Summary: Joel's exhausted by the time he makes it to bed. But when a pretty little thing crawls in beside him, he finds the time for you, just like he always does.
Warnings: +18 MDNI, post outbreak, jackson!joel, unspecified age difference, joel pov, porn no plot, dry humping, slow and soft sex, smut with feelings, internalized shame, intimacy, unprotected piv, clit stimulation, kissing
Note: i haven't written for joel in monthsss but i hope you enjoy!!
WC: 2k
[masterlist] [AO3]
Joel’s the kind of exhausted that only comes with age.
Weary bones, heavy limbs, tired eyes.
He’s falling into bed as soon as he gets home, often forfeiting dinner in favor of blissful rest. Sometimes even before the sun’s fully set.
And today is just one of those days. He’d spent the night tossing and turning, trying to massage away a kink in his neck that persisted well into the afternoon. But he hadn’t had time to complain or think too much about how excited he was to crawl back beneath the sheets, because the northernmost barn was falling to pieces.
So, not only was he functioning half empty from the start, but the work today was also strenuous. Sawing raw timber to the perfect length, sanding down the sharp edges, hammering nails into plywood. A full day.
And when Denise had stopped him on his way home, waving him down with a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade in hand, she’d given him that bright, hopeful smile and said, “Little Sammy ran that damn bike into the back door again. Would you mind fixing the hinges?”
His back ached and his knees were creaky, but Joel soon found himself knelt on Denise’s porch, screwdriver and fresh nails in hand.
It didn’t take long, but it did take every last scrap of energy that remained inside of him.
Joel’s house was always quiet. Too big for him, really. Ellie was in the garage already, lights still on, up too late when she had early patrol the following morning. But Joel didn’t have it in him to remind her how important sleep was. Not when he was running on fumes himself.
So he dragged those tired, old bones inside. Kicked off his boots and jeans right at the door of his room, hung his flannel over the back of the chair at his work bench, and let out a long sigh as he climbed beneath icy cotton sheets.
He’s half asleep, eyes closed and muscles sinking into the mattress, when he hears it.
The click of the latch on the unlocked front door. The creak of your careful steps as you climb the stairs.
Joel feels you before he sees you. Too exhausted to pull himself out of blissful almost-sleep. The mattress dips beneath your weight, limbs outstretched, seeking him out of instinct.
This isn’t the first time this has happened. Not the first time you’ve found yourself peering out of your window next door waiting for him to get home. Not the first time you’ve ended up in his bed or in his arms.
And Joel knows he should put a stop to it—you’re too young, too sweet, too…good.
But he’s too worn out to fight his impulses. He’s tried for months to keep his thoughts pure when you cross his mind, but it’s been a losing battle from the start.
Especially when you’re like this. Warm and soft, pressed up against his side, wearing an old t-shirt he’d let you borrow the night before and not much else. A comfort that feels more like home than this house does.
The tips of your fingers tickle his forearm, rousing him just enough that he lifts the heavy limb so you can crawl right into his embrace.
Joel holds you tight. He always does. Biceps big and strong around your shoulders. He holds you like he might lose you tomorrow, because there’s a part of him that fears one day you’ll wake up and see something you don’t like.
He worries you’ll begin to see him for what he is; old, weary, tired. Not even half the man he used to be. Not half the man you deserve.
But for tonight at least, you still wear those rose tinted glasses. Pressing sweet kisses to his face; his nose, his forehead, his cheeks. Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, making cute, whiny noises at the back of your throat. Like you’re desperate, unable to get close enough despite every inch being pressed against him, leg hooked over his hips.
You find a comfortable position and still beside him, letting out the same sort of long sigh Joel did just moments ago. But you don’t sleep—your breathing doesn’t even out, your muscles don’t go slack.
Joel knows what you need. Long before your hips tilt, before you press your center against his thigh, before you whisper his name in the dark.
“S’okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice deep and dark and sleepy. “C’mere.”
He reaches over and brackets his arm around your waist to drag you on top of him, your center already warm and wanting.
It’s starting to get out of hand, he knows. Starting to become a routine. But Joel doesn’t have many sweet thing in his life, not anymore, and he finds you near impossible to resist. “I’ve got you,” he says. “Take what ya need.”
You lay against his chest, ear pressed right over his heart. Joel kisses the crown of your head when your hips begin to tilt, rubbing yourself against the steadily growing bulge beneath the thin fabric of his boxers.
Soft, wanton sighs leave you at the sensation, and even with a barrier still between you he can feel your clit pulse against the underside of his cock.
Needy little thing you are. But Joel doesn’t mind—he likes the feeling. Of being needed, wanted. Especially by a girl as sweet as you.
You grind on top of him for a while. Not seeking release, not yet. Just feeling the hard warmth of him beneath you, savoring the weight of his big hands stroking softly up and down the expanse of your back.
He can feel your arousal growing with each pass, wetness slowly seeping through his boxers, slick and sticky. Joel nudges you gently with the tip of his nose, the prickly hairs of his mustache tickling the side of your face. “C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s get this shirt off, hm?”
When you nod, you pull yourself up tiredly. The movement is slow and thick like molasses, so Joel uses the last of his energy to help you.
His hands find the hem of the oversized t-shirt and pull it upwards, over your head to be discarded on the floor beside his bed. It leaves you completely naked, bared for him in more ways than one.
In an instant, you fall back against him, breasts pressed up against his chest. Your skin feels cool against his, smooth and pillowy. “S’warm,” you mutter, rubbing the side of your cheek against the coarse hair that litters his chest, graying in some places.
Joel’s cock throbs beneath you, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. He just lets you settle back down and allows you to rest. His hands wander, though, the way they always do.
Sliding down your back, over the sides of your thighs, thumbs massaging gentle circles. He strokes his fingers gently back up to your shoulders and then brings them down your arms, smiling when he sees goosebumps rise in his wake.
When they settle back at your hips, his touch is a little more eager. Kneading at the softness, inching over the curve of your ass until that’s all his hands are filled with.
Joel loves touching you. Not just suggestively, but intimately. He loves feeling the closeness and the trust you put in him to take care of you, to keep you safe, to make you feel good.
He massages the supple flesh, holding you close, until his need for you begins to grow teeth, gnawing at his psyche.
Joel knows he shouldn’t. He knows that.
But he’s just so tired, and you’re so soft. Gentle and kind. And you make him feel loved—something Joel Miller has not felt for a very, very long time.
He guides you with his hands gripping at your curves, sliding your slick cunt over his aching cock. His breath feels hollow, stuck in his lungs.
When he lifts upward, just a little, enough to provide a little extra pressure, you mewl in response.
Joel is quick to soothe, shushing softly into your ear. “Shh, you’re alright. Hang on, sweet girl. M’right here.”
He knows what you need. It’s become a nightly ritual at this point. You come to him seeking connection, seeking the comfort of an older man. Most nights you just need to be held, to be nurtured, to be loved the way you deserve.
But other nights, Joel knows you need a little more. A connection that runs a little deeper.
He reaches beneath you, hooking his thumbs in the elastic band of his boxers and tugging them down his tired legs. Just enough to free his cock, already hard as stone just from your proximity.
Joel pulls your forward, up his torso, giving himself room to line his length up with your entrance.
He slides in real easy.
You’re already soaked, dripping with arousal. And the moment he’s fully seated inside you, stretching you real wide, filling up your belly, you let out a breathy whine.
It feels right, being here like this with you. It feels like coming home.
Joel moves you slowly, guiding each roll of your hips, slowing you down when you try to pick up the pace.
There’s no rush. Not here, not with him. He’ll get you there. He’ll get you what you need. What’s the sense in hurrying through it?
He wants to savor it. The feel of your sweet, soft pussy, clenching and leaking around his length. The way your stuttering breath tickles his skin. The way your hands grip him harder and harder, holding him impossibly closer.
He wants to savor the way you love him.
“Gimme a kiss, baby,” he whispers in the dark.
You turn your head, just enough so that he can press his lips to yours. In this, too, Joel moves painfully slow.
It’s not a claiming, it’s an exploration. His lips move against yours, memorizing the feel of them, the shape and the taste. He slowly licks into your mouth, tongue gliding against yours, breathing in your exhalation.
The building coil around his spine is anything but slow, however. He loves being here with you maybe a little too much. He loves you a little too much.
Joel thrust upwards, keeping a steady, unforgiving rhythm while he slides his hand between you. His fingers search blindly for your clit and he finds it in seconds, circling those slow, tight circles around the pulsing nerves.
Your sounds grow louder, release building. The sound of your joining echoes in the empty room, slick and wet and feverish.
He knows your close when you start manually breathing—lungs stuttering, chasing the delicious relief that only he can provide.
“You got it,” he encourages. “S’right there, baby. Give it to me.”
Your eyes stay locked to his, lips parting on a jagged moan. You don’t say anything; no warning, no begging. You just feel it, feel him, moving deep inside you, fucking you through it.
“That’s it,” he says, voice all soft and warm the way it only ever is when he speaks to you. “There you go.”
He doesn’t stop until you find the natural rhythm of oxygen again, until the shaking in your thighs relents to an easy tremble.
Joel feels that white-hot coil beginning to spool within himself, and pulls out of you with just enough time to shoot thick ropes of cum over your pubic bone.
He thrusts the underside of his cock through your syrupy folds, a gentle rocking until he’s spent. He somehow finds the energy for a few extra thrusts, smearing his release over your clit.
You don’t move an inch, and Joel doesn’t want you to.
Instead, you just lay there on top of him, sticky mess between you, your head resting delicately on his chest.
When you reach up to card your fingers through his graying hair, Joel feels his muscles go completely slack, tension bleeding from his weary bones.
“M’sorry I woke you up,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I know you were tired.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Joel says, and he means it. “I’ll always have time for you."
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Summary: Joel's exhausted by the time he makes it to bed. But when a pretty little thing crawls in beside him, he finds the time for you, just like he always does.
Warnings: +18 MDNI, post outbreak, jackson!joel, unspecified age difference, joel pov, porn no plot, dry humping, slow and soft sex, smut with feelings, internalized shame, intimacy, unprotected piv, clit stimulation, kissing
Note: i haven't written for joel in monthsss but i hope you enjoy!!
WC: 2k
[masterlist] [AO3]
Joel’s the kind of exhausted that only comes with age.
Weary bones, heavy limbs, tired eyes.
He’s falling into bed as soon as he gets home, often forfeiting dinner in favor of blissful rest. Sometimes even before the sun’s fully set.
And today is just one of those days. He’d spent the night tossing and turning, trying to massage away a kink in his neck that persisted well into the afternoon. But he hadn’t had time to complain or think too much about how excited he was to crawl back beneath the sheets, because the northernmost barn was falling to pieces.
So, not only was he functioning half empty from the start, but the work today was also strenuous. Sawing raw timber to the perfect length, sanding down the sharp edges, hammering nails into plywood. A full day.
And when Denise had stopped him on his way home, waving him down with a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade in hand, she’d given him that bright, hopeful smile and said, “Little Sammy ran that damn bike into the back door again. Would you mind fixing the hinges?”
His back ached and his knees were creaky, but Joel soon found himself knelt on Denise’s porch, screwdriver and fresh nails in hand.
It didn’t take long, but it did take every last scrap of energy that remained inside of him.
Joel’s house was always quiet. Too big for him, really. Ellie was in the garage already, lights still on, up too late when she had early patrol the following morning. But Joel didn’t have it in him to remind her how important sleep was. Not when he was running on fumes himself.
So he dragged those tired, old bones inside. Kicked off his boots and jeans right at the door of his room, hung his flannel over the back of the chair at his work bench, and let out a long sigh as he climbed beneath icy cotton sheets.
He’s half asleep, eyes closed and muscles sinking into the mattress, when he hears it.
The click of the latch on the unlocked front door. The creak of your careful steps as you climb the stairs.
Joel feels you before he sees you. Too exhausted to pull himself out of blissful almost-sleep. The mattress dips beneath your weight, limbs outstretched, seeking him out of instinct.
This isn’t the first time this has happened. Not the first time you’ve found yourself peering out of your window next door waiting for him to get home. Not the first time you’ve ended up in his bed or in his arms.
And Joel knows he should put a stop to it—you’re too young, too sweet, too…good.
But he’s too worn out to fight his impulses. He’s tried for months to keep his thoughts pure when you cross his mind, but it’s been a losing battle from the start.
Especially when you’re like this. Warm and soft, pressed up against his side, wearing an old t-shirt he’d let you borrow the night before and not much else. A comfort that feels more like home than this house does.
The tips of your fingers tickle his forearm, rousing him just enough that he lifts the heavy limb so you can crawl right into his embrace.
Joel holds you tight. He always does. Biceps big and strong around your shoulders. He holds you like he might lose you tomorrow, because there’s a part of him that fears one day you’ll wake up and see something you don’t like.
He worries you’ll begin to see him for what he is; old, weary, tired. Not even half the man he used to be. Not half the man you deserve.
But for tonight at least, you still wear those rose tinted glasses. Pressing sweet kisses to his face; his nose, his forehead, his cheeks. Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, making cute, whiny noises at the back of your throat. Like you’re desperate, unable to get close enough despite every inch being pressed against him, leg hooked over his hips.
You find a comfortable position and still beside him, letting out the same sort of long sigh Joel did just moments ago. But you don’t sleep—your breathing doesn’t even out, your muscles don’t go slack.
Joel knows what you need. Long before your hips tilt, before you press your center against his thigh, before you whisper his name in the dark.
“S’okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice deep and dark and sleepy. “C’mere.”
He reaches over and brackets his arm around your waist to drag you on top of him, your center already warm and wanting.
It’s starting to get out of hand, he knows. Starting to become a routine. But Joel doesn’t have many sweet thing in his life, not anymore, and he finds you near impossible to resist. “I’ve got you,” he says. “Take what ya need.”
You lay against his chest, ear pressed right over his heart. Joel kisses the crown of your head when your hips begin to tilt, rubbing yourself against the steadily growing bulge beneath the thin fabric of his boxers.
Soft, wanton sighs leave you at the sensation, and even with a barrier still between you he can feel your clit pulse against the underside of his cock.
Needy little thing you are. But Joel doesn’t mind—he likes the feeling. Of being needed, wanted. Especially by a girl as sweet as you.
You grind on top of him for a while. Not seeking release, not yet. Just feeling the hard warmth of him beneath you, savoring the weight of his big hands stroking softly up and down the expanse of your back.
He can feel your arousal growing with each pass, wetness slowly seeping through his boxers, slick and sticky. Joel nudges you gently with the tip of his nose, the prickly hairs of his mustache tickling the side of your face. “C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s get this shirt off, hm?”
When you nod, you pull yourself up tiredly. The movement is slow and thick like molasses, so Joel uses the last of his energy to help you.
His hands find the hem of the oversized t-shirt and pull it upwards, over your head to be discarded on the floor beside his bed. It leaves you completely naked, bared for him in more ways than one.
In an instant, you fall back against him, breasts pressed up against his chest. Your skin feels cool against his, smooth and pillowy. “S’warm,” you mutter, rubbing the side of your cheek against the coarse hair that litters his chest, graying in some places.
Joel’s cock throbs beneath you, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. He just lets you settle back down and allows you to rest. His hands wander, though, the way they always do.
Sliding down your back, over the sides of your thighs, thumbs massaging gentle circles. He strokes his fingers gently back up to your shoulders and then brings them down your arms, smiling when he sees goosebumps rise in his wake.
When they settle back at your hips, his touch is a little more eager. Kneading at the softness, inching over the curve of your ass until that’s all his hands are filled with.
Joel loves touching you. Not just suggestively, but intimately. He loves feeling the closeness and the trust you put in him to take care of you, to keep you safe, to make you feel good.
He massages the supple flesh, holding you close, until his need for you begins to grow teeth, gnawing at his psyche.
Joel knows he shouldn’t. He knows that.
But he’s just so tired, and you’re so soft. Gentle and kind. And you make him feel loved—something Joel Miller has not felt for a very, very long time.
He guides you with his hands gripping at your curves, sliding your slick cunt over his aching cock. His breath feels hollow, stuck in his lungs.
When he lifts upward, just a little, enough to provide a little extra pressure, you mewl in response.
Joel is quick to soothe, shushing softly into your ear. “Shh, you’re alright. Hang on, sweet girl. M’right here.”
He knows what you need. It’s become a nightly ritual at this point. You come to him seeking connection, seeking the comfort of an older man. Most nights you just need to be held, to be nurtured, to be loved the way you deserve.
But other nights, Joel knows you need a little more. A connection that runs a little deeper.
He reaches beneath you, hooking his thumbs in the elastic band of his boxers and tugging them down his tired legs. Just enough to free his cock, already hard as stone just from your proximity.
Joel pulls your forward, up his torso, giving himself room to line his length up with your entrance.
He slides in real easy.
You’re already soaked, dripping with arousal. And the moment he’s fully seated inside you, stretching you real wide, filling up your belly, you let out a breathy whine.
It feels right, being here like this with you. It feels like coming home.
Joel moves you slowly, guiding each roll of your hips, slowing you down when you try to pick up the pace.
There’s no rush. Not here, not with him. He’ll get you there. He’ll get you what you need. What’s the sense in hurrying through it?
He wants to savor it. The feel of your sweet, soft pussy, clenching and leaking around his length. The way your stuttering breath tickles his skin. The way your hands grip him harder and harder, holding him impossibly closer.
He wants to savor the way you love him.
“Gimme a kiss, baby,” he whispers in the dark.
You turn your head, just enough so that he can press his lips to yours. In this, too, Joel moves painfully slow.
It’s not a claiming, it’s an exploration. His lips move against yours, memorizing the feel of them, the shape and the taste. He slowly licks into your mouth, tongue gliding against yours, breathing in your exhalation.
The building coil around his spine is anything but slow, however. He loves being here with you maybe a little too much. He loves you a little too much.
Joel thrust upwards, keeping a steady, unforgiving rhythm while he slides his hand between you. His fingers search blindly for your clit and he finds it in seconds, circling those slow, tight circles around the pulsing nerves.
Your sounds grow louder, release building. The sound of your joining echoes in the empty room, slick and wet and feverish.
He knows your close when you start manually breathing—lungs stuttering, chasing the delicious relief that only he can provide.
