blue 🫐🤍🪿

Oh, shit.

You’d seen them around for years, Joel and Daryl, your daddy’s longtime buddies who showed up for the occasional football game, or during Fourth of July barbecues, beers in hand and sun glinting off sun-kissed forearms. 

They were older than you, sure, but they made your stomach flip. They were weathered, rugged, comfortable in their own skin the way boys your age couldn’t fake if they tried.

Joel had this slow, gravel deep drawl that always made you glance down at your boots to hide your blush. And Daryl had those sharp eyes that said he noticed more than he let on. Back then you were too young. Off-limits. But now? Now you filled out your denim skirt and knew how to swing your hips just enough to get attention, even if you pretend not to notice when either of them looked a little too long.

They sat side by side on that wide bench seat, like the devil sent them personally to scoop you up. Their eyes drank you in. Bare legs, scuffed cowgirl boots, the tank top you wore to fight off the heat and to show a little more skin than your daddy would’ve liked.

Joel’s brows lifted a notch, “You runnin’ away, Sweetheart?”

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, heart drumming in your throat. Then you nodded. “Yes.”

Daryl didn’t even try to hide the smile pulling at his lips. “Your daddy know where you’re at?”

You swallowed, “No.” 

You were ready for them to scold you. To tell you to turn back around and be a good girl. Or for them to haul you into that truck and deliver you straight back to your daddy’s front porch. 

Instead, they looked at each other. Just one second passed between them. Then Joel nodded, subtle and sure, like this had already been decided.

“Hop in.”

A wave of relief washed over you and you smiled, gratefully. 

You grabbed the handle and climbed in, the door creaking like it hadn’t been oiled since before you were born. Daryl didn’t move. Didn’t scoot. Just nodded to the space between him and Joel like it was obvious.

Your skirt barely brushed his knees as you passed over him, settling into the seat between them.

The seat was hot and worn smooth. The old vinyl stuck just a little to the back of your thighs as you squeezed in. The truck was older, so it had a stick shift rising straight up from the floor. You had to throw one leg on either side of it, skirt pulling tight across your thighs.

Joel’s thigh brushed yours on one side, hard muscle under faded jeans, warm and solid. Daryl’s was the same on the other, just close enough that the rough scrape of his denim kissed the soft of her bare thigh.

Your legs looked out of place there. Smooth and soft as a peach next to all that rugged masculinity. Neither of them adjusted for you. Neither of them looked surprised. The engine rumbled to life, low and steady. The rough of Joel’s forearm brushed over your thigh as he shifted into gear. The vibration of the truck thrummed right between your knees… between your thighs. 

Joel kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on his thigh, just inches from you, prepared to switch gears as they drove out of town. The subtle proximity made the air feel charged. 

Daryl leaned on his elbow on the open window, his other lazily draped over the back of the seat behind you. His touch never quite reached you, but the space between you was electric, like he was seeing how close he could get without crossing the line.

“You runnin’ off somewhere, darlin’?” Daryl asked eyes on the road ahead, but his voice dipped low and slow, like he already knew the answer, but just wanted to hear you say it.

“Maybe.”

The wind whipped through the open windows, warm and wild. Dust kicked up behind you, and you didn’t look back.

Joel shot you a look from under his lashes, “So. You wanna tell us what you’re doin’ out here, stickin’ your thumb out for strangers.”

You shrugged, fingers fiddling with the frayed hem of your skirt. “Got into it with my daddy.”

Daryl glanced over, his knuckles resting lazy on the open window frame. “He put his hands on you?”

“No–no, not like that.” You hesitated, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, “Guess I got tired of being treated like a little girl.”

Daryl chuckled low in his throat, “That right?”

You didn’t answer, just looked out the window like the horizon might save you. The warm wind brushed your skin, lifting the edge of your skirt, like even the breeze was curious.

Joel shifted gears again, this time his hand grazed your thigh when he pulled back from the stick. His fingers skimmed just above the hemline. You swallowed hard.

Joel didn't look at you when he spoke again. Just kept his eyes on the road. 

“Funny,” Joel murmured, voice laced with sin. “You don’t look like no little girl to me.”

“Then maybe y’all oughta stop treatin’ me like one.”

That earned a quiet amused noise from Joel. His fingers tapping idly against the stick shift, like they missed the feel of your skin already.

Daryl leaned forward, his arm behind your shoulders, brushing against you as he adjusted the radio, letting a soft hum of old country fill the space. “Well now, darlin’, that kinda talk’s liable to get you in trouble.

You tilted your chin up, “Maybe I’m lookin’ for a little trouble.

Joel chuckled under his breath, like he couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of your mouth. 

The low sound of his chuckle curled in your gut like smoke. You didn’t like it. Not because it wasn’t nice to hear. 

But because it was dismissive. 

Amused. 

Like he still saw the kid pouting over curfews and not the woman sitting between him and Daryl.

So you glanced over, chin tilted in challenge, “Somethin’ funny Joel?”

His eyes slid to your, then back to the road. He didn’t answer right away. Just shifted the gear again, knuckles brushing your thigh like the truck wanted to stir trouble.

With a slight curl to his lips he said, “No, no. Just tryin’ to remember when you learned how to bite.”

The low hum of his voice, slithered down your spine, but the words burned hotter. He still thought it was a game. Like you were just actin’ up for attention. 

At that, you felt a little frustrated he wasn't taking you seriously. You wanted to be seen as a woman. Treated like one. So you snapped. “You guys think I'm just playin’ dont you?”

Neither of them responded. Joel’s fingers twitched on the wheel and Daryl glanced your way, not smirking anymore. His brows tugged in a furrow, the look of a man questioning something he didn’t see coming. 

“I’m not playin’,” You went on, quieter. “I’m done waitin’ around, being treated like I'm ten. I got my own legs now, and I know how to use them.”

That earned a slow glance from both of them. Like finally, they weren’t just looking at you, but they were seeing you.

“Yeah,” Joel said finally. Rough, Barely there. “We’re startin’ to notice.”

You finally settled in, sinking into the old bench seat. The heat of Daryl’s arm pressed warm and heavy against your shoulders and your legs were snug against theirs, like you’d been made to fit there. 

“Good.” You finished. “‘Cause I really didn’t wanna have to hitch a new ride.”

The corner of Joel’s mouth curled, almost a smile, but darker. And when he shifted gears again, his hand grazed your bare thigh. But this time it lingered. He didn’t move away, fast like before. 

The truck suddenly felt too quiet. The old country song warbled low on the radio, a twangy ache that sounded just the way your stomach flipped.

“So.” You started. “Where y’all off to anyways?”

Daryl answered, “Checkin’ out a property over state lines.” 

“Lookin’ for trouble maybe,” Joel added, glancing at you sideways.

You smiled, lashes fluttering. “Lucky you picked me up then.” 

Joel looked back at the road. Daryl’s gaze caught the way your fingers messed with the hem of your skirt.

“Yeah,” Daryl said, “We’re beginnin’ to think so too.” 

The radio crackled with old country, as you guys drove down the old Texan highway. Fields of scrub, rusted fence posts, telephone wires strung lazily alongside the road. It was the most peace you felt in a while. 

You took it all in with anticipation of what's next. A wad of cash in your back pocket. Your past in the rearview. Your bare knees bumping against their thighs every time the truck hits a dip in the road.

Ten minutes passed like that.

Just open road, stolen glances, and accidental touches that lingered too long to be innocent.

Then Joel cleared his throat. “Gotta stop for gas soon.”

Daryl snorted from the passenger seat, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Hell, this old thing runs like it’s draggin’ it’ last breath. We hardly even left town.”

“Hey.” You ran your fingers along the cracked leather of the seat like it was precious. “Ain’t nothing wrong with older.” 

That got their attention. Joel looked at you sideways, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Daryl raised a brow, amused.

“Yeah?” Joel asked, voice thick with heat. “What is it about ‘em you like so much?”

You shrugged, pretending like your pulse hadn’t just kicked up a notch.

“Older things last longer… if you know how to treat them.” You leaned your head back against the seat, letting the sun catch your cheekbones just so. “New stuff’s too easy. I like somethin’ that takes a little work.”

Daryl made a noise of amusement. “Talkin’ ‘bout trucks or men, darlin’?” 

You shrugged, “Ain’t much of a difference, far as I’m concerned.”

Your words landed like a shot of whiskey. Rough and warm.

You weren’t just playing with fire. You were the match, waiting for them to strike. You wanted their minds reeling. Wanted them to picture your lips wrapped around something other than words.

They tensed. They didn’t look at each other, but you could feel them thinking about it. About you.

“Well,” Joel cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. His lips twitched like he was fighting a grin. “Hope you like gas stations too.” The corner of your mouth lifted, amused, “Love them.” 

—

The old truck rumbled to a halt in front of a sun-faded gas station that looked like it had been baked into the Texas dirt. A single rust pump stood half-leaning like it might give out if the wind blew wrong.

The sun poured down mean, sharp as glass. Your skin prickled under it the second Joel cut the engine and the breeze vanished.

“Thirsty?” Darly asked, already nudging open the truck door.

You nodded, legs unfold slowly, denim skirt riding up as you stepped down from the truck. Joel and Daryl’s eyes flicked over your legs and you felt the heat of it like a sunburn.

The soles of your boots crunched on sun-bleached gravel as you followed them towards the station.

Daryl beat Joel to the door, pulling it open with a cocky smile, “After you, darlin’.”

You gave him a mock curtsy and stepped inside, only for Joel to follow right behind, slipping in a little too close. His chest brushed your back as he grabbed the handle and swung the door shut in Daryl’s face, with a lazy flick of his wrist.

You hear the solid thunk of it closing, followed by: “What the hell, man?”

Your laugh bubbled up as Daryl shoved the door back open, giving Joel a shove on his way in.

“That’s what I get for bein’ nice,” Daryl muttered, shooting you a mock wounded look.

You grinned at him, “Didn’t ask you to be.” 

Something unreadable passed through Daryl’s eyes, and his jaw clenched like he was holding back words. Before turning and walking down an aisle.

The air inside the station was barely cooler, just stale and humming from a dusty box fan shoved in the corner. Old postcards curled on wire racks, a faded Coke machine in the corner, and the clerk reading a hardback. 

“Real fine establishment,” You smiled, fingers trailing along a row of melted candy bars as you trailed behind Joel and Daryl into the aisles. Daryl peeled off toward the back, muttering something about jerky. Joel veered toward the cooler.

He grabbed a water bottle, condensation slick on his fingers. He cracked the cap and took a slow swig, throat bobbing.

Then he held it out to you. 

You hesitated for half a beat before taking it. The rim was cold and wet where his mouth had just been. You brought it to your lips and tried not to think about it.

Joel watched you, one brow raised like he hadn’t meant to stare, but couldn’t help it. Your stomach flipped.

“Ain’t gotta get shy on me now,” Joel murmured, voice low and teasing.

You pulled the bottle back, licking a drop from your bottom lip, catching his gaze. “Not shy.” You said. “Just didn’t expect you to be the kinda guy to share.” 

He huffed a breath through his nose, “I’m not usually. But some things…” His eyes dragged over you, “...are worth makin’ an exception for.”

Something warm and thrilling raced down your spine. 

Daryl came round the corner, snacks in hand. He noted the look on your guys’ face. “What’d I miss?”

You turned toward him with a syrup-sweet smile, voice all innocence. “Joel was just tellin’ me he likes to share.”

Daryl raised a brow at Joel, slow and curious. Joel didn’t say anything. Just ran a hand over his jaw like he was tryin’ to keep it together. 

A smirk tugged at your lips. You turned toward the counter, hips swaying and you set the water down with a quiet clink. 

Neither of them moved, just fixated on you. “I’ll be waitin’ in the truck. Don’t take too long.” You drift towards the door and toss over your shoulder, “Reckon I’ll find a way to entertain myself.”

That was all it took. Daryl blinked once, then tossed the snacks down like they’d offended him. “Gas is on you this time, buddy,” he said, already making a beeline for the door. 

Joel didn’t move, just stared after him. “The hell–,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

Daryl's boots were stomping behind you, leaving Joel to deal with the clerk.

Outside, the air hit like a blow dryer set to hell. You reached for the truck’s door, but the metal burned your palm like it had soaked up every bit of the Texas sun. 

