, his thumb trailing down to press against your trembling bottom lip. He tilted your chin up, forcing your gaze to stay locked with his. “Alright,” he said finally, his voice low and gravelly, the words drawn out slowly, like he wanted to savor the sound of them. “I’ll take care of you. That what my baby wants?”

You nodded frantically, tears spilling over as relief and anticipation coursed through you, lighting up every nerve in your body. His thumb lingered on your lip for a moment longer, pressing gently, teasingly, before he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice so soft it sent a fresh shiver down your spine. His lips brushed against your temple, and the warmth of his words melted into you.

“You wanna see me?” Joel asked, his voice dropping even lower, thick with teasing. “Or you wanna be on your knees?”

“Wanna see you,” you answered quickly, the words spilling from your lips before you could stop them. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, pleading, raw with need. “Please.”

Joel’s smirk deepened, his eyes dragging over you with that slow, deliberate intensity that made your skin burn. “Okay, baby,” he murmured, his voice softer now but still carrying that rough, gravelly edge. “Lay back for me.”

You obeyed without hesitation, sinking into the mattress as your legs fell open, your chest rising and falling with anticipation. Your hands moved instinctively, reaching out to roam over his chest, your fingertips brushing against the heat of his skin. His muscles tensed under your touch as you brought one hand lower, trailing down his abdomen to the back of his thighs, desperate to pull him closer, to feel more of him.

Joel chuckled, the sound low and rich as his hand caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Be patient,” he drawled, his tone thick with amusement, his grip firm but not cruel. His free hand slid down your thigh, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin there in slow, teasing strokes that sent shivers racing through you. “I know you’re eager, darlin’, but I gotta take my time. Don’t wanna break ya.”

Your breath hitched, your body trembling beneath his touch as his words settled over you, calm and confident in a way that made your heart pound even harder. The ache between your thighs was unbearable now, your body so wound up you couldn’t think straight. “Joel,” you whispered, your voice shaky and desperate. “I’m ready. Please.”

He raised a brow, his smirk twisting into something wicked as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Oh, I know you are,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, sweetheart, I don’t even need any spit.” His words were filthy, teasing, and they sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

And then, with no warning, Joel sunk into you in one smooth, deliberate motion, a deep, guttural groan rumbling from his chest as he pressed flush against you. The stretch, the fullness, the sheer intensity of him overwhelmed your senses, and a loud, unrestrained yelp tore from your throat. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth, your cheeks burning hot with embarrassment.

“Nuh uh,” Joel said sharply, grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand away from your face. His dark eyes burned into yours, his voice low and rough, the command in his tone making your chest tighten. “Wanna hear those sweet noises, baby. Don’t you dare hide ’em from me.”

You whimpered, your mind spinning from the fullness, the stretch, the overwhelming intensity of him. “But… what about…” you stammered, your thoughts hazy and scattered, trying to cling to something, anything. What was her name? The thought flitted through your mind, faint and distant. It slipped from your lips before you could stop it, a whisper of a worry clinging to the back of your mind.

Joel stilled for half a second, his lips curling into a wicked grin, his amusement clear. “So cock drunk you forgot her fuckin’ name,” he murmured, his voice dripping with mockery, each word a sharp tease that only heightened the heat flooding your body.

And then, without warning, he pulled out completely, leaving you empty, the sudden loss of him making you gasp. Before you could even register the thought, he slammed back into you with a force that had you screaming, your back arching off the mattress as your nails raked down his shoulders, clinging to him like he was the only thing grounding you.

Joel laughed, low and dark, the sound vibrating through your chest as his breath fanned over your face. He leaned closer, his smirk sharp and cutting as his hips snapped against yours again, his movements deliberate and unrelenting. “Don’t you want her to hear ya?” he teased, his voice dripping with condescension and something darker, something possessive.

“Joel,” you gasped, the sound of his name raw and unrestrained as he drove into you, each thrust more intense than the last. His hands gripped your hips tightly, anchoring you to him as he chuckled at your reaction.

“Let her hear those pretty little screams, baby,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “Let her know I’m in your pussy, not hers.” His tone was cruelly teasing, but the heat in his words, in his eyes, made your entire body tremble, completely at his mercy.

Your breath hitched, a potent mix of embarrassment and raw, unrelenting desire coursing through you. Joel’s words were filthy, taunting, cutting straight through your defenses, but instead of pushing you away, they only made you cling to him harder. Your nails dug into his back as your body arched into him, every nerve ignited, desperate for more. His pace quickened, each thrust harder, more deliberate, his movements rough and dripping with possession.

