august .ᐟ

You’d been seeing each other for some months now, and it wasn’t exactly easy in the beginning. You were full of energy and love to give, and the poor man was just not as young as you made him feel. It didn’t stop him from trying to keep up with you, and it most certainly didn’t stop him from delivering.

You knew he’d be tired, being one of the harder shifts of the week he had to work. But your fingers weren't enough. In fact, the drawn out orgasm you’d given yourself that morning only seemed to make you ache even more for the smell, touch, and sight of Joel.

So when you heard the latch click open on the front door you ran out of the kitchen, greeting his leathered face with a cheerful expression.

“Mm— what’s got you so excited?” He mumbled against your lips that wouldn’t stop kissing him. “Miss me that much, huh?”

“Always,” you said, “come sit. I wanna ask you something.”

And his knees were more than happy to oblige.

He saw the way your eyes were more down than up, but he didn’t urge it out of you.

“I am just—really so fucking horny today, and I know!”

He closed his mouth after opening it to protest, then his lips drew thin like he was almost scolding you.

“I know you’re tired, Tuesday’s are lazy days… But fuck, Joel, just like… Let me ride your face or something.”

Not many more words were exchanged after that request. In a matter of a minute you were naked and straddling his scratchy face, pussy leaking down onto his neck.

His rough hands ran up your spine, elbows keeping you firmly placed on his mouth. It was then he realized the one muscle in his body that wasn’t tired after a long day of work was his tongue.

And you loved it, how it slipped between your folds and curled into the hood of your needy clit while his moans carried you through limbo to your first orgasm.

Your nipples peaked between his fingers that toyed with them. His tongue didn’t stop either, slipping up into you and obnoxiously slurping up whatever juice poured out before tracing your clit again once it had stopped throbbing as much.

It was orgasm after orgasm that evening, and Joel didn’t have to move a muscle. Well, the sore ones anyway.

That’s how it started — your little requests weren’t frequent enough to make him feel like he wasn’t pleasing you, but not seldom enough to where you two grew bored of each other.

It was a month since that first ask, and on a supply run you’d spotted a Playboy magazine. You thought Playboy was an old game or something at first so you grabbed it out of curiosity, and after flipping through a few high quality pages you saw one that piqued your interest: a woman bent over a sink looking at the camera through the reflection of a mirror.

You rolled the magazine up and snuck it in your pack without anyone noticing, mind on one thing and one thing only for the rest of the day.

By the time you’d returned to Jackson and finished up your duties the sun was beginning to set, marking the end of the day for most of the community, including Joel, so it wasn’t a surprise seeing him with his reading glasses on tinkering with something that seemed important but wasn’t as important as the soaked panties you had on.

“Hey, figured you’d be back later,” Joel greeted.

He pulled his glasses down to see the scowl on your face, recognizing it as your thoughtful face rather than your Joel's-in-big-trouble face.

“Wh-”

“I want you to bend me over the bathroom sink and fuck me in front of the mirror,” you stated. He was silent for a second too long and it made you hesitate. “...If that’s okay with you.”

Joel was up and flinging you over his shoulder in an instant, his boots began trudging up the stairs and your excited laughter planted a smile on his face. You heard him flick the light switch and kick the door shut, then he sat you on the sink counter to give you a wet kiss and undress you out of most of your clothing.

You turned around, balancing yourself in the same position you’d remembered the girl in the magazine was: left toes on the ground, right knee propping you spread and open at the perfect angle for Joel’s hardening cock to slide into.

You watched him intensely in the reflection, seeing how his eyebrows pinched together as your tight hole squeezed around him. He grasped at your waist, pulling your body back to meet his rough thrusts halfway.

“Fuck, look at that pretty little thing,” he moaned. “Suckin’ me up all good an’ sweet.”

Your moans bounced off of the walls of the small room and your pussy grew wetter when he firmly wrapped a hand around your mouth and his dark eyes locked with yours.

“That what you wanted, sweetie? Wanted to watch me take you from behind?”

You tried to nod against the tight grip he had on you; your nails dug into the countertop when he bottomed-out inside of you, and his hand muffled what would have been a screech. He watched the tears well up in your eyes and felt the way your thigh trembled against his.

He did this a few more times, pushing his fat cock deep inside of you until you were oozing thick, white cum. 

You started rolling your hips back into him, loving the way the tip of his dick would nudge your sweet spot over and over again. He let go of your face, watching your eyes squeeze shut before he decided to watch the way your ass bounced off of his soft belly. He leaned back, letting you do whatever you needed to in order to feel good.