You pulled back with a small hiss.

“I got it.” Daryl stepped in, casual as anything and pulled the creaky door open. He didn’t even flinch. Of course he didn’t. 

“Thank you.” You said, slipping into the middle with a little sigh. The leather had already gone warm under the sun, leather sticking to the back of your thighs.

Daryl lingered outside the truck, arms crossed over his chest, muscles flexing beneath the frayed edges of his sleeveless black vest. The angel wings stitched across the back was a cruel contrast to a man who looked more like fallen grace than divine mercy. 

The bell above the gas station door jingled, and Joel came out into the sun. He made it halfway to the truck before he tossed a brown paper bag into the cab with a little more force than necessary.

“Dickhead,” he muttered at Daryl, cuffing him on the shoulder, not too hard, but not playful either. Like it wasn’t about snacks or the gas anymore.

Then Joel grumbled something about “damn heat getting to me,” as he walked around to the pump. His eyes cut toward you through the dusty windshield. It was clear, It wasn’t the sun that was getting to him.

Daryl climbed in the passenger side door with a lazy grin, grabbed the brown bag and slid in with a creak of leather and old springs. His arm returned behind you on the seat, this time closer than before.

You gasped when something cold landed in your thigh. He dropped a glass bottle of Coke in your lap. He smirked at you, “Figured you’d want somethin’ sweet.” 

It was chilled, beads of condensation rolling over the red label, soaking into your thighs through the denim of your skirt. 

You took your time, twisting the metal cap on the Coke, letting the fizz whisper as it opened. You brought it to your mouth and took a slow sip from the rim. A soft sound came out, something between a sigh and a hum of satisfaction.

Daryl's gaze seared into you. Intent and sharp. You pulled the drink away from your lips, with a flutter of your lashes. “You want a taste too?”

Daryl’s tongue flicked across his lower lip. “Might be a little too sweet for me.” His voice was low and rough. 

“Huh.” You tilted your head, “I thought you might’ve liked things a little… Sweeter.”

The words floated in the air, charged and suggestive.

Before he could answer, the sound of the door opening sliced through the air. The truck rocked slightly as Joel climbed into the driver's seat. 

You smirked at Daryl, as if you’d just shared a secret, and brought the bottle to your lips, taking another sip. You savored the cold rush down your throat, keeping your eyes on him the whole time.

The truck’s engine roared to life and Joel turned to look at you, his eyes lingering on the way you held the Coke and the way Daryl still hovered too close to you.

There was something tense in the air now, and for once, it wasn’t just the Texas heat. 

—

As the truck pulled back onto the road, the horizon stretched out before you. An endless ribbon of highway shimmering in the scorching afternoon sun. 

The low hum of the tires and old static radio didn’t do much to ease the tension in the truck. It only seemed to thicken with each passing mile. 

Your nails traced lazy circles on your bare thigh, like you needed something to do with your hands. Or maybe you just liked driving them crazy.

The road ahead seemed to blur under the heat and the only thing keeping you tethered to reality was the weight of Daryl’s arm behind you, and the brush of Joel's hand shifting gears. 

Every now and then, you’d catch a fleeting glance from Joel in the rearview mirror, each look sending a thrill through you. His stare was dark, leaving a spark that lingered long after.

The heat from the sun made everything feel too close. Too tight. You tried to stretch out a bit, but you were trapped between their two muscular thighs. 

Joel’s hand rested on the gear shift, letting his forearm carefully hover over your thigh, the lightest brush of his presence. The small act of restraint made your heart skip a beat, a quiet challenge hanging in the air.

You took a slow sip from your Coke, the rim between your glossed lips, pretending you weren't aware of the way they glanced over to watch your mouth. 

“So what was the final straw?” Daryl asked, as though it had been chewing at him for miles.

You blinked, popping off the bottle, glancing over, “What?”

Daryl’s hand rested loosely on the open window. “What was the reason? That made you leave in such a damn hurry.”

Joel glanced at you in the rearview mirror but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t one for prying, and you both knew that. 

You rolled the Coke bottle between your palms. “I told you already.” There was an edge in your voice. “Just needed to get out.”

Daryl made a sound from beside you, like he didn’t quite believe that was the full story. Joel didn’t say anything. The muscles in his neck were tight, like he was fighting the urge to ask more.

You sighed, finally caving. “My daddy ain’t exactly the type to let his little girl grow up.” 

Their attention was fixed on you. They looked at you, quiet and waiting. “Couldn’t date. Couldn’t work. Couldn’t breathe without him granting me permission.” You took a sip of Coke, clearing your dry throat. “Saw what I was wearin’ this morning and told me I looked like a whore.”

Joel's brows twitched and daryl shifted in the seat.

“Well,” Daryl gave your outfit a slow, once-over, “You don’t look like a little girl anymore, I can tell you that.”

You grinned, teeth sharp behind the bottle. “That’s what I told him. Right before I slammed the door and left.”

Daryl let out a breath through his nose. “Daddies and their little girls.” He tsked. “Never good at lettin’ go once they realize they ain’t so little anymore.”

“You think he’ll come lookin’ around for you?” Joel asked.

You shook your head. “No. I’ll go back eventually. I just…” You hesitated. “I need to do things on my own for once. Y’know? Just for a little while.”

Daryl sucked in a deep breath, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Gonna be a hell of a reunion,” he said with a coy smile, “Showin’ up for the Fourth…”

Joel finished it, “...With his daughter sittin’ between two of his oldest friends.”

You scoffed, “He trusts you guys. Hell, he’d probably thank you for keepin’ me safe.” 

Daryl snickered like you said something funny. Joel ran a hand over his jaw, like he was covering a smirk.

“What?” You blinked, clearly missing the joke. 

Daryl leaned in closer, his arm brushing your thigh. “Ain’t no girl in her right mind, sittin’ between two men like us, unless she wants somethin’ real bad.”

You choked on your Coke, with a breathless laugh, “Jesus, y’all are gonna get me killed.”

“No, Sweetheart, you are gonna get us killed,” Daryl grinned sideways.

Joel just huffed, but there was a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, like he knew it was true.

You shrugged, playing it casual. “Y’know, my daddy always did say I was trouble.”

Daryl glanced at you, eyes skimming over your barelegs, “He might’ve been onto somethin’.”

“Funny,” You looked at them, voice all honeyed innocence, “Never stopped you two from lookin’.”

Joel’s jaw twitched. Like he’d been caught, for all those lingering glances over the years. “Ain’t exactly easy when you strut around like that.”

You scoff, lips curling, “Just like my daddy said… That I was askin’ for attention.”

“Well,” Daryl drawled, voice low, “You sure as hell got it.”

“Is that so bad? That I wanted it?” Your eyes darted between them, something reckless sparking under your skin. “For someone to notice me?”

Daryl didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you. Long. The kind of look that felt like a hand dragging down your spine. 

Your boot scuffed against the floorboard as you set the Coke in the cupholder, an innocent move, if it hadn’t hiked your skirt just enough to teeter forbidden skin. His gaze flicked down to your legs. You didn’t fix it.

“I'm noticing, Darlin’.” He looked at your lips. “And if I don’t stop, I'm gonna forget you’re daddy’s little girl.

You leaned in like you were confessing a sin. “I don’t want to be daddy’s little girl anymore.”

The words hung in the air. Tense. Final. 

To prove that you meant it, that you weren’t some girl playing grown, you leaned closer. Close enough to breathe in the heady scent of leather and heat rolling off of Daryl in waves.

He didn’t pull away. But he didn’t move toward you either. Like he needed you to be the one to cross the line.

So you did.

You closed the distance, crashing your lips onto his. Hot and messy. Like you’d finally run out of patience for all those years. 

Daryl tasted like smoke and gasoline. Trouble. The kind of man your daddy warned you about. You loved it.

Daryl’s hand caught your knee, like he was holding himself back. But when your tongue slipped into his mouth, warm and waiting, he made a low, desperate sound in his throat. Like a man letting go.

His palm slid up your thigh, rough fingertips dragging over skin made hot by the sun. He stopped just shy of your denim skirt, like he was giving you the chance to tell him no.

Your legs shifted open instinctively, brushing against Joel’s thigh. Solid and warm. And very aware of everything going on besides him.

The truck shifted with a slight change of gear, the sound of the engine growling beneath you as it sped up. Joel’s jaw clenches as he tightened his grip on the wheel, his fingers flexing. His eyes darted between the road and the rearview mirror, watching you two. But he didn’t say a word.

You pulled away from Daryl, tugging his lower lip, before letting go. 

But you weren’t done.

You turned and leaned across the seat, toward Joel, slow and sinful. His jaw was locked, that muscle ticking as he stared ahead, like he’d just lost a fight he didn’t know he was in.

Then your mouth grazed the shell of his ear, your voice was velvet, “Still think i’m just daddy’s little girl?”

You nipped, playful and bold on his ear. He tried to balance watching the road and you. 

“Sweetheart,” Joel’s voice was low, thick with warning, but not the kind meant to stop you. More like the kind that said keep going.

But you were already kissing him. Soft and teasing, at first. Just the curve of his cheek, where the scruff scratched your lips. Then the corner of his mouth. 

He turned his head, chasing it, like he needed it to breathe. Trying to meet you halfway and trying to drive and sin at the same time.

But he failed.

The truck veered ever so slightly, tired humming against the edge of the road. He muttered something low under his breath, but you just laughed a soft, wicked giggle that made his jaw tighten. 

Your lips trailed down to his neck, mouthing over stubble and sun-warned skin, feeling his Adam’s apple jump beneath your lips. Joel breathed in deep through his nose, fighting for composure, but it was slipping. Fast.

Behind you, Daryl chuckled low, wicked and amused. “Mmm, look at you.” he drawled, “Just can’t decide who you want first huh?”

You pulled back from Joel's neck, slow and smug, lips tingling from the trail you left on his skin. You looked at Joel first, sweet and daring, then turned to Darly, flashing a grin full of trouble. A challenge.

With a slow smile, you answered Daryl, “Why choose?” You let the words drip off your like honey. Sweet, but sticky enough to trap them both.

The seat creaks with the weight of it… of all the years they looked at you like they shouldn’t. And now you're sitting pretty between them, all willing in your cutoffs and cherry lips.

“Always wondered what it’d feel like… gettin’ touched' by both of you.” You continued.

Daryl leaned in close, breathed hot against your ear, “How long you been thinkin’ ‘bout this, huh?”

You exhaled your truth like a prayer. “Years.”

Then Joel’s hand found your chin, turning you to face him. To face the truth. 

“Dirty girl. Walkin’ around all summer, fantazing about gettin’ fucked by your daddy’s friends.” Joel’s eyes were dark and ravenous.

“Been beggin’ for this without sayin’ a damn word.” Daryl added.

But you weren’t the only one.

As if you hadn’t noticed the way their eyes would linger too long when they thought you weren’t paying attention. They wanted this just as bad…Maybe worse.

“And you boys never looked at me like you were saints either.” You blinked up at them, lips parted. “You were just waitin’ for me to grow up.”

Joel’s jaw ticked, “We never claimed to be saints.”

Joel and Daryls hand slid up in unison, breaching the edge of your skirt, pausing letting you stop them. But you didn’t.

“Maybe it's time we stop pretending,” Daryl said, voice rough and hungry. “And finally take what we want.”

Joel’s free hand shifted the gear in fifth, then landed on your thigh, warm and heavy. Like a claim.

Then Daryl’s hand found your other thigh with rougher, calloused fingers. Like a dare. 

Their hands couldn’t have felt more different. One firm and steady, the other lazy and hot. But both felt possessive. A silent agreement of their shared sin.

You could feel it. All that tension burning low and deep in your belly. The kind that made your pulse drum in your ears and your breath come light. 

“You think you can handle the both of us?” Daryl asked, grip on your thigh tightening.

“Or are you just playin’ pretend.” Joel’s eyes found yours in the rearview, dark and unreadable.

“Ain’t nothin’ pretend…” You purred, slowly, “... about how wet I am right now.” 

“Fucksake,” Daryl muttered, at the same time Joel cleared his throat. 

The temperature in the truck rose significantly. The old vinyl seat stuck to the back of your thighs, and sunlight cut through the dusty windows like a blade, striping Joel’s forearm in gold as it gripped your thigh. His fingers just a little tighter now.

