Summary: On a flight you don’t want to take, has you reaching out to someone. Literally.
Notes: Reader has flying anxiety. A little bit of flirting. Inspired by the prompt “Can you hold my hand?” This has been in my drafts for months and I need to stop being scared.
masterlist
Flights weren’t always a problem. Sometimes you’d get antsy when the plane would land, but takeoff? That was your least favorite part. Flying alone wasn’t helping either.
Your mind was racing, dreading the upcoming minutes of the airplane making wide turns on the runway, accelerating, and eventually ascending into the “friendly” skies.
Because you had nowhere else to go, you decided to tap into a meditation exercise you’ve practiced over the years. Patting yourself on the back for choosing an aisle seat — which gave you more wiggle room. Anything to help you block out the ebb and flow of passengers getting settled and the staff making their pre-flight rounds.
Eyes fixed on the screen directly ahead while tapping your foot frantically. Arms crossed, but only momentarily. You unfold them to rummage through your purse, in search of relief, in the form of Dramamine, or anything that could pull your focus from the impending doom in your mind. The pill was inserted quickly, slowly dissolving on your tongue, making the wait more stressful. A swig of water to clear the taste. But you just couldn’t drink too much, because your plan was to not get up and use the lavatory.
What made this time miserable? The purpose of this trip was putting you over the edge. It had been six months since you bought a ticket and skipped town, neglecting the changes that were ultimately going to be part of your new normal. You had to come back eventually. Returning home was usually a thing to look forward to.
Not this time.
Nothing appeared to be going right and you needed something to change. So, you thought back to when life was in perfect motion. That was before you left everything you knew.
“Takeoffs are always the most fun part.”
Slowly, your eyes shifted to the passenger on your left. A man, possibly in your age bracket, or a year or two above it, was enjoying his comment a little too much. The soft, husky chuckle resonating in his throat. You were so caught up, you didn’t even notice his presence until that very moment.
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When your high-powered marketing career goes up in flames, you find yourself back in Texas and out of options—until your old childhood friend Tommy offers you a job at his family’s growing construction company. The only catch? His older brother Joel, the project manager with a chip on his shoulder and zero patience for your city-slicker attitude.
You clash instantly: you’re clever, confident, and painfully corporate. He’s quiet, rugged, and set in his ways. You push his buttons. He pushes back harder. But somewhere between long meetings, late nights, resurfacing memories, and hurt, along with one very unexpected work trip… the tension starts to shift.
What begins as bickering turns into banter. Glances linger. Walls crack. And neither of you is quite sure when things started to change.
♡ Side Stories (Don't read if you want spoilers!) :
T&C: HOLIDAYS OFF
Christmas fluff, post-main story, slight spoilers if you really read into it, family fluff
T&C: FIRST LOVE
Prequel Story, Raymond's POV, so much fluff it hurts, pregnancy, baby Joel
T&C: DRESS HIM UP
Sequel Story, family fluff, date-night prep, Joel's POV
T&C: LEARN IN MORE WAYS
Sequel Story, family fluff, almost smut, SC's POV, graduation season, parental fluff
♡ Fan-Extras:
♡ Moodboards, fan Spotify playlist by @broknedits
♡ Fan edits by @evcrmoree
♡ Joel and Reader's son fanart, baby!Sarah + young!Joel by @krispykattv
♡ Happy couple things fanart, chapter 29, young!Joel's animal, Raymond + Lorraine + Baby Joel, Clause 37 Flashback, 13years!Joel+Sarah (mostly oc x t&c!Joel) by @hoziersguitarr
♡ Family Tree (after the cut contains spoilers) by @honey-moon-13
♡ Moodboards by @onlythehobi/@dilf-docs
once given the green light is physically in capable of having his hands out of your hair, always giving soft scalp massages, always offering to twist your hair, treats your wash day like christmas
buys you hair charms All The Time, every time you get braids or locs or twists he treats you like his little barbie doll
you have officially turned joel miller into a scented candle and incense addict and there is no going back, the house always smells like vanilla and love
he’s a sap and a softy so of course he’s buying you and sarah matching bonnets
if he’s more than 5 shots deep of any dark liquor he is giving latino usher to the best of his ability, he’s putting on a show for his best girl, and yes he’s singing superstar
he’s been trying to figure out your baked mac recipe by taste (you refuse to give it to him) for ages, begs you to make it for him, mentally notes down everything he tastes, makes his own Not Great version and rinse and repeat
you’ve been trying to figure out his pollo guisado recipe, it’s the best game of culinary cat and mouse
can pinpoint your exact mood based solely on the music you play throughout the house, megan? anything from renaissance? any of the rap girls? it’s girls night and he’s bobbing his head and staying out of the way while you’re getting ready, the old school mary j. blige blaring out lets him know to stop by the wine store and grab your favorite bottle and also your favorite snacks
once you introduced to him to brunch, PROPERLY it became a Sunday tradition, sunday mornings at 10:30 joel is calling an uber for the two of you to go get absolutely destroyed on bottomless mimosas
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Warnings: language, drinking, reader has a lot of issues (anxiety, self doubt, traumatic past not yet explored but it's implied, panic attacks), jealousy, Joel likes bossy women, smut (18+, piv sex)
Other parts can be found here
The nerves leading up to your first date with Joel were ridiculous all week. Can you even call it a first date if you've already had sex twice? Whatever. Regardless, the spiraling and the overthinking were on another level, even for you.
It's just a beer, it's just a beer, you kept repeating to yourself. But you knew that wasn't true. For him, maybe, but for you? This was a huge step. Something you haven't done in years, and for good reason. If you still saw your therapist, you're certain she would be proud of you for doing this after everything that's happened. As you finish your makeup, you roll your eyes at yourself in the mirror, knowing exactly what she would have said if she knew you wanted her approval.
You don't need anyone's approval but your own.
Unfortunately, you've never been able to wrap your arms around that piece of advice. You still seek it out constantly.
You swipe some lipgloss on and run your fingers through your hair a few times, tilting your head back and forth until you're satisfied with how it lays before you flick off the light and head towards your kitchen.
The jeans you picked are cute, you think. Tight enough to show off your curves but not too tight that you'll be uncomfortable. The tank top is flowy with skinny straps and a little low cut. It had you second guessing if you looked too desperate, but your backup outfit was a dress and you're certain that would have looked ridiculous in the dive bar you picked. Then you forced yourself to stop overthinking it and just wear the goddamn tank top because Joel's already seen your tits anyway, so who cares?
You take a deep breath and take a long sip of water, gaze flickering anxiously to the clock on your wall. God, you're so out of practice for stuff like this, what were you thinking?
Maybe you should cancel. Fake an illness. A death in the family. No, that's too dark. Sweat begins to bead at your temples as your pulse kicks up.