The air was thick and hot, almost suffocating as you drew each breath in. You were so close, Joel could feel it in the way your pussy tried to suck him in harder and it made both of your stomachs swell with that unusually familiar gratification.

His thick fingers fumbled around for your clit and when he found it he rubbed sloppy but slow circles around it creating the perfect rhythm for your body to give in.

Your walls pulled in almost too tight, stinging around his thickness as the rest of you went numb. You whined, calves shaking from the odd position as your orgasm rippled through you making the moment feel like an eternity. 

Joel held you through it, whispering things like, “That’s it,” and “Good girl,” while finishing inside of you.

He waited until you looked like you came back to reality, a satisfied grin spread pretty on your face and shined bright in the mirror where he was looking.

“Was that good, baby?” He asked, lips brushing against the warm shell of your ear.

“It was perfect,” you answered.

Carefully he removed your leg from the counter and kissed along your neck, fixing his lips on the way to your shoulder to tell you he’d run you a bath and listen to you tell him all about your last couple of days.

Over the next few days you were compulsively flipping through the booklet of Playboy Bunnies; you knew what porn consisted of, but not what it could be. It got you thinking about how porn is made, and what an actual pornographic movie consisted of. You were starting to ask Joel too many questions that were vague and lewd at the same time, and he was growing frustrated.

“Joel? …You ever watch porn?”

That was your fifth question in the last ten minutes, and he had a sink above him that needed fixing. But the clank of his tools and tired sigh didn’t register to you as you being somewhat of a distraction.

“What?”

You shrugged, tiptoeing over to him and kicking his leg softly. “Movies where they have sex.”

He almost laughed. “I—I know what porn is, I just don’t know why you’re asking if I’ve seen one.”

Your cheeks were turning red, nose scrunching as you thought deeply. “What about porn magazines?”

“You mean like a Playboy?”

“Yes!” You dropped to your knees next to him, tugging his arm and asking him again, “Have you read those before?”

“Well, there’s not much reading to be done,” he joked, “but yeah. When I was a teenager mostly. Why? D’you find one?”

You hummed, pulling yourself back up to run upstairs; he listened to your feet patter on the ceiling above him before you made your way back to sitting next to him on the cold floor. “Look!”

“You brought it home?” He asked incredulously, chuckling at the way your eyes lit up at the naked girl on a prop bed.

You rambled about how the girls looked so pretty with their makeup and hair done, and Joel just listened to you, watching your eyes frantically move around the pictures and point to the least sexual things. “I wish I could get pretty like them for you,” you giggled, “I’d do anything to have my hair and makeup done like a pop star or something. Like these girls.”

Hearing those words made his gut twist with guilt. He never forgot about the age difference between you two but he did often forget how young you were when the world went to shit. Makeup and designer clothes weren’t a priority in this world to anyone, but he didn’t like hearing you say you wished for things. He knew then and there he’d just have to find a way to make you happy.

Not before a few words of encouragement though.

“Sweetheart, you are– here gimmie that.” He took the magazine and tossed it across the floor and then held your face in his grimy hands. “You are prettier than any of those girls. You get more beautiful every damn day.”

“You mean that?” You asked, nothing but playfulness lingered in your voice.

“I do… But, if you want some makeup that bad—”

“YES YES YES! Please, Joel!”

He grunted after you threw yourself onto him. Your constant pleads turned into grateful kisses, and he couldn’t help but to finally laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

And a few weeks later he did just that. You’d pretty much forgotten about that conversation, so when he came back from a two day-long run to find you still sleeping in his bed with one of his old t-shirts on, he just set the few things he managed to find on the nightstand and climbed into bed with you.

When you woke up a while later you buried yourself into Joel’s bicep for a little longer before the need to stretch your limbs became too much.

You rolled over, groaning before you spotted something unusual next to you. Quietly, you sat up and reached for the small items reading each of the labels, though they were mostly worn off.

A tube you recognized as mascara, a blush, and something you could only assume to be an eyeliner but you weren’t sure.

You fought your instinct to be loud and disturb the snoring man behind you and tiptoed into the bathroom where you spent the next hour trying to make your eyes look bigger and cheeks redder.

Joel didn’t wake up until you were gone for the day which wasn’t unusual — what was unusual was that it was clear you’d gotten your gift but didn’t disturb his slumber with it.