“Bet you like that, huh?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, each word a teasing caress against your ear. His lips brushed the shell of it, his breath hot and ragged. “You want her to be jealous? Want her to hear and know exactly who you belong to?” His hand slid down to grip your thigh, rough fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer, driving himself deeper inside you. “Say it,” he growled, his voice dark and commanding. “Say you’re mine.”

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t form a single coherent thought beyond him—his body, his voice, the way he consumed you completely. The tension in your belly coiled tighter and tighter, ready to snap. “Yours,” you gasped, your voice cracking, trembling. “I’m yours, Joel.”

Joel’s smirk deepened, his eyes darkening with something primal. He leaned back just enough to look at you, his hand gripping your jaw firmly. “Open,” he ordered, his tone rough, leaving no room for hesitation.

You obeyed without question, your lips parting as your gaze locked on his, wide and eager. His smirk turned wicked, his hand tilting your chin as he spat into your mouth, slow and deliberate.

The act was filthy, raw, and utterly consuming, sending a fresh wave of heat crashing through your body. Humiliation and desire burned together, each feeding into the other until there was nothing left but the aching, desperate need for more.

“Fuck!” you screamed, your voice breaking, echoing through the room as your head fell back, your body trembling beneath him. Your eyes rolled with pleasure, the tension snapping in waves that left you gasping, completely at his mercy. Joel wasn’t satisfied with just having you; he wanted to take all of you. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, strong and commanding as he pushed your legs up to your chest, spreading you even wider.

“Thereee ya go,” Joel teased, his voice rough and dripping with mocking satisfaction. His lips twisted into a smug smirk, his dark eyes locked onto yours as his hips rolled, his pace faltering just enough to make you squirm. As he pulled back, slick and glistening with your arousal, he chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you like a current. “So damn wet, I can’t even stay in,” he muttered, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

Without warning, he guided himself back inside, filling you again in one smooth, deliberate motion that left you gasping. The stretch, the fullness, was overwhelming, and a desperate moan ripped from your throat as he set a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping against yours with relentless force.

The sound of skin slapping filled the room, loud and obscene, mingling with your cries and Joel’s deep, gravelly grunts. His breath was hot and heavy against your ear, his chest pressing against yours as he drove into you, each thrust dragging you closer to the edge again.

“You feel me, baby?” he growled, his voice low and rough, vibrating against your neck. His scruff scratched against your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine, your body arching beneath him as you clawed at his back. Your nails raked across his skin, leaving angry red trails in their wake, but Joel didn’t flinch. If anything, it only seemed to spur him on.

“All in here,” he murmured, his voice softer but no less commanding as his hand slid down your stomach. His palm pressed firmly against you, his dark eyes flicking between your flushed face and the place where your bodies met. “Feel that?” he muttered, his tone thick with pride and hunger. “That’s me, baby. All of me, deep inside you.”

You whimpered, your hips lifting desperately to meet his thrusts, each movement of his body sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Joel braced himself on one elbow, his chest brushing against yours as his free hand moved between your thighs. His fingers found your clit with ease, and he began rubbing harshly, no hesitation, no regard for how sensitive you were. The intensity made you scream, your vision going white as your body jerked beneath him.

“Joel,” you gasped, his name falling from your lips in a trembling plea, the sensation overwhelming you, consuming you whole.

Your thoughts scattered like ash in the wind as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, his relentless touch unraveling you piece by piece. His rough hands anchored you, grounding you to the bed even as his gruff voice pulled you further under his control. You were pliant, trembling, utterly at his mercy, and all you could do was hold on as he drove you past every limit you thought you had.

“I—I’m gonna cum,” you screamed, your voice cracking, trembling with the weight of it. Your body tightened around him, the pleasure building higher and higher, unbearably close to breaking.

Joel’s lips curled into a wicked smirk, his thrusts becoming even more relentless, faster, deeper, like he was chasing his own edge just as much as he was pushing you toward yours. “Good,” he growled, his voice low and rough, vibrating against your ear like a promise. “Go on, baby. Cum for me. And make sure she hears you.”

“There you go, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with lust and satisfaction. “Cum on my cock. Fuck, milk my cock, baby. That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

The filthy words broke you completely. “Joel,” you cried, your voice cracking as the tension snapped, the pleasure ripping through you like a tidal wave. Your body arched off the bed, your nails biting into his skin as your cries filled the room, raw and unrestrained. Every nerve in your body was alight, the sensation so intense it bordered on too much, yet you couldn’t get enough.