“You got it,” he encourages. “S’right there, baby. Give it to me.”
Your eyes stay locked to his, lips parting on a jagged moan. You don’t say anything; no warning, no begging. You just feel it, feel him, moving deep inside you, fucking you through it.
“That’s it,” he says, voice all soft and warm the way it only ever is when he speaks to you. “There you go.”
He doesn’t stop until you find the natural rhythm of oxygen again, until the shaking in your thighs relents to an easy tremble.
Joel feels that white-hot coil beginning to spool within himself, and pulls out of you with just enough time to shoot thick ropes of cum over your pubic bone.
He thrusts the underside of his cock through your syrupy folds, a gentle rocking until he’s spent. He somehow finds the energy for a few extra thrusts, smearing his release over your clit.
You don’t move an inch, and Joel doesn’t want you to.
Instead, you just lay there on top of him, sticky mess between you, your head resting delicately on his chest.
When you reach up to card your fingers through his graying hair, Joel feels his muscles go completely slack, tension bleeding from his weary bones.
“M’sorry I woke you up,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I know you were tired.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Joel says, and he means it. “I’ll always have time for you."
Summary: Struggling to pay the bills, Joel finds a rather unique way to make ends meet.
Warnings: minors dni, smut, adult cam star! joel, masturbation, dirty talk, very descriptive male anatomy, male genitalia pronouns, usage of daddy but it's only mentioned once
Word count: 3.1k
A/N: It's been a while! I've had this one sitting in my drafts for such a long time and edited it so many times I've lost count (and I still don't quite like it). Life has been hectic, but things have finally slowed down so now I'm finally able to post it. Enjoy ♡
Divider by @kodaswrld
Ten minutes until showtime.
It was a Friday night and his trailer was quiet aside from the hum of his refrigerator and the distant whine of a truck down the highway. Joel sat on the edge of his bed, mattress springs groaning under his weight.
He rubbed his calloused palm over his stubble. Construction dirt was ingrained in his skin, under his nails. He'd taken a quick shower after work, but after so many years, it simply became a part of him, present no matter what he tried.
He shoved his laptop across the bed, the screen flickering to life. It illuminated his room— mostly unidentifiable clutter, such as a coffee mug and a pack of cigarettes that he swore he'd quit five times now. He never had.
The sight of the adult cam website greeted him. It was familiar by now, but the knot in his stomach it gave him never really went away.
Joel had started this a year ago. He'd been so desperate for cash at the time. Bills kept piling up week after week, while his construction work paid him less and less. He had to make ends meet, and fast.
He'd taken on normal jobs at first. A handyman, a janitor, a security guard. But he had to quit each job not long after starting them due to the incompatibility with his construction work schedule, and the fact they paid like shit.
Joel had been out of options. But one day, as he was reading a news article about how much the adult cam industry paid, he knew he had to give it at least a try.
He'd hated it at first. Something about having a bunch of strangers watch you jerk off made his skin crawl. He swore he'd never do it again, until he saw how much just half an hour had made him. And ever since, JM went live twice per week.
"Alright," Joel— or in this case, JM— muttered to himself. "Let's get this shit over with."
He adjusted his webcam, making sure it was low. Always showing just his chest and below. No face, that was his rule. The last thing he needed were people he knew in real life stumbling across him jerking it.
The angle framed the worn khaki flannel shirt he'd thrown on, unbuttoned just enough to show the patch of grey hair on his chest. He leaned back against a bunch of pillows, making himself comfortable. He wasn't young anymore and neither was his back.
The chat was empty for now. Truth to be told, he never quite read the chat besides donations. The more he read the things overly horny people threw at him, the less he wanted to keep doing this.
11:00 PM.
Joel hit the 'Go Live' button. The tiny red dot blinked, and a rush of adrenaline spiked his veins, cold and sharp.
The viewer count was zero for now. He took a breath, letting it out slow. He nervously scratched the fabric of his jeans, waiting for the first notification to roll in.
"Evenin' folks."
The viewer count jumped. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. Within a minute the room was packed, at least to Joel's standards. The chat rolled at such a fast pace the text became a blur of grey text and colorful usernames.
Joel leaned forward a little, making sure his face stayed out of frame.
It was easy money, he kept telling himself despite the way his heart hammered against his ribs. The numbers don't lie.
"Alright, alright," he rumbled, the microphone picking up his deep voice. "Settle down. Y'all are especially restless tonight."
He glanced at the donation section. A few were already dropping in; five, tens, twenties. A generous fifty from someone with the username SilverFox. That one alone would cover the electricity bill for the week.
Joel shifted, the denim of his jeans brushing the sheets beneath him. He took a quick look at the requests scrolling past.
Take off the shirt.
Show us your muscles.
Talk to us, daddy.
He let out a grunt, the sound low in his throat. His hand reached for the top button of his flannel shirt. His fingers felt rough, the skin dry as they fumbled with the tiny plastic disc.
"Patience," he said, voice dropping as he slipped into the persona they craved. He didn't rush, he never did. He made them wait. "We've got plenty of time."
He popped the first button. Then the second. The fabric parted slowly, revealing a sliver of his tanned, hairy chest and the white tank top he always wore underneath.
Joel leaned back, pushing his chest out. The camera captured the definition and width of his shoulders perfectly.
"See somethin' you like?" he asked, watching as the chat exploded in response. "Y'gotta speak up if you want somethin' more."
He let his hand linger on the third button, waiting for the next wave of donations to hit before he gave them what they all wanted.
The chime of incoming tips rang out like a damn slot machine payout. He didn't rush, as he knew the value of anticipation and the way the chat seemed to like it more if he took his sweet time.
He worked the rest of the buttons, letting the fabric fall open.
His flannel slid down his arm and landed on a heap on the floor next to him. The exposure made his skin cooler. The white cotton of his tank top clung to the damp heat of his skin, reading the scrolling text without really taking in the words.
More.
Take it off.
Joel hooked his fingers into the hem of the tank top. It was a tighter fit than his flannel was, hugging his broad shoulders and the slight softness of his middle. He pulled it upward, the friction dragging against his hair as he peeled it over his head.
His hair was a mess now, sticking up in tufts. Not that he cared or bothered to smooth it down— these people couldn't see his face anyway.
There was definition in his chest. His pecs, the ridge of his sternum. But it was all buried under a layer of lived-in softness. His stomach wasn't flat like it had once been. It rounded out slightly over the waistband of his jeans, proof of the cheap beer he liked to drink after a long day at work. Even so, beneath the softness were cords of muscle that came from hauling lumber and concrete since he was a teenager.
A thick dusting of salt-and-pepper hair covered his chest, narrowing into a thinner line that eventually disappeared into his jeans.
Joel leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. He flexed his muscles, watching as the comments flood in. Praise for his dad bod, the hair, the bulk. He never would've thought his aging body would attract any kind of attention on this website, but he had been wrong. It was paying off.
"Y'all likin' the view?" he asked, voice low. He ran his hand through the hair on his chest, scratching his nails against his skin. "Been a long day. Still got some dust on me from work."
Glancing at the donation goal, he saw it was inching closer and closer to the mark for the 'main event' to begin.
"Who wants to see what's under this denim?" he growled, fingers dropping to his belt buckle. The metal clinked loudly in the otherwise silent room. "Y'know the drill."
The banner flashed across the top of the screen seconds later, a bright gold: goal reached. The cheerful chime that accompanied the banner felt absurdly out of place.
Joel let out a huff of air through his nose. "There we go," he murmured. "Knew you folks would come through."
He shifted his weight, bringing his hands to his waist. The belt was a heavy, worn thing, a thick leather that had definitely seen better days, cracked and chipped in places.
He worked the buckle with ease, the metal clack loud in the room. He didn't pull it out of the loops, instead just letting the ends hang loose, the tension around his midsection vanishing.
Next came the button. It was tight— these jeans were his oldest work pair and he hadn't bothered to buy new ones in a while. It still fit and it wasn't torn, so he saw no reason to replace them.
He popped the snap, the relief immediate. Soon after that the zipper followed, teeth parting slowly with a low rasp.
Joel spread his thighs wider to fill the camera angle. The denim fell open, revealing the front of his boxers— grey cotton, definitely way too thin. The outline of him was clear, a heavy, resting weight that pressed against the fabric.
He didn't take his jeans off, though. Not yet. He liked the tease, the way the denim would frame his hips. So instead he brought his right hand to his crotch, cupping the entire bulge in his palm. It was warm, heavy. Promising.
"Well, look at that," he grunted, voice dropping even lower. He squeezed, digging his fingers into the flesh, feeling the blood start to pool, the familiar heavy throb of waking up. "That's what yer payin' for, ain't it?"
He kneaded the fabric, thumb brushing over the head still trapped inside the cotton. He felt the twitch, the way his hips jerked involuntarily against the friction. He tried not to focus on the chat too much, finding it easier to get aroused that way.
Joel rubbed his hand up and down the length, the knot of arousal tighter in his gut. The cotton dragged over the sensitive skin, coaxing him to full hardness to fill the space.
"Gettin' there," he muttered, half to the audience, half to himself. He squeezed the base, groaning softly as the pressure built. "Just gotta warm him up."
He lifted his hips, the effort making his breath hitch audibly. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, dragging the grey cotton down over the curve of his ass.
He didn't take these off either; simply pushed the bundle of denim and cotton down until they bunched around his upper thighs.
Gravity did the rest.
His cock sprang free, slapping heavily against his lower abdomen with a fleshy sound. He was impressive, not pretty in the usual sense but rather long and thick, the shaft a flushed red color that stood out against the tan of his stomach.
He was manly. His foreskin a puckered hood that still half-concealed his tip, glistening where a bead of fluid was gathering, shaft slightly curved upwards and with a dense patch of salt-and-pepper hair curled at the base of it all, thick and unkept. His balls hung low, heavy and full, settling onto the denim bunched beneath him.
Joel looked down at it, a low rumble vibrating in his chest.
"There he is," he muttered, voice thick. He wrapped his right hand around the shaft, fingers barely meeting around the girth despite his large hands. He squeezed, hard enough to make the head flare and push fully out of the foreskin, shiny crown emerging red and angry.
"Big enough for y'all?"
He gave himself a slow stroke, pulling the skin down to the root and letting it slide back up slowly, friction wet and audible.
"He's hungry tonight."
He shifted his legs wider, planting his feet on the mattress. He angled his hips up to give the camera a better angle of what he was working with between his legs. The chat was a blur of praise and desire, but he tried not to pay too much attention.
"Alright," he grunted, spitting into his right palm to slick up his length. "Let's get to work."
The rhythm he set initially was heavy, a friction that nearly bordered on too tight. Joel never went for light, teasing touches; instead gripping the shaft like it he was holding a jackhammer, palm calloused against the slickness of his skin.
"Shit," he grunted, the sound tearing from his throat as his fist hit the base. His hips lifted up, a thrust that drove his cock upward through the tight circle of his fingers.
He settled back down only to drive up again, meeting his own strokes halfway. The wet slap of skin and his breathing were the only sounds in the room.
The head emerged from his foreskin, redder and angrier each time with each stroke up, leaking a stream of pre-come that slicked his grip.
"Look at 'im," he growled. "Look how damn hard he is for ya."
His left hand drifted lower, away from his shaft and instead towards the heavy sack beneath. He cupped the weight of his balls, rolling them between his thick fingers, tugging them down away from his body. His breath hitched at the sensation, a sharp intake of air that whistled through his teeth.
"Fuck," he hissed, accent thickening. "Tha'ss it."
The pace increased, just a fraction. Joel could feel the heat coiling in his spine. The chat was scrolling too fast to read, but the money kept pouring in, and it motivated him to keep going.
"Yeah, y'want this, don'tcha?" he rasped to no one in particular, voice dropping to a whisper. He squeezed the base hard, cutting off blood flow slightly, making the head swell purple.
"Wanna make this big ol' cock spill for ya."
He leaned his head back against the pillows, exposing the thick cords of his neck to the camera, face just out of frame. "Gon' make a mess soon," he muttered, slurring. "Gon' cover everythin'."
The sound of his fist jerking off his cock was loud and obscene, filling the small room. His breathing had turned into a ragged noise, chest heaving as he worked himself up and down the rigid shaft. He fucked up into his own hand, driving his hips up off the bed with every downward plunge of his wrist.
"Jesus," Joel gritted out, head falling back. "He's so fuckin' wet."
Pre-come leaked from him in a steady stream, pouring over the swollen tip and slicking his palm until his hand was just a blur of motion. It was dripping down his knuckles, matting the hair at the base.
"Look at that," he growled. He stopped for a fraction of a second to pull the foreskin all the way back, exposing the glossy, now purple head to the camera.
"Look at 'im. Swollen as a damn tick."
He wrapped his hand back around it, squeezing tight, forcing another drop of pre-come from the slit.
"Yeah, y'want this," Joel spat. He was sweating now, beads of it rolling down his temples and tracking through the hair on his chest. "Y'wanna see me empty these?" His left hand squeezed his balls.
He picked up the pace, the wet slap of his sack against his thighs audible even over the sound of him fisting his cock. He was utterly hard now, the curve of his stiff cock rigid. At his age it took him longer to get like this, but when he got there, it was worth it.
"Gon' make it hurt," he rasped, hips bucking erratically. He roughly tugged on his balls with his left hand, pulling them away from his body to delay his release, groaning at the jolt of both pleasure and pain it earned him.
"Gonna milk every last drop outta him."
Joel grunted, a deep sound that bordered on animalistic. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment— not that the audience could tell— as he got lost in the friction of his own fist.
"Talk to me," he demanded, babbling more than that he actually meant it. "Tell daddy how bad you need it."
The coil in his gut snapped tight, pulled to a breaking point.
"Yeah, fuck—!"
Joel's hips jackknifed off the bed, abs crunching hard as the first wave of his release hit him. It was an explosion, his hand moving as if on autopilot, jerking his shaft hard and fast, dragging the pleasure out of him by force.
"God damn—"
The first shot was a heavy, pearly white rope that arced through the air, landing with a wet splat on his upper chest, right in the center of his salt-and-pepper hair. He couldn't stop. His hand kept squeezing, demanding more of himself.
"Fuck! Take it, fuckin' take it..."
Another spurt followed, this time painting a line onto the soft curve of his belly, pooling in his navel. It felt hot against his cooling skin.
Joel grunted again, a deep sound that vibrated through his body, his head thrown so far back that his muscles strained.
"Yeah... Fuck yeah..."
The intensity evened out, cock pulsing in his grip, spilling a messy flood that dribbled over his calloused knuckles, dripping down his shaft and eventually matting the pubic hair at the base.
His strokes slowed, fist milking the last few drops out, breathing ragged. He looked down at himself through lidded eyes, sweat dripping down his temple to mix with the mess he'd made at his collarbone.
"Look at that," he breathed. His voice was wrecked, barely even above a whisper. He slowly released his grip, hand falling away to rest on his thigh, strings of come stretching between his fingers before snapping. "Fuckin' drowned me."
Joel sat there for just a moment, staring down at the screen through half-lidded eyes the audience could not see. The post-nut clarity hit him like a wave, as it did each and every time he did this. The adrenaline faded fast, leaving him with just the sticky, cool reality.
The mess on his stomach was cooling rapidly, turning tacky and uncomfortable. Joel stared at the chat, a waterfall of praise, heart emojis and a whole bunch of words in caps-lock. It meant very little to him beyond the numbers that would appear in his bank account soon.
He couldn't help but laugh at himself internally. Fifty-six years old and jackin' it on the internet.
A pang of vulnerability shot through him that made Joel want to pull the plug and call it a night. But he hid it, wanting these people to return next time.
He tilted his chin down, allowing just his stubble and a forced smirk onto the screen.
"Alright, that's all she wrote, folks," he drawled, voice slowly regaining its strength, though slightly more tired. "Y'all drained me tonight."
His eyes glanced at the top donation. "Appreciate y'all, as always."
Joel leaned back, stretching his arms wide one last time, showing off the sticky mess one last time.
"JM signing off. Go do somethin' productive with yerselves."
The red light died, screen going black. The silence of his trailer rushed in again accompanied by the hum of his refrigerator.
Summary: The construction company your neighbors hire to do work on their house are loud, inconsiderate, and quickly get under your skin. One man in particular seems hellbent on driving you crazy until one day, all that tension comes to a head.
Warnings: language, smut (piv sex), dirty talk, praise kink, light spanking, reader being kind of pissy and Joel fucks it out of her (but he's not mean), Joel gets turned on by bossy women
Masterlist
It's your day off. You had a long month, working extra late to meet deadlines and skipping plans with friends and family to perform at your fullest and get the promotion you so badly deserved, and now that the project was done and you impressed all right people, you rewarded yourself with a singular day off. But your neighbors had other plans.
It started before eight in the morning. Power tools, yelling, laughing, car doors slamming. It ruined the peace and tranquility of the post-school bus and rush hour lull. At first, you turned over and tried to fall back asleep. When that didn't work, you grabbed your extra pillow and pressed it against your ear. But after thirty minutes of chasing sleep with the sounds outside only growing louder, you gave up, blood boiling.
Maybe you should have coffee first, but unfortunately, your rage wins out. It's way too early. They're being far too noisy. And it's your goddamn day off!
You're seeing red when you tighten your robe around your waist, not even bothering to tie it but instead you hold it closed with your fist as you storm towards the front door. Your pajamas are just a tank top and sleep shorts, it's not anything scandalous anyway, especially given how hot Texas gets in the summer, but the last thing you want is a whole construction crew gawking at you while you give them a piece of your mind.
Music had just been turned on somewhere amongst the site. Tom Petty, you think, as you make your way over. Your flip flops snap angrily against the blacktop as you cross your driveway into your neighbor's front yard to survey the scene.
There's at least eight workers getting set up. Their trucks are parked all up and down the street, taking up every open spot. None of them glance your way as they unload tools, coolers, and supplies from their flatbeds. Your arms cross tightly and your brows furrow but the noise only gets louder.
"Excuse me?" you call out to no one in particular, but they don't hear you. Your jaw tightens. "Hey! Excuse me?"
"Can I help you?"
You swivel around, taken off guard by the deep voice behind you.