He briefly pondered whether you liked it or not, but assumed you decided to do him a favor and let him sleep in for once. So, he just smiled at the red-colored fingerprints on the countertop and went on about his day.

“Yeah, we’ll have that house up and ready, end of this week,” he told Maria, who thanked him and told him not to work too late before leaving his office.

You had just finished up with the kids at school and wanted to make it to Joel before he left; he looked up when you leaned on his doorframe where he saw you wearing a shapeless dress and the makeup he’d left for you.

“Well, looky here,” he said as he leaned back in his chair. “You like it?”

Closing and locking the door, you bit your lip and padded over to him, then mindlessly sat on his blueprint sheet. “Best gift ever,” you chirped.

“I get you the right stuff?”

Nodding, you leaned down to give him a kiss. “I think so. Is it too much?”

He ran a thumb over your tinted cheek, a gooey look in his eyes. Your eyes looked extra big with the small eyeliner wing and the longer, blacker lashes. You certainly didn’t need these things to look beautiful, but he was starting to see why you wanted it so bad a few weeks ago.

“No, s’perfect,” he whispered.

“How much longer you gonna be here, old man?”

He pretended to be annoyed with the nickname, sliding you off of his papers and into his lap. “Couple hours.”

Your face scrunched up in disappointment. “That’s too long, Joel,” you complained.

“Well, what am I supposed to do, baby? I can’t just tell Maria to wait—“

“Let’s fuck real quick,” you said. “Oh come onnn, just real quick.”

His eyes peeked at you over the thin frame of his glasses, and his hands attempted to nudge you out of his lap. “No no no,” he scolded, “I gotta finish this up—”

You reaffirmed your position by hinging your knees against his hips. “Oh, come on, just real quick,” you pleaded. “I’ve always wanted you to bend me over the desk, ‘cause who’s gonna come in here and tell you to stop?”

His lips pursed, but still he looked around at all the open blinds and then the annoying papers flooding his desk. You batted your thickened eyelashes at him, stretching to invite him in.

“Fuck,” Joel said underneath his breath. You grinned and started moving your dress up your legs. “You better be wet under here.” He pawed at your thin panties and hummed when he felt how wet they already were. “Feels like you already came in these pretty little panties,” he said as he moved them to the side.

“Been thinking about you all day,” you moaned. 

He slipped his cock out of jeans and slapped it against your swollen clit a few times, watching how your slick made strings every time he pulled it away. You leaned your elbows on the edge of his desk then propped your feet on top of his burly thighs.

“Yeah? Thinkin’ ‘bout this fat cock, baby? Good. Don’t take too long now.” He said, pressing the tip in between your folds and watching your face twist at the delicious stretch. He let you sink down onto him, head lulling back and mindless exhales leaving your mouth.

Joel never got tired of seeing you like this, going stupid on his cock as soon as he slid it in while your face turned red and hot, legs trembling every time he slightly rubbed against that bumpy little sensitive spot inside you. Though he maintained his modesty as much as possible he couldn’t ignore the rush he was feeling from doing it so openly in his office. He loved knowing you needed him so badly you couldn’t wait until he got home.

You were already soaked around him, grinding out the sting in your walls and getting used to the size of him all over again. You were itching for your dose of Joel all day, no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t ignore the instinct in your body that told you it was a perfect time to have sex.

Your pussy was sensitive, walls gummy and warm as they clamped tight with every slow grind. You were almost embarrassed by how close you already were. He listened to you whine above him, focusing intensely on your rosy cheeks. 

“Such a pretty color I found, isn’t it?” He asked, smirking when you shot him a confused look. “On your cheeks,” he explained. “Come on, babygirl. Ain’t got much time, now.”

The sound of your ass clapping against his thighs when you started bouncing on him echoed loudly in the partially furnished room along with your moans and his grunts. He kept saying something, like c’mon girl, that didn’t quite register to you.

“F-fuck, Jo-oh. We should do this, mnh… We should have sex here m-more.”

The laugh he let out was deep, hoarse, like he found it ridiculous and cute. “You dirty girl,” he teased, “ain’t even come yet and you’re already thinking about our next fuck.”

The muscles in your thighs twitched at his humiliation. He only leaned his chair back and watched as your pussy creamed and squeezed around him. He spit on his thumb after he saw the way your clit pulsed.

“Such a needy little thing, ain’t ya?” He whispered. His dick throbbed when he saw the relief spread across your face once he finally thumbed your clit, rubbing the sweetest circles around making it jolt with sensitivity.