Joel moved quickly, rolling onto his back with a fluid motion, his chest heaving as he looked up at you. His hand reached for yours, pulling it toward him with a firm, commanding grip. “Stroke me,” he growled, his voice low and gravelly, rough from the strain of holding back. His dark, hungry eyes locked on yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I’m close.”

Your body was still trembling from your release, weak and unsteady, but you obeyed him without hesitation. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you reached for him, your fingers wrapping around his length. He hissed through his teeth, his hips jerking upward at the first touch, the reaction sending a thrill through you.

You started slow, dragging your hand up and down, your thumb brushing over the head with just enough pressure to make his breath hitch. Joel’s grunts and muttered curses filled the room, spurring you on as you quickened your pace. His head tipped back slightly, his neck exposed, his lips parted as he let out a low, drawn-out moan that made your thighs clench.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his, surprising yourself—and him. For a moment, he froze, his eyes flicking open. But then he gave in, his mouth moving against yours in a kiss that was hot and sensual, his lips rough but responsive. The taste of him, the way he let you take control, sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

Your strokes quickened, your hand moving with more purpose now, your fingers tightening around him. Joel’s hips jerked in time with your movements, his groans growing louder, deeper, until his head fell back against the pillow. His jaw clenched, a guttural sound tearing from his throat as his body tensed.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his voice rough and raw, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him as he let go. His eyes fluttered shut, his breath uneven as he sat up suddenly, shifting onto his knees. With one final moan—your name tumbling from his lips like a prayer—he came, his release painting your stomach in warm, messy streaks.

Joel stayed there for a moment, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath. His eyes remained closed, his lips slightly parted, and for once, he looked completely undone—vulnerable in a way you rarely saw. It was mesmerizing, the way his defenses slipped, the way he seemed to let himself just feel.

You smiled at him, tender despite the heat still coursing through you. Joel’s eyes opened slowly, his gaze locking on yours, and for a moment, you thought he might soften. But instead, he leaned forward, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he kissed you roughly. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that hadn’t waned, a growl rumbling deep in his chest as he pulled you closer. It wasn’t sweet or soft—it was commanding, possessive, like he was staking his claim all over again.

You started to lean back, your chest heaving, ready to catch your breath. But Joel wasn’t done with you.

“Nuh uh,” he said suddenly, his voice steady and firm, a sharp contrast to the rawness from moments before. His hand caught your wrist, his grip firm as he pulled you upright, drawing you back into his control. “Be a good girl for me,” he said, his voice low and rough, laced with authority. “Go out there and get us some water.”

You blinked at him, dazed and still catching up, confusion flooding your mind as you started to reach for your discarded clothes. “Okay,” you murmured, your hand brushing against your shirt. But before you could grab it, Joel’s hand shot out again, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you cold.

“No,” he said sharply, his voice low and commanding. His dark eyes gleamed with something wicked, a dangerous amusement that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips curled into a smug, teasing smirk as he tilted his head toward the door. “You’re goin’ out there butt naked, baby, with my cum all over your tummy.”

Your eyes widened, heat flooding your cheeks as your stomach flipped with a potent mix of embarrassment and disbelief. “What?” you practically squeaked, your voice pitching higher. “Joel, are you serious?”

Joel leaned back against the headboard, his smirk widening, dripping with smug satisfaction as he spread his arms lazily, utterly at ease. He looked at you like you were a challenge he’d already conquered, his eyes dark and unrelenting. “You wanted her to know you’re mine, didn’t you?” he drawled, his voice slow, mocking, every word cutting into your resolve. “Well, go on, then. Let her see where I just came.”

The heat in your cheeks burned impossibly hotter, your body stiffening as his words sank in, settling heavy in your chest. Humiliation twisted inside you, curling around the raw, unrelenting need he’d left you drowning in. You wanted to argue, to snap back at him, to yell something defiant—but the way he looked at you, so commanding, so utterly unapologetic, made your stomach twist in ways you couldn’t ignore. His confidence was maddening, overwhelming, yet it drew you in like a magnet.

Your breath hitched as you stood there, frozen, your mind spinning with indecision. And yet, deep down, you already knew. You’d do it. Because he asked. Because it was Joel. Because the way his voice dropped, low and full of authority, sent shivers down your spine. And because, in the end, you wanted her to know just as much as he did.

You hesitated at the door, your heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. Each beat felt like it might shake your body apart, your legs trembling as you fought to muster the courage to take the next step. Behind you, Joel leaned back further, watching you with that maddening, infuriating smirk, his gaze heavy, unrelenting, and impossibly smug. He was waiting, savoring the moment, dragging it out just to see you squirm.