This was a huge mistake. You're not ready.
Shaky fingers pick up your phone. As you're about to text him some weak excuse, there's a knock at your door and you freeze.
Shit. Too late.
Your heart is in your throat as you slowly walk down the hallway, towards your door. Every step makes the panic rise. Your vision narrows. You try to swallow but your throat's too tight.
Nothing bad is going to happen.
Numb fingers wrap around your doorknob and you tug it open.
Joel is waiting on the other side looking... great. Clean. You blink hard. You've only ever seen him working, when he's covered in sweat and dirt and wearing junk clothes. But the man before you now is freshly showered, beard is trimmed, and he's wearing some type of cologne with a hint of spice. You think you've smelled traces of it on him before but to have the full effect now is very different. It's throwing you off, making you forget about your insecurities entirely.
You're staring. You haven't said anything and you're staring at him like a crazy person. Say something.
"Uh, hi."
Brilliant. Great job.
When you lift your gaze to meet his eyes, you find you weren't the only one gawking. Joel looks speechless for once in his life as he slowly takes in your outfit. All his bravado is mysteriously missing for a minute and it's giving you a much needed ego boost.
"Those for me?" you ask smugly, pointing at the white flowers he's clutching in his fist. Finally, Joel shakes his head like he's snapping out of a trance and looks down.
"Jesus—yes, sorry darlin'."
He hands you the flowers and you grin before sniffing them and making a pleased sound. "Thank you," you say sincerely, and his expression softens.
"Welcome."
"Let me put these in water before we go," you tell him, turning on your heel and walking back into your kitchen. "You can come in if you want," you toss breezily over your shoulder. What were you so worried for?
Joel's head tilts to the side as he stares at your ass disappearing down your hall. "Like the view right here just fine," he drawls, and you shoot him a weak look of offense before slipping out of sight. When you return, he's smiling that easy smile that makes his dimple crease. It's an entirely different feeling walking towards your door the second time—the panic has been replaced with excitement. This is Joel—he's easy to talk to. He's fun. This should be a good night.
He leads you to his truck with his palm pressed firmly against your spine. It's not a controlling touch, just a gentle guide. You like it more than you care to admit.
"Did I tell you how pretty you look?" he asks after helping you into the truck. He braces one forearm above the door with a grin as you get comfortable in the passenger seat.
"You didn't," you say, looking up at him through your lashes, "but it was strongly implied."
"You sayin' you got a good read on me?" he teases.
"Like a book, Miller," you grin. He chuckles then pushes off the door before closing it and rounding the front to slide into the driver's seat. Before he shifts the truck into reverse, he breathes loudly through his nose and shakes his head.
"Wow," he whispers like he's in awe. You feel your chest warm, assuming the breathlessness in his voice was your doing.
"What?" you ask a little timidly.
He shakes his head again in disbelief, looking entirely serious when he says, "Nothin'. Just... can't believe my two girls are finally together."
You pause as you try to process what he just said.
"Your—"
"You 'n my truck."
"Oh, my god!" you groan, embarrassed you allowed yourself to think he was about to say something heartfelt in the first place. "Don't compare me to your truck. And I'm not your girl."
He throws his head back with a laugh and despite yourself, you giggle. He makes it so easy when you're together that even the drive to the bar isn't awkward. He has the radio on low and he hums along with some country tune, fingers tapping occasionally on the wheel. You let the fresh breeze from the open windows caress your skin and relax your body. Occasionally, you glance his way when he's too busy watching the road to notice. The jeans he's wearing are clean. Belt looks nicer, too. Not new, but probably the clothes he sets aside for dates or parties or any time he needs to look presentable. You like imagining what that looks like, in his house. A certain drawer housing clothes that may go untouched but a few times a year. And you like the idea of him pulling out those clothes for you.
His shirt is different, too. It's a plain black tee but it's still bright, so you know he hasn't needed to wash it much yet. On top of that is a dark green flannel, buttons open and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You can't see his boots but you hazard a guess those are nicer than the dirty work boots you're used to seeing.
Eventually he catches on and shifts in his seat.
"Wishin' you cancelled on me already?" he asks, eyes still pinned on the road.
"Not yet," you reply, leaving out your panic attack before he arrived. He doesn't need to know about all that.
He hums and casually taps his fingers against the steering wheel again, squinting as he approaches an intersection. "You go to this bar a lot?"
"I used to," you admit, gaze drifting through the windshield to gauge where you are. "Back when I was in college I came here more often than I probably should've."
"That's a relief. Thought you picked this place so yes wouldn't run into anyone you knew," he grins.
"Oh, that too," you joke smoothly, and he laughs again before slowing and throwing on his turn signal to pull into the parking lot.
Joel helps you slide out of the passenger seat. You murmur your thanks and walk side by side towards the bar.
When a jeep backs out of a parking spot, Joel immediately redirects you and places his body between yours and the car. His expression gives nothing away. He didn't do it as a performance. He just... did it. Like it's second nature, he didn't think twice. Something about it makes your pulse skip.
Even from here, you can hear the music pumping from the jukebox. A few people linger outside to smoke with beers dangling from their fingertips. They casually watch you approach and nod to you both when Joel reaches forward to open the door for you.
Inside, the bar looks the same as it always did. You think they may have fixed some of the cracked seats on the barstools but otherwise, nothing else really changed. There are still a few televisions mounted high up on the walls showing a different sporting event on each one. There are still four pool tables and a dart board tucked into the back of the room, near the bathrooms. The lighting is still dim and the crowd is still the same—a mix of college students blowing off steam and a middle aged crowd scattered amongst the bar and surrounding tables.
It's loud already at only nine at night. There's a college football game on the television above the bartender's heads that most people seem to be focused on. And as Joel leads you to the bar to order, your boots still stick to the floors just like they always did before. If it wasn't so loud, you bet you'd be able to hear them unstick with every step.
"What do you like to drink?" Joel asks after he wedges himself a spot against the bar. He pulls out his wallet and looks at you expectantly. "Wine? Some mixed drink?"
"A beer, whatever kind you're having."
He gives you a surprised look and a nod before turning back to the bar. Behind him, you awkwardly tuck your hands into the back pockets of your jeans and wait, looking around. You spot a couple empty tables near the front windows and you tap Joel's shoulder.
"I'm gonna go grab a—"
But before you can finish your sentence, a familiar face appears behind the bar. It takes you a moment to recognize him, but he clocks you right away and frowns.
"Hey! I remember you! Didn't I say you ain't allowed here anymore?"
Your eyes go wide with horror but Joel just grins easily and sets back to watch the exchange.
"No! That was—"
"Nah, it was you. You and that other girl you were always with. Gave me too many goddamn headaches. Actually—" He leans forward across the bar with a towel dangling over his shoulder. "That friend of yours never did pay me back for the pool table."