Outside, the road blurred in the heat shimmer. But inside… inside was hotter.

Need throbbed inside you, sharp and sweet. It was too much. Your thighs tried to press together for friction, but the gear shift mocked you, right in the way. The truck bounced again, hitting a loose patch of dirt. The movement sent a shiver rippling through you. Every nerve ending felt like it was one fire.

Daryl noticed and whistled low, eyes dark. “Look at her, Joel,” his hand slid down your thigh with the slow patience of a man savoring a favorite song. “Poor thing’s shakin’. Needs it so bad, she's tremblin’.”

There was no hiding it now. Your body had given you away.

“Reckon we oughta be gentlemen and help her out,” Daryl said, voice dripping with mock sweetness, “Don’t you think so, Joel?”

Joel’s voice became dark like a warning. “Ain’t nothing gentlemanly about what I wanna do.”

Those words punched air from your lungs. Your stomach twisted in on itself, heat spreading through your core like fire catching dry grass.

“Then stop pretending otherwise,” the words exploded out of you. “And fuckin’ do it.”

Joel's hand caught your jaw, firm and warning. The grip made your heart skip. Half fear and half delicious thrill. 

“You better watch how you talk to us,” Joel's low and commanding voice had your thighs twitching against their hold. 

Daryl’s voice was laced with promise. “Gonna have to teach you manners.”

“We're gonna ruin you, sweetheart,” Joel growled, “and when we’re done, you're gonna say thank you.”

You eagerly nodded your head, unable to suppress the anticipation flooding your body.

“You got that? Use your words.” Joel’s voice was unwavering.

“Yes. Please.” The words tumbled out without hesitation.

As if your words were a surrender, Daryl grabbed your jaw, turning you toward him. “She’s a fast learner.” You barely gasped before his mouth swallowed it. The kiss was messy and unhurried. All heat and carelessness.

A moan spilled from you as your tongues tangled, lazy and deep, like neither of you had anywhere to be, but right here, in the middle of the wide-open nowhere. 

Despite your tank top clinging to your skin, damp with head and need, a shiver ran down your spine, sharp as lighting. Your nipples pebbled beneath the thin cotton, aching for more.

But even as your lips moved with Daryl’s, you still felt Joel. The steady, unmoving grip on your thigh, that made your breath catch. His hand wasn’t roaming the way Daryl’s was. Joel’s was anchored. 

Daryl pulled back, chest rising fast. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, swollen and kiss-bitten. 

“Go on,” he rasped, “Give Joel a turn, baby.”

You smiled, sugar sweet and slick with mischief. Then you turned in the seat, the curve of your rear brushing against Daryl’s solid denim, teasing a groan from deep in his chest.

The warm breeze slipped in through the open window. It caressed your skin, like even the wind couldn’t help itself in wanting to touch you.

God, the sight of Joel. The white knuckled grip on the wheel. The tick in his jaw. His eyes like thunderclouds, barely holding back a storm. And below the belt… There was no mistaking the way his jeans strained against the denim.

He liked it. Watching.

And that realization made your whole body sing with delight. 

You leaned forward again, pulse pounding softly in your ears. Daryl’s taste still lingered on your tongue, but now your eyes were on Joel.

Every vein in Joel’s forearms stood out like he was barely holding it together.

“Joel,” You purred, dragging his name slowly over your lips. You shifted closer, your thigh brushing his. His jaw clenched, hard enough to crack. “Did you like watching me kiss Daryl?”

“Didn’t need to rush. I knew you’d come around.” He said smugly. 

That made you smile.

You giggled teasing and breathless. You leaned in, wanting to share your attention with Joel now.

Your breath skimmed the side of Joel’s face as you brushed your lips against his stubbled jaw. He didn’t look at you, not yet. His eyes were locked on the road ahead. But you felt his restraint thrumming beneath the surface.

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, feather light. Then another closer to his mouth. He turned his head just enough to offer a half-hearted kiss back. His focus stubbornly locked on the road ahead. Responsible and resisting. But you weren’t in the mood for restraint anymore.

So you brought your mouth to his ear, licking and nipping the skin that had seen too many summers, “Come on, old man,” You whispered, “Don’t you wanna know how I taste?”

Joel’s whole body tensed, like he was one breath away from pulling over and wrecking all three of you right then and there. The grip on your thigh was steel now.

So you kissed him again. Below his ear. Along the lines of his jaw. Corner of his mouth. Teasing, tempting, and absolutely relentless.

And when he finally snapped, it wasn’t with words.

It was with a sound, so low and deep in his chest. In one sharp turn of his head, his mouth was on yours, delivering a punishing kiss to your welcoming lips.

You moaned in relief, like you’d been waiting hours for that kiss. His lips were soft, but the way he used them wasn’t. It was desperate, and aggressive.

He wants this. He wants you.

And you kissed him back like you meant it. Because you did. For years you wanted this. Wanted him.

The stubble on his jaw was rough against your hands, and your chest ignited with excitement as his tongue swept into your mouth. He possessed your mouth like it was his.

This kiss was different. Not better, just different. Joel was all hard lines and rough hands. But Daryl was slow and hot. 

Heat was radiating off Daryl from behind you, like a second sun. He watched and waited, full of desire.

You wanted more. 

From both.

Suddenly, the truck lurched and Joel ripped his mouth from yours with a curse. All three of you jerked upright. Dust kicked up behind the wheels, blurring the endless stretch of sun-bleached Texas highway in the rearview.

The sudden lurch of the truck had adrenaline pulse through you like a living and breathing thing. 

You giggled, breathless, a little too delighted by how close you were to getting the three of you killed. 

It was if fate was trying to issue a final warning, one you were too far gone to heed. 

Then Daryl joined in, letting out a deep huff, dragging his hands through his hair. “Fuck, darlin’.” he rasped. “You’re gonna get us wrecked, actin’ like that. Gonna have this old man forgettin’ how to drive.”

You tilted your head, biting back a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“If that’s all it takes, Joel,” You teased, “I’m just getting started.” 

Daryl barked a short, stunned laugh, and shook his head, “Jesus, she’s tryin’ to kill us.” 

“Huh,” You hummed, “Thought you boys could keep up.” 

You settled into your seat, dragging your nails lightly down your bare thigh, just to watch their eyes follow, “Must be the age.”

Daryl’s hand gripped your jaw, not gently. His fingers pressed into your cheeks as he leaned in close, voice thick with hunger. “That damn mouth.”

Then Darryl slammed his mouth onto yours. All heat and hunger. His tongue slipped past your lips like he owned the space. You sighed into his mouth, like you were finally getting what you wanted.

“Look at you,” Joel said, “putting that mouth to better use.” his hand slid up your thigh. Daryl's hand followed suit.

Both of their hands slowly slid beneath the hem of your skit, fingers greedy, knowing exactly what they were after. You shifted in your seat, legs falling open another inch. Barely a movement, but an invitation all the same.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, wild and waiting. Wondering which one would cross that line first.

They didn’t touch you. Not yet. Instead, they laughed. Low and amused, like your need was funny. Like your eagerness was cute. 

You flushed, cheeks burning as heat coiled through your stomach. “Don’t make me beg.” You were so wound up it hurt. “I’ve been good for too long.”

Daryl let out a low, taunting chuckle, “Hear that, Joel? She thinks she's been good.”

“Good?” Joel scoffed, eyes amused. “Good girls don’t end up in the middle of this truck.” 

“You want it that bad?” Daryl growled, eyes blazing. “Then show us.”

“Go on,” Joel encouraged. “Let's see how desperate you really are… for two old men.”

“Lift your skirt.”. Daryl’s gaze pinned you down, heavy and expectant. 

You hesitated, not from modesty, but from the way nerves and desire tangled like twin heartbeats. There was no going back after this. And you didn’t want to.

The pads of your fingers curled in the hem of your skirt. Slowly, deliberately, you pulled back the denim inch by inch, offering yourself like a secret you’d been dying to spill.

“Fuck,” Daryl hissed, eyes fixed between your thighs. “Underwear completely soaked.”

Your cheeks burned hot. The kind of humiliation that throbbed between your legs. You tried to close them, but their hands were already there, holding you open helplessly and displayed.

Joel’s voice came rough and tight, “You’re makin’ a mess of my truck, Sweetheart.”

You couldn’t meet their eyes. Could barely breathe through the ache swirling in your belly.

Joel's hand slid up your thigh, so slowly you trembled in anticipation. His fingers grazed the soaked cotton stretched tight between your legs. His thumb pressed down, rubbing the wet fabric right where you needed it. 

A breathless sound escaped your lips.

A heart beat later, Daryl's hands were on you too, sliding up your ribs and palming your breast though the thin tank top. His mouth found your neck, dragging wet hot kisses over your racing pulse. 

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

Air exploded out of your lungs when Joel’s thumb found your clit through your soaked underwear at the exact moment Daryl’s rough fingers found your nipple through the cotton.

“Yes,” You whined. A cry of relief, of years of pent up desire, finally happening. 

Your head fell back against the seat and your eyes rolled back as twin waves of pleasure crashed over you, stealing thought and breath alike.

Daryl’s teeth scraped against your neck, “Such a fuckin’ tease,” he said against your fevered skin. His hand pinched your nipple hard, wrenching a gasp from your lips. “Until your falling apart for us.”

All you could do was whimper in response, legs twitching against their grip. 

Joel growled low in his throat, a raw primal sound and Daryl held your thigh wider as Joel hooked your underwear to the side.

Two fingers slid into you, deep and effortless. Filthy-slick from how wet you were. 

Your eyes squeezed shut from the sudden stretch, the fullness, and the sudden wave of white hot pleasure… It was overwhelming.

A needy cry tore free from your throat. You couldn't have swallowed it down if you tried. 

Joel’s fingers thrust with purpose, brushing that perfect secret spot inside of you as Daryl kissed all the way down your neck until he reached your nipple, straining against the fabric of your top.

Your skin buzzed, burning hotter than the Texas sun leaking in through the dusty windshield.

“Open your eyes.” Joel ordered, “Watch us ruin that little cunt of yours.”

You forced them open, dizzy from pleasure, just to see the sight you knew would haunt you forever. Rough, sunburned hands on your soft, yielding body. Their mouths, their teeth, their fingers, worshipping you like you were some spoiled offering they’d been starving for.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, watching helplessly as they devour you. You felt like you were on fire from the inside out. 

Your legs trembled violently. 

Ruled by lust, Daryl growled and pushed your tank top up and over your breasts, smirking at what he unveiled. Your nipples were aching and hard, despite the Texas heat. Without hesitation, he swiftly sucked on one nipple, rolling the other between calloused fingers.

You groaned, puffing your chest out further into his possession as a hot sensation rippled throughout your body.

“Fuck, look at you, giving it up so easily for us.” Daryl smirked against your skin.

“Knew you'd be perfect.” Joel said, curling his fingers deep inside you. 

You were completely open now, bared for them like a feast. And they were starving.

Joel’s fingers thrust in and out, steady and ruthless. His thumb circled your clit with cruel, precise strokes that made you buck helpless between them.

Your whole body jolted when Joel found that perfect spot again and Daryl’s teeth scraped your nippled. They did it again and again, like they knew how to pull you apart at the seams. 

“Oh my god,” you mouthed because you lost your breath. “Im gonna–”

Your hands scrambled for purchase, clutching at Joel’s forearm and at Daryl’s wild hair, desperate from something solid as your orgasm barreled down you, unstoppable.

“Doin’ so good for us.” Daryl growled under his breath, his cool breath against your wet skin. “Such a pretty girl.” 

You tried, god, you tried, to keep your eyes open to watch them, but when Daryl’s teeth nipped sharp on your skin and Joel’s fingers hit that devastating rhythm inside you… You shattered.

Pleasure ripped through you, hot and blinding. Your whole body shook, shuddering violently, in their hands as you came with a broken cry.

Your hands flew out, trying to find something to anchor you in place, for fear that you were leaving your body from pleasure.

“That’s it.” Joel coaxed, his voice warm and rough in your ear.

When you finally floated back down to earth, your left hand had carved crescent moons into Joel’s skin and your right hand fisted tight in Daryl’s thick hair. 

You were gasping, trembling, and utterly undone.

Joel removed his fingers and your body twitched with aftershocks. You whimpered at the emptiness, clenching still wanting more.