“Go on, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low, honeyed drawl that sent a fresh wave of heat through your body. “Let her see.”

His words were slow, deliberate, and they left no room for disobedience. Your breath caught, and despite the knot of humiliation twisting in your chest, you reached for the doorknob. The cool metal was grounding, but it did nothing to stop the heat crawling up your neck as you pushed the door open and stepped out.

Swallowing hard, you pushed the door open and stepped out, your skin flushing hot as the cool air of the main room hit your bare body. You prayed—begged—that Tess would be asleep, her usual scowl absent, but of course, the universe wasn’t that kind. She was right there, sitting on the couch, her arms crossed and her jaw set like she’d been expecting this exact moment. Her fiery eyes locked on you the second you stepped into view.

You could feel the weight of her glare, sharp enough to cut, as you walked toward the kitchen. Each step felt agonizingly slow, your bare feet padding against the floor as your tits bounced slightly with every movement. Joel’s release still slicked across your stomach, glinting faintly in the dim light, and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

Tess’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line, her nostrils flaring as she stared at you, her gaze flicking from your flushed face to your exposed chest to the mess on your skin. The tension in the room was suffocating, thick enough to choke on, but you kept moving, refusing to meet her eyes. Your legs felt weak, your breath shallow, and every inch of your body burned under her scrutiny.

As you reached the kitchen, fumbling for a glass of water with trembling hands, you could feel Joel’s presence even from behind the closed door. He was enjoying this—every second of it.

You could practically hear Joel’s low chuckle echoing in your head, dripping with smug satisfaction. The weight of his gaze lingered on your bare back even from behind the closed door, the unspoken command still tethering you to him. He knew exactly what he was doing—forcing you to obey, knowing it would leave Tess seething with jealousy. It was all a game to him, and the thought only made the knot in your stomach tighten.

“You’re a whore,” Tess spat, her voice cutting through the tense silence like a blade.

You froze for half a second, your fingers tightening around the glass as your throat bobbed with a hard swallow.

But you didn’t look at her. You didn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, you poured the water calmly, the sound of it filling the suffocating silence, and then turned on your heel, walking back toward the bedroom with your head held high.

Her eyes burned into your back as you left, the weight of her words pressing against you like a boulder. But all you could hear in your mind was Joel’s voice, smooth and commanding, telling you what to do, and you clung to it like a lifeline.

When you stepped back into the room, shutting the door firmly behind you, Joel was right where you left him—lounging on the mattress, his cock still out, his head tipped back like he had all the time in the world. The sight of him sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, his relaxed confidence utterly maddening and undeniably magnetic. His dark eyes flicked to the glass in your hand, and a slow, pleased smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Good girl,” he drawled, his voice rough and full of pride. The praise made your stomach twist in ways you couldn’t deny, even as your cheeks burned. He sat up slightly, one arm bracing him against the mattress as he watched you cross the room, his gaze trailing over every inch of your exposed skin. He took his time, his eyes heavy and unrelenting, like he was savoring the view.

“She say anything?” Joel asked, his tone casual, but his eyes gave him away—dark, sharp, with a glint of knowing amusement that made your stomach flip. He leaned back slightly, his broad shoulders relaxing against the headboard as if he had all the time in the world.

You hesitated, your throat tightening as the memory of Tess’s venomous words replayed in your head. Joel noticed, of course—he always did. His brow lifted, his smirk twisting into something sharper, darker. He reached for the glass in your hands, taking it from you with deliberate ease before guiding you down onto the mattress. The movement was firm yet unhurried, his grip on you steady.

“She call you somethin’?” he pressed, his voice dripping with mock curiosity, like he already knew the answer. He set the glass aside and grabbed an old rag, his rough hands surprisingly gentle as he wiped the remnants of his release from your stomach. The action, almost tender, sent shivers through you, your skin hypersensitive under his touch. His fingers tapped lazily against his thigh, waiting. “Lemme guess. A whore?”

Your cheeks burned, and you glanced down, unable to meet his gaze, your voice barely a whisper. “Yeah,” you muttered.

Joel’s chuckle was low and rough, vibrating through the room and settling in your chest. It wasn’t a comforting sound; it was smug, knowing, dripping with the satisfaction of being right. “Course she did,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. His smirk deepened as his hands found your thighs, pulling you closer, his thumbs brushing over your skin. “Think she’s a bit jealous.”

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as his grip tightened, grounding you. His smirk turned wicked, his eyes glinting with something darker, something possessive. “But she’s right about one thing,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, rougher, each word sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. “You’re my whore. Aren’t you?”