"Yes! I—"
Your words falter when you lay eyes on the man who snuck up on you. He's setting a ladder down by his feet, giving you time to take in his strong arms and broad shoulders underneath the stretch of his black short sleeved shirt, which still allows you a generous view of his tanned forearms. His jeans look lived in in the best kind of way. He wears them like a man who doesn't care what they look like, so long as they're comfortable. You push down the heat crawling up your neck by the time he straightens up, but when you see his face, you lose your train of thought once again.
Deep brown eyes, sharp nose, a chiseled jawline dusted with a short, somewhat patchy beard. Then he offers a soft, crooked smile that knocks the wind out of you to the point where you nearly forget your earlier anger.
Focus, you scold yourself.
"I live right over there—" You point behind him and he slowly turns, eyes scanning your modest home. "And my bedroom window is right there," you add. His eyes flicker to your open window towards the back of the house before he gives you his full attention again, something that makes your stomach flip. "I'd appreciate it if you guys could keep it down this early in the morning. It's disruptive to the whole neighborhood."
His devastatingly dark eyes glimmer with humor and even though he's not smiling, you can sense he's not taking you seriously. He makes a show of checking his watch—a beat up old thing with a green fabric band—before looking back at you. "It's eight fifteen," he tells you, tone flat.
"Yeah, now," you say, rolling your eyes, "but this noise started earlier. It woke me up."
Now the corner of his mouth lifts and he slowly crosses his arms, which simultaneously irritates and excites the hell out of you.
"Sorry 'bout that, miss," he tells you, "but we're abidin' by city ordinance."
"I'm sure you are, but you have to admit it's disturbing the peace."
He regards you silently for a moment, his heavy gaze drifting up and down your frame. Suddenly, the thin robe you're wearing is too much and doesn't seem like enough all at once. An amused look flits across his face at one point before his eyes drop to the dirt.
"Could start at seven, technically," he finally says, "we're doin' you a favor by startin' at half past."
Your hackles raise at that. "Would you like me to thank you?"
He chuckles and shakes his head before meeting your gaze again. "Never said that. Just sayin' we're followin' the law, is all."
"I know you are," you huff, "all I'm suggesting is maybe keeping your voices a little lower."
He smirks and uncrosses his arms in favor of propping his hands on his hips, giving you a spectacular view of his wide chest.
"We could," he muses, pretending to think about your request while staring off at a fixed point somewhere over your shoulder, "if you ask real nice."
Your jaw drops at the same time your knees go weak. "Excuse me?"
He shrugs, still staring somewhere behind you in order to keep his shit eating grin from stretching across his face. "Just sayin', you came over here all hot under the collar. Had you asked nice, I mighta been able to help you out."
Your throat tightens. He's not trying to sound suggestive but your brain doesn't care. It's sending a wave of arousal right through you, causing your heart to slam against your ribs the more it builds.
"What's your name?" you demand with a clipped tone.
"Joel," he says without missing a beat.
"Joel," you repeat, "I'd like to speak with your boss."
"Ah, that'd be me."
He stretches out his hand with a grin. You ignore it and look back at the trucks until you spot a logo on the side and squint.
"Miller?" you guess. He nods. "Great. I'll be filing a complaint with the better business bureau."
You shoulder past him and try not to fixate on how good he smells, a mixture of motor oil, fresh soap, and coffee.
"Yeah? And what's your complaint gonna be for?" Joel calls after you. You ignore him and keep walking. You hear his deep chuckle before he picks up the ladder and it pisses you off even more, but you don't allow your rage to show until you're safely inside your house where you can seethe to yourself while making some coffee.
***
The rest of the week is uneventful. You have meetings downtown all week, a disruption to your usual remote work schedule, but a necessary evil you try your best to organize all at once every month. When you leave in the morning, the workers are just arriving. When you get home, they're already packed up or gone entirely. You nearly forget all about your intriguing run in with the mysterious Joel Miller until the following Monday, when you're back to working remotely.
You're an hour into emails and onto your second cup of coffee when you first hear the familiar ruckus next door. It starts with amused banter. Then truck doors slamming. Then the music kicks on. You shake your head, close your windows, and keep working.
With your television playing in the background, it's easier to block out some of the construction noise, but at around one in the afternoon you hear a repetitive, ear piercing beep, beep, beep during a work call that sets your teeth on edge.
Stones are pouring from the back of a metal flatbed. Shovels are scraping and banging loudly. And you do your best to stay focused, but when the call ends and you can't recall half the topics discussed, you can't hold back any more.
You spot Joel with his back to you, holding a shovel and shouting instructions to his crew while you approach. As if he can sense it, he turns when you're about ten feet away. His eyes sweep up and down your body and he grins before leaning on his shovel, amused by the anger currently forcing your feet forward.
"Don't tell me we woke you up again," he teases before you can even open your mouth. "It's after lunch. What's the matter now?"
You scowl at him, ignoring the way his crew sends you curious looks as they work.
"No," you snap, "I'm working. Or, at least, trying to! I have all my windows closed and I still can hardly hear myself think."
He looks at you like he's sizing you up, like he's trying to figure something out. "Thought you worked in an office somewhere."
You frown, slightly alarmed. "How would you know that?"
"Saw you couple times last week," he says hurriedly, as if he just realized how his comment sounded. "When I was gettin' here in the mornin', sometimes I'd see you gettin' in your car and drive off."
The silence that followed made Joel nervous. He shifted his weight and awkwardly scratched his beard while you tried to sort through what he just said without giving away your feelings. He noticed you? Was he looking for you, or did he just happen to see you?
"Uh, based on your spiffy clothes, just figured you worked somewhere fancy," he finished, rubbing the back of his neck before looking away.
You look down at the clothes you currently have on—denim shorts and an old, oversized shirt... far from spiffy today—before looking back up at him. To your surprise, you notice some red creeping up his neck and staining the apples of his cheeks. You have to bite your lower lip to keep yourself from smiling because despite how pleased it makes you to see the big, annoying, sexy construction guy next door all embarrassed because of you, you're here for a reason.
"Sometimes I work in an office, but most of the time I work at home," you explain, waving toward your house, "and right now, it's pretty much impossible to get anything done."
"Well, m'sorry 'bout that, but we gotta work, too."
You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "I know. How much longer is this going to take?"
Joel clicked his tongue, making you lift your chin to look back up at him. The way he looks at you like you're something worth studying makes your heart skip a beat. Traitor.
"I'm offended you wanna get rid of us." His tone is back to teasing, and that glint in his eye confirms it. He likes pushing your buttons.
"I just want my quiet back! My—your customers are elderly! They can't hear for shit, they keep to themselves, they're the perfect neighbors! They aren't bothered by all this noise, but everyone else is!" Your voice is getting louder than you thought. People are beginning to notice, but you don't care.
"Everyone?" Joel repeats, narrowing his eyes now. "Strange, 'cause you're the only one cryin' 'bout it."
"I am not crying about it, I'm attempting to come to some sort of agreement, but you're being too... too..." Your hands flail in the air as you struggle to think of the right word.
"Too what?" Joel presses, stepping closer. You catch a whiff of his sweat mixed with sawdust and it makes your head swim. Focus.
You glare at him, blood on fire in your veins the longer he stands there looking all cocky.
"Misogynistic!" you exclaim triumphantly. Joel just blinks at you.
"What?"
You roll your eyes. "Means if a man were out here asking you to keep it down, you probably would, but instead you're giving a woman a hard time."
That seems to piss him off. His jaw sets into a tight line and he leans forward, voice low and dangerous. "Now you listen here," he says, and the way his demeanor suddenly shifted makes your spine straighten. "I'll allow for alotta shit, but I ain't gonna stand here and let you spin some wild story when you don't even know me or my crew. That's disrespectful and untrue."
You swallow tightly, unable to tear your gaze away from his eyes. They're so dark and stormy when he's legitimately mad that it's hard to look away.
"Sorry," you mumble, "but you're not taking me seriously, what else am I gonna think?"
His gaze softens then. His shoulders loosen. And the clouds clear from his eyes. The playful glimmer returns and you swear you see a ghost of a smile tug at his lips before he casually says, "I'll prove it to you. Bring out your husband or boyfriend or whoever and I'll tell him the same things I've been tellin' you."
"I don't have a husband or boyfriend," you answer before you even realize the trap you stepped in. His face lights up but he plays it off with ease.
"That's a relief." Your eyes widen and he grins. "'Cause if you had some guy hidin' in there all this time, lettin' his woman handle all the dirty work, gripin' to me while wearin' short shorts or a see-through robe? That wouldn't be much of a man."
Then he turned on his heel to join his crew, leaving you to weave through the rollercoaster of emotions he just dumped on you for the rest of the afternoon.
***
Over the next few days, something slightly changed. You found yourself going outside more, lingering around your car or taking a while to get your mail just to catch a glimpse of Joel. Usually, he'd catch your eye and give you a small smile, but that was the extent of it. Nothing overtly friendly and nothing mean, either. He was very good at being polite and cordial, which infuriated you. It made it impossible to figure out exactly what he was thinking. You replayed so many looks and conversations in your head to the point where you were paralyzed trying to pick apart every inflection and glance.
Why do you care anyway? you kept asking yourself. You never provided an answer.
It's the combination of your frustration with yourself as well as Joel's confusing signals that cause you to find more things to complain about, although you never admit it. But every interaction with Joel leaves you more aggravated and pent up than the last.
"That's not the property line. This is the property line," you had argued with him on Tuesday.
"It's just four inches."
"That's nine inches, easy."
Joel had tsked sympathetically under his breath. "Oh, darlin', if someone out there's tellin' you that's nine inches, I'm so sorry."
On Thursday morning, he had parked his truck in your driveway.
"I need to have my driveway clear!"
"I know, I know, it was only for a minute til the concrete truck comes—"
"I don't care! Park on the street!" you had yelled, but the angrier you got, the more pleased Joel looked.
"No parkin' left on the street."
"Then park on the lawn," you said, crossing your arms and jutting out your hip. His eyes had drifted down, noting you chose to wear a shirt that showed a little more cleavage than usual.
"Careful, sweetheart. Keep yellin' at me like this and I'll fall in love with you."
Every time he said something flirty like that, it sent you back to your house to obsess over whether or not he was serious or just trying to get you off his back.
The cherry on the sundae was the incident on Friday when someone accidentally dug in the wrong spot and severed your internet cable, completely derailing the latest project you had been tasked with at work. Joel had anticipated your anger before you stormed out of the house, screen door smacking loudly against the siding as you stomped down the old wood stairs of your porch, making a beeline right for Joel next door.
"Tell me it wasn't your guys who did that."
He sighed before slowly turning around to face you. He looked tired, no doubt drained from the long, hot week, but he still managed to brighten up a little when he laid eyes on you.
"Sorry, darlin'. They're comin' to fix it."
"When?" you snapped. Joel narrowed his eyes as if to silently warn you about your tone. Who the hell does he think he is?
"An hour," he said flatly.
"An hour?" you exclaimed, clearly devastated.
"Yeah. An hour. Ain't you got a lunch break or somethin' you can take til it's fixed?"
You snorted and tossed your hair over your shoulder. "I haven't taken a lunch break that didn't involve a client in more than five years."
"Well, today's the day you break that streak," he told you before turning back to the hole in the ground. "Damn inspector didn't flag the property right. Ain't our fault, it's the town's."
You bury your face in your hands with a groan. "I can't believe this," you mutter to yourself.
"If it helps, I ain't happy 'bout it either," Joel says, crouching down to inspect the spot closer. "This just set me back a couple days."
"Days?!" you exclaim, letting your hands fall back to your sides in disbelief. Joel nods, still not looking at you.
"Yeah. Gotta redo the plans now. Old plans were built 'round the cables bein' two feet west—"
"So this insanity is going to last even longer?" you ask, cutting him off. Joel sighs and drops his head between his shoulders briefly before standing with a grunt. He's tall—his shadow blocks the sun when he towers over you, a fact that never went unnoticed.
"What's the matter, sweetheart? Thought you'd be happy to know you ain't gettin' rid of me just yet." The smirk he gives you is devastating. Your gaze falls to his throat, where beads of sweat have been trickling down and soaking his collar. It's not fair this man is so fucking handsome yet so irritating.
"I'll survive," you mutter, crossing your arms tightly and looking away to clear your head.
"Yeah? Who you gonna yell at when I'm gone, hm?"
"Believe it or not, I'm actually not a yeller," you shoot back with a glare. "Guess you just bring it out of me."
His gaze darkened for a moment like he was considering how to reply. You could almost see the silent back and forth behind his eyes, the words locked and loaded on the tip of his tongue but a small sliver of logic fought to hold onto them and pull them back down.
He says it anyway.
"That right?" His voice dips lower than you've heard it before, but not out of anger. Something else. Something far more heated and dangerous. "Wonder what else I could bring outta you."
The implication falls between you like an anvil. The weight of it keeps you both still, oblivious to what's going on around you entirely. Somehow, you manage to hold his gaze, but you're swallowing hard and breathing even harder and he can see it. He tracks the movement with those dark eyes, waiting for you to come up with a retort or storm off.
Normally, you'd do the latter, but today, you're fired up. It's always Joel who gets the last flirty word in. It's always Joel who leaves you spinning while he happily carries on with his day. So this time, you close the distance between you and crane your neck up. He doesn't break eye contact but you can tell he didn't expect this. He didn't expect you to get inches away and hold the silence like a knife to his throat. His lip curls into a smile, breathlessly anticipating some flustered, snappy comeback paired with an angry look. Instead, what you say shocks him.
"You couldn't handle it, Miller."
The confidence in your voice is what makes him falter. You clock it and grin, very satisfied with yourself, before turning and heading back to your house. The world begins to wake up around him again. Sounds begin to crescendo slowly in the air: power tools, his crew's voices, cars rumbling down the street. But his eyes are fixed on you. On the way you carry yourself back up your porch and into your house without the courtesy of a single glance back.
When your screen door snaps shut, he blinks. Clears his throat. Then forces his feet to move.
After that, Joel spends the rest of the afternoon praying he doesn't get distracted enough to lose a finger.
***
The weekend is thankfully quiet, but long. You pace around trying to keep busy, but you miss it. You hate it, but you miss peeking out your window to see what Joel is up to. You miss whatever has been brewing between you over the last two weeks. You miss the excitement and electricity that crackles between you when you stomp over there for one reason or another.
By Sunday night, you decide it isn't healthy to be so fixated on this. You're not even sure what's gotten into you. Usually, your life is mundane and quiet, yet this man has burrowed his way in and found a piece of you to bring to life you didn't know existed.
He pisses you off, you remind yourself. It's not good. He's not good. Let this go, the sooner the better.
So on Monday, you force yourself to stay in your house all day. It's hard, but you know it's the right thing to do. You need to focus on work and Joel is just a distraction. A big, annoying, sexy distraction.
On Tuesday, you do the same thing. It's a littler easier this time. You get a decent amount of work done with your earbuds solidly in place. You only look up from your computer to check your window a handful of times. Once or twice you swear you catch Joel glancing expectantly towards your house, but you push down the butterflies in your belly and focus back on the project in front of you.
Wednesday is more difficult because on that day, there's a legitimate reason to be annoyed. Joel's crew is using a portion of your lawn to toss old pieces of wood from the porch next door. When you first notice, you find yourself rising to your feet, propelled by anger. But then you catch yourself and slowly sit back down.
It's fine. They'll clean it up. Don't worry about it.
You finish your workday without stepping foot outside, although you had to close your curtains so you'd stop looking at the mess.
Thursday is loud. Drills pierce the air earlier than usual. You assume it has to do with the rain clouds forming on the horizon, but it still grates your every nerve to hear metal grinding into solid wood first thing in the morning. You pop your earbuds in and turn the volume up. It works, until the rain starts. The water streaking suddenly down your windowpane catches your attention, so you pull your earbuds out and look up.
Across your driveway, Joel's crew is packing up early. They're running, getting absolutely soaked in the rain while trying to get everything valuable back into their trucks as quickly as possible.
Good, you think. Peace and quiet a little earlier today.
Then you see him. Joel. With his dark curls plastered against his forehead and his white shirt sticking to his torso like he had just jumped into a pool. Your brain buffers and your lips part at the sight. You could tell before he's strong, but now his shirt is leaving very little to the imagination.
"Shit," you whisper as you watch, unblinking, while Joel packs up his truck and then turns to help his crew. His muscles flex under his rain soaked skin, water drips furiously down the sides of his head, and you forget how to breathe.
Fuck him for being so irritating and goddamn good looking at the same time.
The image is seared into your brain for the rest of the night. It has you tossing and turning in bed until you can't stand it anymore and you give in, sliding one hand down the front of your shorts in search of relief. It's fleeting and not as good as you hoped, but at least you're able to fall asleep.
Friday is when everything comes to a head.
You're tired from a restless nights sleep and on your third cup of coffee when you notice the end of your driveway is blocked. Your jaw clenches as you push a curtain aside to get a better view and of course, it's Joel's truck.
"Son of a bitch," you mutter, narrowing your eyes like you could destroy the car with your mind if you tried hard enough.
It's fine. He'll move it. He's probably waiting on some delivery, like last time.
But this time, his truck remains parked haphazardly at the end of your driveway all day. When you manage to spot him working next door, he's all smiles, completely unbothered. At last around three you see him walk to his truck, but it's just to get something from the console. The way he strolls back to his crew like he had every right in the world to encroach on your property makes your blood boil.
That's it. You've had enough. You've kept to yourself all week long, it's almost the weekend, you did pretty good. And this isn't unreasonable. He's in your fucking driveway! He's had multiple chances to move and he didn't!
Before you could stop yourself, you reach forward, lift open your window, and lean out.
"Joel Miller!"
He stops dead in his tracks, along with half his crew, to track your voice from your office window. When he spots you, he lifts his hand to his eyes to shield himself from the sun and he grins.
"Yeah?"
"Move your goddamn truck out of my driveway or else I'm havin' it towed!"
His crew chuckles and goes back to wrapping things up for the day. Joel tilts his head at you like he's amused.
"Thought you moved," he says, "haven't heard that smart mouth all week."
"Unfortunately for me, I'm still here," you snap, "now move that hunk of junk right now!"
"She ain't no hunk of junk," Joel says with mock offense. "She's the only lady in my life that never let me down, don't talk 'bout her like that."