"Pool table?" Joel repeats, clearly amused. Your cheeks burn.
"Had to refelt it. Wasn't cheap."
"That wasn't me," you insist.
"Sure as shit was."
You groan and prop your hands on your hips. "C'mon, Dave. That was a long time ago and it was her heels that scratched up the felt, not mine."
Joel laughs, clearly delighted.
Dave's eyes drift slowly between you and Joel before relenting and straightening back up. But then he points a finger at you and you cower a little.
"You can stay. But none of that bullshit anymore, you hear?"
"Yes," you promise, throughly embarrassed.
Joel tilts his head towards Dave. "Two drafts. And don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her," he says. When Dave grunts and turns around to pull the tap, Joel's gaze finds yours and adds so only you can hear, "she's a good girl now."
You narrow your eyes, ignoring the arousal blooming low in your belly at the term of endearment. "Don't start," you warn.
Joel barks out a laugh and grabs the two glasses after paying. "You got alotta explain' to do," he murmurs in your ear before trailing after you to an empty table. You slide into the curved booth right in front of the window and Joel follows. The creak of the thick vinyl seats under his weight can be heard over the classic rock song pouring from the jukebox speakers. On the table is an abandoned bucket of shelled peanuts and you quickly grab one just for something to busy your hands.
"So," Joel says, twisting his body to face yours. His free arm is popped on the top of your seat as the other cups his glass on the table. You like the way he slightly curves his body around yours. "Care to explain what that was all 'bout?"
You shrug, cracking into the peanut shell. "Can't really remember. It was a lifetime ago."
"Bullshit," he laughs, "tell me. You get up to no good back in the day or what?"
You grin up at him and pop a peanut into your mouth. "Maybe."
"Yeah? And who's the other girl?"
Your throat tightens at the memory. "I don't talk to her anymore."
Joel doesn't notice your discomfort. You're better at hiding it now.
"No? Why not? She tearin' up felt in some other bar now?"
He takes a sip from his beer while you chew. "Something like that," you say, and before he can push further, you change the subject. "Have you ever gotten kicked out of a bar before?"
He rolls his eyes and sets down his beer. "Oh, Christ. Yeah. Not my fault, though."
"Oh, I'm sure."
"I mean it!"
"Likely story," you grin, and just like that, the memory of another life fades.
"It was my little brother's fault mostly," he continues, snatching up a peanut. His arm is still propped up on the seat behind you, his hand inches from the back of your neck. You melt into the seat a little so he's closer.
"You have a brother?"
He nods. "Tommy. He's... well, he thinks he's a white knight sometimes. Gets him in trouble."
"So you're the real white knight?"
Joel smirks as he chews. "That's bein' generous."
"Well, you help him out when he's in trouble, right?" you press.
"Outta obligation, not 'cause I'm some hero."
"Oh, don't think I said hero." You playfully poke him in the ribs. He flinches and grabs your hand with a flirty grin.
"Haven't even had a sip of beer and you're already gettin' handsy with me."
You roll your eyes with a smile and yank your hand out of his grip. "You're the one who's holding onto me like Velcro."
"Gotta make sure you don't end up on that pool table again, I made a promise to good ol' Dave."
"Oh, you just loved that, didn't you?"
"I did." He takes another sip of his beer and you follow suit, your eyes never leaving one another over the rims of your glasses. He sets it down and subtly shifts a little closer. "Like findin' out more 'bout you. You're a mystery, y'know that?"
"Am I?" you ask innocently before taking another drink.
"Mhm," he hums, gaze slowly dragging across your face like he's searching for something. "So far, all's I know 'bout you is you work a whole lot 'n you like that you're good at it." He rubs his chin thoughtfully for a second as you pluck another peanut from the bucket. "Well, know a few other things, too. Wouldn't wanna say it in front of mixed company, though."
You smack his shoulder and he laughs. God, his laugh is so infectious. Every time you try to keep a stern expression, you fail.
"What'd I say?" he exclaims, rubbing his shoulder with a shit eating grin.
"You know what you said," you scold, throwing the peanut at his chest.
"Hey! Meant your burnt cookies, I don't know what you're thinkin'."
"Oh, yeah right."
"Didn't wanna embarrass you," he says defensively. You look around the bar, at the oblivious patrons, and then back at him.
"I think I'll live."
There's a brief pause where neither of you say anything, but it's not uncomfortable. He doesn't stop smiling and neither do you. There's a pull between you that leaves you both feeling a little exhilarated.
"Well?" he asks you as his fingers brush gently against your hair. You find yourself drawing even closer to him, like a magnet. To distract yourself, you take another long sip from your beer before catching his eye again.
"Well... what?" you reply.
"Gonna tell me somethin' 'bout yourself or you gonna make me work harder for it?"
You grin and cross your legs under the table. Your foot nudges his leg but neither of you move.
"What do you want to know?"
Joel thinks about it over a healthy drink from his glass before setting it down with determination.
"When was your last relationship?"
You laugh, mostly to cover up the sheer panic you know would otherwise be written all over your face. You're sure of it because you can feel your blood run cold at the mere mention of your romantic past.
"Let's start with something a little less..." you trail off and Joel throws you a lifeline.
"Intense?"
You nod. "Yeah. Intense."
"Alright," he says easily, entirely unbothered by you dodging the question. "You got any family?"
That's easier. You tell him about growing up with your parents and sister just outside of Austin. It was a normal childhood, by all accounts. It wasn't until the last few years when you grew apart. You leave that out and focus on the good times, before you grew up. You tell him about your sister who went to school in London and ended up falling in love with her classmate and getting married out there. How you only visited her twice but it was a beautiful city and you want to go again one day.
"What's keepin' you from seein' her?"
"Work, I guess."
Joel tsks. "Shocker."
"I know," you grin.
The way he's looking at you is making your stomach flip. He's so genuine and warm and funny... he's making it very hard to resist his charm.
"What are you thinkin' 'bout?" he asks. His gaze is heavier than before and it feels like yours is the same. At some point, your legs pressed together under the table and neither of you made the effort to separate them.
"I was thinking you clean up pretty nice," you tease softly. Then your fingers pluck at his open flannel, giving the fabric a playful tug.
Joel chuckles. "You, too. Still don't mind that flimsy robe of yours, though."
"That was my back up outfit."
"Would've gotten kicked outta here a second time for that," Joel grins, dipping his chin down. He's so close he hardly has to raise his voice over the music.
"What makes you think I've only been kicked out once?" The heat of his body surrounds you: his arm across the back of your seat, his leg against yours under the table, his mouth mere inches away from your own. If you wanted, you could kiss him right now. Maybe you should.
There's a low rumble that comes from his chest and his eyes grow darker. "And here I just got done vouchin' for what a good girl you are," he murmurs. "You gonna make a liar outta me?"