The weight of his gaze burned through you, setting every nerve in your body alight. Your chest tightened, the tension unraveling as you nodded, your body trembling under the force of his presence. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think—there was only him. His smirk widened at your silent admission, his hands sliding further up your thighs, gripping you firmly.

“Good girl,” he hummed, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your lips as his fingers dug into your skin. “You ready for me again?”

The question made your breath hitch, your body already aching with anticipation. You nodded frantically, your lips parting as your heart pounded against your ribs. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice breaking, raw with need.

The room you’re in is wide, brick walls of it covered with graffiti, holding a network of pipes. You... You know this place. You’ve seen it from outside of the abandoned warehouse near the QZ, waiting for your boyfriend Lucien to finish up meeting with his smuggling crew. You always hated the types of guys coming here and the way he’d try to fit in with them, mimicking them without noticing. Most of the time, though, you’d bear with it because his line of work brought in the resources. To him and to you. This has to be the shadiest place in a wide perimeter, and it smells like it; of sweat, dried blood and rusted metal.

You raise your arms slightly and turn to look at them. There’s a pull of the heavy metal again. You see chains tied around your wrists, locked around a metal pipe. You don’t remember any of this happening, much less getting here. Your mind runs a mile an hour, trying to find an answer to the burning question – why the hell are you here tied up?

Heavy and intent footsteps grow louder until you see a big wooden door open. Your eyes widen as you see who comes out, his bearded face and stern expression unmistakable. He leans on a small metal table, staring you down. Joel fucking Miller.

Of course you know who Joel Miller is. Along with Tess, he’s one of the most notorious smugglers in the Boston QZ, feared by even the toughest of brutes. Tess is the brains, Joel is the muscle. They worked with Lucien on his most recent deal and... Oh, shit. You know why you’re here.

His expression is nonchalant, except for a subtle scowl. “Finally. You’re awake.”

You look him straight in the eye, trying not to show the fear bubbling in your stomach. You curse yourself as a tremble in your voice betrays it. “Why am I here?”

He grins darkly at the tremble in your voice, satisfied with his plan to intimidate you. “You know why you’re here.”

Of course you do. This isn’t the first time Lucien’s sleazy tactics backfired on him, yet he always thought he knew better than you. Didn’t want to listen to your advice and did as he pleased. Now you’re the one captured for it.

You decide in a split second you’ll pretend you have no idea. “No, I don’t.”

“Liar.” He says menacingly.

“What do you want?” You get annoyed and struggle against the chains.

“No use strugglin’. You’ll just hurt yourself. And I want my share.” He walks around as he speaks, heavy boots stomping on the concrete floor. You have to resist the urge to flinch at every one of his steps. “Thought you were so smart, double-crossing me and Tess.”

You glare at him, determined not to let him sense your fear. “Me? I’m not a smuggler.”

He smirks. “Oh, right. Forgot you’re Lucien’s arm candy.”

You know what he’s doing. Trying to coax an answer out of you by implying your only use is standing still and looking pretty. You won’t fall for it. You tilt your head. “Forgot you’re Tess’s muscle.”

You see a flicker of annoyance pass him at the quip before he composes himself. “The muscle could snap you in half.”

You keep glaring up at him. “Good thing. Nothing else going for you.”

He comes closer and kneels in front of you, his shadow looming over your frame. “You’re makin’ this a whole lot harder on yourself.”

You keep eye contact as he comes closer to you, his breath hitting your face, your breath speeding up from adrenaline and... His proximity. He’s so close you can smell his musk mixed with gun powder. God, not him. Not right now. You swallow.

He smirks. “What? Cat ate your tongue?”

You struggle to think as your skin warms up slightly, making part of you not want to leave. Looking away from him towards the floor, you shake out of it. The chains are tied to the pipe with a lock. If you’re lucky and he hasn’t thought this through, he could be keeping the keys to the lock somewhere on him. Joel wouldn’t, but it’s worth a try. You could also convince him to let you go. You’ve talked your way out of worse, and Joel is a pragmatic man. If you figure out what he wants, you stand a chance.

After a few seconds of running through this in your head, you have a plan of action. “I can give you your share.”

He leans a bit away to check your facial expression, determine if you’re deceptive. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah. It was a stupid idea, and I told him that. You should be made up for your struggle.” You try to keep your expression flat, playing up the “you deserve compensation” card.

He hums, smiling slyly. “You’re good. Can’t tell if you’re lyin’.”