You watched through glassy eyes the way he worked your pussy as you rode him; your hardened nipples stroking against the layers of fabric, giving you that pinch of pleasure you needed to get closer to your climax.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he said, “keep goin’, let me feel that pretty pussy come all over me.”

“Feels s-so good, Joel,” you moaned.

Your legs wanted to give out and your toes curled inside of your shoes that rubbed his skin raw; you were fighting it, he could tell. You wanted it to last longer so that you wouldn’t have to leave him so soon, but he’d already told you not to take too long. The last thing he wanted to do was procrastinate and add onto the already overwhelming work load he had waiting for him tomorrow.

So he broke you, snapping his hips up into you rough enough to feel a difference but easy enough to not make you too sore to walk home. You felt his cock kiss your cervix, every line along his shaft rutting into your g-spot making it more sensitive while his thumb got lazy. It didn’t take much more to break you and have you trembling in his lap.

After your feet fell to the ground Joel steadied you, keeping you upright as you finished out your orgasm yourself. Your moans were pitchy, loud as his name left your throat, then you murmured, “That was amazing,” before laying your head on his shoulder.

He stroked your hair after letting out a chuckle, letting you soak him for a little longer before you came to. You pulled back, flashing him that famous smile he loved seeing so much when you were satisfied.

You raised an eyebrow and gave him a blank stare, and he just knew a question was coming. 

“Did you finish?” You asked.

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, he figured you could always tell, but maybe he got it wrong. “Uhh, no…?”

You patted his chest and stood up to fix your clothes before saying, “Welp, guess you’ll have to wait a couple hours.” You gave his crinkled cheek a kiss before walking to his door, waving at him. “Bye!”

He ended up finishing the blueprint in the morning.

Half a month later was his birthday, and you had been pestering Joel about what he wanted, which he constantly replied with your new least favorite word: “Nothing.”

He swore he could see steam coming out of your ears every time he said that seven letter word, and it only became more and more funny to him. Even when you phrased the question differently he still managed to find a way to slip a nothing in. 

“Do you want something practical for your birthday?” You’d ask.

“I told you I don’t want nothing.”

And he’d laugh his ass off right after, and you quickly learned to not correct the double negative as it’d just result in more teasing.

Still, you insisted on getting him something for his birthday, and at some point you settled on cake.

Not just the traditional kind.

You were wearing one of his t-shirts by the time he came home from some meeting with his brother; he found you in the kitchen where you were beating something in a bowl, and just admired you in your comfort. Messy ponytail and evidence of a cake being made due to the considerable amount of flour on the floor while you hummed along to some country song going on the record player in the other room.

He watched you turn around, dropping the whisk on the floor and yelping when you saw him leaning against the doorframe.

“Jesus fuck, Joel!”

He walked over and took the whisk out of your hand when you picked it up; he apologized but didn’t hide the fact that he found it funny before discarding the whisk in the sink.

“Now you don’t get your gifts,” you lied.

“Aw, baby come on,” he griped, “don’t be like that.”

“You scared me.”

“I’m sorry, doll, come here.”

He brought you into a firm hug, lips casting kisses all over your scrunched face. His beard tickled and poked you all around, the lines around his eyes crinkling deeper at the sound of you giggling.

“Say sorry again,” you whispered when he found your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing his mouth against yours for a slow, steady kiss. “You made me a cake?”

Your eyes lit up at the reminder of his present. “Oh! No.”

His face fell and he looked around at the very obvious ingredients along the counter. “Wh- then s’all this?”

“I couldn’t figure out what to get you, so I figured I’d just give you me!”

Joel pondered, feeling a swell in his belly at your offering. “Mmkay. That don’t explain all this.”

Scoffing, you reached for the mixing bowl and held it up to his face. “I want you to lick alllll this off of me.”

His head jerked back and he shot a frown at you, earning a simper from you. He removed the bowl from your hands, sliding it on the counter. “You are certainly creative,” he sighed.

Pouting, you took his shirt off of your body to reveal you had nothing on underneath; Joel stared, hand instinctively rising to cup a tit but you smacked it away.

“You didn’t even try it, Joel,” you said.

He motioned for you to go ahead, clearly unamused by your antics. He still sucked the vanilla icing off of your finger when you held it up for him, and moaned at the way you dragged it across his tongue.

“Would you like some cake?” You softly asked him.

Despite being unsure what exactly that meant he nodded, ogling the way you turned around and dug into the icing some more; you used a finger to spread a small line of it up your right butt cheek.