Your hand finds his leg and he breathes in sharp when you slowly curl your fingers along the inside of his thigh.
"What can I say?" you sigh, lips barely grazing his mouth. "Sometimes I'm trouble."
He groans and leans in, closing those last remaining centimeters with a slow, firm kiss. It's not messy or passionate, but it doesn't have to be. Even without tasting his tongue, you're still ready to crawl into his lap right here and now. Your fingers on his thigh tighten and his mouth parts ever so slightly, just enough for you each to take a breath before your lips slot together once again. The hand that's been taking up residence on top of your seat is now cupping your cheek, his thumb is swiping gently along your jaw, and it's so intense and sweet at the same time that you're dizzy with need and something else you can't quite admit yet.
The loud sound of billiard balls cracking together across the bar pull you out of it, but just barely. His forehead presses against yours after the kiss is broken and you each draw in a deep breath, clearing away the clouds of desire that took over your better judgement for a few weak moments.
"I'll go get us a couple more," he finally murmurs, pointing to your empty glasses when he inevitably leans back in his seat. His cheeks look a little pink and you have to stifle a smile behind your hand.
"You don't have to—" you start to say, but he cuts you off.
"If I don't get up right now, I'll end us gettin' us both banned for life," he winks, and your face flushes with heat as you laugh. Joel stands with your glasses and begins to weave his way towards the bar.
You prop your elbow on the table and rest your chin in your hand as you watch him from your booth. His back is to you so you feel free to let your gaze linger over his rugged frame, broad shoulders, and dark hair. He's so insanely sexy, just leaning against the bar so casually with that flannel exposing his strong, tanned forearms and his jeans hugging his waist just right. It almost isn't fair how good he looks, how well he fits in. Where's the flaw? What's the catch with Joel? Nobody looks as good as him and has a fun personality. You already know he's great in bed, so it's not that, either.
Stop it. You're doing it again. Stop looking for problems.
You pinch the bridge of your nose and shake loose the invasive thoughts. It's easier with a beer in your system to let that go and relax, but when your gaze settles back on Joel at the bar, another unexpected intense feeling flares up: jealousy. Because at some point in the last thirty seconds when you looked away, a very young and very blonde college girl sporting a mini skirt and cowboy boots has found a spot next to Joel at the bar and appears to be getting just a little too close for your liking.
Your lips press together as you watch, studying her body language like a hawk. She's leaning forward and saying something to Joel, then her perfectly manicured finger points to something. He glances over and plucks some napkins out of a dispenser and hands them over with a polite smile, but she's not done. She appears to be extremely grateful. She leans forward again, expressing her thanks while gently placing a hand on his arm, conveniently giving him a generous view of her cleavage.
Anger drips heavier in your veins with each bat of her fake eyelashes and every high pitched giggle that reaches your ears. You can tell Joel is trying to limit his interactions with her while still being polite, but she's not taking the hint and fucking Dave is ignoring that side of the bar entirely.
He's not your boyfriend, you have to remind yourself. But he is your date. So how much longer do you allow this to go on before doing something?
When she leans in to whisper something in his ear that makes him jerk backwards and laugh awkwardly, you get your answer. Enough is enough.
Joel's face is red as you approach from behind, and when you get closer you can hear him stammering something while the blonde watches him like a siren: all lust filled eyes with a seductive smile.
"Hey, baby," you breathe, stepping between them. You can see the discomfort in his expression, one that slips into a mix of fear and relief when his eyes settle on you. He opens his mouth, either to explain or reply, but you cut him off when you clutch his shirt and yank him down for an obnoxiously deep kiss. You make sure to moan a little so the blonde behind you hears, then you let him go with a breathless laugh.
"I missed you. What's taking so long?" you ask innocently while swiping some of your lip gloss from the corner of his mouth. Joel's eyes are wide with shock until he figures out your game, then they soften with a knowing smile.
"Busy up here. And this young lady was askin' for help," he says, jutting his chin over your shoulder. He doesn't tear his gaze away from you, though, and you like that.
Slowly, you turn to face the blonde, who is doing her best to act innocuous. You give her a smile while dropping your hand, possessively slipping your fingers between Joel's. You lazily size her up and down, then tilt your head to the side.
"Is there something we can help you with?" you ask sweetly, leaning against Joel's chest. You know you're laying it on thick and so does he. You can feel the rumble of laughter through your back and you grin.
"Uh, no," she replies with a tight smile of her own, "he was just telling me which whiskey is best."
"Oh!" you blink with surprise while Joel murmurs your order to Dave across the bar. "You're old enough to drink?"
Joel says your name softly in your ear, a light warning.
The blonde narrows her eyes at you, the mask shifting ever so slightly. "Yes. In fact, it's my birthday."
"Oh, happy birthday," you gush. Joel's fingers flex around your own. "Don't tell me you're celebrating all by yourself?" You plaster on a cheesy smile while the blonde flicks her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder to gesture to a table near the darts.
"No, my friends are over there."
When she turns back to you, your smile drops and the sweetness from your voice is gone.
"Good. You should probably go join them."
A subtle threat is laced in your tone and the blonde picks up on it easily. She slips off the stool and straightens her skirt, offers Joel a cordial wave, and disappears into the crowd.
"Goddamn," Joel chuckles after you turn around, dropping his hand with a glare.
"What did she say to you?"
"What? When?"
"You know when," you snap, "your face was red as a tomato."
Joel smirks and swipes his palm over his mouth with a shrug. "Said it was her birthday but she wanted to take me to the bathroom 'n give me a gift."
Your jaw drops. "That fucking—"
You spin back in her direction, rage boiling over, when Joel snags your arm. "Darlin', easy, a man can only get so hard."
"We got a problem here?" Dave asks, loudly setting down two beers with a scowl. You straighten up and try to unclench your jaw.
"No," you seethe.
"Good." His eyes shift wearily between you and Joel, then juts a finger in your direction. "I'm watchin' you."
You roll your eyes and grab your beer, too pissed to care.
"One foot outta line—" Dave warns Joel, and Joel waves him off before grabbing the other beer.
"Yeah, yeah. I got it."
He rushes after you, looping an arm around your waist and tugging you into his side.
"You're full'a surprises," he murmurs in your ear.
You scoff and slide into the booth, still too angry to think about much else, and take a long sip from your beer and Joel joins you.
"Does that happen often?" you ask with an edge to your voice.
"No," he says, "took me by surprise. I was tryin' to be nice." His arm resumes its post on the top of your seat and his other hand finds a home on your leg. His fingers squeeze a little as he inches forward while you take another angry gulp from your glass to settle the adrenaline. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asks, dipping low so his lips graze your ear. You find yourself leaning closer and the rage pumping through your veins begins to slow.