You blinked up at them in a daze. Joel’s fingers glistened with your orgasm in the golden light of sunset. 

Fingers dripping and shining. And then, Christ, then Joel brought those fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, eyes half lidded, humming low in his throat.

“Just as sweet as I thought you’d be.” he turned to Daryl, smirking, “Go on, have a taste.”

Your hand shot out and gripped Joel's denim clad thigh when Daryl’s fingers slipped between your thighs. His fingers dipped inside your dripping entrance, then pressed hard on your throbbing clit on the way out, making you twitch and gasp.

Holding your gaze, Daryk smirked at you as he slowly slid his fingers into his mouth, sucking them like he was savoring honey. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, “Maybe you were right. I do like things a little sweeter.”

He repeated your earlier words and they settled low and deep in your belly. Despite your heaving chest, you were still so goddamn greedy for them.

You needed more.

You needed them inside of you. It felt as vital to your existence as oxygen.

So you did something wicked. Something you have been dying to do since you stepped foot in this rusted truck. 

You placed your soft palms against the coarse, sun-faded denim that covered their thighs. Your hands slid up and down, lazy and lingering. You felt their muscles twitch beneath your touch.

Joel exhaled through his nose, voice as rough as the road, “Goddamn, look at you teasin’ us like it's your job.”

You smiled, a picture of pure satisfaction. Sated, yet starving at the same time. You traced your way further up, reaching where aching hardness was trapped behind worn denim.

“What’re you doin’, pretty girl?” Daryl drawled, his eyes amused.

“That wasn’t enough for you?” Joel rasped.

You tugged your lip between your teeth and your palms pressed harder against the heat between their thighs.

“I'm thanking you.” You purred, lashes fluttering like a promise, “For ruining me.”

Both of their breaths hitched, a heavy twin sound that only fueled you. You kept your motions slow and measured, just enough to tease them. Enough to make them suffer the same desperate ache that rattled through your bones. 

“Fuck darlin’, driving me crazy.” Daryl hissed. 

“Just takin’ my time.” Your eyes sparkled with desire and mischief, “There’s enough of me to go around.”

You turned towards Daryl first, pressing a sweet, little kiss to his mouth. Soft and almost innocent, if not for the hint of your arousal on his lips. It was a tease of a kiss. Like saying goodbye. 

Because then you shifted towards Joel, kissing a trail up the thick column of his neck, tasting salt and sun. You grazed your teeth along his stubbled jaw until you reached the shell of his ear.

“Hi,” You whispered sweetly, before nipping once. He huffed a breath in response.

You shifted your hips towards Daryl, angled like a siren. Your hands stayed busy on Joel, palming him light and taunting over his jeans. Daryl’s hands, rough over soft skin, snuck around your waist grounding you while you misbehaved. 

Joel sucked in a sharp breath, hips shifting under your touch when you squeezed him harder through the denim.

“Relax, old man.” You teased with a sly smile.

“Keep doin’ that and I won't.” He warned, voice dark with desire.

Power thrummed through you, finally having some control of the situation. 

You reached down and popped open the button of Joel’s jeans, then eased the zipper down slow enough to be cruel.

The second you did, heat and hardness surged into your palm.

You licked your lips, drunk of the way he stared down at you. His gaze made you feel suddenly too hot. Sizzling with desire. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” Daryl rumbled from behind you, gripping your hip, “Least you can do is be sweet to the poor bastard… after makin’ such a mess all over his seat.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining when I made it.” You said, pushing back against him.

Daryl's hands slid down your waist until he reached the end of your skirt. He breached the line of fabric until he was massaging your thighs all the way up to your ass. You pushed your hips further into his touch, hungry for more.

Joel’s hand found your face, cupping it gently, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip. “It’s okay, Sweetheart,” Joel’s hand came to cup your cheek. His thumb tugged your lower lip down. “A little filth doesn’t bother me.”

A lewd smile tugged at your mouth. you hooked your fingers into his underwear, and pulled down, freeing him. “Let’s see if you still think that, when I'm done with you.”

Joel's cock made your eyes widen. He’s huge. Veined. And beautiful.

Teasing him was tortuous for Joel and you. Every second you played with his restraint only made the ache in your body grow stronger. You couldn’t help it. Your fingers moved on their own accord, wrapping around him in desperate need. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth.

You grip the base firmly, feeling the heat of him pulse against your palm. You stroked once before, placing a teasing kiss to the tip, then another, letting salty pre-cum gloss over your lips.

You moan, a hot breath on Joel's cock when Daryl’s hand slips under your skirt, cupping between your legs, sending a rush of heat through your body.

“How much do you care for these?” Darly asked, snapping the band of your underwear against your skin with a sharp sting.

You turned over your shoulder to look at him. Your mind was hazy… Too aroused to think straight. “What?” 

“Guess I'll find out,” he muttered to himself.

In one swift motion, he tore the cotton right off. The sound of fabric ripping echoed through the truck. 

“Daryl–” The protest died on your lips when the sudden rush of air from the open window hit your exposed core, sending shivers through you.

Momentarily distracted by Daryl's hands roaming between your thighs, exploring and caressing every inch of you, you turned back to Joel.

He looked so hard it had to hurt. His length was straining against the air pointed straight at your waiting mouth. 

You gave him a slow, gentle squeeze, never breaking eye contact. “So pretty.” You said, lashes fluttering.

Wasting no time, you time you flicked your tongue around the swollen head of him. Slow, languid licks, then quick teasing licks. Joel’s hand found your hair, gripping it firmly, making you exhale a hot breath against his skin from the delicious pressure. 

“Sweetheart,” He warned with a serious glare.

You smiled against him, then, shocking him completely, you parted your lips and took him deep in your mouth. You licked and sucked along the length of him, hollowing your cheeks, swallowing him down.

“Shit,” Joel groaned, tightening his grip in your hair.

Tears formed in your eyes when he hit the back of your throat, and still, you kept going, greedy for every inch of him.

You moaned around Joel, the sound vibrating along his length, when suddenly, Daryl’s fingers found your swollen bundle of nerves. He rubbed a slow lazy circle that made your hips buck into his hand and your mouth sink deeper onto joel.

Daryl shifted closer, his rough hands greedy as he lifted your hips, settling you on top of him.The coarse scrape of his denim met your tender skin and you whimpered grinding down against him, aching for more.

You pushed back into Daryl, wanting to feel all of him. 

You popped off Joel with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his aching cock. Over your shoulder, you cried out, “Daryl, please.”

“How’m I supposed to say no when you finally used your manners?” Daryl said voice thick with lust.

You heard the rustle of his zipper. You replaced your mouth on Joel’s cock with your hands, so you could watch Daryl unsheath himself. 

Your stomach twisted with want at the sight of him, thick and flushed. You clenched around nothing, already aching to be filled. 

Daryl lined himself up behind you, the swollen tip teasing your dripping entrance. You were so slick, he could have slid in with one hard thrust, but he didn’t. Instead he relished the way your wetness coated him, dragging his cock slowly through your folds, soaking himself in your need.

“Guess you ain’t as tough as you act, huh?” you teased, trying to push him over that edge, daring him to stop holding back and take what he wants.

A cruel smile tugged at his lips.“You’re gonna be cryin’ for it when I’m done with you.”

Then he pushed forward, until he reached the end of you, stealing your breath. You fisted the denim of Joel’s jeans so hard your knuckles grew numb.

“Taking him so well, Sweetheart.” Joel praised, voice thick with sin, “Should see how pretty you look sittin’ on his cock.”

You moaned, helpless, the sound tumbling out of you in a string of broken cries. Words abandoned you. You were nothing but pure pleasure. Raw and reckless. 

As Daryl settled inside of you, you turned your attention back to Joel. You wrapped your lips back around him, bobbing your head in time with the slow, punishing roll of Daryl’s hips. The three of you moved together in a filthy symphony, all rhythm and ruin. 

Joel’s free hand fisted your hair so hard it stung, like maybe if he held on tight enough, he won't go to hell for this. 

Daryl’s fingers bruised into your hips, dragging you back onto him with every thrust, like he was trying to brand you from the inside out. “So fuckin’ greedy for it.” 

Your jaw ached but you had no sympathy for it. You only cared about sending Joel over the edge with your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his head and you hummed around him when Daryl’s pace turned ravenous. 

Joel grunted, low and viscous, “Don’t stop sweetheart, fuck, that it.”

Their words spurred you on, pushing you to move faster and harder. 

The cab of the truck was filled with slick, obscene sounds of sin. The wet slap of Daryl’s hips against you, the hollow, desperate gag of your mouth on Joel. The sound of all three of you coming apart at the seams. 

Daryl struck that sweet, hidden place inside you, sharp enough to make your body jolt forward, driving Joel deeper down your throat. You gagged, choked, and Joel groaned low and wrecked, his hips twitching up into your mouth. 

You clenched around Daryl from Joel’s dirty sounds. Your orgasm was clawing its way up your throat, wild and inevitable.

Both men growled, a ragged harmony of pleasure, when your body squeezed tight and desperate between them.

“Gonna come?” Daryl asked, “Can feel you’ squeezin’ me so damn tight.”

Completely overwhelmed from sensation, you just whimpered around Joel’s throbbing length. You couldn’t respond–nor think. Instead you sucked harder, tears sliding down your flushed cheeks.

Joel huffed a breath through his nose, chest expanding. “Poor thing can’t even think straight, too full of cock.”

Daryl chuckled darkly then lifted your hips up and slammed you back down on his cock Simultaneously, Joel pushed your head down grunting at the pleasure you provided. You could do nothing other than just take it.

You’re pretty sure this counted as a one way ticket to hell… pretty sure you didn’t care.

It shouldn’t have been as arousing as it was, how easily they manhandled you, used you for their pleasure and yours alike.

Every thrust, every groan of pleasure, brought you closer and closer to bliss, Your body trembled violently with a second approaching orgasm.

Noticing the way your body responded, Daryl went faster, thrusts becoming sloppier as his orgasm followed close behind your own.

Joel's chest heaved erratically, and you could feel him twitch in your mouth. He was almost there too. 

Then, Daryl’s hand went around rubbing your clit, sending sparks of pleasure so intense you felt it start in your toes and shoot all the way up your spine. You vibrated against Joel, making lewd, choking sounds.

“She love’s it.” Daryl praised, rough and warm. “Made to be fucked by men like us. 

“That right, Sweetheart?” Joel cooed with mock sweetness.

Their words send you to oblivion. You hummed around him, being caught by surprise as pleasure crashed over you, like a tsunami.

“Fuck, she’s coming.” Daryl said through clenched teeth.

You popped off Joel's cock as your muscles spasmed, clenching tightly around Daryl. Your orgasm took your breath away and your eyes squeezed close.

“That’s it.” Daryl said as you fisted Joel's shirt in one hand anchoring you while you jerked him up and down with the other.

“Sweetheart, fuck–keep going.” Joel praised.

You were desperate for it. Wanting both of them to experience the same pleasure you did. 

Even in the haze of your post bliss, you wrapped your mouth around Joel, and moved your hips up and down, slipping effortlessly onto Daryl’s cock from your spent desire.

“Faster.” One of them said, but you were too gone to know who. Regardless you bobbed your head fast and lifted your hips faster, chasing both of their orgasms now.

“Fuck–” Joel breathed out, as his cock twitched in warm, hot spurts of his release hit your tongue. You swallowed, gagging around him. Daryl spilled inside of you with a groan. You felt warmth rush down your thighs.

You were completely full from both ends, and you’ve never felt more satisfied.

Sated, spent, and dazed, Joel gently helped you sit upright. Daryl adjusted your hips with a careful, reverent touch, pulling you off him slowly. They sat you back down in the seat, each of them guiding you with quiet intent. 

Daryl smoothed the fabric of your skirt over your thighs, while Joel wipes away the tears streaking your flushed cheeks.

There was no need for words, just the flow of their hands and the deep silence between you, thick with the aftermath of what just transpired. You felt dizzy, floating in the aftermath, but in the best way. Like you were safe, even if it was just for the moment.

“Pretty girl,” Joel murmured, brushing your tears from your skin, “Did so good for us.”

You exhaled shakily, still coming down from the high of it all. Daryl’s hand rubbed soothingly up and down your thigh, grounding you, bringing you back to earth. “You’re alright, honey,” he whispered, his voice low and comforting.