“Well, I’m telling the truth.” You huff, genuinely annoyed this time at the predicament you’re in because of your boyfriend. “So how about we cut a deal and you get me out of these?” You raise your arms as much as the chains tying them on your back will allow.

He raises his eyebrow. “You’re takin’ this way better than I thought.”

You roll your eyes. “Not used to people coming in to save me.”

He shrugs and nods. “See...” He gets up slowly from his crouching position, walking around again. “I could cut you a deal.” He stops and looks you over, his eyes scanning your body slowly, like a predator deciding whether to play with its prey or finish the hunt. “Ain’t sure you’re gonna like it, though.”

Relief, intrigue and a bit of fear are swirling in your chest. Your voice cracks but you compose it quickly. “Go ahead. Shoot.”

He comes closer to you and crouches again, stroking your cheek with no emotion in his eyes, searching yours for any signs of discomfort. Chills prickle your skin and you’re not sure if you want to bite your lip to hold back your reactions or to spur him on. You refrain from it.

You should move to stop him. But it’s as if his gaze is keeping you in place, looking into your very soul.

“This is about sendin’ a message.” He strokes your cheek with his knuckles, the roughness of his calloused hand pleasant against your soft skin. “So you can tell me where you keep everythin’ you own, or...” He bites his lip, his eyes closing slightly with lust. “We can do somethin’ else.”

You’re breathing heavily, you heart beating quickly in your chest, leaning against the wall to get as much distance as you can from him in a desperate attempt to think clearly.

All of Lucien and your resources or... Whatever Joel’s up to? You don’t like this. You’re cornered. As much as you’re intrigued by the latter, you have a sinking feeling in your gut you’ll be forced to do it anyway. You frown in resignation.

You turn back to Joel, your tongue on your teeth in anger. “What else?” You spit out.

He smirks, aware of his position, taking his hand off your cheek. “You’re a smart girl. ’M sure you’ll figure it out.”

Thinking of your next move, you look at him frustrated. You lunge and bite the front of his shirt, keeping him in place as you try to will your chained hands to move to his jean pockets and look for the key.

He scoffs in frustration and shakes you off, pinning your shoulders against the wall. “Goddamnit-“

You slam against the wall, scowling at him.

He keeps you pinned and scoffs. “Oh, c’mon.” He smiles slyly, running his finger down the pulse point on your neck. “Afraid you’ll like it?” He leans in and whispers in your ear, his lips lightly grazing the shell of it. “You already do.”

You hate him with a fiery passion. You hate the invisible pull between you two and the way your breath is quickening.

He keeps whispering. “Smart girl. Sharp as a whip. Bet he doesn’t know how to handle ya.” He runs his hands down your sides, stoking the fire lit in you.

Your eyes shut slightly on their own accord, the sensation in your core pleasant. He’s flattering you, using your vanity against you as if he’s reading into your mind.

“I could make good use of you.” He whispers, his breath hitting your ear. “In a lotta ways.” His words are seductive, but you sense a deeper meaning. He sees tangible value in your calculating mind and survival instincts.

You should resist him. Use any tactic you can think of and try to run. But you’re curious about what he could do to you. You like the thought, and your body’s betraying you too, heat pooling low.

You’re also curious about the vision of Joel treating you like an equal. Tess is his partner in crime and you’re not sure how you’d fit in the picture. Yet, desperation for recognition Lucien never gave you lets you think wishfully for a fleeting moment. Does thinking like this make you a traitor? Weak willed? A sell-out? What devastates you is you’re not sure Lucien would care for this more than losing his supplies.

There’d likely be hell to pay either way. Hell with Joel seems like the lesser one.

So you entertain Joel. You bite your lip and turn to him slightly as you whisper. “Bet you could.”

He slowly pulls away from your ear and smiles slyly. “You’re comin’ around.”

You return his sly smile with your own. “Are you gonna make good on your promise?”

He leans in, his lips inches from yours, an invitation for you to close the distance. “You bet.”

You look down at his lips, corners of your mouth crooked into a smug smile. Temptation rises in you, pulling you in like a moth to a flame. And a flame will it be when Lucien finds out.

You lean in and kiss him. He kisses you back searingly, full of pent up aggression and desire, biting your lip softly. You moan at the slight sting, both getting lost in this desperate and carnal moment, mouth to mouth, no more space for thinking. His tongue finds your lower lip, asking for access. You grant it instantly, opening your mouth to let him explore it. You catch his tongue with yours and they glide against each other in a slow dance.

Moaning, you pull away. He grunts slightly at the loss of your lips on his. There’s a certain question in the way you look at him now that he can’t answer; how far is this going? He’s swept away in the tide of his arousal and letting it guide him.