"What?" you reply, trying to maintain your scowl, but you're failing. Your brows cannot stay furrowed tonight.
Joel smirks and something dangerous shifts behind his eyes. "That was pretty fuckin' sexy, what you did," he admits, and despite yourself, your chest fills with pride. "Never had someone do somethin' like that for me."
"Try not to get a big head over it," you tease with a smile. The last of your anger dissipates and you poke him gently in the ribs.
"Oh, too late for that, honey," Joel laughs. He curls his body inwards more so you can feel that heat again and the hand on your thigh slides up slowly before reaching for your wrist. There's a familiar pull between your legs almost immediately from his touch.
His fingers delicately hold your wrist in your lap before he shifts in his seat and suspiciously glances around the bar. You're confused until he subtly moves your palm to the front of his jeans and you suck in a sharp breath when you feel him, hot and rock hard behind his zipper.
"Joel—"
"Wasn't kiddin'," he whispers in your ear before his lips find a sensitive spot on your throat. You bite your lip and try to ignore the warmth pooling between your thighs, but it's impossible. The gentle graze of his mouth raises the temperature of your skin and without thinking, your hand presses forward. You feel him twitch under your palm and your eyelids flutter in a desperate attempt to remain present and aware of your surroundings.
"Joel..." you try again, but your voice is merely a whisper. Still, he hums in acknowledgement, but his mouth is busy trailing down your neck. You swallow hard. "As fun as it was the other times, I'd really like to not get kicked out of here again tonight."
He makes a disappointed noise before reluctantly pulling back. Your hand falls from his lap to his leg as you stare at one another, tension thick.
"Sorry," he murmurs, voice strained. His heavy gaze drags slowly across your face, both of you equally flushed, hearts pumping wildly in your chests. Then he grins. "I really do wanna know more 'bout you, I swear it."
"I know," you giggle, tension breaking a bit.
"Can't seem to help myself when you get all pissed off," he continues, running his fingers through his hair. "You're doin' somethin' crazy to me, darlin'."
You laugh again, hiding behind your hair. You're not ready to admit it, but he's certainly doing something to you, too.
"Okay," you take a deep breath so as to fight through the veil of arousal clinging to your body, "what, uh... what movies do you like?"
The next hour or so carries on like that. Ten minutes of harmless questions, a joke here or there, and inevitably one of you finds a reason to touch the other. The tension builds again until you snap out of it and then the cycle repeats itself.
It's the beer, you think. It's making you both a little too relaxed. That's the only reasonable explaination for the unusually spectacular date. The connection feels strong because the beer is strong. That's all.
After you finish your drinks and the bar fills up with a much more rowdy crowd, Joel suggests heading out. As disappointed as you are for the night to end, you agree and stand to follow him hand in hand through the throngs of people laughing and milling around on the dance floor. It's only when you're a few feet away from the door that Joel stops and turns to you with a grin.
"Guess I wasn't that special," he says loudly over the music, then nods towards a dark booth in the corner. Your gaze follows and you burst out laughing when you spot a shock of familiar blonde hair all over some guy a few years younger than Joel.
"Sorry she broke your heart," you giggle, stumbling out of the bar side by side. Both hands curl around his bicep as you walk through the parking lot wearing matching grins.
"I'll survive," he jokes, fishing the keys out of his pocket. The music from the jukebox is fading behind you. Laughter and glasses clinking thin with every step. Instead, you begin to hear the soothing sound of crickets chirping from the nearby grass. You're silent for a minute, letting the quiet settle around you like a blanket. It's peaceful and you tip your chin up to gaze at the stars, knowing Joel won't let you trip.
"Wanna walk for a bit?" he asks once his truck is in view. Your eyes tear away from the inky night sky to look at him.
"Sure. Are you not good to drive?"
"Nah, ain't that," he says, grinning at you with that dimple. "Just don't want the night to end yet."
"Oh," you breathe, then hide your shy smile by pretending to study something imaginary across the street.
Your hands fall from his bicep and he laces his fingers between yours as you walk down the cracked sidewalk. You pass restaurants, mostly pizza and fast food places with later hours to accommodate the bar patrons. On the corner is a theater that just let out and your gaze drifts up to read the marquee.
"Oh, that one's supposed to be good," you murmur. Joel reads it and nods.
"Wanna see it next weekend?"
He says it so easily, so casually, that he has you agreeing without even missing that awkward step that typically comes after a first date, the one that has both sides wondering if it went as well as you thought and if it would lead to anything more. Joel decides to eliminate all doubt before the night is even over. He's so smooth about it that you wouldn't know for sure if he was as excited as you if you didn't happen to catch the smile stretched across his face before he swiped his palm over his mouth to hide it.
Eventually, you come to the riverwalk. It's such a calm atmosphere: lights from underneath the railings brighten your path, there's mostly couples strolling quietly along that give you an occasional nod and you smile to yourself when teenagers go racing by on bikes or scooters. Joel doesn't lead you that far, otherwise it will take forever to eventually get back to his truck, so instead he finds a secluded spot with a view and leans against the railing on his forearms. You follow his lead but shiver when the metal railing touches your skin. He notices and immediately shrugs off his flannel, draping it around your shoulders.
"Thank you," you murmur, sliding your arms into the sleeves. The heat from his body is still in the fabric. His scent clings to the fibers and it makes you a little hazy with want to have his shirt engulfing you like this because it's reminding you of the way his body felt folded around you while pummeling you from behind.
When you catch his eye, you think you see the same flash of lust there, but he averts his gaze to the water too quickly.
"Don't come here at night often," he says. The light breeze slips through his hair and it makes you want to run your fingers through it.
"Me, either," you admit, "it's nice."
Despite just wearing a short sleeved shirt now, you still feel the heat rolling off his body. You lean a little closer and watch the water lazily roll under the walkway towards the shore.
"Was it as bad as you thought it'd be?"
You glance sideways at him when he asks the question.
"What?"
He shrugs, eyes still scanning the scenery. "Tonight. Our date."
"Oh," you laugh, "I had a great time. I didn't think it would be bad."
"No?"
He shifts a little, body angling more towards you now. You do the same, leaving one arm on the railing for support and you shake your head.
Joel smiles. "Good. The way you kept makin' excuses when I'd ask before had me wonderin' if it was me."
Guilt blooms a little in your chest. "No," you tell him softly, "it's definitely not because of you."
He gives you a few moments to elaborate but you don't. He doesn't ask, either, which you appreciate. And he doesn't make you feel bad for not sharing. It's almost frustratingly perfect.
You stay there a little longer, shoulders pressed together as you stare at the view and people watch whoever happens to walk by. Your fingers lace together at some point and you only let go halfway back to his truck when he buys you both ice cream.