"Stop talking about your car like it's a woman, that's gross."
Joel whistles low and comes closer so he doesn't have to shout. "Jealous?"
"Of a car? Give me a break," you snort.
He tsks and inches closer. By now, he's halfway across your driveway. "Why don't you try askin' me real nice, then maybe I'll move it."
"Why don't you get a little closer and I'll make you do it."
The deep groan that rumbled from his chest made your thighs clench.
"Don't tease a fella now," he warns with a playful look, "'cause if you talk like that I'm gonna make you follow through."
You roll your eyes, grateful you have an entire wall between you to hide the way you're practically squirming in place.
"Will you please shut up and move the truck?"
"Don't love the shut up part, but y'did say please, so I will."
"Thank you," you reply, overly sweet with a fake smile. Still, Joel stifles a laugh, entirely enthralled with how riled up he manages to make you.
"No problem. I'll be done in an hour, then I'll get outta your hair."
The smile falls from your face to be replaced with a scowl. "An hour?"
"Yeah. An hour," he confirms, turning back to his job site. "Don't worry. Won't get in the way of your Friday night plans."
"Joel—"
"It'll be longer if you keep flirtin' with me," he says loudly over his shoulder so his entire crew can hear. Your cheeks instantly heat up but you slam your window shut before you can give him the satisfaction of witnessing your embarrassment.
You sit back down and try to focus on work, but it's impossible. Why does this man get under your skin so easily? And why do you find him so irresistible at the same time? It must be because it's been a while since the last time you've been with someone. You've been so focused on work the last several months, you can't even remember the last time you went on a date, let alone took a man home.
Your gaze drifts up against your will. Most of Joel's crew has cleared out next door. There's two guys left plus Joel, cleaning up the rest of the lawn before the weekend. You can see the relaxed smiles on their faces as they chat, probably discussing weekend plans. It makes you wonder what Joel does on the weekends. You have a feeling he's single based on his earlier comment about his truck. So what does a single man do with their spare time?
Probably pick up girls. The thought makes your stomach twist into a knot. You shake your head and focus back on your computer. That's none of your business. Who cares if he's getting laid? It doesn't matter.
Your lips press together when your eyes lift to find Joel through the window again, but now you realize the yard is empty. The remaining trucks are gone. The supplies are picked up. It's quiet.
For some reason, you're relieved when you stand and hurry to your window to find Joel's truck still idle in your driveway. You stand there staring at it while you weigh your options in your head.
It's a bad idea, you think. Joel isn't good for you. He drives you crazy. Yet you have to admit, you can't remember the last time you've felt such a spark with someone before. He's certainly not boring, you'll give him that. And he's funny, in his own way. Would it really be so bad?
Fuck it. You rush to your bedroom to change your shirt for a simple light dress and freshen up as fast as you can, all the while straining to hear for the telltale sound of his motor turning over, then you slow down.
You decide to leave it up to fate. If he's still there by the time you're ready, then you'll go for it. If he's gone, then he's gone, no big deal.
After tapping on some subtle, fruity flavored lip balm and spritzing just a tiny bit of perfume in your hair, you step out of your bedroom, mustering up as much confidence as possible as you walk to your front door. You decide not to practice what to say, that you'll just let it happen organically if it feels right. But when you swing your door open only to be met face to face with Joel, who has one fist raised in the air as if he were about to knock, all that confidence goes straight out the window.
Shit.
"Hey," he says with a crooked grin. His arm lowers to his side and your heart kicks in your chest when you notice his eyes sweep up and down your body before meeting your gaze.
"What can I do for you?" you ask, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile. His grin widens and you feel like you've stepped into yet another trap.
"That's a loaded question, sweetheart," he says, voice low. You suppress a shudder. "Wanted to tell you I'm headin' out. Looks like I got good timin', too." He gestures to your appearance and you look down.
"I'm not going anywhere."
He quirks up an eyebrow. "You got someone comin' over?"
You shake your head and try to bite back the smile that threatens to stretch across your face.
Joel makes a soft noise and casually lifts his arm to rest against the frame, right above your head. He's towering over you like this and you think it's on purpose.
"Just gettin' all dolled up to sit home alone?" he asks. You shrug and cross your arms, hoping your breasts lift when you do. His gaze flickers down quickly, confirming you're successful.
"You think this is dolled up?"
Slowly, he lets himself take in your appearance again, this time making sure you saw.
"Just used to seein' you in shorts or that little robe of yours."
"You don't like my shorts or robe?"
"Never said that."
You have to stifle a laugh and his eyes practically glitter with amusement.
"Do you have any big plans this weekend?" you ask, hoping to come across casual.
"Nothin' too crazy," he tells you, leaning in a little further. "Watch the game. Mow the lawn. Come up with new ways to get you yellin' at me."
You laugh and shake your head. "You've been doing a great job so far."
"Not so sure 'bout that," he says, swiping his palm over his chin. "Been tryin' all week. Didn't get your attention til I parked in your driveway."
The expression on your face instantly melts into one of annoyance. "You did all of that on purpose?"
His enjoyment couldn't be contained. With a huge grin, he replies, "Yes, ma'am."
"The mess on my lawn? The extra early noise?" You could feel your anger rising, flooding your chest with heat.
"That's right," Joel replies. "Parkin' in your driveway was a last resort."
Your jaw tenses as you stare him down in disbelief. "What is your goddamn problem?" you seethe. Your earlier plans to ask if he wanted to come in for a drink vanish. Screw this guy.
"Thought you were dead or somethin'. Consider it my version of a wellness check."
"I don't need you to do a wellness check on me!" you yell, throwing your hands in the air to stop yourself from pushing him. "I've put in the shittiest work this week because of you! Why are you hellbent on bothering me so much?"
"'Cause it's fun and you're cute when you're all pissed off."
"I'm cu—"
The words die in your throat as your brain formally processes what he just said. You're still angry and red in the face, your chest is still heaving from adrenaline, and yet you're frozen solid, blinking up at him like an idiot. A slow smile spreads across his face, revealing that dreadfully adorable dimple.
"Probably the only woman on earth who looks prettier when she's readin' me the riot act," he adds just to watch your mouth open and shut like a fish.
"You—"
You're at a loss for words. The emotional whiplash has you reeling. He's into you, but he's showing it like an elementary school boy. It's kind of endearing but mostly immature, so you stand your ground.
"How old are you? Because you act like you're no older than twelve."
"I'm definitely older than twelve," he chuckles without missing a beat. "But listen... I really am sorry if your work suffered 'cause of me. Lemme make it up to you."
"How could you possibly—"
"Lemme take you out to dinner tonight."
The floor practically gives out from under you. What the hell is going on? The last ten minutes has your brain scrambling and your heart racing faster than any workout. How does this man manage to drive you to the brink of insanity only to pull you back at the last second with something sweet?
"You can yell at me the whole time, if you want," he says once too much time has passed without an answer. If you could see through your rage, you'd be able to pick up on his nervousness: his hand flexes at his side and his weight shifts from foot to foot with anxious energy.
"How about I just yell at you right here?" you snap. Joel laughs.
"If that's what you want, darlin', then sure."
Frustration bubbles up with a growl. You push away from the door to pace up and down your small hallway, raking your fingers through your hair while you attempt to calm down. All the while, Joel remains where he is, planted just outside your door, watching you spiral.
"You seem tense."
"I am tense! Because of you!"
"I can help with that."
You freeze and stare at him, long and hard. All those thoughts you've had about him, those images of him working in the rain, his way of turning a phrase to just barely imply he could ruin you... all of those moments crash down over you like a tidal wave and you decide that maybe he could help, after all.
In the blink of an eye, you close the distance keeping you apart. Your hand fists his sweaty, dirty shirt and you yank him forward. He stumbles a few feet into your house with surprised huff. You see the way his eyes widen right before your mouth crashes over his and finally, for a few blissful minutes, you get your coveted silence.
Joel only needs a moment before he catches up. His lips soften against yours as you pull him deeper into your house. He kicks back one foot and it collides with your door, slamming it closed behind him, then his hands are on you, pushing you gently against the wall so he can take control.
His teeth greedily graze your lower lip and your mouth parts for him with a soft moan. Driven by the sound, his tongue eagerly slips past your lips and his hands drop to cup the backs of your thighs. He hauls you up and your legs circle his waist while your tongues tangle together, hot and angry. It's desperate and messy and exactly what you need. The broad heft of his body pressed up against yours, the heady scent of the outdoors and sweat and him invading your senses, the faint taste of coffee on his tongue... it's utterly perfect.
"Where'd this come from, hm?" he asks, voice low and rough as his lips skim the edge of your jaw. Your head tilts back and your eyelids remain closed, offering your throat up to him without a fight.
"You said you could help," you murmur, craning your neck to give him better access. He finds a spot below your ear and sucks, leaving the beginnings of a mark that will take days to disappear.
"I did," he mumbles against your skin. "Meant a drink or somethin', but I ain't complainin'."
Your chin drops, hunting for his mouth, but then his hand is there tipping your head back, cupping your cheek with his thumb pressed on the underside of your jaw.
"Ain't done," he grumbles before continuing his assault on your throat. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and let him move your head this way and that, enjoying the way he's taken control. You get the sense he's wanted this as badly as you because he seems determined to taste every inch of your skin. When his mouth travels lower to ghost over your shoulder, you shrug, allowing the strap of your dress to fall and expose more skin. Joel makes a pleased grunt before his lips explore the newly revealed territory.
"Christ, you're soft." It almost sounds like he's talking to himself, the way his voice is full of quiet wonder. A shiver rolls down your spine and you tug impatiently at his hair.
"Joel," you whine, but your thought is cut off with a gasp when he presses himself firmly against the cradle of your hips. You can feel him there, hot and hard behind his zipper. One of your hands drops to his belt and you slip your fingers past his waistband, but just as you're about to reach your target, his body jolts and he swats your hand away with a chuckle.
"Eager thing," he grins before sealing his lips over yours again.
"Bedroom," you manage to mumble when he takes half a second to breathe. "Behind you."
"Bossy," he scolds. His mouth covers yours with a deep groan before he tightens his grip around your legs. He pulls you from the wall and swings around to carry you in the general direction of your bedroom, all while never breaking the kiss.
It's kind of comical the way you stumble into your room. The door swings open too fast and knocks back against Joel's shoulder but it doesn't slow him down. He refuses to pull away to look where he's going, but when his boot collides with a half empty laundry basket on the floor, he curses under his breath and finally tears himself away.
You take the opportunity to squirm out of his grip. When your feet hit the floor, you instantly rise to your tiptoes, lips seeking out the warm skin of his throat. You moan a little when your tongue drags over his pebbled skin, tasting salt and sun that remains there. It's addicting to taste the product of his day's hard work, so you do it again and relish in the way he shudders from your attention.
"Shoulda just told me from the start what you wanted." His fingers fumble with his belt buckle after he hears the quiet sound of your zipper coming undone. "Would've saved us both alotta time, darlin'."
"Shut up," you grumble before your teeth pinch a spot next to his Adam's apple. Your dress falls into a pool at your feet, hands free to help him lift his shirt over his head.
"I need a shower," Joel says after his shirt is discarded. You just shake your head and press your mouth over his collarbone, then his sternum, mapping his body while he works on kicking off his boots and jeans.
"I like you like this," you whisper. He smirks, stepping out of his clothes as best he can with your mostly naked body pressed against his own. "You smell good," you add after a minute, and he seems pleased with that.
"Get on the bed, sweetheart. Lemme see you."
You pull away from the faint red marks you left littering his chest and look up at him through your lashes. "You first."
Joel frowns. "Wha—"
With a grin, you give him a gentle push. His back hits the bedding and he barely has a chance to register it until you're climbing on top of him, legs bracketing his hips with a giggle. He smiles so big that his eyes squint, revealing those damn dimples again beneath his beard. Then his gaze drops to your bare breasts and his eyes darken.
"Fuck, you're pretty," he mumbles, palming them greedily. When his rough thumb grazes your nipple, you lunge down and capture his mouth with a searing kiss.
"You want me like this?" he asks, words tumbling against your swollen lips. "Wanna ride me, baby?"
"Yes," you whine while tugging down his boxers with one hand. His palms glide over your thighs, squeezing and pulling you back and forth so your hips begin to grind down on his lap.
"Take these off 'fore I ruin 'em," he warns you, fingers hooking into the band of your panties. You suppress the shiver of arousal at his tone before you do exactly as he says.
When your bare cunt comes in contact with the underside of his cock, you suck in a deep breath. He's so hot and throbbing against your soaked folds, making every slide of your hips steal your breath away.
Joel watches you move with heavy lidded eyes, seemingly just as lost in the feeling as you. His chest rises and falls a little faster when the tip of his cock presses against your clit and your whole body shudders with a moan he will end up dreaming about for weeks.
Reality hits when a streak of his arousal leaks and smears across your skin, bringing him back down to earth for one second.
"Wait, my wallet—"
He extends one hand towards the floor and your eyes follow, connecting the dots and sliding off him to grab his pants. You find it tucked into his back pocket and toss it his way. He catches it and fishes out a little foil packet from its depths while you resume your spot in his lap, lips parted and heart racing with anticipation as he rolls the condom on with care.
"Alright honey, I'm all yours," he announces, smirking as he folds his arms behind his head. You roll your eyes but still shimmy forward and raise your hips, using one hand against his chest to prop yourself up and the other to guide him to your entrance. The moment you sink down, however, his lips melt into a soft circle and his eyelids flutter shut, filling your chest with pride before caving into the pleasure yourself.
You sigh and tilt your head back when you finally take all of him. The stretch is exquisite, or maybe it's just been a while, but it doesn't matter. All the static that's been electrifying your brain lately, all that stress from work, from pushing yourself too far every single day dissolves away.
"Oh, shit," he whispers, voice cracking. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips. "Feel so goddamn good."
You drop your head forward to look at him, chest and neck all flushed underneath you. Your eyes trace his body as you begin to move, just slow rolls of your hips while you take in every detail: strong arms built from work, not weights. Skin slightly sweaty and a shade lighter where his shirts protect him from the sun. Broad shoulders and a firm stomach, but not too lean. One of your hands drifts over the planes of his chest and the curves of his muscles, humming with admiration as you continue to slowly ride him. His eyes light up and you swear you can see the pleasure in his expression when he clocks your appreciation for him.
"Make yourself feel good, honey," he says, voice low. Your gaze flickers up to his and you share a smile. "Wanna see what you like. Wanna watch you fall apart on it."
Your hips lift and drop a little faster, skin slapping against skin. "Should've known you never stop talking, even when you're getting laid," you tease, and Joel chuckles.
"Bark and bite, I like that."
"Yeah, I figured that out." You gasp when he thrusts upwards, hitting a spot deep inside you can't reach on your own. He notices and files it away for later.
"Takin' notes on me?" he asks, ghosting his palms over your ribs before landing on your breasts, watching in a daze while they bounce in his hands.
"You wish," you pant. He tsks, eyes still fixed on your chest.
"I got a few things figured out 'bout you, too."
You stop moving to glare down at him and catch your breath. His dark eyes dance with amusement at your annoyed look.
"Like what?"
He shrugs but the smile still tugs at the corners of his mouth. "You work hard but don't ever blow off any steam. Don't know yet if it's cause you're too tired or you feel like you don't deserve it."
That stuns you. Even though you're naked and he's currently buried inside you, you suddenly feel very exposed. He sees he might have overstepped, so he backtracks with a joke.
"You can call me anytime and I'll be happy to help you unwind."
You snort and begin moving again, shaking off the unexpected flash of vulnerability. "Why don't you focus on making this memorable enough for me to call you again?"
Joel laughed then, loud. And despite yourself, you giggle.
"Baby, when you're done playin' cowgirl, I'm gonna flip you over and fuck you so hard, you'll feel it on Monday when you're watchin' me through that office window of yours."
Your pussy clenches involuntarily and you begin working faster, fucking yourself on his lap now like you mean it.
"That's a-a lot of big talk, Miller," you reply, breathless from the exertion. You circle your hips and moan loudly when you find an angle you like.
"Ain't just talk," he says, big hands back on your hips, helping you move. His gaze is fixed on where you're connected, on the slick smearing between your bodies, and his stomach tightens. "Been thinkin' 'bout fuckin' you every which way to Sunday, got a head full'a ideas."
"You've been thinking about fucking me?" you repeat almost shyly.
"Don't be coy, now," he tells you, grunting softly when you plant both hands on his chest for leverage. "You know you came over there that first day with these perfect fucking tits pokin' through that little robe on purpose."
"Did not," you breathe, but all the fight has left your body. You're getting close and it's all you can focus on now.
"Uh-huh," Joel says, clearly not believing you. He swallows hard and his cock twitches impatiently inside you. He could come like this, with you riding him, getting yourself off, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want it to be over just yet, especially if you expect this to be a one time thing.
Shit, he hopes it's not just a one time thing.
"C'mon, baby, let go," he says before mouthing at your breasts. His tongue glides over one nipple then grazes it with his teeth before moving to the other one. You jolt and whine and push your chest even closer to his face.
"Joel..." you whisper. Your muscles are tired, you're slowing down. Sweat dots your forehead, collects behind your knees, and you're gasping for air.
He sits up suddenly, understanding right away what you need, and wraps one arm around your waist while the other braces himself against the mattress. He's able to fuck up into you like this and instantly your legs relax and your body slumps forward, causing him to relinquish the attention to your chest.
"That's it," he coos, "lemme help you."
You rarely accept help. The thought flickers across your mind for a moment before you push it away. This is different. This is just sex.
"M'close," you mumble shakily, fingers digging into the thick muscle of his shoulders, forehead pressed intimately against his.
"I know," he breathes, "give it to me, darlin'."
A few more harsh snaps of his hips has you falling, whimpering his name as white hot heat rolls through your limbs and soaking your brain with a drunken haze. He's murmuring to you the whole time: how tight you feel, how beautiful you look, what a good job you did, how perfectly you fit on his cock. The praise goes straight to your head and fills a much needed void somewhere inside you. Some piece of you that is always pushing you to do more, try harder, work faster... efforts that rarely give you desired results. Or, at least, the results you're after. But this—this man—he's giving you something you desperately crave without even realizing it.