They fixed themselves with a quiet kind of ease, zipping their pants back up. But your lip curled in a small pout, something soft and needy stirring inside you when they turned their attention elsewhere. 

It wasn’t until you looked out that window that you realized how late it was. How the sun hung low in the sky, bleeding orange and pink across the horizon. You hadn’t noticed the time or the world outside the cab of this truck. 

A dazed laugh bubbled from your chest, escaping your lips before you could hold it back. You couldn’t find the words to speak. Your breath still caught in your throat, tangled in their hands.

Joel joined, also chuckling softly at the absurdity of the situation. “It’s getting late. We better stop for the night. Get somethin’ to feed the poor girl.”

Your stomach rumbled, a soft reminder that your body was only just starting to remember its other needs, other than them. Now in the aftermath, your body finally felt the quiet pull of hunger.

Joel pulled the truck into the lot of a quiet motel and diner, the neon sign flickering lazily in the light of dusk.

Joel and Daryl shared a look when the engine stalled in the parking lot. Then they looked at you. 

Joel Miller stood at the front end of the barn, leaning against the wooden fence with sleeves rolled, forearms dusted with dirt, and a glare like he’d rather be anywhere else. Your footsteps faltered.

At a community event, you tried to introduce yourself once. All polite smiles and an outstretched hand. He looked at you head to toe like you were nothing more than a bug under his boot, muttered something gruff and walked off.

The memory still made your jaw clench. 

You didn’t mean to gasp, but you did. Just a little. You hoped he didn’t hear.

He did.

He looked up. Slowly. Dark eyes sharp, like he was weighing how much patience he had to spare today—and the answer was definitely none. “Somethin’ wrong?”

You shook your head, too fast. “No, I just—thought I was meeting Jonathan.”

His stormy eyes flicked up, pinning you in place like you were an inconvenience. “Yeah, well. Johnny dislocated his shoulder.” He said with a tone dry as dust. “Guess that makes me your lucky replacement.”

Nerves prickled beneath your skin. You shoved your hands into your back pockets, feigning nonchalance. 

You swallowed hard, pulse doing way too much for this early in the morning. “Great,” you said, voice a little too chipper to be sincere. “Looking forward to it.”

He gave you a once-over, unimpressed. “Don’t get all excited at once.”

You could barely hold yourself back from rolling your eyes. So much for hoping he was just having a bad day when you met. Nope. This was just him. Rude, gruff, and annoyingly handsome. 

But you didn’t survive all this time, due to your lack of persistence. So you try to make conversation.

“So… I didn't know you taught lessons.” You rocked back n’ forth on your heels.

“I don’t.” He pushed off the fence, walking past you without a glance. “Let's go.” 

Well. That was short-lived.

You trailed behind him, glancing around at the empty stalls. Hooks lined the walls, holding faded ropes and well loved saddles. “Where are the horses?”

That's when he stopped and turned his head. Slowly. Like you’d just asked if horses came in blue.

“Horses?” His mouth twitched, just barely. “We’re not doing horses today.”

Your brows furrowed. “Then… What are we doing?”

He nodded towards the far end of the stables, where a beat-up wooden barrel sat with a brown leather saddle strapped to it. You blinked at it, then back at him.

“Really?” 

“You’re gonna learn how to stay on before I waste a real animal's time.” His answer was flat, final.

You glared at him, “I wouldn’t be a waste of time.”

He raised a brow, not even trying to hide the way his gaze dragged over you, cool and assessing. “Then go on, Cowgirl. Let’s see what we're workin’ with.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already walking off towards the barrel, not bothering to check if you were following.

Clenching your fists, you rolled your eyes and muttered a curse. You trailed after him, boots crunching on the packed dirt and hay.

The air inside the barn was warm and smelled of leather and horses and something faintly masculine. Sun, sweat, and sawdust. 

Golden rays spilled through the slats of the barn walls, bathing everything in a warm light, dust in the air catching it like glitter. For a moment, it almost felt peaceful. 

Until Joel slapped the top of the saddle with a sharp thwack. “Alright. Hop on.”

You scoffed, then shot him an exaggerated smile, “Are you always this charming, or just with me?” 

"Only you." He leaned one arm on a post, that mouth twitching again, "Now stop stalling.”

“I'm not stalling,” You mumbled under your breath, clearly stalling. You eyed the saddle just now realizing how high the barrel sat. “You put this together?”

Joel crossed his arms, the material of his shirt pulling tight across his chest. “Been sittin’ like that for months.”

You squinted at it. “You realize horses are taller than this, right?” 

He shrugged, lazy. “Then consider this a warm up.”

You stepped closer to the barrel with more confidence than you actually felt. “I’ve climbed fences taller than this.” 

“Then this should be easy.” Joel tilted his head, just enough to unnerve you. His eyes taking you in from boots to brow, like he was waiting to see you fail.  

It should have been easy. But when you reached for the saddle horn and tried to hoist yourself up, your boot slipped against some loose hay, and you stumbled back with a muttered curse.

Behind you, Joel didn’t laugh. He didn’t need to. His silence said everything.

“Don’t” You warned, pointing a finger at him without looking back. 

“Didn’t say a word, Cowgirl.”

“You were thinking it.”

That damn nickname again. It made your cheeks burn hotter than the sun outside.

It was discouraging to say the least. There was not much you couldn't do. So having a wooden barrel be your demise was frustrating.

You squared your shoulders, let out a sharp breath and tried again, this time determined to prove him wrong. This time you braced your foot against the barrel’s edge, gripping the saddle horn with both hands.

With a grunt that was more pride than grace, you hauled yourself up, swinging a leg over with questionable coordination.

The barrel wobbled beneath you as you stuck your landing. Sort of.

You exhaled through your nose, victorious. “See? Told you I could do it.” You looked over your shoulder at Joel.

Stepping away from the post, he gave you a slow look, annoyingly unreadable, “Well, let's hope any horse you ride doesn't mind someone climbin’ all over ‘em like that.” 

Irritation flared up in your chest, “I'm up. That's all that matters.”

“Sure.” He stepped closer, boots crunching dirt and scattered hay. “Now let's see if you can stay up.”

And then, without warning, his hands were on you. One at the small of your back, the other nudging your shoulder blade with practiced pressure. You inhaled sharply, a gasp slipped out before you could stop it.

“Back straight.” His rough hands adjusted your posture, burning through your shirt like he’d branded you, “Good, just like that.”

His hands stayed exactly where they were, firm. Steady. Hot. You were too aware of every inch of contact, your heart thudding like it wanted to climb right into his palms. 

“Shoulders back. Don’t slouch.” 

You swallowed hard, feeling stubborn, “I wasn’t slouching.”

“You were.” He said simply, breath ghosting close to your ear. “But that's alright. We’ll break the habit.”

Your cheeks flushed, heat curling in your stomach. You tighten every muscle to keep your spine straight, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of correcting you again. But then he shoved, just enough to tilt your balance.

You gasped, grabbing the saddle horn to steady yourself.

Joel clicked his tongue. “Keep your balance, Cowgirl. If you fall, I ain’t catchin’ you.”

Then his hands moved to yours, guiding your grip on the reins. Rough hands against softer skin. Calloused, capable fingers curling around yours. 

You shouldn’t have wondered how those hands might feel somewhere else. But you did. 

“Now grab the pommel tighter–Jesus, not that tight.” He gritted out. “I feel bad for whatever poor fella your seein’.”

You loosened your grip, cheeks blushed from the insult. “No ones complained, yet.”

That made something flicker in his eyes. His gaze dropped to where your hands wrapped around the horn of the saddle. His next breath came slow. Measured. Like he was biting down on whatever response nearly escaped.

“Sit straighter.” He said at last, voice rougher now. “You’re leanin’ like you're about to fall asleep up there.”

You blinked, “Well maybe if–”

“Leg’s snug,” He cut in, voice rough, “Right now you’d bounce clean off the second that horse moved.”

Then you felt him behind you again. His breath tickled your neck just before his hands slid down, fingers settling at the tops of your thighs.“Keep ‘em like this–”  He pulled your knees inward, guiding them against the barrel. “Yeah, just like that. Feel the pressure of the saddle?”

You nodded, barely breathing, feeling more than just the saddle. You felt him. Felt the way his voice, gravel thick with heat, settled beneath your skin.

“I asked you a question.” His tone was dark and impatient.

“Yes.” You nodded, throat dry, “I feel it.”

He adjusted your legs a little further, pressing them in just enough, thumbs brushing the inside of your knees, “Good, right there.”

You turned to face him. The height of the barrel leveled your gaze with his. Up close you could see it all. The silver dusting his beard, the rough lines of his face, and the tightness in his jaw. Like he was holding back more than just words.

Joel stepped in front of you now, closer than necessary. You tensed when his hands settled on your hips. His fingers pressed into the curve of your body, firm and unbothered by boundaries.

“You’re leanin’ too far forward.” He said, like it was a fact. 

No warning. No gentleness. He pushed, not hard, but unyielding. His strong grip coaxed your torso into place. The rough handling, controlled and confident, sparked heat low in your belly. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from making a sound.

“Atta girl,” he said, voice low and approving. “Right there. You feel that?” 

“Yes,” You whispered, barely trusting yourself to speak. With Joel this close, there was nowhere to look but at him. You noticed the small things, like the soft dip at the center of his lip. Or the way his lower lip is just a little fuller. 

“Good.” He murmured, eyes locked on yours. “Now stop starin’ at me like that.”

“I’m not.” You shot back, too quick, too breathy. 

“Yeah?” He stared at you like he could read every thought you didn’t want to have. A smirk tugged at his lips, “Could’ve fooled me.” 

Heat climbed up your neck like a guilty confession. “What’s next?” You asked, desperate for a subject that wasn’t him. 

Then he stepped back, arms crossed like nothing happened. Like you weren't threatening to melt, from a single touch. He sized you up like a piece of wood. His eyebrows furrowed as he analyzed your form. 

You stiffened under the scrutiny, spine already straight, legs tight around the barrel. His brow furrowed like something still wasn’t right. 

Noticing his scowl you said, “Alright, Cowboy.” You tacked on the nickname with just enough venom to cover the nerves. “What's wrong with my form now?”

“You’re tense." He said, flatly, "That’s not gonna work for ridin’... or much else.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the way ‘much else’ stuck to your chest like a splinter. “Of course I am.” 

Slowly, Joel approached, like a predator closing in on its prey. His hands returned to your hips like they belonged there. There was nothing hesitant about the way he touched you. Those hands knew what they were doing. 

Rough and confident, his calloused fingers dug into the softness of your sides, molding your body the way he wanted. Every touch seemed to have a purpose, but it also felt like he was pushing you further, into something much more than a simple lesson.

“Right here.” He guided your hips into the saddle, fingers burning through your denim. “Gotta move with the horse, not against it.” 

Your body trembled slightly, as his palms pushed you into the seat, each press of his hands like a command, a reminder that he was in control.

“Kinda hard to move with the horse when this one doesn’t move at all.” Your breathless voice betrayed you.

“Wanna get thrown on your ass? ‘Cause if you can’t sit on a barrel, don't expect to survive a buckin’ saddle.”

The words come out, fast and sharp, before you can stop them. “Maybe I don’t mind getting thrown around a little.”

That made him stop. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face.

“Yeah?” His voice dropped dangerously, “You say that like you know what it means.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” You snapped.

He leaned in just enough, like he was whispering a secret. “I know you can’t stop starin’ at my mouth when I talk.”

A breath passed between you. 

His voice was deliberate, like he had you all figured out. “Know you get all flustered when I so much as touch your back. Or adjust your hips." 

“And I hear those sweet little sounds you make," he added, voice dipped in sin, "every time I get close.”

His eyes were dark… dangerous, like he was daring you to deny.

You returned his stare with defiance, even as heat stirred low in your belly, traitorous and slow. “Don’t flatter yourself, Joel.” 

“I don’t have to,” he said, the smirk returning. “You’re doin’ a real good job of that yourself.” 

“Maybe I am,” Your eyes flicked down to his hands still gripping your hips, a little too tightly for a man claiming innocence. His thumbs pressed in just enough to remind you they were still there. “But you’re the one still touching me.”