"Shit," he grumbles when he sees how good your strawberry cone looks. You raise an eyebrow at him while taking a generous lick.
"Buyer's remorse?"
"No," he says stubbornly after tasting his butter pecan. "It's an underrated flavor."
"I'm sure it is."
You walk a few minutes in silence, past the theater again, which is now closed. With your ice cream half gone, Joel crumbles.
"Lemme try yours."
"No! I told you you should have gotten a different one."
You take a stubborn lick of your ice cream and Joel pouts. "I'll give you some of mine," he offers, holding out his cone. You shake your head.
"No, thanks. This is perfect."
Less than a minute goes by with Joel side-eyeing you until he can't take it anymore and he suddenly lunges, trying to grab a lick of your ice cream, but you yank it away just in time.
"Stop!" you squeal, giggling when he tries and fails again. A crowd of drunk twenty-something year olds stumble past in the opposite direction, loudly swearing at one another and cracking lewd jokes, but neither of you notice because Joel figures out a way to get what he wants by pressing you up against the brick wall of a pizza parlor and kissing you so deeply that the entire world around you fades.
"Mmm," he hums, licking his lips after he breaks the kiss. You're lucky you're still clutching your ice cream in your right hand because you almost forget where you are when his body is pressed against yours like this and the faint taste of butter pecan mixed with strawberry lingers on your tongue.
"It's good," he confirms, then thinks about it for a moment before a sly smile stretches across his face. "Can't decide if it's better than mine. Lemme taste it again—"
Your laugh gets cut short by another kiss, but this time you're somewhat prepared. His beard scratches against your lips and chin and you're quickly becoming addicted to the burn, but it's nothing compared to the way his mouth moves against yours, the firm yet soft seal of his kiss, the measured swipe of his tongue behind your teeth, the gentle way he cups your face.
The way Joel Miller kisses is utterly euphoric.
When he pulls away, you have to stifle a whine of protest for your own dignity, but his hand still cradles your cheek as he smiles down at you.
"What do you think?" he asks softly. You're not sure what he means. What do you think about... the kiss? The weather? The president's latest cabinet pick?
"I think..." you pant, heavy eyes dropping to his mouth. Your thumb swipes under his lower lip and you swear he leans forward. "I think it's an underrated flavor," you finish, gaze darting up at him playfully. He smirks.
"Told ya."
The ice cream is gone by the time you wander back to the bar parking lot. Based on the noise filtering from the open door, it sounds like it got much busier since you left. A few motorcycles rumble into the parking lot behind you and Joel tucks you protectively into his side even though there's no chance of them coming anywhere close enough to hitting you.
When he opens the passenger door, he helps you hop in. His hand lingers on your waist a little longer than necessary and you grin.
"Do you want your flannel back?" you ask him. He shakes his head.
"Looks better on you."
Your cheeks warm from the compliment and in the brief moment you have to yourself after he shuts the door, you drag in a loud, steadying breath to calm your nerves. Why are you so nervous anyway? You've already slept with him twice. Yet somehow, being on this date with him feels so much more vulnerable than being naked.
On the drive back to your house, you try your best to keep the conversation light, but it's hard when his hand rests so comfortably on your thigh. All you can think about is dragging him into your house, back into your bed, because the tension that's been ebbing and flowing all evening is making you feel like you may implode.
"How much longer do you have next door?" you ask him at some point. His fingers tighten around the denim of your jeans as he makes a turn, one handed.
"'Bout a week or two."
You hum and keep looking out your window, fingers itching to touch him.
"Then what?"
"Puttin' on an addition for a family who's expectin' a baby in a few months," he tells you. "Spot's over in my neck of the woods, couple streets over."
"Where do you live?" you ask, a little ashamed you haven't asked before.
"Off Rossler, in a little cul-de-sac," he says. You map it out in your head.
"That's not too far from me."
"'Bout fifteen minutes."
"And do you live alone?"
Joel laughs. "You askin' if I got a secret family or somethin'?"
You can't help but grin in return. "I mean, I'd hope not, but you never know."
"Well, I don't. But Tommy'll be comin' to stay for a couple weeks pretty soon. He's in the army and he'll be home on leave."
That surprises you. "I thought you said he's a trouble maker?"
"That I did."
"Hmm," is all you say in response. A comfortable silence falls between you, only to be broken once Joel turns onto your street.
"I like spendin' time with you," he says abruptly. Your gaze skirts to the side in surprise when you hear the earnestness in his voice. "I know you said you don't really do relationships but I want you to know, I don't plan on seein' anyone else."
Joel removes his hand from your thigh so he can properly turn into your driveway, allowing you a chance to process what he's just said. When he shifts the truck into park and nervously glances in your direction, you realize you've taken too long to formulate a response.
"I like spending time with you, too," you say softly. The corner of his mouth lifts and he looks straight ahead, turning the key in the ignition. The headlights blink off, casting your driveway into darkness.
"Lemme walk you up," he tells you before popping open his door and sliding out of his seat. His boots hit the fine gravel and you hear the soft crunch under his weight before his door shuts and you're left in momentary silence. Your eyes track him rounding the front of his truck and you smile as you unbuckle your seatbelt.
You should just thank him for tonight. Maybe give him a chaste kiss. Tell him you're looking forward to next weekend. But you know you can't leave it at just that. It's almost laughable now as you breathlessly ask him to come inside as one hand fumbles with your lock, unable to focus when his mouth is pressed against your throat and his hands are squeezing your hips.
Somehow you manage to both kick off your shoes and push your door shut, even with your mouths seared together in a heated kiss. You mumble the hollow offer of a drink against his lips and as expected, he just shakes his head and pushes you down your hallway, mouth barely giving you a reprieve.
"You look so good," he growls, yanking the collar of his flannel down to expose one of your shoulders. Your breath stutters as you blindly navigate your bedroom, the sharp press of his lips over your skin sending shocks of arousal throughout your entire body.
Calloused fingers gently slip the thin strap of your tank top down next and the flowy material gives way, nearly exposing one breast. Joel helps it the rest of the way, curling his fingers underneath and pulling it down so his warm mouth can cover your nipple with a groan. The backs of your thighs bump against your mattress and you fall back, leaving Joel standing at the edge of your bed with his mouth open while you scoot backwards.
"You coming?" you tease before lifting your shirt over your head and tossing it onto your floor, joining the flannel.
"Not yet," Joel says back, and you giggle before his body folds forward, covering yours. Excited fingers find the soft waves styled on the back of his head and he kisses you again, stealing your breath when your nipples peak and graze against the fabric of his shirt.
"Been thinkin' 'bout this all night," he confesses with one more wet kiss before his lips drag down your jaw. "Been half hard since I picked you up."