Your breath stutters like you've been knocked off kilter, and maybe you have. Joel thinks it's an aftershock of your orgasm and doesn't think anything of it.
He lifts you off his lap and you gasp, eyes flying open in shock. You have about half a second before you're tossed face down onto the bed next to him, then he's climbing behind you, rough hands gentle on your hips as they pull you back up to your hands and knees.
"That's it," he grunts when you obediently spread your legs and arch your back. He smirks to himself before pushing back inside you with a heavy sigh. "Goddamn, you're warm," he says after sliding slowly all the way in, giving you a chance to adjust to the new position. You bite your lip and breathe through it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how deep he feels like this. How good he feels.
"Fuck me, Joel," you moan, pushing your ass back, encouraging him to move. He rolls his hips forward, slow and deep.
"I know," he pants, "I know what you need."
He moves a little faster. Your ass bounces with every push. He grabs it with one big hand and squeezes before giving you a playful smack and doing it again.
"No, you don't. You barely—barely know me," you remind him. Your words stumble over each other as you feel yourself losing focus again. He feels so good, it's impossible not to.
"Know you better than you think," he shoots back. He smoothes over the spot on your ass he had spanked, soothing the area before sliding his palm up and over your spine. He can feel every knot and twist, every stress point you keep locked away deep inside. His fingers seek them out with ease, like maybe he really can see more than you think.
Still, you're stubborn.
"You only know what I want you to know." Your jaw is clenched, the words escape through your teeth but your point is made. You swallow down a moan and close your eyes, giving in to the way he expertly takes you apart.
"I knew you needed this from the first time we met," he tells you, "could've fucked this out of you back then and saved us both the trouble."
"You like it," you hiss over your shoulder. His pace is relentless now, hips swinging roughly against your ass, burying his thick cock as deep as it'll go. He wants to split you open and make you scream his name. He wants your mind blank and your body satiated. "You like—ohh... f-fuck—"
"What's that?" he goads. Joel drops forward so both his arms bracket yours. His chest presses against your spine and his breath is hot in your ear. You shiver and your jaw falls open.
"You..." Your throat is dry. Heat is building behind your navel and your legs are starting to shake. You swallow and keep talking. "You like trouble. You like it... when I yell at you. Whe—when I—"
"Yeah, I know," he admits, "somethin' real sexy 'bout you when you get all pissed off."
"—Like when I tell you... tell you what to do."
He's silent for a moment but his pace never falters. The wet sound of skin on skin is deafening, addicting. Your face warms as he punches the air from your lungs with every devastating thrust.
"Yeah. Maybe I do."
You hum and breathe deep through your nose. Fuck, he's right. You're going to be sore. You can already feel it.
"So tell me what to do now," he adds. It takes you a second to process it, but when you do, you force your eyes open.
What does he want to hear?
Don't overthink it.
"Touch me," you demand, firm and clear despite how your heart is racing.
Joel doesn't hesitate.
He leans back, leaving your sweaty back exposed to the cool air, and he reaches around to play with your clit. Instantly, you gasp and buck under him.
"Like that?"
If you had any clarity at all you would have shot him back some sarcastic remark because of course the answer is yes. Your entire body is shaking, you can barely speak and he knows it.
"Mhm," you manage, "ye—yeah, just like that. Fuck, keep going—"
"Jesus Christ," he mutters when your body begins to work in tandem with his, meeting him thrust for thrust. "Shit honey, you're gonna make me come like this."
You whine and throw your head back. His fingers don't stop circling your clit. Sweat coats your skin now. Gasping breaths and the sound of his hips meeting your ass over and over are filling the room, punctuated by Joel's deep grunts and your breathy moans.
"Joel—" you whisper as your body locks up. Your muscles ache, your cunt aches even more, but you continue to take it all. Your hand feverishly finds his between your legs and you leave it there, loving the way his fingers feel while they play you like a guitar.
"Sweetheart, I'm gonna—"
But you cut him off before he could finish his thought with a sharp cry. Your orgasm washes over you, harsh and unforgiving. A moment later Joel follows you over the edge with a loud curse, then a rough, deep grunt you can feel in your bones as he empties himself into the condom.
"Oh, holy fuck," he gasps, removing his hand from between your legs. He still thrusts weakly into you as the last of his orgasm streaks through his veins. It's cut short when he feels your body shaking violently under him and just like that, his focus is back on you.
"You okay?"
"I'm—" You're out of breath. Your vision is spotty and your muscles are weak. You swallow hard and try again. "I'm good, just need to—"
You fall onto your elbows and Joel takes the hint. He eases out of you, ignoring the way his chest pangs at the loss of your body, before he collapses into bed and hauls you down next to him.
Now you can rest. You close your eyes and breathe, deep and heavy. He does the same while the sweat cools on both your bodies and slowly, your brain begins to come back online. When it does, you realize his body is loosely curled around yours, keeping you warm and grounding you. It's strangely intimate but you don't pull away. Not yet.
"How 'bout I take you for that dinner now?" he mumbles before carefully pressing a soft kiss against your neck. His sweaty chest is pressed against your back, sealing you together.
"Let's just order something instead," you sigh with your eyes closed.
"Did I tire you out, darlin'?"
"Didn't sleep well," you say, unwilling to give him any credit just yet, "the damn construction crew next door woke me up way too early."
"Uh-huh," he teases before tightening his arm around your middle. It feels nice, so you lean into him just a bit. And for a while it's quiet and peaceful. Your breath steadies, your head clears, but your muscles stay soft and relaxed. Joel doesn't say anything. His thumb rubs idly over your stomach, lips occasionally graze over your back or shoulder, and it feels good until that defensive part of your brain wakes up, right on schedule.
This isn't serious. This didn't mean anything. It was just stress relief. Don't get attached.
"So," you say, voice a little hoarse when you gently slip out of his grip. He rolls onto his back with a soft, reluctant noise and he watches you stand to pick up your clothes. "This is what it takes to finally shut you up, huh?"
You grin at your joke as you press your clothes to your front, hiding your bare body from him like he hadn't just touched every inch of it minutes ago. When he doesn't answer right away with some smart remark, you pause and meet his eye.
He's stretched out on your bed, looking at you like he's seeing something not meant for him. You swallow nervously and try not to let yourself enjoy how good he looks in your space, amongst your things, in your life.
"Yeah," he finally says, "guess that'll do it."
His voice sounds flat and you begin to feel bad, so you clear your throat and inch towards your bathroom. "Let's order something to eat before you go."
Before you go. Joel heard it and got the message. He didn't know what to expect but for some reason, it stings.
"Yeah, what are you thinkin'?" He sits up and reaches for his jeans, where his phone is still tucked into his pocket.
"I don't care. Whatever you like." Then the door to the bathroom quietly snaps shut. Joel sighs once's he's alone and rubs his face before looking around your room. It's neat and organized, nothing like his own. He chews the inside of his cheek while he thinks, but before he lets himself get too lost, he snaps out of it and looks at his phone.
Chinese is a safe bet, so he orders that before standing to rid himself of the condom and get dressed. Suddenly he feels out of place. He's rough and dirty and you're... not. And that's fine. This was fun, it doesn't have to be anything more. Yet when he wanders into your kitchen for water, he can't help but feel an empty pull in his chest at the thought of leaving.
Unknown to him, hidden inside your bathroom, you're struggling with the very same thing.
Warnings: minors dni, f! reader, established relationship, smut, genitalia pronouns once or twice, pussy worship, oral sex (female receiving), drunk on pussy, coming untouched, coming in pants
Word count: 3.5k
A/N: At last! I wrote this one inspired by my own birthday last month (and what I wish would've happened to me lol), but I've been so busy I didn't have time to finish it and proof-read it until now. Thank you so much for all the love on my last (and first) fic. Hope you enjoy this one as well ♡
Summary: Joel has a special gift in mind for his birthday girl.
Divider by @tsumiinum
"Happy birthday to you!" The crowd of people finished singing, some of the guests cheering and clapping their hands together while others smiled and looked at you. You found it a little bit uncomfortable, to be honest, people singing for you like this while all you could do was stand there and smile like an idiot, but it was also nice to have folks care about you. Nowadays joy and happiness was something to be treasured.
It was your birthday, and everyone in Jackson had come together to celebrate. It had originally been Maria's idea, organizing everything in secret. It surprised you that even Joel was on board, as he was not one to enjoy large public celebrations like this. But for you, he made an exception. Hell, he even actively participated in organizing the whole thing, making sure you didn't find out even though you'd already sort of seen it coming from miles away.
While everyone was chatting and enjoying their slice of cake— made by Seth, decorated beautifully— Joel made his way over, his fingers brushing the back of your chair, calloused and warm as he settled beside you.
"Enjoyin' your party, birthday girl?" He asked through the din of the party, corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. Gatherings like these were totally not his thing, but seeing you happy and celebrated made everything worth it. "You holdin' up alright?"
"Sure am," you replied, giving him a grin. "Thanks for going along with this. I know you're not one for crowds."
"Nonsense," he replied, huffing. His fingers traced the rim of his untouched drink. "Ain't about me." His gaze fell on Ellie, who was currently trying to steal a second slice of cake. He barely suppressed an eye roll. "Way too much sugar," he mumbled.
His attention shifted back to you. "You deserve a party," he said, gruff but sincere. His hand reached out to grab yours, thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "Even if it means I gotta suffer through all sorts 'f small talk." The corner of his mouth twitched. He could say whatever he wanted, he didn't entirely hate this.
Your lips quirked up. You knew he didn't mind it as much as he pretended to. You know him too well by now.
Your eyes fell to the pile of gifts in a corner of the room. People had brought all sorts of things, so now that the party was coming to an end, you needed to find a way to get them all back home without dropping and breaking them.
"You mind giving me a hand with those?" You asked. "Afraid I can't carry all of them by myself."
Joel followed her gaze to the stack. "Yeah, I got you," he said, voice rough and steady. His free hand came up to scratch his scruffy beard. "By the way, I got a gift f'you, too."
You perked up at his words. "Really? You got me a gift?" Your eyes lit up with excitement. "You really didn't have to."
Joel's expression didn't shift, but you could've sworn something dark flickered in his eyes. He leaned in just enough for his warm breath to tickle your ear.
"'Course I have to," he rumbled, voice dropping low enough so that no one else could hear you two. "Just... Ain't the kind of gift you open in front of company, y'see."
That had you raise your eyebrows, immediately interested. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, unreadable except for a slightly amused tilt of his mouth. He cleared his throat, straightening, glancing at the dwindling crowd.
"We'll get you and your stuff home first," he muttered, glancing around the room to calculate how he could get you both out of here without raising too much suspicion. The birthday girl ditching her own party could raise some eyebrows.
"And then you'll get your present."
-------------------
You sighed in sweet relief when you put the last box down on your kitchen table, hand massaging your sore back. Some of these gifts were seriously heavy, such as a crate full of jars filled with all sorts of jam, and you weren't even carrying the heaviest among them. You watched as Joel put down his last box.
"Thanks," you said, hand reaching out to brush against his calloused one. "Couldn't have gotten them all here by myself."
Joel caught your hand before you could pull away, his grip firm but not rough. His fingers laced with yours, his calloused skin rough from work dragging against your softer skin, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine.
"Told you I got you," he muttered. His thumb traced slow circles over your knuckles, gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before flicking back up to your eyes.
"Thinkin' it's about time to give you your gift," he said, voice dropping to a lower rasp. He tipped his head toward the bedroom. "C'mon, baby."
Your eyes widened slightly as he took your hand and led you towards the bedroom. The way he looked at you promised that whatever this gift was, it'd be so worth it.
"You're making me curious," you said as he led you inside, the wooden door clicking shut behind you both with a creak. The bedroom was dark except for a soft, quiet sliver of moonlight shining in through the half-open curtains, illuminating the bed. "What is it?"
He didn't answer you immediately. Instead he guided you to the edge of the bed with a firm but gentle touch on your back, other hand still holding yours.
His deep, brown eyes held yours as he stepped back to look over you. You could see a muscle flex in his jaw before he finally spoke, voice rough.
"Gonna show you," he murmured, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt. "But you gotta let me take my time with it, y'hear?"
The look you could now see in his eyes was a look you knew well by now. Dark, filled with hunger. His gaze didn't waver. Your heart skipped a beat or two.
"You're making me even more curious now," you responded, your own voice rougher now too, letting him know anticipation was already building. "Very curious." You felt a flush creep up your neck towards your ears.
Joel's mouth quirked at the edges at your words. "Good," he rumbled. He closed the distance between you both, his hand settling on your hip, fingers squeezing your curves gently. He leaned in, his breath hot and ticklish against your ear, his beard scraping the sensitive skin of your neck.
"Gonna make you forget every gift you got t'day," he promised. His voice dropped. "Ain't gonna think about nothin' but what I'm gonna give you."
Joel moved, guiding you back onto the bed until your head rested on top of a soft, fluffy pillow. One knee pressed into the mattress beside you, enough to make you shift towards him. His hands slid up your thighs, his rough palms skimming the rough fabric of your jeans before gently tracing the waistband with a singular finger.
"Gonna take these off," he muttered, fingers already working at the button swiftly. His eyes never left yours, wanting to hear every hitch in your breath, every flicker of growing hunger in your eyes that he loved so damn much.
He slid the zipper down, the rasp loud in the otherwise silent room. His knuckles brushed your bare skin as he tugged them down, exhaling sharply as he took you in. He always took his time admiring you as if it was the first time seeing you, making sure you never forgot how much he cherished you.
He leaned over you, one hand bracing beside your hand as his other traced a slow path along your inner thigh, the rough skin on his fingers making your skin tickle.
"Now be good 'n lay there for me. Gonna give you your present, birthday girl."
His mouth found yours, kissing you deeply. Every thought in your head turned into mush as his tongue found his way inside, tangling with yours. The kiss was messy, hot, and it made you yearn for more.
Your hands came up to tangle in his salt-and-pepper hair, gently tugging at the strands until he groaned in your mouth, the vibration of it sending a jolt through your body. His grip on your thighs tightened as he dragged you closer.
"Christ," he rasped, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, his lips glistening with your shared saliva. His eyes were practically black now, locked on the way you lay there, flushed and wanting for him.
One hand slid up to gently palm your breast through your shirt, thumb circling your nipple just enough to make your back arch.
"Like that, darlin'? When I play with your pretty tits?" His voice was wrecked, affecting him just as much as this was affecting you too.
Before you could nod his mouth was on you again, kissing a path down your neck, nibbling over your pulse point before sucking just enough to leave a purple mark, then licking a hot, wet stripe all the way up to your earlobe.
You shuddered, biting your lip. "Oh, Joel—"
"Shhh," he shushed you gently. His hands made quick work of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head. He didn't waste any time unclasping your bra, tossing it aside, making it land somewhere on the floor. "Just take it. 'S my gift to you, remember? Let me worship you."
His head dipped between your breasts, causing you to whine when he took one hard nipple into his mouth. His tongue circled the tight nub, slow at first, then faster, the tip of his tongue flicking upwards. His hand found your other nipple, gently tugging and playing with that one as well.
"Fuck," he rasped. "So good f'me. One day I'm gonna fuck your pretty tits."
His words made you shiver. "Joel, please, don't tease—"
He chuckled. "Not teasin'. Just makin' you feel good. 'S your birthday, ain't it? Enjoy it."
His hands ran down your body, callouses rubbing your skin as he spread your thighs further apart, head dipping down and kissing a gentle path down your stomach, over your belly button, and further south.
Joel didn't rush. He never did. He took his time, his lips finally parting against you with a slow, filthy drag of his tongue, savoring your taste. His nose nudged right against your clit, his breath hot and uneven as he worked you with deliberately slow strokes.
"Oh fuck," you moaned, hands finding that salt-and-pepper hair of his and tangling your fingers into the strands, holding on as you tried to buck your hips up and fuck yourself back onto his tongue.
His hand held your hips, holding you steady. "None of that," he muttered. "Take what I'm givin' you darlin'. Stay still f'me."
He licked back into your pussy with a groan. Every flick of his tongue was slow and deliberate— first teasing your clit with the flat of his tongue, then circling tight and slow with the tip, shuddering when he heard you whimper with need in response.
You trembled under his touch, fingers tightening in his hair, trying to press him impossibly closer. His nose nudged your clit so good as he sucked slightly at first, then harder until your back arched off the bed.
"Fuck," he groaned when he pulled away briefly for air, your slick staining his beard, his lips shiny and wet. "Y'taste so damn good, baby. Could eat you out for hours."
And knowing Joel, he meant it.
His tongue dipped lower, briefly teasing your fluttering entrance before going back up, slow and filthy. The sounds coming from where he was sucking and licking you was obscene, wet and messy.
He groaned when you tugged at his hair again, entirely overwhelmed with the attention he was giving your pussy. His own hips ground down into the mattress, not able to help himself when you were making the sounds you were. He was drunk on your pussy, and he needed some relief in order to keep going, to help with the ache of his hard cock.
Your entire body trembled as he worshipped your cunt. This was the best birthday gift you could've ever wished for, no doubt.
"Joel," you whined, toes curling as you desperately tried to fuck yourself back onto his tongue.
His hands held you down as his tongue dragged a thick stripe through your folds. Slow and lazy— he could take the entire night to worship you, if needed. One hand moved beneath you to support your lower back, fingers splaying open to tilt you higher and deeper into his mouth.
He didn't rush, much to your frustration. He sucked your clit between his lips just enough to make you gasp, then soothed with slower, flat strokes of his tongue. His chin was slick with spit and your arousal, dripping down his chin onto his beard as he buried his face deeper, nose nudging your clit while his tongue circled.
He ground his own cock hard against the mattress beneath him, the denim doing nothing to relieve the ache. But his attention was on you, always on you. Especially tonight.
His hand slid from your lower back to your legs, gently squeezing your thigh before teasing your entrance with his rough fingertips. The sensation had you whimper, begging for more.
"Please, Joel, need your fingers," you begged, appreciating his devotion but also needing to come already.
He immediately slid in two of his thick fingers as you were already stretched plenty just from his tongue teasing your hole. His knuckles pressed into you, curling upwards slightly, effortlessly finding that spongy spot along your front wall that always had you lose your mind.