His mouth fell agape and pupils dilated when he understood your request, but without you needing to say another word he dropped onto his sore knees. He cupped your ass in both of his hands, cursing under his breath at the way it spilled out over his hands.

“Don’t be shy,” you said, “it’s your birthday.”

You jumped when he bit the meat of your ass, tittering after his tongue licked up the sweet cream then kissed the spot he gnawed on.

Precum dribbled from between your pussy lips and stuck to your inner thighs during the repetition of dragging some icing up somewhere and having him lick and suck it off of you.

Joel didn’t hold back his desperation either, growling and suffocating himself in your flesh. His face was sticky and warm as he grew more bothered by the second with a cock below his tight denim that throbbed for freedom and your touch.

“Fuckin’ love this ass,” he moaned, giving a hard smack to watch it jiggle for him. His thick hands squeezed and massaged, spreading your cheeks open and giving him a view he didn’t know he was so excited to see. “Look at that pretty fuckin’ pussy, all slippery and wet for me. And that pretty asshole… Is that for me too?”

Your breath was steady, more still that he expected. “Let’s see,” you edged, taking a tiny amount of the sugary spread and covering your asshole with it and bending over.

A greedy hum rumbled in his chest at the filthy sight. He glanced up and caught the smirk on your face, wiping it off as soon as he pressed his slick tongue against the tight ring. You moaned at the strange feeling that took you a second to get used to, it wasn’t like you thought it’d be. In a way it was both underwhelming and riveting.

But then he started flicking his tongue around the brim and the tiny opening making you cry out and arch your ass deeper into his face. He moaned as you puckered against his tongue, tasting the flesh and the last bit of icing that was left behind.

Your hand found a way back into his hair, shoving his face impossibly deep as you grinded against his stubble before his tongue managed to briefly slip into your pussy.

“Does she need some attention too, baby?” His words vibrated soft and low against your skin.

“Can’t wait,” you gasped, “Joel—please…”

He stood back up. A look of contentment crossed his face as you turned around, sly grin pushing your blushing cheeks up. “Tell me what you need, baby,” his voice was quiet but easy.

You gazed into his shadowy orbs, a tickled type of noise emitting from you. “It’s your birthday, Joel.”

“I want you to tell me what you want.” His voice, though still quiet, wasn’t filled with any more hints of merriment. “Like those lil requests you always got for me,” he continued, words steady, certain. “Always wantin’ me to do something new, so go on… What does my babygirl want today?”

“Hmm,” you looked around trying to come up with an idea until you thought of something simple but exciting nonetheless, “I want you to like, have your way with me? Is that what that’s called?”

“Mhm,” he hid his amusement well, treading lightly as he steered the conversation further. “Like what?”

“I want it hard,” you creased, “and rough.”

That made him laugh, loud, the kind that was genuine and raw, but you cocked an eyebrow up which made him shrug.

You tugged on his hand pulling him behind you as you left the kitchen. “What? You too old for it or something?” You bullied. “Gonna complain about them knees again?”

Joel popped your ass as a warning but it didn’t stop you from talking your shit as he chased you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

He wasn’t worried at all about hurting himself, not even with the agitation on his bones. In fact he knew having to push through on a night like this wouldn’t be too grave of a task.

You, though? You were easy to break, he knew that. It didn’t matter how much or little he prepped you, he’d have you dumb on his dick in a matter of minutes every time. He also knew you were trying to push his buttons, get him angry so he’d fuck you harder, but it was all fun and games to him.

He’d give you what you thought you wanted and what he knew would be enough, afraid of loosening the reins too much and too soon.

“Cat got your tongue?” The teeter in your voice was noticeable, but in the way that egged him on.

His tongue clicked, a sign he was getting fed up with your antics. He didn’t bother responding either, eyes keening over your bare features with his boots knocking against the hardwood floor.

You bashed away, turning around and sinking onto your hands and knees.

Joel smirked as inched closer to the bed from the way your body beckoned him; your ass wiggled back trying to find warmth, trying to find him.

A hand of his roughing against your back made you jolt, then you told him again only sounding more destitute than before. “I want you to fuck me hard and rough… Please, Joel? Ohh, pretty please…”

His shoulders slacked alongside the dry wheeze he let out. You were soft, too soft for him to just treat like that. Yet delicious water kept flowing from inside you, and his dick was too dry for how hard it’d gotten. He had to give you something.

“Okay,” he simply said, removing his own clothes in the process.