His thumbs dragged just a little higher, right at the curve where denim met skin. Instruction was long gone. This was something else.

Joel’s voice dropped to a murmur. “Do you want me to stop?”

You tilted your head, heard pounding against your ribcage, “I was just waiting to see what else you could teach me.”

With a low growl, he dragged you forward on the barrel just an inch, just enough to send heat straight to your core. Your breath hitched and you held back a whimper.

“You’re already breathin’ heavy–” His hands tightened on your hips, possessive. “–And I ain’t even touched you proper yet.” 

He stepped closer, the air between you taut like a pulled thread. “Think you’re ready for this lesson?” 

“I learn fast,” You breathed out, voice tight with anticipation.

His gaze dropped to your mouth. Then slow and wicked, a carnal smile curled into place, dangerous like a drawn weapon. He leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted across your lips. If you moved even an inch, you’d taste him.

Without thinking, you tilted your chin to close the space, but he pulled back just enough, the barest retreat. 

“So impatient,” He tsked, “A good rider learns control.” 

“I'm not a good rider yet though, am I?”

“No, I guess you're not,” His voice was rough with unspent desire. “But we’ll fix that.” 

“How?” The words came out so soft, they were barely audible.

Your hands tighten on the pommel like a lifeline, trembling with the effort not to close the distance yourself.

Then finally, he gave in. 

With a growl, his lips came down on yours. Hot. Sharp. Like a punishment. 

He dominated the kiss, with the same rough authority he used adjusting your posture. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t polite. It was primal.

You whimpered, arching into him as he deepened it. You open your mouth for his tongue. He licks at your lips, before sliding it into his mouth to meet yours.

His hands gripped your hips again like they were his to guide. “There we go,” His voice growled low against your lips, wrecked and approving. “That’s it. Move with it.”

And you did. You couldn’t help it. You moved with him before you even realized, rolling your hips forward and backward with a slow grind. Your heart begins to beat between your thighs quickly becoming an incessant throbbing, that becomes more and more intense with every movement.

“Good girl.” He whispers against your lips.

The words, thick with praise, felt like heat, poured straight into your veins. 

You shuddered, body rolling under his guidance, shamefully eager to please. Not because you wanted to get the saddle right anymore. No, it was because he was the one telling you how.

“Just like that.” His thumbs dug in, guiding another rough grind against the saddle.  “Now we're gettin’ somewhere.” 

The friction of your denim against the old saddle, sent waves of pleasure low in your belly. Your fingers tighten on the saddle horn, clinging on to something solid as everything else threatened to unravel.

Then his calloused hands left your hips, sliding up your waist, his thumbs barely brushing the underside of your breasts. Your hips struggled to keep moving in their absence. You were too focused on the way he tasted, the sounds he made, the feel of him.

He pulled back, lips swollen, “Did I say stop?” He snapped, “You keep going, till I say so. You understand?”

You nodded your head, frantic. But he wasn’t having that.

“Use your words, Cowgirl,” He warned. “Say it.” 

“Yes,” You breathed out. “I understand.”

You don’t know what you craved more. The need for release or the praise you’d get for earning it. 

Either way, you obeyed, riding harder, hips snapping forward. You were chasing the rhythm he carved into you. You let out a soft moan as friction met the saddle just right. A slow burn sparked low and deep.

“Knew you’d be a fast learner.” He growled, satisfied. "Look at you, movin’ just like I want.”

One palm slid up your spine, igniting every nerve on its path up. His fingers threaded into the back of your hair. He tugged your head back, firm and commanding, exposing your throat. 

“You gonna take what I give you?” His grip tightened.

“Yes.” You cried out, the word somewhere between a plea and a promise.

Joel’s fingers pulled your hair. 

The sharp edge of pain only made the pleasure coil tighter and deeper.

His mouth was hot on your neck now, velvety tongue painting your skin. His teeth scraped just enough to make your hips stutter, movements slowing.

“Keep going,” he demanded against your throat, showing you no sympathy.

You headed his command and ground your hips down. His other hand came up rough and demanding, gripping your jaw forcing you to face him. It was clear who was in control.

Your lips crashed together again, unforgiving. It was all raw hunger and heat.

Desperation spilled into the kiss, mess and unrestrained, like you both had been starving for years and just now found something worth sinking your teeth into.

He pulled your lower lip between his and gave it a little tug. He released your jaw, sliding his hand down your throat, fingers dragging possessively along your skin, claiming every inch.

Joel’s touch didn’t stop.

It drifted lower, over your collarbones, across the line of your chest, fingers grazing over the softest parts of you with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.

Your nipples ached, hard and sensitive, straining through the material of your shirt.

You arched your back. Chest brushing his, aching for more. The space between you felt unbearable, like your skin was screaming for contact. He could feel it. You knew he could feel it.

He chuckled low against your throat, the sound dark and indulgent. “That desperate, huh Cowgirl?”

There was no room left for shame.

Especially when his thumb grazed over your nipple and your whole body jolted like you’d been struck. He hadn’t even undressed you. Not a single piece of clothing had been removed… yet you were still unraveling for him. 

You became a panting mess, as he thumbed and pinched your nipple, like you were his to toy with. Your thighs tightened around the saddle with every spark of pleasure.

“You want more?” he asked.

You should've said no. Should've reminded him this was supposed to be a riding lesson. Or that you were outside and anyone could walk by. But his thumb was still teasing circles over your nipple, and you couldn't focus on anything other than his hands.

"Yes," You breathed out.

Joel's eyes darkened, pupils swallowing the brown. “Then use your words.”

For someone who barely uttered a word to you before, he sure has a lot to say now. 

“I want more,” It took great effort to speak. The throbbing between your legs was becoming painful. "I want you to touch me like you mean it."

A low sound left his throat, half-grow, half-moan. "You sure?" With tortuous speed, his palm slid down, hot and heavy, landing at the top of your jeans. His fingers slipped just barely under the denim. "'Cause once I start, I ain't gonna stop 'till your beggin'."

Your breath shuddered as your hips rocked slowly. "Then don't stop."

A sound of approval left his throat. Half-growl, half-moan. His mouth was on yours again. The kiss turned messy fast. Teeth clashed. Tongues tangled.

One of his hands slid down between your thighs, pressing against the seam of your jeans, right where the ache had started building. His palm ground slow and hard between your thighs.

You gasped into his mouth, grinding on his hand, hips moving like he showed you.

"That's it." He muttered. "All worked up and we barely started."

A needy whimper left your lips, from the friction. But it wasn’t enough to satisfy the ache he’d built inside of you. You needed more. You needed him.

But Joel… Joel was in no rush.

His hand dragged up and teased the edge of your underwear, warm fingers curling at the edge.

He didn’t move lower. Not yet. He just watched you from under dark lashes, expression wild. Hungry.

“Joel.” You said his name like it hurt. Like just needing him was its own kind of agony. 

“Shhh,” he hushed, almost tender. His fingers slipped past that threshold, dipping into your underwear, slow and steady like he had all the time in the goddamn world. “You’re okay. I got you.”

You were soaked, aching with want. Completely wrecked and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. The sound he made when he realized it was dark, filthy, and far too pleased. The rough noise of approval sent a wave of heat pulsing through your core.

“Christ. So fuckin’ wet.” 

The pads of his fingers circled your clit. Soft at first, coaxing. You shuddered, every nerve sparked under his touch, hips twitching without permission.

You let go of the pommel and tried to muffle your desperate cries, but the hand in your hair was quick to grab your wrist. 

“No.” He growled. “Let me hear how pretty you sound when you ride my fingers.” 

A needy whimper was all you could muster in response.

As if rewarding you, his fingers sank into your slick heat. One, then two. You clenched around him, hips bucking at the sudden stretch. Your whole body bowed forward, forehead dropping to the saddle as a ragged moan slipped from your lips.

“Ngh–” You cried out pathetically, as his fingers thrust deep inside of you. His thumb found your clit with cruel precision, brushing in slow, maddening circles. The only thing you could do was helplessly ride his fingers closer to euphoria. 

“Doin’ so good for me,” He grunted into your ear. His voice went straight to your core. The praise, the authority, the way he said it like it was a fact. "Such a good girl."

You tipped your head back, eyes fluttering shut, shamelessly rubbing against him.

“Let me hear you.” Joel’s teeth nipped at your earlobe.

“Joel.” You moaned, hips rolling with reckless need. “Feels so good–”

You were a sinful sight. Temptation itself, perched on that rusted saddle. Joel’s restraint was hanging by a thread, evident in the way his fingers bit into your waist, like he needed to anchor himself or lose it entirely.

Suddenly, you slumped forward with a gasp, hips stuttering to a halt. Overwhelmed by the way his fingers curled just right, nudging that spot deep inside of you it sent a shiver ripping through you, all the way down to your toes. The only thing keeping you upright was your white-knuckled grip on the horn.

“What, that's all you got, Cowgirl?” 

Your body wasn't listening to you anymore. It only listened to him. Your body rocked fast now, chasing that edge with wild bucking desperation.

But as you got close, too close, your form faltered. Your thighs trembled. Ankles slipped against the rusted stirrups. 

In response, he removed his fingers completely and he halted your movements. You cried as your body clenched on nothing, pleasure dwindling away. “Ah–uh uh.” His tone was firm, unrelenting, “Fix your form.” 

Of course he still wanted you to have proper form, even like this. The bastard was going to drag it out of you, keep you right at the edge, just to make you learn.

You do your best to obey, but oh god, it's so difficult.

You whined, hips twitching, “It's too-” Your head fell forward, “feels too–too good–” You tried to move against his restraint, but his hands were unyielding in letting you chase any friction he didn’t warrant. 

Not until you earned it. 

“What was that?” He chuckled darkly. "Thought you learned fast."

"I-I can't." An exasperated sound came low from your throat.

"You can." His voice was low and coaxing. “Back straight, legs tight.”

The words struck something deep… Need, pride, maybe both. You wanted to give him what he asked for. To hear the way his voice dropped when you got it right.

With frustrated tears hot in your eyes, you forced your trembling thighs to steady, dragging strength from somewhere deep in your core.

Slowly, you realigned your spine, shoulders pulling back hips grinding into position exactly like he taught you.

“There she is.” He murmured, approval slipping into his tone, rich and hot. “Knew you had it in you.”

As if rewarding you, he slipped his two fingers back inside, thrusting in and out, stretching you wide. Your body moved right this time. Controlled and powerful.

There's a hitch in your breath when you shift forwards, your clit hitting his calloused thumb with every thrust. You cried as his fingers hit just right, again and again.

“Look at you, so pretty riding my fingers.” He let the praise land heavy, voice warm like the Wyoming sun.

Your head was thrown back, mouth parted in a silent moan, shamelessly riding his fingers. He watched you, full of hunger you know he is fighting. 

“Oh god,” You whisper, lashes fluttering. His fingers are the finest torture you’ve ever experienced. Mercilessly working to get you higher and higher with every deliberate curl.

“You gonna come for me?” His fingers move furiously, forearm brushing against your breasts at this angle. It was all happening too fast. 

“Yes. Yes, Joel–” A string of broken, desperate sounds spilled from your lips. Words lost. You were teetering right on the edge, trembling with it.

“Go ahead,” His words went directly to your core and your body headed his command before your mind could catch up.

Joels name left your lips, over and over, like a chant as your orgasm slammed into you, stealing every bit of oxygen from your lungs. Every inch of you shook as you unraveled. There was no way your form was holding. Not anymore. 

“That’s it, squeezin’ my fingers so tight–” He cooed in your ear. “Fuck, look at you...”

Your body locked up for a beat and your vision blurred. You were helpless against the wave of pleasure he’d drawn from you with nothing but his touch.

But Joel doesn’t let up. He’s relentless. His fingers move faster, intensifying the feeling. 

It's too much. Too overwhelming.Your chest heaved up and down in a frantic rhythm, lungs barely keeping pace with the fire burning through your body. You buck in the seat, trying to ease off his fingers. 

“Just like that,” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, chest heaving as much as yours. “That's how you ride.” 

Your body shook with aftershocks, thighs quivering. You were stunned, reeling at just how hard you came for him.

"Did so good for me."

You didn’t even realize it was his arm keeping you from collapsing entirely. Strong and steady, wrapped around your waist. Your fingers clutched at his forearm, nails digging into the sun-kissed skin, marking the moment. 