"Taste so damn sweet, girl," he rasped. "Fuckin' love this pussy. 'N she knows it too. She's drooling so much f'me."
His tongue kept gently flicking your clit as his fingers fucked into you slow and deep, hitting that spot that made your thighs tremble over and over. Joel was absolutely drunk on your pussy, eyes glazed and forehead damp with sweat as he watched you come apart beneath his touch.
Every single gasp, every moan, every hitch of your breath made him work harder, fingers fucking into you, unable to stop himself from rutting against the mattress desperately at the sight of you.
He pulled back briefly, pressing soft kisses on your clit that made your stomach flutter. "Look at you, darlin'," he said, voice thick with want and something softer. "You're shaking f'me. Feels good, don't it?"
You nodded, followed by a gasp as his tongue flicked your clit again. At this point it was throbbing, clit peeking from beneath its hood, so sensitive from his worship that it would take very little for you to come undone.
"Gonna make you come so fucking hard, baby. Gonna give you exactly what you need."
His movement turned more devoted, less teasing. He flicked your clit once or twice before diving back in, digits fucking into you deeper and harder than before, sucking your clit hard.
You cried out when he changed his touch from teasing to fucking you with the intent of making you come. One hand stayed tangled in his hair as the other held tightly onto the sheets, gripping it tight enough that you were sure you could've ripped it. If you thought he was pleasuring you good before, now it felt even better.
"Joel! Oh god, don't stop please, feels too good—" you babbled, shaking. He was pushing you towards a release so intense and delicious it was making your mind melt.
Joel couldn't control himself anymore. His hand that had been pinning your hips down released you, allowing you to freely grind up onto his face. He groaned when you did, body tensing as you ground yourself against his tongue, wetness slicking his face.
He took it all when your hips bucked, your thighs trembling against his ears as you squeezed them around his head, pussy clenching around his thrusting fingers as you chased that edge you were so desperate for.
His own grinding against the mattress turned needy, frantic. Denim rasped against the sheets, the rough fabric dragging over his painfully hard cock as he rutted into the bed with sharp, desperate thrusts of his hips.
He groaned, fingers curling deeper and pressing into your sweet spot as his tongue flattened and licked, wet and sloppy. He lapped your arousal as if he were starved, and judging from how he was worshipping you, he was.
"That's it," he encouraged you. His free hand trembled as it came up to tug at your painfully hard nipples, just as turned on and affected by this as you were. "Louder, darlin'. Need to hear you. Let me know how much you're enjoyin' your gift."
His teeth grazed your clit ever so slightly, making you sob. His fingers fucked into you with a punishing rhythm, curling and scissoring you open as he added a third finger, stretching you even wider.
He pulled back slightly, but his fingers never stopped. His chest was heaving, pupils dilated as he watched you.
"Gonna make you come now," he promised. "You're gonna take it, ain't you? So desperate for my mouth 'n fingers. Be good f'me and come, yeah?"
Then his mouth was back on you, demanding. His fingers pistoned deep inside you, leaving you no choice but to come undone onto his fingers as his tongue flicked fast over your clit and with just the right pressure.
You came mere seconds later with a loud cry of his name, loud enough that people that happened to be walking outside at this time of night might've heard. Your thighs nearly crushed his head as they squeezed around him, your toes curling. The feeling was ecstatic.
His own grinding against the mattress turned frantic. Watching you get off made him lose his mind, wanting to bury his cock inside you so badly.
Your pussy clamped down onto his fingers, desperately fluttering around his thrusting digits. He groaned into you, his tongue still working you through each wave of your orgasm even as you shuddered and trembled beneath him. His entire beard was slick with arousal and spit, proof of how dedicated he'd been to worshipping your cunt with all he had.
Once the last of your tremors faded, his tongue slowed, your trembling thighs going slack and giving him space to move again. For a second neither of you said anything— you boneless from your orgasm, and him from giving it to you.
After taking some much needed time to catch your breath, your fingers tangled in his hair, gently stroking his scalp this time.
"God, I love you," you said in awe. "Best gift ever."
Joel moved up, holding you tightly against him as he kissed you lazy and slow, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You groaned, your hands traveling down his chest over the fabric of his shirt as you landed at his jeans, intending to undo his belt and return the favor.
You made a slightly surprised sound however when you felt a damp patch near the front. Your cheeks turned pink when you realized he'd come in his pants.
He froze when your fingers brushed the damp patch through his jeans. A slightly embarrassed sound escaped him, half groan and half curse. He tried to shift away, but you weren't letting him.
"Shit," his face was burning, hiding it by burying his face in your neck. A rare flush crept up his neck beneath the scruff of his beard.
"Didn't mean to... do that," he muttered. "Got carried away. Just seein' you like that... Jesus. Like I'm some damn teenager all over again."
You chuckled slightly, taking his face in your hands, giving him no choice but to look at you. "That's okay. It's honestly kind of hot," you said, kissing him to reassure him it was fine.
The kiss was slow and deep, gentle. His arms tightened around you, sighing in relief.
"S'pose it's my fault," he muttered when pulling away. "Makin' me forget to be careful. Looked too damn good coming f'me that I lost it."
Another chuckle left your lips. "Like I said, it's hot. Though it is sort of sad I couldn't return the favor." You paused, fingers caressing his beard. "Next time it's your turn, though."
He hummed in agreement, his hand slid up your spine, fingers tangling gently in your hair as he pressed a devoted kiss to your temple. The rush and urgency from earlier had faded, leaving just the two of you in the silence of the room.
"Deal. Now let's get you cleaned up. 'S late." He said, already pulling away to carry you to the adjacent bathroom.
After a relaxing warm bath together he carried you into bed, holding you into his arms, your back to his chest as he cuddled you beneath the double layer of blankets. His calloused thumb rubbed slow, comforting circles on your hip, his lips pressing gentle kisses right beneath your earlobe. His voice was soft and gentle when it came, thick with sleep.
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summary: you want to give Joel a birthday gift he won't forget, but desperate to prove you can, you almost hurt yourself in the process. Joel has to remind you of some ground rules.
pairing: Joel Miller x Reader
warnings/tags: 18+, smut, PIV, anal sex, use of sex toys, discomfort and pain during sex, sex gone wrong, but you try again, soft dom!Joel, light sub/dom dynamics, praise, very brief mention of past depression and medication, aftercare and fluff
wc: 5.4k
a/n: my entry for the 2026 kinky challenge hosted by @time-for-my-weekly-spanking🫶 I chose Joel + anal (obviously lol) This is the Gifted Kid Burnout Couple but you don’t have to read the series to enjoy this smutty one shot 🤭 @rosharanfiction thank you for encouraging me to write weird porn for overachievers and being the sweetest beta reader 💕
You adjusted the straps of the babydoll and once more smoothed down the gauzy fabric above your thighs. The position you’d posed yourself in—prone with your knees bent, exposing the slope of your ass just enough—was beginning to feel uncomfortable, but you stayed put.
It wasn’t even because it was his birthday—he told you he didn’t care much about a celebration—but since you finally got together, he was so careful with you, and everything you did, especially in bed, seemed focused only on your comfort.
At first, you were grateful for that. He touched you with so much care and patience and never once complained—not about how rare it was for you to even get in the mood, not about the time and effort it took to get you aroused enough to fuck—but if you were getting frustrated about it, you could only imagine how he felt.
Now, finally weaned off the medication, you were relieved to see your body slowly going back to normal. The first few times it happened, when you felt the spontaneous gush of wetness in your panties as you ground on his lap, you almost cried with exhilaration.
With things finally back to normal, you wanted to give back to him. To finally do something he liked.
You tested the waters first.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” you asked him in the quiet of the evening, lying on his chest as your breathing slowed down.
“Course you can,” he answered quietly, playing with your hair.
“Tell me what you’re into.”
“Sweetheart, I think you know that pretty well by now.”
“I know. But, you know.” You buried your face into his chest. “Things we haven’t done yet.”
He fell silent for a while as his fingers threaded through your hair.
“I’m sure there’s some freaky stuff you’d like to try,” you prodded.
“Nah, I’m a simple guy.”
“And what do simple guys like?”
“Simple things. And whatever you like.”
It was always like that with him. Even before all this mess, when you fucked, he was happy to do whatever you wanted, but always so hesitant to as much as suggest anything new. It was even worse now, when he seemed to walk on eggshells around you. You didn’t mind it at first, but lately you couldn’t shake off the guilty feeling.
“Yeah, tell that to the guy who whispers the most random filth in my ear when he fucks me.”
You had to give him that—no matter how much he tried to restrain himself, when he was close, something dirty always slipped out. He rolled his eyes with a chuckle.
“I’m sure there’s something weird even a simple guy wants.” You scrunched your brows, thinking. “Like, I don’t know, anal.”
You wanted to chuckle, but a sideways glance at his face revealed a sight you didn’t expect—Joel’s face flushed so intensely the tips of his ears turned red.
“Oh my god, I was right?”
He looked down and shook his head before looking back at you.
“Sweetheart, I…”
“Do you want it?”
“I don’t… I don’t expect it, okay?”
“But you think about it?”
“I guess.” He shrugged, the flush still present on his face.
It took you a while to convince him you were willing to try the things he wanted, although the pace he set was so slow you thought you might never get there at all. For the past weeks, you encouraged him to at least feel around, but a slick fingertip slipping inside the rim of your hole was the farthest he let himself go.
That’s why, when the day of his birthday came, you knew exactly what the only appropriate gift was.
The idea itself was hot—not something you’d fantasized about yourself, but the concept was growing on you. When you thought of it, you imagined his raspy voice guiding you through it, the heady feeling of complete submission, and finally letting him lose himself to the pleasure he’d denied himself for so long.
What you didn’t imagine was the amount of unsexy prep you had to go through before getting even close to that. But you were good at that—being prepared.
With that being done, you were finally ready to give him the best gift he’d ever received—now wrapped in the see-through babydoll, a gemstone base of the plug peeking between your cheeks.
You were very pleased with yourself when you finally heard the rattle of the keys and the distant sound of his boots.
“Sweetheart?”
You were tempted to say something, but you wanted him to figure it out himself. His footsteps circled the apartment before finally getting closer and closer to the bedroom.
The floor creaked when he finally stood in the doorway.
“Oh, sweetheart. Now that’s a real pretty gift.” He leaned against the doorframe as if worried he’d fall and instantly covered his mouth with his hand.
You smiled in excitement and kicked your legs, letting the sheer fabric reveal even more.
“Come unwrap it.” You almost giggled at how cheesy this was, but he looked hypnotized as he finally approached you.
He ran his large palm along your calf and your thigh, slipping underneath the lingerie, cupping your cheek, and squeezing the flesh.
You pressed your face against the mattress in an attempt to hide the smirk, ready for him to finally notice.
“Christ.” His hand stilled on your ass cheek, gently parting it. “Is that?”
“Mhm.” You hummed and kicked your legs up and down again. “Happy birthday.”
“Fuck, baby,” he rasped, while his fingers circled the puckered skin around the base of the plug. “That’s so damn pretty.”
The words had barely left his mouth when, in one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back and dragged you to the edge of the bed, a surprised gasp slipping out of you.
Once he had you positioned, he sank to his knees on the carpet, and before you could realize what was happening, his face was between your legs, his hands securing your thighs on his shoulders.
You shuddered when he closed his mouth over your folds, gently lapping at them.
“Can I play with it?” he asked, his voice pleasantly vibrating against you.
“Yes, please.” You lifted your legs a bit more.
Soon his mouth was on your clit while his fingers closed around the gemstone base of the toy, gently playing with it—tugging a little before slowly pushing it back in.
The slow, gentle stretch of the plug against your rim, paired with his tongue, felt unreal, and soon you were letting out small whimpers in rhythm with his movements.
“Joel.”
“Yes, baby? Good?”
“Good.” You panted. “Really good.”
“Can you come like this, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” You nodded, your eyes squeezed shut with pleasure. “Just don’t stop.”
His lips were back around your clit, sucking it harder as his fingers continued massaging your hole with the plug. Soon your whole body pulsed—something snapped—and you were coming, clenching hard around the toy, aftershocks spreading through you until you felt them in your toes. You let out a long wail as you shook, Joel licking you gently through it.
Limp and boneless, you fell back on the bed, and Joel stood up from the floor to finally kiss you. His lips closed over yours—hungry, wet, still tasting of you.
Your hands were quick to tug on his T-shirt, and he broke away only to pull it off and throw it across the room. He crashed his lips against yours again while he kicked off his jeans and boxers, finally naked against your skin, covered only by a thin layer of the see-through lingerie.
“Hands and knees, baby,” he ordered with a playful slap on your thigh, and you wished he’d struck it harder.
You rolled over and propped yourself up on your knees and elbows, pressing your face down and arching your back to present your holes to him.
“Christ,” he muttered as he cupped your ass cheeks in his large palms, groping the flesh and spreading them apart.
You were already a wet, swollen, aching mess between your thighs, desperate to be filled by him.
His thick, leaking tip grazed your slit, slicking himself up and rubbing against your swollen folds. Finally he guided himself to your entrance and slowly pushed in, sinking inside inch by devastating inch, stretching you open around him.
You sucked in a sharp breath.
“Christ, that’s good,” he panted. “You okay there?”
“Yes. Yes.” You nodded as he started gently rocking his hips, his hands still spreading you wide apart.
The drag of his cock was more intense than ever, with the plug still stretching your other hole, and you felt full in a way you’d never felt before. It was overwhelming, but it nearly made your eyes roll back in pleasure every time his hips met your ass.
“How’s it feel, baby?”
“Full. Feels so full,” you moaned, pushing your face into the mattress between your arms. “Can you feel it?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I feel it,” he groaned and picked up the pace of his thrusts. “Makes your pussy even tighter,” he groaned, his grip tightening on your hips.
You moaned to the rhythm of his thrusts, your noises mixing with the obscene squelch of him gliding through your wetness and the slap of his skin against you. He palmed your cheeks, fingers occasionally grazing the base of the plug or the skin around it.
“You like it, sweetheart? Like havin’ your holes full?”
“Yes, yes, yes.” You mewled against the bedsheets, your pleas barely audible.
It felt so good. You’d never imagined it could feel so good. The overwhelming stretch, the fullness, the surrender of it all—you were dizzy with pleasure, ready to finally give him more.
“Joel,” you whimpered.
“Yes, baby?”
“Please fuck me.”
“Oh, I’m fuckin’ you, baby.” He snapped his hips harder against you. “Want it harder?”
“No.” You tried to twist your face so you could see him. “Want you to fuck me there.”
He slowed his thrusts and ran his hand along your waist to stroke your hip.
“Baby, we don’t have to.” His voice softened.
“We actually have to.” You licked your lips. “That’s the gift.”
He paused but didn’t pull out.
“I’m very satisfied with the gift I’m gettin’ right now.” He leaned in to kiss the skin between your shoulder blades.
“Please.” You shifted your hips back and forth to glide on his cock, pulling a low grunt from him. “I’m ready.”
“Baby, but this is really good too.” He resumed slow, shallow thrusts. “We don’t have to do everything today.”
“I really want to try.” You whined and shifted forward, making him slip out with a loud, wet pop.
He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head a little in amusement. He always did it when he tried to deny you, but eventually caved.
“We can try, okay?”
Removing the plug was the first reality check of the night. For some reason, pulling it out proved much more difficult and uncomfortable than getting it in there in the first place.
But Joel’s hands were gentle and attentive as he touched you, slowly coaxing the toy out while stroking your thigh.
“You sure you don’t wanna turn around, baby?” he asked as he poured lube onto his fingers.
You shook your head against the mattress. “I think it’ll be easier this way.”
“Okay.”
His fingers replaced the toy, and it felt okay enough for you to regain some of the confidence you’d had earlier. He poured copious amounts of lube on them, and soon the liquid mixed with your own wetness pooled between your legs and beneath you.
He took his time stretching you, murmuring in your ear and kissing the soft skin behind it. Soon you felt ready, a rush of excitement washing over you at the thought of fulfilling his fantasy.
He had you prone on the bed now, hips propped up on a pillow, his broad body hovering over yours, the heat of his chest against your back. You loved when he fucked you like this—enveloping your body in his, putting most of his weight on you.
“Okay, sweetheart.” He ran his hands down your back to your cheeks, parting and spreading them. “Tell me if somethin’ feels wrong, okay?”
You nodded against the bed as he notched his wet tip against your hole, not applying any pressure yet. Somehow, he felt even bigger this way.
Slowly, with only a light push of his hips, he finally breached your rim, and you tensed immediately at the foreign feeling of something so much bigger than the plug or his fingers.
The stretch was sharp and immediate, and instinctively you clenched, making it even worse.
“Hurts?” he asked, stopping any movement.
You buried your face in the sheets to hide your wince. “A little.”
“Wanna stop?”
For a split second, you considered taking him up on that, but decided against it. You wouldn’t want to give up now.
“No. Don’t move,” you said through clenched teeth.
“I’ll pull out—”
“No.” You cut him off, clenching even more at the thought. “Don’t move.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t wanna hurt you, lemme just—” You felt him lean back to retreat and it was enough to sharpen the sting even more.
“Don’t fucking move, okay?” you said, your teeth clenched, your voice weak.
He stilled entirely, his hands resting gently on your waist, stroking the skin there in soothing circles. You stayed like that for a few breaths, trying to relax against him.
“Okay,” you whispered when you felt yourself loosen enough to accommodate him.
“Better?”
“Yeah. You can move a little. Slow.”
He carefully rocked back and forth, a movement so small it was barely noticeable. You did notice it, though—the burning stretch now accompanied by a tugging at your hole.
“This okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He rolled his hips, careful not to move faster or deeper, just a steady sway. When you stole a glance behind you, there was a deepening crease between his brows and a clench in his jaw, a drop of sweat rolling off his forehead. The man was fighting for his life not to spoil this with his eagerness.
“That’s good, sweetheart,” he cooed. “You’re doing really good for me right now.”
You finally exhaled, remembering you had to breathe. The stretch was still intense, but dulling out with every shallow thrust.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, baby, you’re doing perfect. Taking it well.”
“M’not. I’m taking forever.” You whimpered, suddenly very aware that while it was starting to feel better, he was only two inches deep at most.
“No, it’s perfect, baby. Can feel you opening up for me already.”