Joel’s fuzzy tip smack against your asshole to make it ache; your back arched deeper, belly pressing against the sheets and knees burning against the edge of the mattress.

That yummy stretch made you melt inside as he slid his cock in, weighing thick and heavy against your fleshy walls.

He tapped your inner thigh with a couple fingers, watching the corner of your face contort from the feeling of him inside of you.

“Open.”

And you did, panting against your forearm like a puppy getting a treat so that he could fix himself and drive into you. His plush tummy molded against your hips where he kept his dick deep, thrusts faster than the pumps of your heart.

Stupid babbles left your throat sounding hoarse and excited. He wasn’t as vocal as you’d known him to be, but you could sense his focus — only you were already shattering in front of him.

Your cervix swelled every time he brushed against it, pain plunging deep in your stomach. It was only bearable from the feeling of being so full and the strokes against your sweet spot bringing you higher.

You were clawing at the bed, struggling to keep your volume down and he was above you beaming.

“You feel s’good,” you breathed, taking the three seconds he stopped thrusting to ask, “is this rough? I love it.”

It’s hardly rough, he thought, but who was he to rain on your parade?

His hand gripped your hair carefully lifting your face up so he could hear the obscenities that mindlessly came from you.

His cock twitched with every Joel and like that, baby you let out, revelling in how chatty you could get.

But your ability to articulate was dying down and your walls were getting tighter, soaking him in that viscous cream he loved seeing so much.

“Talkin’ all that shit, now look at’cha,” he grunted. “Goin’ dumb on my fucking cock, huh?”

Tears welled in your eyes, a hot swirl spreading across your belly. You cried out as his fingers tightened in your hair before you reached for his wrist.

“Gimmie, gimmiegimmiegimmie,” you huffed, popping his thumb into your mouth and drooling all over it. “My ass, Joel. Put it in there.”

Joel cursed, mind going hazy from your coarse words. He added some more spit of his own, allowing it to drip from his trembling lips.

“Want it in that tight ass,” he spanked you with his other hand, poking at the tiny hole while his other movements slowed.

He didn’t wait for a yes, instead he listened to the wet squelch from between his digit and your tough flesh. He played with it, watched it squeeze somehow tighter than it was before finally dipping into it.

The ache was a wet smolder that had you gripping onto both extremities like your fucking life depended on it.

A few threads of the sheets were torn where you have scratched at, the rest sticking to your sweaty tits and you tried not to run from the overwhelming delight.

His hips seemed to have a mind of their own, barely pulling back before shooting back into you but his thumb was deliberate and gentle.

Just the sight of you bent over and feeling so good from it was more than enough to make him eager to bust his load inside of you.

“You like that—oh, yeah, you fucking love it,” he cooed. “Feels good getting fucked in both holes, dun’it.”

You tried to say yes but it was mushy and guttural instead. Your head bobbed in line with his hasty fucks, eyes piercing the back of your skull with no intention of coming back.

His balls angrily smacked your clit, and you were unsure which part of you was going to come first.

Joel’s rambling didn’t silence your mind either, you were dangerously close and you were failing to distinguish where any of it was coming from.

“Love how you suck it up in there, dirty thing,” he teased. “Squeeze it, baby, come on and show me what a good little slut you are—thaaat’s it. There you go.”

You pussy choked his cock and you waned into his broad waist, stifled moans and hum etching into the duvet as you came.

“Fuck, gonna make me come,” he strained, placing both hands on your waist to ground himself.

Your toes arched along his hairy thighs, mind in a pure daze while he spilled his seed into you.

“Fuck, babe,” he said as his last bit of come spurted out.

You felt his fingers tickle up your spine followed by some kisses. Your skin was musky in his mouth, soaking up that layer of sweat Joel managed to give you.

There were stains from tear droplets beneath your cheeks, but he shushed your lingering whimpers.

“You okay?” He asked.

A lazy nod was all you could muster for a moment or two, waiting until the weight of him was off of you to take a full breath in.

From there you did your usual clean up routine, which was mainly just Joel cleaning up and finding some way to lay with you after.

You watched his eyes and mouth and jaw as he quietly told you he loved you, his tone soothing enough to make your eyelids heavy.

“Happy Birthday, Joel,” you whispered; you felt his cheek push into your head and you imagined a smile. “Also I lied. There is cake in the fridge. Your favorite.”

“Mmkay, we’ll eat it for breakfast tomorrow.”

“What if I want you to eat me instead?”