You groan and arch your back, lifting your hips off the bed. His hand finds the button to your jeans and he undoes them in a heartbeat, zipper following soon after. Instead of tugging the denim down your legs, his hand delves down, greedy fingers seeking out your pussy and groaning deep when he finds you wet and aching for him.
The pad of his middle finger drags slow and firm over your clit and you moan, holding his face against your throat in a death grip. You're so sensitive from the buildup all evening that your body feels like a coil ready to snap.
Joel only gives you a few long, teasing strokes before he removes his hand and sits back on his knees to pull your jeans down. You eagerly assist, breathlessly lifting your hips and straightening your legs until they're left somewhere at the foot of your bed. You watch, heat licking up your spine as he strips off his shirt and starts to work on his pants. The arousing sound of his belt buckle clinking in the otherwise quiet room makes you shiver with anticipation. Joel sees it and smirks.
"Dyin' for it, ain't you?"
"Shut up," you whisper, eyes glued to the way he pushes his pants down and off, leaving him in only a plain pair of black boxer briefs.
"Mm, there she is," he breathes with a crooked grin. You roll your eyes.
"Get over here," you tell him, and his body jolts forward, eager to obey, but then he stops.
"Just one thing first," he says, bending forward at your waist. His lips find your hip and his beard drags slowly across your skin, distracting you from his hands pulling down your panties until you feel the cool air of your bedroom between your legs. Your eyes flutter closed under his gentle kisses and you almost forget where you are until his broad shoulders nudge your thighs apart and he settles his weight between your legs.
"Wha—what are you doing?" Your thighs tense when his hands glide up to hold them open.
"Wanna taste you," he says, voice low and thick. "Wanna make you feel good."
"No, that's okay," you tell him. Your throat tightens as the panic begins to rise.
"It's okay, just relax." His voice is soft and you jump when his thumbs spread you open. You can feel his exhale fan over your wetness and your muscles seize.
"You don't have to—"
"I want to," he smirks, "been thinkin' 'bout it for weeks."
When his mouth dips to taste you, you fist his hair and yank him up. You might have been a little too harsh based on the surprised look on his face.
"Sorry," you whisper shakily, "just... I'd rather not."
Something passes over his face that makes your stomach twist with guilt and you let go of his hair.
"It's not you," you assure him, "I—I just really want you to fuck me."
He scans your face and you can tell immediately he doesn't buy it, but thankfully he lets it go. He pushes himself onto his hands and crawls up to hover over your body and you relax instantly.
"Alright, honey," he says soothingly, "alright. Lemme take care of you, then."
Joel doesn't let your weird moment ruin the mood and you're eternally grateful for it. When his lips press firmly against yours and his weight settles between your hips, all is forgotten for at least the night. But something tells you the topic is only tabled, not dismissed entirely.
Desperate hands push blindly at the band of his boxers and you can feel him smirk against your lips.
"Take these off," you hiss, nipping impatiently at his chin.
"So fuckin' pushy," he chuckles before eventually helping slide the boxers down his legs.
"I know what I want," you reply with a pleased look as you watch him finally free his cock. You widen your thighs and reach for him, circling your fist slowly around his girth and giving him a few measured strokes. His eyelids flutter under your touch and it gives you a little rush, having him quite literally in the palm of your hand.
"Hang on." He sounds a little breathless when your hips tilt and the tip of his cock brushes against your folds. You bite your lip and pout when he shoos your hand away.
"What?"
He slides off the bed and searches for his wallet, wordlessly answering your question when he plucks a condom from somewhere in the depths of the leather and shows it to you like a prize.
The frustrated noise you make is involuntary, but Joel reacts to it all the same.
"I was over nine pounds when I was born," he tells you, tearing the foil and rolling the condom carefully down his length. His eyes flicker up to you and he tuts. "Ain't gonna do that to you, darlin'."
"God!" you exclaim, covering your face. "Don't put that image in my head right before you fuck me."
Joel just laughs and shuffles forward on his knees. His long fingers curl around your thighs, holding your hips wide. When you feel his cock nudge against your opening, your hands fall from your face with an eager gasp.
"Yeah, thought that's all it'd take," he murmurs, pushing forward just an inch. Your head drops back into the pillows with a moan. "First taste of this cock's got that smart mouth makin' sweet noises for me, ain't that right?"
"Asshole," you breathe, arching off the bed when he feeds you a few more inches. Joel chuckles again and leans down, mouthing at your jaw, then throat, then breasts until he's fully sheathed inside you with a relieved sigh. He spots an old hickey he left half faded on your skin and his lips seal around it, sucking on the skin to deepen the mark, to stake his claim.
"Fuck," you whisper, fingers rising to get lost in his hair. He grunts a little when your nails rake gently over his scalp. Then his hips withdraw just so he can slowly sink back into your cunt.
"So wet," he groans, eyes squeezing shut. "Feel so goddamn good, drives me fuckin' crazy."
You preen at the praise and let your hands fall to his strong shoulders, palms skirting over the warm, sun-kissed skin. He's so attentive to your body, studying your reactions every time he buries himself inside you, hands always searching your soft skin and committing every slope to memory. His mouth is always on you, either lightly nipping at your jaw or brushing his lips across your collarbone or kissing you to stifle his groans.
Joel usually starts slow, lets you adjust, then fucks hard, but today he notices how you seem to like it like this. You like being fucked slow. It's easy to tell—you're more relaxed and vocal underneath him. Your hips roll to match his thrusts and you're already short of breath.
"You like it like this?" he grunts, and when your eyes find his he nearly crumbles. You're entirely lost, floating. He can see it in your face. You look so soft like this, so open, that it nearly does him in. Then your lips part to answer, but nothing comes out.
"Hm? Like it nice 'n slow?" He finds your leg and pulls your knee up to press against your chest. A choked sound echoes from your throat and your eyes roll. There's something so intoxicating, having you like this, that it's making his vision swim. He can't tear his eyes away, utterly engrossed with watching how you gasp every time he fills you, how your jaw slackens with every slow roll of his hips, how your face warms and your skin glistens from the pleasure.
Oh, he likes this. He likes making you feel this good. He likes being the person to do this to you, to see you like this, so relaxed and open. And he enjoys peeling back the layers and finding out more things about you. It makes him wonder if it just feels better to be fucked slow and deep, or if there's another reason.
"Eyes on me, honey," he murmurs. His thumb and forefinger tilt your chin and your eyes flutter open. He grins and shifts his weight, deepening the angle and keeping your knee pressed firmly to your chest. The way your brows pinch together when you whine has his stomach pulling tight.
"Fuck, that's it," he groans, still holding your chin. Your mouth is ajar and your gaze is hazy but you're focused on him. Sweat beads at Joel's hairline, desperate to slam into you, to fuck you hard and fast and flip you over and do it again. But he holds firm, he maintains that slow pace, he keeps flexing his hips so he can reach the deepest parts of you because seeing you trembling and moaning so sweetly like this is something he can't resist.