He gets up and puts his hand on your chin, lifting it and tapping it as he speaks commandingly. “On your knees.”

You blink a few times in surprise and swallow your pride before you get up on your knees, tugging at the cold chains as you shift from your sitting position. Your core is fluttering even as you’re feeling like uncertainty is pressing down on your chest.

He smirks at your current position and tilts your head up, nudging you softly with his words. “Open wide. C’mon.”

You lick your lips as you look up at him with an expression juxtaposing what you’re feeling. Ready. In too deep, you’re seeing this through, letting him take you through the unknown. You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out.

“Eager for me, huh?” He strokes your chin tenderly, like you’re something to be handled carefully. “Good girl.”

You smile smugly with your eyes, keeping your mouth open, the last shreds of your restraint keeping you from giving fully into him.

The sound of him unbuckling his belt echoes through the warehouse interior. He slides it off, pulling down his jeans. You get a good look at the bulge straining against his boxers. God, he seems big. A bit of worry of you’ll fit him in your mouth comes over you.

He just grins at your hesitant frown and reaches for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down. His length is bobbing on his abdomen, red and angry, already leaking precum. You instinctively tilt your head and bite your lip at the sight. His bulge didn’t fool you about his size, and of course it’s as demanding and manly as the rest of him.

He looks at you sternly. “Go on. I ain’t got all day.”

He’s taunting your doubts, and you might agree with the sentiment. You want to be so full of him you can’t think. You lick up the drops leaking from his slit, looking up at him with wide, pliant eyes.

He strokes the back of your head, sucking in a breath. “There we go.” He grips your hair and pulls you in the direction of his cock. You wrap your mouth around his tip, swirling your tongue, before you push in deeper.

He grunts. He grips your hair, his eyes shutting slightly at the sensation of your warm mouth. “Just like that, baby. So good.” He pats your cheek with his other hand.

You bob your head, setting up a steady pace. You inhale his musk as you take him in deeper each time.

He’s a mess of grunts and low moans. He grips your hair with both hands and starts thrusting into you with abandon. He hits the back of your throat and even as you gag, you close your eyes and moan, the vibration pleasant on his cock. He lit up a wildfire inside you. At this point, you’re helpless to stop it.

Even in his haze, he’s making sure to hold your head securely to keep you from falling backwards. He lets out a groan as he bucks into you, struggling to speak. “Takin’ me so well. You like chokin’ on it?”

You moan in approval. You’re getting off on being tied up and used like this, the ache in your core becoming almost unbearable. So intent on doing whatever he wants, you don’t care if it gets eased.

“’M not sure how long I can last.” He pulls out of your mouth slowly, the saliva stream connecting your mouth with his cock as he does. You open your eyes, looking up at him half-lidded, close to being completely spent. He strokes your cheek, scared he’s hurt you. “You okay?” His voice is tinged with warmth you didn’t expect.

You nod as you look into his hazel eyes, still devoid of emotion but attentive in their own way, glimpses of the man he must have been before the world hardened him.

“Where d’you want me?” He keeps stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“I want you inside me.” There’s almost a desperation in the way you look up at him, not sure if it’s for him to slide into you or to keep him giving these small crumbs of attention.

He nods as his gaze skims over your body slowly. As if he just remembered something, he stops in consideration. He orders, slight irritation at this thought ruining his fun in his voice. “Turn around.”

You narrow your eyes questioningly and hesitantly turn around to face the wall. Gripping your arm, he unties the chains around your wrists. Relief and confusion come over you. Is he going to...?

He is. You recognize the sound of keys clinking behind you before he turns the key in the lock keeping the chains to the pipe. The chains fall to the floor with a loud clang. You finally move your arms, sore and chafed by them, rubbing the marks.

Why would he let you go before you get to the good part? Wait... Guess there are invisible lines Joel won’t cross. As much as he liked the power he had over you, he wants you to have a choice in this. To know you’re doing this on your own accord, not to escape, not fearing for your life. This is just his test of that. He stands behind you for a few moments, gauging your reaction, watching whether you’re preparing to flee.

As you stand with your arms free, all your instincts tell you to run. But where to? Back in the arms of the boyfriend who makes you fear his betrayal every single day? It’s only a matter of time before his backstabbing tendencies are turned on you, you think.

To be fair, Joel is not the most reliable man to turn to next, but you decide to explore what has transpired between you further.

You turn around and look at him, his bulge still straining against his pulled up jeans, tilting your head and smiling knowingly. “Go on. I ain’t got all day.”