That was not true—you still clenched around him, your body not entirely happy with the intrusion—but you wanted it to be true, to give him what he wanted.
In a moment of boldness, you pushed back against him, and despite him giving his all not to rush this, his next thrust came out sharper. The sudden change pulled two simultaneous noises from you—a surprised groan from him and a pained gasp from you. He stilled his hips immediately.
“Fuck, sorry. You okay?” He reached for your face, trying to see your expression, but you buried it deeper in the sheets.
You ran a quick calculation in your head—how much longer could he really last? You were sure you could take it for a little bit more.
“Yeah, keep going,” you nodded, although your body was stiff as a board now.
“Sweetheart—”
“Please, I can take it.”
The words had barely left your mouth when you felt him twitch, and you worried he’d just pull out—but it was worse than that. In a matter of seconds, the pressure of the stretch lessened entirely, and just like that his cock softened enough to slip out of you on its own.
You buried your face deeper into the sheets, humiliation painting your face red.
“Sweetheart,” he cooed, trying to scoop you into his arms, but you lay flat, heavy against the mattress. “Baby, look at me.”
“Why’d you stop?” you let out, the words almost muffled by the sheets.
“I don’t wanna hurt you. C’mere.” He tried to pull your body toward him again.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.
He finally wrapped his arms around you and manhandled you onto your back, pulling you onto his lap.
“And what the hell are you sorry for, hmm?” he asked, searching your eyes.
“I ruined it.” You blinked furiously, trying to keep the tears at bay.
“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin anythin’.”
“But I did. I mean you…” Your voice started to break. „You’re not even fucking hard anymore.”
“You were hurtin’.” He cupped your face. “I don’t get off on that.”
“I’m so fucking sorry.” The words slipped out again, and before you could stop it, your eyes started to water.
“Hey, hey, no.” He kissed your cheek and temple while wiping away the stray tear that started to travel down your face. “It’s okay.”
Your skin crawled with humiliation. You came up with this whole idea, wanted to do it for him for his birthday. You spent the entire afternoon preparing, wrapped yourself up like a present—and then failed to take it and made him feel bad in the process as well. You wanted to disappear altogether.
“Can I lay you down? I wanna clean you up, okay?”
You nodded, and he laid you down gently against the cushions before getting up from the bed. You buried your face in the sheets again, mortified by what had happened and the stupid tears still prickling in your eyes.
When he returned, you didn’t even look at him, only curled up tighter. You felt his hands on your thighs, parting them, and instinctively pressed them back together.
“Come on, baby, let me,” he whispered as he coaxed your thighs apart with his fingers—this time with no resistance.
He wiped you gently with a towel, starting with your thighs, moving to your mound, and finally reaching between your cheeks.
“You’re okay,” he whispered with relief. “Everythin’ looks okay.”
Blood rushed to your face when you realized that the entire time you wanted him to continue, he’d been worried he’d injured you.
When he was done, he scooped you into his arms, not making you look at him or talk to him, and you were grateful for his touch and the silence.
“Hey.” He must have noticed you weren’t asleep anymore, even though you tried to hide it.
“Hi.”
You buried your face in his chest, and he cupped the back of your head, cradling you against him.
“You wanna talk?”
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.
“Stop apologizin’.”
“I thought I could do it.” You spoke fast, afraid your voice would break. “I did the prep and everything. I wanted to do it, and I really thought I could, and I don’t know what—“
“Stop.” He cut you off, his voice quiet but firm. His hand stilled in your hair for a moment before he started stroking it again. “I can’t have you toughin’ it out for me. Not when somethin’ hurts.”
“Mhm.”
For a moment he didn’t say anything, just held you against him.
“I’m not upset we had to stop, you understand?” he said finally. “I’m upset you tried to make me keep goin’.”
“I’m sorry.”
His arm tightened around you.
“Sweetheart.” He exhaled slowly. “You were hurtin’, and you were still tellin’ me to keep goin’. That ain’t somethin’ I’m okay with.”
You nodded against his chest.
“I just… don’t want you thinkin’ you gotta prove somethin’.” he said after a moment. “Not to me.”
“Mhm.”
His hand moved slowly through your hair again, quieter now, like he was still thinking about it.
After a while, he let the topic drop with a sigh, pulling you a little closer against him. You spent the remainder of the morning tangled together under the covers.
Eventually, after convincing him you were fine, you made love—gently rocking together while he kissed you, slow and careful.
You didn’t mention it, ask him about it, or plan anything for the next few weeks.
You wanted to be strategic about it, but one day you just felt like trying again. In the evening, when you closed your laptop and waited for him, you decided it wouldn’t hurt to be ready—just in case.
He was particularly needy for you that day, kissing you from the minute he walked in, walking you back to your couch with so much urgency that you just had to try.
You were already half-naked and grinding on his lap when you finally asked him.
“Please. I really want to,” you murmured against his neck, sending a shiver through him.
He sighed and shook his head as if you were an unruly child, and not his girl offering herself to him.
“Okay. But new rules.”
You perked up, surprised he caved so soon.
“What rules?”
“What I say goes,” he said. “You only take what I give you.”
Arousal shot through your body at his tone—gentle but authoritative. You hadn’t visited that space with him for a while now.
“Okay.” You nodded eagerly.
“Wanna be good for me?”
You nodded again, this time barely containing your smile. The corner of his lip twitched too, pleased that this still seemed to work so well with you.
“Tell me what to do.” You ground against him again, but his hands stopped you, and soon he was pulling you off his lap and onto the couch.
“I’m gonna draw you a bath first.” He rose from the couch.
“But I showered—”
He turned to you with that stern look you hadn’t seen in a while.
“What was the rule?”
Heat crept up your cheeks.
“What you say goes.”
With a nod, he turned away and disappeared into your bathroom. When he called you, you had to stop yourself from running toward him.
The bathroom was dark, save for a candle lit on the tiles. For a moment you were overcome with affection for the man crouching beside your bathtub. He knew you well by now—all the little things you liked, even the ones that made no sense to him, like your candles or why you never turned the big light on.
“Are you getting in with me?” you asked before dipping your toes into the hot, soapy water.
He nodded toward the bathtub, urging you to get in while he stripped too. Soon the water rose dangerously close to the rim as he slipped inside behind you.
“Careful.” You giggled as you settled back against his warm chest.
You lay like this for a while, soaking in the hot water, held tight with his arms around you, listening to the trickle of water as you shifted in the narrow space. The candle flickered, and the light danced across your wet skin.
“Feels nice,” you whispered.
“Good.”
His hands started slowly traveling along your skin, tracing invisible patterns with drops of water, while his lips closed over your neck, placing wet kisses along it—from your collarbone to the lobe of your ear.
You closed your eyes and let your head fall back against his shoulder as his fingers teased your nipples, gently circling them and tugging until you started to whimper.
Your body was hot, relaxed, and pliant from the bath, and his touch felt electric now. You wanted to suggest getting out, then remembered the rule, so you patiently waited for his cue.
His hands were stroking your submerged thighs now, palming the skin and grazing his fingers closer and closer to your core. Suddenly he stopped, his hands returning to the rim of the tub.
“Turn around for me, baby.” He noticed your confusion and tipped your chin up with two fingers. “Facin’ me, okay?”
His hands slid to your hips, steadying you as you shifted in the narrow tub.
The water dropped, then rose again, spilling a little over and down onto the floor.
You rolled over until you were on all fours, and he pulled you on top of him again, guiding you to straddle him with your knees around his hips. The narrow tub barely allowed it, but as soon as you slumped against Joel’s chest, you were comfortable again.
His lips found yours in a languid, wet kiss, sucking your bottom lip before tracing it with his tongue, again and again, until you melted against his body. His hands traveled down your sides until they landed on your thighs, spreading you open.
You were too busy kissing him to notice anything, but you heard the click of the lube bottle, and soon his slicked-up fingers were on you—tracing your slit, rubbing your clit, teasing your entrance.
“Joel,” you panted.
It seemed like ages before he finally moved his fingers from your folds to your puckered hole. Your eyes met mid-kiss, and soon his slick fingertips were circling you, pushing against you until they finally breached you.
He fingered you shallowly for a while, two fingers stretching only your rim, until you whined against his lips, and finally he pushed in deeper. Your body was soft like butter for him, and there was no resistance when his fingers slid in deep.
He thrust them back and forth while still sucking on your lips, and you wanted to stay like that forever—warm and safe and open—if it wasn’t for the water getting lukewarm and your knees uncomfortably digging into the porcelain.
Your hips shifted slightly against his hand, chasing the feeling.
“Ow.” The sound slipped out, and Joel’s eyes were on yours in an instant.
“Hurts?” He asked, as his fingers stilled inside you.
You shook your head. „Knees.”
“Come on, baby.” He pulled you up. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?”
Once he laid you on the bed facing him and knelt between your legs, but before he resumed touching you, he made it a point to go through the rules again.
“You don’t move unless I tell you.” He gave you that stern look again until you nodded.
“It hurts, you tell me.”
“Mhm.” You gripped his arm with one hand, while the other trailed down his chest towards his cock.
“The moment anythin’ hurts, you tell me.” He repeated, tilting your chin up with his finger until you looked at him.
“I will.”
“One last thing.”
“What?” you asked, impatience clear in your voice.
“You have your toy somewhere here?”
You shot him a puzzled look.
“The… flower thing?”
Oh. The rose toy. Joel had found it once while digging for lube in your nightstand, completely baffled by the weirdly shaped little thing until you showed him how it worked. You’d never actually used it together.
You nodded.
“Want you to use it when I fuck you, okay?”
Heat filled your cheeks at the prospect, but you had to appreciate the resourcefulness.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
You pulled the toy out of your drawer, thanking yourself for charging it the night before.
“Ready?” he asked, pressing a soft kiss between your breasts as he looked up at you.
“Mhm.” You nodded.
He hovered over you, slotted between your open legs, one hand supporting his weight while the other slathered his thick cock in lube. You watched him stroke it a few times before he guided it toward you and nudged your rim.
He waited for a beat, eyes locked with yours, until you placed the rose over your clit and turned it on to the medium setting, making you gasp at the sensation.
You gave him one final nod before he slowly inched inside you, pushing through the tight ring of your hole until the fat head of his cock was enveloped in your heat.
The stretch made you gasp, for a moment the sting of intrusion similar to the first time you tried it, but everything else was different now. Your body was softened and relaxed by the bath, the toy delivered sparks of pleasure as it buzzed against your clit, and you were safe in the arms of your man—the man you wanted to be so good for. With all of that combined, you were relieved to see you didn’t clench at all.
He watched your face closely, looking for signs of discomfort, but all he saw was bliss as your mouth parted to let out small whimpers and pants.
He rocked gently inside you, slipping in a little deeper with each sway of his hips, his face tight in concentration.
“Oh.”
“Good?” he asked with a smirk.
“Yeah. Fuck, yes, it’s good,” you uttered between gasps.
“That’s a good girl. Lettin’ me have her like this.”
Your breath hitched at his praise as the toy buzzed against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.
The stretch of his thrusts still stung a little, but it was distant now, overshadowed by the overwhelming feeling of fullness and the tingly sensation.
“Gooood girl, takin’ it so well,” he drawled, and finally what you saw in his face was not worry or restraint, but raw pleasure.
You wanted to give him so much more. You wanted him to lose himself in it. Before you could stop yourself, your hips shot up—immediately stopped and stilled by his hand.
“Calm down, overachiever,” he warned. “You only take what I give you.”
“Yes, yes. I will.”
“Good. That’s a good girl.”
The combination of his steady thrusts in your ass and the buzz of the toy against your clit was finally making you dizzy with pleasure, small moans escaping your lips.
Joel was struggling to stay quiet, too, his exhales coming out as low, raspy grunts as he drove into you.
“Christ, feel that? How good you’re takin’ it now?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
You were so open and pliant, he slid in with no resistance now, and the steady slide of his cock made you dig your nails into his arms in unexpected ecstasy.
“You’re lettin’ me in so good now. Lettin’ me in so deep.”
“Fuck. Joel.”
“What, baby?”
“I think I—”
Your thighs started to tremble, and your breathing turned erratic.
“You’re gonna come like that?”
“Yeah, I think I’m close.”
Your words seemed to awaken something in him. Even if the restraint was still there, preventing him from sliding all the way inside or pounding you hard—he seemed to give in to pleasure.
“Fuck yes, baby.” He grunted. “The little toy is workin’, yeah? Gettin’ my girl off while I fuck her ass?”
His words tipped you over the edge. The combined sensation of fullness, stretch, and vibration unlocked a release so intense your entire body arched and shivered, your walls contracting around Joel’s cock so hard, you thought you’d push him out.
Joel kept up steady thrusts until you went completely limp.
“You okay, baby?” He asked, stilling his hips.
“More than okay.”
“Okay if I keep goin’?”
“Yeah.” You nodded. Your eyelids were heavy, and your limbs didn’t work anymore, but there was nothing you wanted more than to see his pleasure now. It was, after all, a long-overdue birthday gift.
He thrust into you again, experimentally, checking for signs of discomfort.
“Joel, please.” You whispered and pulled him in for a wet kiss. “It’s okay. Feels good.”
You raised your legs higher, letting him slide in a little deeper.
“Good. That’s my good girl.”
He was still only halfway in at most, but he didn’t seem to mind as his thrusts picked up their pace until he was fucking you so fast you had to remember to catch your breath.
“Fuck, I’m comin’,” he panted, gripping your thighs hard. “I’m comin’ in your ass.”
A few sloppy, disjointed thrusts later, his face scrunched up, and you felt him twitching inside you, painting your insides with his hot release.
“Damn, sweetheart,” he groaned as he collapsed on top of you.
“Good?”
You were smothered by his weight, your shared release trickled between your legs, and all the excess lube glued your bodies together—and there was no other place you’d rather be.
“The best.” He mumbled against your neck.
Joel took his time wiping you down with a towel before pulling you tight into his chest and pressing soft kisses along your collarbone.
“Feelin’ okay?” He broke the silence.
Okay was an understatement. You were overflowing with emotion, at the same time relieved and satisfied, giddy and grateful.
“Mhm.” You shrugged, trying to sound unaffected. “I could even do it again, I guess.”
His kisses trailed along your neck.
“Oh, really?”
You nodded, trying to suppress the giggle when his lips moved to your jaw.
“Yeah, maybe for your next birthday.”
It was his turn to chuckle against your skin.
“Yeah? What about Christmas?”
You tilted your head like you were considering it. “If you’re good.”
He laughed, the crinkles around his eyes deepening, and pressed his mouth against yours in a deep kiss.
🫣
tagging everyone who showed interest in gkb/this fic, no pressure though: @lizzie-cakes @picketniffler @primadonnasdream @canyoufeelthemagicintheair @ctrlaltthea @mcthsman
Summary: Tired from waiting around for Joel to come back, you take matters into your own hands.
Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader
Warnings: minors dni, f! reader, large age gap (Joel is 58, reader in twenties), smut, established relationship, masturbation, orgasm control, genitalia pronouns, unprotected piv, breeding, creampie
Word count: 4.4k
A/N: This is my first time ever writing. This was originally written in October but I didn't have the guts to post it until now, hence the fall vibes. English is not my native language, so forgive me for any mistakes!
divider by @strangergraphics
Joel had always been a busy man, even before you and him started dating. Whether it was going out on patrols, helping people around Jackson with whatever chores needed doing— the list was never-ending. And while you admired that about him, wanting to help people, sometimes you couldn't help but wish he was around more for you.
You had frowned as you watched him put on his worn brown boots, eyes locked on the way he tied the shoelaces with those big, rough hands of his. You were leaning against the doorframe, your arms crossed in front of you.
"Joel, do you really have to go?" You pouted. "I was hoping to spend some time together tonight."
Joel pulled the laces taut under his calloused fingers. He didn't look up, not immediately. His voice was low and gravelly when he spoke, standing back up.
"I know, darlin'. Won't be long. Someone's gotta patrol the west perimeter. People saw some fresh tracks. Ain't nothin' to mess with," he said, lifting his gaze to meet your eyes.
You pouted again, huffing slightly. "… I made pie."
It was a last resort to get him to stay, but from the way he looked at you, you could already tell he wouldn't be able to give in.
He adjusted the collar of his jacket, the fabric rustling. "We talked 'bout this, darlin'," he said, his voice softer this time. "Can't risk things. Not out here. Need to make sure everyone's safe."
He reached for his rifle, eyes filled with something close to regret. He wanted nothing more than to stay with you, spend the evening having you cuddle up close to him, eat that pie you'd made. But safety was important.
Before he turned to walk out the door, he looked at you once more. "I'll… I'll make it quick tonight. Try to be back 'fore dark. And tomorrow we'll figure somethin' out to make up for today."
You perked up a little at that.
"Promise?" You asked, your pout easing ever so slightly.
A small smile made its way onto his face.
"Promise. I've gotta go now. I love you," he said, leaning down and pressing a gentle, sweet kiss against your lips. It was the kind of kiss that left you wanting more, and deep down you know that was exactly his intent too.
"Save me a slice of that pie of yours," he whispered, pressing one last kiss to the top of your head. Then he turned out the door, pulling it firmly shut behind him.
-----
One hour turned into two. Two then turned into three. And then four.
You tried to keep yourself busy by reading through some of the magazines Joel had brought back for you a few weeks ago during one of his patrols. There was a whole stack of them, mostly about nonsense topics people seemed to care about a lot back in the day.
Seriously, who cares what colors look best during fall?
You laid on your stomach on the bed, the lamp on the bedside table barely bright enough to light up the room, reading. From page to page.
At one point, realizing that it had been a long time since Joel had left, you checked the time.
Four hours. He'd been gone for four hours.
You remembered his words. I'll make it quick tonight. Yeah, right.
Rolling onto your back, you sighed. You stared at the ceiling. You'd been so excited to finally spend some proper time with him. It had been weeks if not months since you'd last been intimate with him.
You knew it wasn't because he didn't want to, because Joel made sure to kiss you and grope at you any chance he got— he was simply too busy. And you ended up suffering in the process, because you wanted him so very badly.
Before you knew it, your mind started wandering. You began thinking about his lips first. Then about the way his scrubby beard would tickle against your fingers when you cradled his face with your hands. Then his hair, the salt-and-pepper colors always making your heart race as you ran your fingers through it, and how he'd groan lowly whenever you did.