Neither of you moved. The barn fell quiet, save for your uneven breaths mingling together. Birdsong drifted lazily through the dusty slats of the old barn. Nature's calm, a cruel contrast to the wildfire that just tore through you.

Every muscle in your body buzzed. Your legs were jelly, trembling and utterly useless.

The saddle suddenly felt miles too high. The thought of climbing down made your stomach dip. But you couldn’t sit atop the rusted saddle forever.

You released his arm to get off, and he went to help but you shook your head. Pride was a stubborn thing.

“I-I got it.” You muttered, trying to swing one leg over.

Joel didn't move, at first. Just watched with one eyebrow raised. Arms folded.

Balance wavered. Your legs felt like water, and your foot slipped.

And in the space between one breath and the next, his hands caught your waist.

“Easy now,” he murmured, “I got you.”

Before you could argue, he lifted you off the saddle, like you were nothing. Your boneless limbs curled instinctively towards him. 

Your boots met the hay covered ground and you were hauled fully into him, one arm bracing behind your back. You gasped and planted your hands against his chest, realizing this was the first time you intentionally put your hands on him, the whole lesson.

“I said I got it.”  You protested weakly. 

“Can’t have my best student fallin’ off the horse.” 

“I’m your only student.” You tried to scoff, but your voice was sleep-soft. “And it's a barrel.”

Meaning to push away, you shifted. But then you felt him. Hard and hot pressed up against your stomach through the rough denim of his jeans. Your breath hitched. He’d been holding himself back this whole time.

Instinct had your hand moving before you could stop it. But Joel caught your wrist in a tight burning grip. 

“We'll save that for that next lesson."

You pulled your lip between your teeth. "You think I'm ready for the horse now?"

Joel's eyes raked down your body and his lips curled slow and dangerous. "I think your ready for a hell of a lot more than that, Cowgirl."

You continued to melt into your lawn chair, fantasizing about air conditioning when there was a rumble of a truck pulling into the driveway next door. 

Slowly, you lifted your head just in time to catch your neighbor, Joel Miller, climbing out, black shirt stuck to his broad back like a second skin. 

He was your dads friend, your neighbor, construction guy, and apparently bag of ice guy. 

You felt your heart skip a beat as he pulled out a blue bag of ice from the bed of his truck and swung it over his shoulder. You nearly whimpered at the thought of ice, thinking about how your freezer gave out on you hours ago. 

He grabbed a red canister of gas and turned just enough to see you. His eyes landed on you and stuck. 

You should’ve said hi. Covered up. Looked away. Done literally anything besides sitting there, like a deer in sweaty headlights. 

But instead, you stared back, flicking between the bag of ice and his tight shirt. 

His gaze was unreadable, but it burned hotter than the sun bouncing off the pavement. You were suddenly aware of every bead of sweat crawling down your neck, onto your heaving chest.

His gaze followed that one bead of sweat, then, wordlessly, he nodded once, and disappeared inside. 

—

You’d just managed to sink lower into your chair when the door creaked open again. Out he came, Mr. Miller, crossing the front yard with a lazy sort of purpose, something white clutched in his hand. A cup. Styrofoam, already sweating like it was nervous. 

He stopped at the edge of my porch, not quite stepping over, but close enough to smell of diesel and man. “Figured you could use some of this,” he said, holding out the cup like a peace offering. 

You blinked then scrambled upright, “Is that… ice?”

He nodded, expression unreadable as he glanced at your attire, then back to your eyes. “Bought the last bag. Got lucky– people actin' like its the goddamned apocalypse out there." 

“You’re a saint,” You said without shame, grabbing the cup with reverence. The ice rattled inside the cup, slick, perfect, and cold. You plucked a cube out and pressed it straight to your neck.

“Oh my god,” You groaned, breath hitching as if this ice cube was something more illicit. The cold sent a jolt down your spine, dragging another breathy sigh from your lips as you traced it over your collarbones.

When you looked back up, his jaw was set tight. His eyes tracked the melting ice, slow and deliberate. Watched the bead slide down your chest, curve along your skin, and disappear into your navel like it was the most important thing he had ever seen. The heat crawling over your skin had nothing to do with the weather. 

Mr. Miller cleared his throat, ignoring the heat rising within him “What are you doing out here? Ain’t your dad got a generator?”

You sat up straighter, brushing some hair off your sticky forehead. “He does. But he is out of town for work until Friday.” 

This caught his attention. His eyebrows lifted lightly, “You’re here all by yourself?” 

You nodded, squinting at him through the haze. “Mhm. not that the generator does me good. I don’t have a car, so I can’t go get gas for it. And even if I did, I don’t know how to start the damn thing.” 

He stared at you for a beat, then huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Christ, you’re gonna cook alive out here.” 

“I'm aware,” you said dryly, sinking deeper into the chair, “Thanks for the concern, though.”

“My generator doesn’t need the whole gas can. I can spare some for yours.” 

You blinked. “Seriously?”

“Of course. Your dad’ll kill me if I let his daughter melt on my watch.” The way he said it, should’ve sounded patronizing, but it didn’t. If anything, he said it like he was reminding himself, as if heeding a warning. 

“That would be amazing, Mr. Miller.” 

“Joel,” He corrected, voice low, “I’ll grab the gas can. Be right back.”

Moments later he walked out holding the red gas canister. “Lead the way.” 

“It’s in the back shed, 'round the corner,” You reluctantly got up and led him around to the side yard. His gaze trailed lower than it should’ve and your barely-there swimsuit didn’t leave much to the imagination. 

The metal latch was hot to the touch when you opened the door. And sure enough, the generator sat untouched in the corner.

The door creaked shut behind him, and just like that, the space felt ten times smaller. The proximity made the air feel like smoke. Thick and hard to ignore.

You glanced back and caught the way his throat bobbed with a swallow. For a split second, you both just stood there, as if both realizing this is the first time you've been alone together. 

You felt nervous, “So, you gonna stand there all hot and sweaty, or you gonna start it, Joel?” His name tasted different on your tongue. You’d only ever called him Mr. Miller. 

He arched a brow at you, lips twitching, “Calling me hot?”

Feeling flustered, you shot back, “I said sweaty.”

“Hmm,” he drawled, crouching to uncap the tank, “Pretty sure I heard hot.” 

The way he poured the gas was painfully slow. Deliberate. You tried to stay cool, but the blush betrayed you.

“I- It’s just the weather-” You stammered.

A low chuckle filled the humid air, “Only teasing, Sweetheart.”

Before you could fire back, he sealed the tank, forearm flexing under sweat-slick skin. He rose to his feet and was tall enough to cast a shadow over you.

Then he nodded you towards the machine. “C’mere, grab that handle.” 

“Wait…” You paused, “You want me to do it?”

“You should know how to do it,” He said simply.

You gave him a look, “I can’t just call you every time?” 

“You could,” He said, low and rough, “But that’d be a real dangerous habit.” 

Your throat went dry, speechless, but you stepped in close anyway.

He smelled like heat and faint motor oil. His shoulders were solid and his hair was curling from the humidity. God, he looked like an outlaw from a dusty western. He grabbed the pull cord with the red attachment and held it out to you. Your fingers brushed his and they sizzled like a struck match. 

“Alrigh’,” He said, eyes on you, “Pull it back.” 

You took a deep breath and gave it a tentative yank. The generator made a short-lived cough, but didn’t catch

“Pull hard. Gotta mean it.” He said, tone demanding. 

“That's what you tell all the girls. Mr. Miller?” You looked up with a small but innocent smile. 

The words hit Joel low. Too low, he felt them in his stomach. "Careful." His tone was a warning.

You blinked at him, a fire burning deep within you. You cleared your throat and braced the cord again. You gave it a firmer pull. This time it gave a low rumble, taunting you, before dying once again. 

“It’s helpless.” You muttered, blowing some hair off your face. 

You felt it before you saw it. The warmth of him at your back, Joel stepped in behind you. Then his hand came over yours, large and calloused, fingers curling over yours to guide your grip.

“Here,” He murmured, “You’re pullin’ too slow. Let me–” His other hand braced your lower back, just barely there, but enough to set every nerve on fire. “Now pull back with me,” He said, warmth brushing the shell of your ear.

You swallowed and tugged the cord back together. His strength was subtle, but sure. And this time, the generator roared to life. 

Because of the force, you stumbled half a step forward. His hand caught your hip like it was instinct, the pads of his fingers just barely brushing the bare of your skin. 

“See,” He said, voice dark, “Not helpless.” 

You turned around, meeting his dark eyes, “Disappointed?” 

His gaze went to your lips. “Not the word I’d use.” 

For a second, all that filled the shed was the low hum of the generator and the heavy sound of your breathing. 

His tongue swept over his lower lip, his eyes flicking back to yours with an intensity that made the air feel heavier… hotter. The air crackled hotter than the Texas sun. 

“Joel–”

“You should head inside,” he cut you off with a sharp exhale, stepping back like you caught fire. “See if the generator is workin’.”

You stood there heart pounding. Disappointment washed over you like a cold wave. “You want me to?”

“That's not the problem.”

You took barely one step towards him and he stepped around you, "Let me know if ya' need anything else."

And with the slam of the shed door, he was gone.

—

“No, no come on… No!” The whine slipped out as everything in the house went still. The hum of the air conditioner died and the lights vanished with a final flicker.

You bolted to the shed, heart already pounding. The generatory reeked of gas and heat. You gave the cord a quick tug, just like Joel showed you, but the generator barely choked, not even a sputter of hope.

Inside you tried to cling to whatever cool air was left, but it was already slipping away. The warmth was creeping back in, warm and sticky, like an uninvited guest.

You told yourself you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t knock. You wouldn’t bug him. You weren’t that helpless.

So you waited.

And waited.

—

You lasted longer than you thought you would. 

Nearly an hour later, your knuckles met the warm wood of his front door with three tentative knocks.

He opened the door slower than he should have, like he already knew who was on the other side. And when he saw you, sun kissed skin, slicked with sweat and that damn bikini top clinging to you like a sin, his hand tightened on the doorframe. Like if he didn’t hold onto something, he might do something. 

You looked up at him through your lashes, chest rising and falling. “It died.”

His brow ticked, “Generator?”

You nodded eagerly, instinctively swaying closer to the cool draft coming from inside the house. “An hour ago. I waited… thought it might come back on, but–” you nearly cried, “It's too hot.”

His jaw worked, like he was chewing on a hundred things he shouldn’t say. Then he stepped back barely. Just enough. “Come in,” he nodded his head inside, “Can’t have you melting out there.”

You hesitated. Just for a second. As if the door was an invisible line between you and the man who shouldn’t be looking at you like that. Then you crossed the line. Your chest barely brushed against his. He didn’t bother to move to make room as you stepped inside, into the salvation of cool air. 

The door clicked shut behind you. 

“God,” you exhaled. Your eyes fluttered for a second when the cool air greeted you.

“Go ahead, make yourself comfortable. There’s a fan in the living room.” He gestured vaguely to the room you’ve been in, only a handful times before, whenever you visited with your dad for the occasional football game. “I'll be right back, and grab you some ice water.”

“Thank you… Seriously Mr. Mill-Joel," You corrected. "You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anything for my friend's daughter.” There's that word again. Friend’s daughter. Repeating it as if to remind himself. 

You nearly let out a noise of joy when you walked in and saw the fan pointed towards the couch, oscillating, in slow half circles. You hurried over and sank into the cushions with a sigh of relief. 

The draft swept over your overheated skin like a sigh and you let your head fall back against the cushion, chest rising and falling, slick with sweat and satisfaction.

Joel returned with a lazy stride, glass in hand. “Here you go.” 

You took the water eagerly, wrapping both hands around it, as if you feared it might disappear. 

He sat down next to you, a little too far, yet somehow still too close. His knees spread wide, tanned forearms resting on his thick thighs, hands clasped like he was trying to keep them to himself. 

The air was charged from being within his proximity, once again. He tensed as if he could read your mind and all the things you wanted to do.

You took a sip. Then another. Then another, all too quickly. The cold water hit your chest with a splash as you tipped it too fast, some trickling down your neck. You gasped from the sudden chill.

Joel’s hand lifted, steady, but sure, and his thumb wiped at the drops on your neck, before it could disappear into your collarbone. The touch is brief, but your breath catches. His fingers linger just a second too long.