“Good. Thought you’d try to run.” He grins and nods, and you can see relief clearly painted on his face. “Woulda been a shame.” His voice takes on a lower and more confident tone.

He grabs your arms and moves you to the patch of brick beside the pipe you were locked to, pinning you to it. Your faces are close together and now you’re both smiling like two teenagers sneaking off to do something forbidden. He slides his tongue into your mouth again as you open it eagerly. You kiss briefly before his fingers slip past the waistband of your jeans inside your panties. He hums. “Already wet for me, aren’t you?”

You nod as you exhale in pleasure. “So wet.”

He parts your folds with his finger, not pushing in, just teasing. “Let’s see how wet you can get...”

Your core is throbbing and his touch keeps making it worse. Leaning your head back against the wall, you sigh. “Oh God...”

He smiles slyly as his fingers find your clit, rubbing teasingly. “Lucky bastard, Lucien... Gonna fuck you so hard you forget all about him.”

You look at Joel in surprise at mentioning him, too worked up to care at this point, perhaps even tempered by the anger and resentment you harbor for Lucien. Too late to turn back anyway, you think you like the way this is sticking it to him. A subtle sly smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

He takes his hand out of your jeans and begins undoing the button and zipper on them. As he does, your chest is rapidly rising and falling and you feel the heat spreading through your body, consuming you. You clutch onto his belt, undoing it once more along with his jeans and boxers. He hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down.

He taps the head of his cock to your clit, your arousal mixing. You move your hips instinctively for him to push in, but he makes sure to torment you for a moment longer, tapping it against you again.

“Joel...” You whine.

“You want it? I wanna hear you.” He pushes in just the head of his cock, closing his eyes in pleasure.

“Yes! Yes, I want it so badly. Please...” Before you’re even done begging, Joel can’t take it anymore and pushes all the way in. In one rough stroke, he’s fully inside you. Your breath’s almost knocked out and a slight sting from his size quickly turns into pleasure.

He stills for a moment, letting you adjust. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

He slides out of you a bit before he slams back in. He sets a ruthless pace, each thrust pushing your hips to the wall and hitting deep inside of you. You lean against the cold brick, your lips parted and your eyes half-lidded, moaning. It’s almost animalistic, the way you’re both losing your bearings in this dirty warehouse.

“Atta girl. Take all of me.” He picks up speed as he presses closer to you, taking your nipple between his fingers through your shirt and pinching it, his voice husky and low. “Who’s fucking you harder than he ever did?”

“You, Joel.” The words come out of you without even thinking about them.

He grins proudly. “Damn right.” His hand reaches for your thigh, raising it slightly so it’s wrapped around his waist. The angle he’s thrusting at changes and you feel him hitting that delicious spot inside you that makes your vision blur. Now you’re a mess of gasps and moans.

He pounds into you relentlessly. “’M close. Gonna fill you up full of me.”

Too deep into the blissed out haze, you moan and nod, only thinking about how good it will feel. And it does. He buries his face in your shoulder as he fills you, hot pulses of his thick release pumped deep inside you. His cock is throbbing inside you as he empties himself. The sensations send you over the edge, and you lean your head back and moan as waves of pleasure crash over you.

He stays like that for a while as you both catch your breath. Sated and wrapped up around him, you close your eyes, coming down from the high. The tension from your initial meeting has dissolved, leaving you both light and boneless. You wrap your fingers in his hair, stroking it as he tries to gather his bearings.

There is not much to say after what’s already said and done, besides the question making your chest tighten as you both put your clothes back on. Is Joel going to brag to Lucien about this, more so – was this kind of payback his plan all along?

Something in your stomach twists at the thought that you were a pawn Joel successfully used in his game, but you don’t regret the way this has forced you out of the convenience of being by Lucien’s side.

As you zip up your jeans, your gaze falls back on Joel’s questioning expression. He can tell you’re lost in thought.

“Will you tell Lucien about this?” You say it with more bite than you intended, angry at the thought of being used.

He considers your question then shakes his head. “Won’t if you don’t want me to.” He grins. “Reckon it’s not my style anyway.”

Exhaling in relief and amusement, you nod. “Alright.” Your legs are sore as you head for the steel doors of the warehouse.

He raises his eyebrow at your abrupt exit and calls out. “We gonna see each other again?” He wants to, you can tell by his tone.

You turn around on your way out and contemplate whether you want to see him again. You connected physically but you feel like connecting emotionally with Joel would be an endless chase of something never to be caught. You’re so drawn to him. You don’t want to go. But you tilt your head as you answer bluntly with a smile. “No.”