Slowly your hand began sliding down, crawling down to your stomach, teasing the bare skin where your shirt had lifted upwards slightly. Goosebumps covered your skin, the touch of your own hand enough to make you shiver.
If he was going to stay away for so long, might as well do it yourself, right?
Closing your eyes, you imagined it was him. In your mind it was Joel who was lifting your shirt, past the curves of your soft belly, pushing the fabric up over your tits.
Then he'd let his calloused, big hands roam over your skin in a way that was almost reverent. He'd tease you a little before finally giving you some friction.
His thumbs would glide up to your bra, teasing your nipples that were already hard from the way he'd look at you. He'd brush them slowly, then circling, whispering filthy praise as he teased you.
You let out a soft sigh. He always took his time with you. Always made sure you were trembling with want by the time he was done, reduced to nothing but a shaking mess, begging for his cock to fill you.
Grabbing your breasts more roughly, you moaned. Then a soft whimper followed. You closed your eyes more tightly, one hand remaining on your chest to tease your overly sensitive nipple as the other slowly made its way down to the waistband of your shorts.
You wasted no time before sliding your hand underneath the waistband, fingers running over the wet patch that was forming in your panties. You were so very wet already, and decided not to bother teasing yourself over your panties. No, you needed to feel good.
Sliding your panties down, you snuck your hand beneath, moaning softly as your fingers ran through your wet folds, clit throbbing with need and begging for attention.
What you didn't notice however, was the front door closing shut downstairs. Neither did you hear the bedroom door open with barely a creak, too lost in your own pleasure with your eyes shut and your hand down your shorts, your fingers rubbing circles over your clit.
Joel stood frozen in the doorway. The sight that greeted him made him halt mid-step, his eyes wide and utterly startled.
He saw you spread on the bed, your flushed skin peeking from under your bunched shirt. Next his eyes fell on the quick movement of your hand beneath your shorts, the way your back arched slightly, soft moans escaping your pretty lips.
For a moment he just stood there, watching, jaw clenched as his eyes changed from shocked to something raw.
A low, rough sound came from his throat, close to a growl, eyes glued to every inch of your skin. His gut tightened, blood rushing south.
"Havin' fun, are we?" His voice was low, a mixture of unmistakable arousal with amusement.
Your eyes shot open at the sound of his voice, yanking your hand out of your shorts and sitting up, cheeks bright red with embarrassment. You felt utterly caught.
"Jesus, Joel," you said, swallowing hard. "Don't sneak up on me like that." Then, softer, "Didn't think you'd be back."
Joel let out a softer, low chuckle in response. "'M sorry, darlin'. 'M later than I thought. I called out f'you downstairs, but there wasn't a reply. Makes more sense now, seein' the reason why you weren't respondin'."
He took a step into the room, closer to the bed. "Doin' all that… thinkin' about me?" He asked, but he knew the answer. He'd heard you moan his name before he even entered the bedroom.
His words made you flush even more. Joel took another step closer, reaching out his calloused hand and cupped the heated curve of your cheek. He was surprisingly gentle.
He applied the slightest pressure, tilting your face towards him, forcing you to meet the dark heat in his eyes.
"Missed me that much, huh?"
The sudden close proximity of him combined with his scent made you shiver, the heat between your legs doing anything but go away. Earth, pine and a little bit of sweat.
It made you go crazy.
"Wouldn't have had to if you had come back earlier," you muttered, your voice trailing off. Joel's eyes seemed to soften at that.
"I know, darlin'. Weren't here. 'M sorry," he said, one hand remaining on her cheek as the other slowly reached down towards the bunched fabric where it still lay pushed up.
"Show me," he then spoke, making your eyes widen slightly. He gave a small nod towards where your hand had been moments prior. "What you were doin'. Show me how you were touchin' yourself, what I been missin' out on." His eyes darkened, his voice lowering an octave.
"Lay back and get them shorts off. Wanna see it." It wasn't a request, it was an order.
And you obeyed. You sat back against some pillows as you slid down your shorts down your legs, intending to take your panties off too, but he tutted.
"Not yet. Rub yourself over those pretty panties first. Wanna see how soaked they get from me watchin' you get off."
Your cheeks burned. You weren't used to being watched as you pleasured yourself, but seeing the way his eyes darkened at the sight of you made most of the hesitation disappear. You slid your hands between your legs, rubbing your clit over the wet patch that had formed as you touched yourself earlier.
A soft gasp left your lips at the contact, earning a groan from him. He watched every shift in your expression, how your fingers trembled over the fabric, the flush spreading down your neck.
He crawled on the bed with you, deliberately leaving enough space between you both as he settled on the opposite side of the bed.
"Look at me," he ordered, voice low but gentle. "That's it. Look at you, touchin' your pretty little pussy while I watch. D'you like that? Bein' watched?"
His voice was low and gruff. He didn't wait for an answer, one look at your panties was enough to answer it for you.
"Yeah, y'do. Look how wet you are, baby. Soakin' through your panties like that. Makin' a mess, ruinin' them."
His words made your hand move faster, whimpering softly. The friction wasn't enough anymore— you needed more.
Joel watched with utter focus how your fingers moved, a muscle ticking in his jaw when another soft moan escaped your lips. His own breathing deepened, the air thick with tension and arousal.
"Slide them aside, darlin'. Your panties. Show me how bad you want it."
You obeyed, fingers curling in the fabric before sliding them aside just enough to expose your soaked pussy to his gaze. The groan it earned you in return made you practically gush.
"Christ, so wet f'me, baby. She's practically droolin'. Beggin' to be filled, ain't she?"
You gasped in response, fingers circling your clit with desperation now. Your hole clenched around nothing, the filthy sight making Joel curse under his breath.
"Fuck, she's hungry. How 'bout you put a finger in there, hmm? Give her somethin' to clench on."
He didn't have to tell you twice. Your finger slid in without resistance, making you whimper in relief and making him groan.
"Greedy 'lil pussy. Suckin' in your finger like that. Bet she'd take my cock in one go, too." You moaned at the thought.
"Joel, please. Need you already," you whined, but he shook his head.
"No, darlin'. Finish what you started 'fore I came in. Seemed t'be doing so well."
He may have said no, but you could tell from the bulge straining against the denim of his jeans that he wanted this just as much as you did. He just wanted to see you unravel first.
"Add another finger f'me. Gotta make sure she's stretched real good. C'mon baby," he urged, cursing in satisfaction as he saw you add another. "Fuck, that's it. Good girl. Suckin' 'em right in. Bet I could shove my cock right alongside and she'd take it perfectly."
His filthy words made you moan, arching your back and desperately curling your fingers, trying to find that spot that would make this even better. And when you found it, your vision turned white.
Squelching wet sounds came from your pussy as you pumped your fingers in and out of your hole desperately, making Joel curse as he finally gave in and started palming his own cock through the front of his jeans.
"Christ, baby. Lookin' so good. She's so loud, just singin' and callin' for me to come fill her right up."
The sheets ruffled beneath you as you squirmed, fingers curling inside yourself, using your thumb to give your clit some much wanted attention.
"Please, Joel. I need you—," you begged, mouth open with little moans spilling from your lips. But he didn't give in.
"Patient, darlin'. Keep goin' 'till I say. Be good f'me and I'll fuck that pretty pussy 'till you scream later."
A needy whine left your lips at his words, eyes opening to watch as he palmed his cock through his jeans. You knew how big he was underneath, knew he was big enough to make you scream as he pounded into you until the bed creaked.
Your breathing grew heavier, head falling back against the pillows you'd propped up earlier. You were close. So very close. You could practically taste it.
"Joel, I'm gonna— fuck, I'm gonna come—," you whined, the wet squelches coming from your cunt downright obscene.
"Don't," he groaned. "Not 'till I tell you to, baby. Or I won't fuck you tonight. Be good f'me." His eyes were hard and demanding.
You huffed in frustration, but he already knew you well enough to know you wouldn't listen.
So he reached forward, one large hand snapping out, covering your wrist as he stopped your movement. His other hand remained busy, palming himself hard through the rough denim of his jeans, bulge straining painfully against the fabric.
"What'd I say?" he asked, voice low as he held your wrist tightly. "Y'ain't comin' 'till I say. Understood? Repeat after me. Now."
You let out a pained sob of frustration. "Understood," you muttered eventually, but he wasn't satisfied with just that.
"I said, repeat after me." He leaned in closer, his scent washing over her.
You took a shaky breath, voice sounding ruined when you spoke.
"I-I'm not coming until you say so."
This seemed to finally please Joel.
"Atta girl," he said, voice thick with pride. He let go of your hand as he leaned back once more, focusing on palming himself properly through his jeans. "Keep lookin' at me and keep touchin' yourself. Don't you dare cum."
You wasted no time sliding your fingers back inside, moaning without shame.
Joel's restraint seemed to shatter at this, his own hands frantically undoing his belt and unzipping his fly with a sharp tug. His jeans and boxers were pushed down just enough down his thighs for his cock to jump out, so very thick and flushed and angry. It made your mouth water.
He gave himself a few slow, deliberate strokes, eyes burning into yours and holding your gaze as you fucked yourself without shame.
"Lookin' so damn good for me, darlin', wound up tight f'me. But you hold it, understand? Be a good girl 'n hold it."
You reached out with your free hand, wanting to touch him, feel him, but his hand pushed you back.
"Didn't think so, sweetheart. Only touch yourself. 'N look what you're missin' out on," he spoke, voice strained as he closed his large hand around his cock. He let out a deep groan in response, his head falling back as a thick drop of precum formed at the tip of his length.
"Christ, he's so hard f'you. Just wants to be buried deep in that 'lil pussy of yours. Want that, dont'cha? Stuffed full of my fat cock 'till you go dumb."
His words were absolutely filthy, his eyes focused on where your fingers were still pathetically plunging in and out of your soaked cunt, your slick dripping down your thighs onto the sheets beneath.
You were close again. So very close. Your mouth opened in a relaxed O-shape, whimpers spilling freely from your lips, all shame abandoned. Your free hand found the cups of your bra, impatiently tugging them down until your tits spilled out, wasting no time rolling a pebbled nipple between your digits, urging yourself closer to that sweet pleasure you had been craving for the past half hour.
"Stop."
His command, stern and serious, made your eyes fly open. A pathetic sob escaped your lips, frustrated as he made you deny yourself for the second time.
"Joel, please, it's not fair," you whimpered, heavily breathing as you forced your fingers to still inside yourself. Your entire body screamed for release, and he took nothing but satisfaction from the fact he was the one denying you.
He only chuckled in response, his large hand stroking himself slowly now. With each stroke upwards his foreskin pulled over the fat mushroom head of his cock, a thick bead of precum glistening from the slit.
"Not fair? Baby, I don't care. You were pleasurin' yourself up here without me. You cum when I tell y'to. You cum when I cum."
You could've cried in frustration, but a part of you was enjoying this way too much to put up a proper fight. Waiting for that edge to ebb away, you slowly returned to touching yourself.
Joel wasn't far from losing his patience either. His cock was an angry red, the veins standing out as his big, calloused hand rubbed his shaft up and down, grunts and deep moans spilling from his lips.
"Doin' so damn good for me," he groaned, fucking himself into his fist. "Holdin' back for me. Takin' it."
His belt made metallic clinging sounds where it hung open down his thighs from the sheer force he was stroking himself with. His jaw was clenched tight, looking like it'd break if he clenched it any harder. He used his thumb to swipe down each drop of precum that formed at the slit, his balls hanging heavy beneath him.
"Christ, darlin'. Lookin' so damn good fingering your pussy like that. She's so fuckin' loud, ain't she? Think we should give her what she wants 'n fill her up?" he grunted, moving forward to position himself between your open legs.
"Gonna fuck that edge right outta you," he groaned, guiding his cock down to rub the fat head over your clit, moving your own hands out of the way.
You could only nod desperately in response, but he wanted more than just a nod.
"Gotta say it. Not gonna fuck your little sloppy hole unless y'tell me to."
You huffed in frustration. "Please, Joel. Want you so bad. Need you to fuck me. Please."
Satisfied, he smirked. "That's more like it," he praised, the heavy tip nudging against your slick entrance, groaning as he felt the heat radiating from your core. Slowly he pressed forward, a groan rumbling from his chest as your tight heat began to envelop him.
His thighs trembled as he sheathed himself fully inside, inch by inch.
"Christ, baby, you're killin' me," he shuddered, his dark eyes locked on yours, watching every single sensation cross your face. He leaned down, capturing your lips as one hand cradled your face.
"Wrapped tight around me like a fist. Feel that? So fuckin' deep inside you. That's what you needed, ain't it?"
Your nails dug into his back, legs locking behind him to urge him even deeper inside you, whining when he did.
"Please move," you begged. "Please. I need it so bad."
He stayed deep, unmoving for several seconds, his own breath warm and harsh against your temple as he savored the clenching, wet heat. He groaned at your begging.
"How could I resist when my girl is beggin' all pretty like that?" he asked, burying his face in your neck. Both his hands held onto your hips, keeping you in place as he slid his cock all the way back out to the tip, sliding back in in one, slow go. Deep.
It wasn't frantic. It was utterly controlled, each withdrawal of his cock making you feel so empty before he filled you again with a solid thrust so deep it made you see stars.
Your back arched, choked gasps filling the room as he fucked you slow and deep.
"Feels so fuckin' good, babygirl." he groaned, his breath hot against your ear. "Clenchin' me so tight like she never wants to let go of me."
He knew you were the loudest when he fucked you like this, one hand pinning your hips down as the other splayed low on your belly when they lifted desperately to meet his thrusts.
You could only whine, beg, clinging to him in the hope that he would go faster, but he didn't give in. He would make you cum exactly how and when he wanted.
His thrusts turned harder, his heavy balls slapping against your ass each time he roughly slammed back in, grunting in your ear. It wasn't only you that was trembling— so was he, from both the sensation and from holding himself back from rutting into you.
"Baby, fuck…" he groaned. "Feels so fuckin' tight f'me. Such a good girl, takin' my cock like that. He's fillin' you good, ain't he? Feel how deep I've got you? Givin' your hungry 'lil cunt what it wants."
He pressed kisses on your neck, teeth grazing against the sensitive skin beneath your ear as he bit down and sucked, marking you as his.
Your toes curled as he slammed home inside you over and over, the bed creaking dangerously beneath you both. The pace was still too slow, making you whine in frustration. You needed more.
"Joel, please, faster," you begged, undoubtedly leaving behind marks as your nails dug into his back.
"Orderin' me around now, ain't ya?" he chuckled amused into your neck, pressing one last kiss to your skin before he grabbed your legs. He folded them over his shoulders, practically bending you in half.
His hips snapped forward roughly, and instead of slowly dragging back out like before, his pace was now breathtakingly fast.
"Fuck!" you nearly keened in response, eyes wide as he leaned over you, keeping your legs over his shoulders as he slammed himself in and out of you.
"Yeah? Like that better? Bendin' you in half and fuckin' you rough?" he groaned. The sound of wet skin slapping filled the room, a combination of your wet slick and his heavy balls slapping against your ass.
He didn't wait for a response. He grunted, deep and low, his jaw clenched as he focused on getting you close.
"Gonna fuckin' cum, baby. Need you there with me. Wanna feel you milk my cock 'n drain me. Y'want that? Me breedin' this little cunt raw?"
You could only respond with a cry. He took that as a yes.
"Thought so. C'mon baby. Know you're almost there. Can feel it, the way she's clenchin' around me."
Sweat pooled on his forehead, his salt-and-pepper hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes were dark as he looked down at you, fucking you mercilessly.
He shifted, leaning forward and bending you in half even more, lifting you up slightly to drive himself impossibly deep, the thick crown of his cock kissing your cervix and hitting spots you never even knew existed.
His words in combination with how good he fucked you was all you needed to be pushed over the edge.
"Joel, gonna cum, gonna cum so hard, Joel—!"
You came harder than you ever had before, your back arching violently off the mattress, a sharp cry of his name tearing from your throat. Your fingers dug so hard into his back your nails were sure to leave marks, your entire body shaking like a leaf in the wind, pussy milking him and seeking out every single drop of his seed.
Your walls clamped down on him with breathtaking force. Seeing you lose yourself like that was all Joel needed, thrusting in and out two more times before holding himself deep, groaning loudly followed by a harsh, low cry. His cock twitched, spurt after spurt of hot cum filling you up, giving your pussy exactly what it so desperately craved.
"Yes baby, that's it, fuck, take it, every single fuckin' drop." He shuddered, leaning back over you as he buried his head in your neck, riding out his orgasm by thrusting in and out a few more times, fucking his seed deeper.
After the last drop spilled into you he groaned, softer this time. "Christ, babygirl."
He leaned up, eyes finding yours. He pressed his lips onto yours, kissing you gently as he helped your legs down his shoulders.
"You okay? Didn't hurt you none, did I?" he asked, concerned now that the heat of the moment was over.
You shook your head. "I'm okay," you muttered, your entire body going limp from the force of the orgasm he'd fucked out of you.
He looked down at you with soft eyes, slowly sliding himself out of your used hole. You both winced slightly, his release dripping out.
"Can't have that," he muttered, using his thick fingers to press his seed back inside. "Gotta make sure it takes, ain't that right?" he asked, making your cheeks flush.
He tucked himself back into his jeans, belt clinging as he fastened it. Leaning over, he kissed you once again, helping you back in your clothes as if you were something fragile. Something breakable.
"'M sorry for bein' late earlier," he said, sliding your shorts back over your hips. His thumb traced circles on your soft belly right above your waistband.
"Y'still angry at me?"
You smiled up at him, leaning up to kiss him slowly, teeth gently pulling at his lips.
"Not if you fuck me from behind next," you whispered against his lips, your mischievous smile making him chuckle in disbelief.
"Will I be forgiven then?" he groaned, nuzzling into your neck.
You hummed, and within seconds his hands were on your waist, flipping you over effortlessly, his calloused hands already dragging your shorts back down.
Some graphics I made for the Not So Berry Challenge created by @lilsimsie and @alwaysimming! I love the challenge and wanted to pay tribute to it. I used icons created by TheSimKid on Mod The Sims.
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