“Christ, you’re burning up,” he murmurs.

“It’s the sun.” It’s a lie. A flimsy one. 

“Mm.” His gaze caressed your skin. “Of course.”

You were already damp with sweat. There was no reason to have wiped the water away. Except one. 

And the thought that he wanted it too, had your body buzzing with boldness you didn’t quite know what to do with.

“Then, are you gonna help me cool off?” You whispered, “Or just keep staring.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. His eyes were heavy, raging a war inside himself.

You gave a light but innocent shrug. “Guess I'll have to do it myself then.”

Without a response, you dipped your fingers into the glass, fishing out a single ice cube, then set the glass down. 

Slowly and deliberately, you brought it to your heaving chest. You pressed it there, just lightly, and let out a breath at the shock of cold.

The cubes instantly began melting, becoming slippery against your overheated skin. It left a glistening trail across your breasts. It caught the breeze from the fan and made you shudder. 

And when you glanced at him? He wasn’t even pretending to look away. Not anymore. 

His knuckles were white on his knees, eyes were dark and wild, set on your breasts, your stomach, your neck, your mouth. Everywhere.

When the cube melted down to nothing, you let the last of it fall onto your stomach. It slid toward your navel, vanishing beneath the band of your shorts.

“Gonna wipe it up?” You looked at him through your eyelashes, innocently. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His control was crumbling at the edges.

“And if I do?”

His gaze went to your mouth again. “Then I’d say this heat is making you reckless.”

“Or I’m just finally going after what I want.” You pulled your lower lip between your teeth. Your knees brushed and he exhaled, closing his eyes. And when they opened, it was like something broke loose.

“Fuck.” He surged forward. 

His mouth crashed onto yours, rough and hungry. Like he had been holding it in all day, and you knew he had.

You gasped into the kiss, lacing your fingers through his hair. His hands found your waist, your back, your jaw, gripping everywhere like he needed to memorize the feel of you.

It was messy and desperate, all heat, tongue and teeth. You didn’t know where you ended and where he began. 

Your hand slid from his hair down the thick column of his neck, over the sweat-damp plane of his chest, all the way down, tracing the edge of something forbidden. And just before you could go further, he caught your wrist. 

His touch was firm, like a warning, not a punishment. Yet. 

You pulled back, lips swollen. His gaze met yours, dark and stormy.

“This is a mistake,” He looked away, like staring at you was starting to hurt.

You leaned in, brushing the shell of his ear with your lips.

“Then make it worth it.”

It was all he needed.

His mouth was on yours, rougher this time.  His hand cupped your jaw, angling your mouth to his. You made a soft, involuntary sound against his lips and felt him shudder. As if that sound unraveled him completely, he growled and sunk his fingers into your thighs. He pulled you into his lap with a certainty only a man who's been holding back could muster. 

Your legs slid over his, straddling him. His jeans were rough beneath your bare thighs. Your chest heaved, with every breath, pressing flush against his. 

Beneath your core you could feel how hard he was. You rolled your hips and he groaned, low and deep and so male it made your whole body ache. His hands slid up your thighs, slow and reverent, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to touch all of you or none of you. Because touching meant this was real. And real meant dangerous.

He tore his mouth from yours with a sharp, ragged breath. 

You almost protested, but then his mouth met your neck, dragging heat up the column of your throat. You let your head tip back, eyes fluttering closed. 

His mouth moved over you like it had every right, claiming the skin he swore he was only going to look at. Your hands moved on instinct, gripping his dark locks, when his teeth grazed your neck. The flash of pain was instantly soothed by the warm brush of his tongue. 

He followed the trail water the ice cube left behind. Down your neck, across your collarbone. By the time he reached the valley between your breasts, your skin was alive with goosebumps. He paused there, breath warm against your damp skin. 

Once more, he leaned in, towards your mouth. You tilted your chin, prepared to capture his lips in a kiss, but instead his arm shifted behind your back. When his hand came to view, an ice cube glistened in his fingers.

You didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

Without breaking eye contact, Joel brought the ice to your collarbone and pressed it there. You hissed through your teeth as the cold shocked your overheated skin. His other hand came to steady your back as he began to trail the ice cube achingly slow down to your chest.

“Driving me fuckin’ crazy.” He trailed the ice cube over the rise of each breast, never quite touching where you needed him most. “Wearin’ damn near nothing.”

Water trickled down your breasts, dampening your bikini top. You couldn’t tell which was hotter. Your skin? Or the look in his eyes as he watched your nipples turn into hard peaks?

“Joel.” The word slipped out a breathy whimper.

“What'd you need?” He dragged the icecube down lower between the valley of your breasts.

“I need you to stop holding back.” 

A smug smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Then without warning, one arm tightened around your waist and he rose to his feet with effortless strength, taking you with him.

Before you could gasp, he had you flipped in one smooth motion. Your back met the cushions of the couch with a soft thud.

He hovered over you, his gaze was dark and devouring. He slipped the ice cube in his mouth and lowered his lips to yours. You opened your mouth, accepting the coolness with a dance of your tongues.

The ice melts quickly, surrendering to the heat of your mouth in seconds.

Joel watches you intensely. Slowly, he placed another one between his lips, but this time, he leaned in, brushing the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

You shudder, legs trying to close on their own, chasing any friction, but his body is in the way, solid and immovable. 

The ice melted in his mouth as he messily planted kisses down your neck and every press of his lips felt like frost over fire.

Slowly, he dragged his mouth further down until he reached the hem of your bikini top. The anticipation was too much. You gripped the tendrils of his hair and pulled hard trying to encourage him.

A low, guttural sound, rumbled from Joel's chest. And in that moment you knew you’d do anything to hear it again.

He hovered over your bikini top, then gently brushed over your nipple with the ice cube. He swirled it over your nipple, causing you to shiver with icy pleasure.  He did the same to the other one, until both your nipples were straining against your bikini top, wanting to escape.

“Yes.” A breathy moan escaped your lips and you puffed your chest out further, aching for anything he could give you. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. With a low rasp and swift tug, your breasts were freed from the confines of your bikini top. You inhaled sharply when the breeze of the fan hit your slicked, bare skin.

Indulging in your sweet sounds, he took his time rubbing the ice cube over your nipples, taking his time like each one was special. He repeated the maddening torture until the ice melted away–but even then, he didn’t stop. He continued planting wet, cold kisses all over you, turning you into a trembling puddle beneath him.

“So desperate, lettin’ an older man have his hands all over you.” Joel’s voice turned to gravel. “I’d argue it's not your hands that are on me.” You barely recognized your sultry voice.

“Tell me where you want ‘em, then.”

You reached for his hand on the cushion above you, and pulled it downwards, to where you really wanted him. He let you guide him until it reached above your breast. Then he stopped you.

“Here?” he asked. The pads of his fingers hovered awfully close your sensitive peaks. 

You shook your head, trying to push his hand lower, but it didn’t budge. 

He let you try. Let you think you had control.

Then, he dragged his fingers down, brushing over your nipple carelessly. They landed on your waist, “Here?”

“No.” Your fingers curled into him, digging into the muscle of his shoulders, like you could speak through touch. Do something. Don’t stop. I need more. 

Responding, he slid it right past your navel, teasing the edge of your shorts, “How about here?”

Your hips responded for you, moving into his touch. “Yes.”

He popped the button of your denim shorts, looking up at you as if waiting for you to stop him. 

You didn’t.

So he dragged them down, baring you inch by inch until you were left in nothing but the bottoms of your swimsuit. His gaze dropped, lingering on the new expanse of skin. 

And then he muttered more to himself than you, “Christ.” He couldn’t help himself. He placed a delicate cold kiss just below your navel, then dragged his tongue until it reached the hem of your bikini bottoms.

With how he was looking at you from down there, dark and hungry, it was impossible to stay still. Your whole body writhed with need. 

“Joel–Fuck–just do something” Your hands fisted his hair, with a frustrated moan. The crack in your voice was just enough to betray how badly you needed him.

“You beg real pretty, you know that?” His mouth twitched in a carnal smile.

You couldn’t take another second of his torment, You pulled hard at his hair. “Please.”

“Let's see how badly you want it.” Then, finally, he hooks his fingers into your bottoms and tugs them down, revealing just how badly you wanted it.

“Fuck, Sweatheart.” He groaned. “You're dripping.”

If it was even possible, his lewd words made your skin burn hotter. 

A full body blush crept up on you. As if Joel could see the fire burning beneath your skin, he grabbed another ice cube.

“Poor thing, must be so overheated.” He lightly pressed the icecube to your inner thigh. You gasped, back arching in response. 

He leaned in and lapped at the water melting at your inner thigh, so close, yet so far from where you needed his mouth. Then painfully slow, he did the same to your other thigh, drawing impatient whimpers from your lips.

His gaze between your legs was hungry, like he was prepared to devour you at any moment. And you wish he did. 

He grips your hips with both hands and yanks you to the edge of the couch, then spreads your legs wide. You loudly gasp at the cold sensation when he places an ice cube to your clit. 

“Too much?”

You were a needy wreck. “Not enough.”

“You like that, huh?” He tsked with a devilish grin. 

“Fuck,” you cry, “That feels…” Cold droplets melted from your clit to your entrance, stealing your next breath. 

The sensation of ice against your heated core was intoxicating. He swirled the melting cube around your clit, then dragged it down, teasing your entrance. Very slowly, he pushed it halfway in. It was cold enough to make you gasp and hot enough to make you ache.

And then–God help you– his mouth was there, and you forgot how to breathe. He chased the trail of water like a man dying of thirst. The ice mixed with your arousal, a sinful combination, and he drank up every drop like he couldn’t get enough of the mess he made.

White hot pleasure burned through every part of you, making your toes curl and your eyes roll.

His cold tongue swirled and sucked at your sensitive bud, sending sparks of ecstasy up your spine. It was filthy–unholy. And you loved it.

“More.” A primal sound escaped you as your hips rock, matching the rhythm of his unrelenting tongue. 

His answering groan vibrates through your whole body. The scruff of his jaw is rough on your inner thighs as he grabs each of your thighs and throws them over his muscular shoulders, settling in like it's where he belonged. You had no choice but to surrender to his mouth. 

I might die right here. You thought.

His strong hands grip your ass, grinding you into his stubbled face. He alternates with quick, rough flicks and slow, lazy flicks, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you. 

Tremors shook through your body as his tongue drove you to insanity. Your moans–His moans– mixed with the lewd sound of slick heat, echoing between you like something sinful. 

Without warning, he slowly prodded a long finger into your entrance. You threw your head back, when he thrusted it in, hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, ripping a feral sound from your lips. 

“Doing so good f’me.” He slurred from between your legs, drunk off the taste of you.

Languidly, he drove his finger in and out in tandem with his tongue. It was too much. You felt your pleasure build up too fast–too strong.

“Joel,” You cried out, gripping his hair like an anchor. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna-I-” 

He looked up at you, flushed all over for him. “Didn’t know you could fall apart this easily.”

And just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore. He added another finger. The stretch burned sharp and delicious.

“Yes! Yes, yes...” You chanted as your hips moved on their own, using his face like it was made for your pleasure. 

“That’s it.” He praised, “That's it baby.” Fingers and tongue working furiously between your legs, chasing your bliss, like a man starved. 

You were a whimpering mess for him. A slew of helpless cries was all you were capable of anymore. 

Only then, did you glance at him. The sight of him, still fully clothed, kneeling before you, pushed you all the way to the edge. “Joel!” You come undone with a loud cry, squeezing around his fingers.

A thunderous sound rumbled from his chest. Joel didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. You were so sensitive and shaking beneath him, yet he didn’t stop. 

“Knew you’d taste sweet,” he groaned against your skin. He lapped at your release, not missing a single drop. Every swipe of his tongue had you tremble with aftershocks.

Finally, he pulled back, releasing your hips from a grip that was definitely going to leave bruises. His chest was heaving and his beard was glistening.

Even as you struggled to catch your next breath, still coming down from the high, looking at the man before you, had your body ready to ignite again.

He moved over you. He delivered a tender and gentle kiss to your lips, at complete odds with the rough man buried between your thighs moments ago.

When he pulled back, you gave him a lopsided smiled. “So. Are you always this helpful to the neighbors?”