"Joel," you whisper, but your voice shakes. He nods and leans in, lets his parted lips hover above yours but doesn't let them touch. Not yet.
"Doin' so good," he says softly, and when your cunt clenches in response, he says it again. "So good. Takin' it so fuckin' good, darlin'."
You whimper and claw at his shoulders, trying to draw him down. Sweat trickles down the side of his head and your chest heaves but he keeps moving, he keeps his relentless, steady pace because something about it is tearing your walls down and he's desperate to see more.
Slick pools around his length, he can feel it. He can feel the way you respond to his words, to his gentle touches, and he keeps filing it all away, reminders not only for now, but for the future, of things that you like. Or, perhaps, need.
"You're beautiful, y'know that?" he murmurs, lips centimeters from grazing your own, "so beautiful. Y'know how good it felt to have the prettiest girl in the bar next to me all night?"
It's hard to push through the fog in your brain. The pressure building low at the base of your spine is climbing. The heat in your belly is growing. Whatever he's doing and saying is scratching an itch you didn't even know you had and it's got you so far gone, you barely remember your own name. And yet, through the pleasure and praise, your mind snags on one particular piece Joel just said and your heart skips a beat.
"I—" you swallow, throat dry. "I... made you feel good?"
If the question throws him off, he doesn't show it.
"'Course you did, honey," he replies smoothly, "y'make me feel good all the time, thought you knew that."
You whine and cup your hand around the back of his neck. It's impossible to get any closer, not a sliver of light can sneak between your bodies, but you need it. You need him. And maybe later you'll be embarrassed, but not tonight.
"Again," you beg, breath fanning over his lips.
"Y'feel so good," he tells you without hesitation. He keeps moving slow, making sure you feel every inch of him. Your fingers around his neck tighten. Damp curls flop against his forehead. "You're perfect. You fit around me so well, shit—" His hips stall for a moment when you flutter around his cock, nearly pulling him over the edge. You whimper and curl your free leg around his waist. Joel pants heavily above you, and your jaw drops open more, eager to swallow down his moans. "You're gonna make me come, sweetheart," he gasps, the admission only dragging your orgasm closer to the surface.
"Please," you whisper, ignoring the sweat collecting under your bent knee, between your breasts, on the back of your neck. "Please, Joel, please..." you continue, eyes rolling back right before his mouth presses softly against yours.
Of course, he'll give you anything you want. He wants to tell you so, he wants to tell you how fucked up you have him, how much he thinks about you and how badly he wants you, but he needs to be careful. Dumping too much on you will scare you off, he's figured that much out by now. Still, the words claw up his throat, begging to push past his lips and into your mouth so you can't escape them.
When you come, it's quiet, but he feels it like an earthquake. Your body shakes, your cunt pulses, and your free hand snags on the sheets, fingers gripping the fabric so tightly it almost tears. His deep groans tumble from his mouth into yours when he follows, hips stuttering as his hand clenches around your waist, holding you still as he spills into the condom.
The kiss doesn't end until the sweat on your bodies begins to cool. He can't tear himself away, he needs this almost as badly as you. The hand on the back of his neck doesn't loosen. His hand on your waist doesn't move. Your bodies remain intertwined until a dull cramp forms in your bent leg and you wince when he slips his cock from between your thighs.
When Joel makes a move to get up, you make a soft noise of protest that tugs at his chest.
"Gotta clean up, honey," he reminds you before folding the sheets across your body to trap the heat. Your hand finally falls from his neck and he reluctantly pushes himself up. Your eyes are closed, face flushed and muscles loose. He can't stop himself from kissing your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom to take care of the condom and wash up.
When he returns, you're exactly where he left you but now you're curled up on your side under the sheets, looking content and sleepy. Joel pauses for a moment before bending down slowly to collect his clothes, but then to his relief, you speak.
"Stay?"
It's a soft mumble that makes his heart soar. He doesn't hesitate to drop his jeans and slip back into bed, under your sheets. His body curls around yours and you nuzzle tiredly against his chest. Joel tries to fight sleep as long as possible so he can soak up this feeling, but his eyelids grow heavy soon after your breathing deepens.
A strong sense of optimism washes over him before he falls asleep.
I think the part of being released from a job that’s uncomfortable is not having the chance to leave on your own terms.
Was I ready to move on? I think so. It’s never easy to make that call, but being told “we’re moving in another direction” does sting. But that’s life. Gigs come and go.
On the other hand, it’s a completion (this one was 5 years) and now I can freely pursue other opportunities without feeling guilty. When you freelance, it’s like game of Tetris, doing your best to make the pieces fit.
Just needed to write this out because I don’t have anyone to tell this to.
Summary: Your boyfriend Joel is up to his ears busy with his contracting business. Tired and sore, he comes home to learn you’ve made the rest of the night all about him.
Warnings/Information/Heads-Up: Fluff, mentions of sex (but no actual sex), mentioned age difference, fluffy fluff fluff because blue collar man Joel Miller deserves it! He’s running a biz-ness!
A/N: based on this lovely request! I hope I could bring your request to life, I breezed through it so fast because I love him, he’s baby.
“Thank you for today.” He murmured into the pillow. You barely hear it, but even if you didn’t, you feel it in the way he holds your hand and keeps your arm settled around him.
“Thank you for everything you do, Joel.” You whispered back, your forehead on the top slope of his back as you take in the smell of his body wash combined with the lotion, his body falling slumped in your protective hold.
Joel had found a lot of success with Miller Contracting over the summer months. Business was booming and his early mornings until late nights were dedicated to working on multiple projects to get things done on time for his clients. Joel worked on referrals mostly, so when he finished a client’s remodeled hill country home in late winter, the client had raved over Joel’s professionalism and hard work to their friends and now he had a list of upcoming projects.
Truthfully, you didn’t know much about contractors until you started dating Joel. You quickly began to understand the vastness of his duties. One day he could be working on home renovation projects where he was doing demolition like removing the walls or floors, electrical and plumbing work, flooring installation, even down to the last coat of paint.
Other opportunities were commercial like on a small office building downtown where he did site preparation, set the foundation, worked on the beams and columns, all the way up to finishing the roof. Whatever he couldn’t do himself that was a bit more specialized, he hired subcontractors to work on like heating, ventilation, and air conditioning.
What he hated the most was landscaping projects. He’d have to do the design layout of a large backyard garden and plant trees and flowers or work on seeding grass if it was a particularly hot Texas summer. Then he would add irrigation systems like sprinklers, pathways for people to walk on, pergolas for outdoor hosting, finishing it off with pretty and unique outdoor light fixtures. God forbid the client wanted a pond.
“Do you know how annoying koi fish are? They just… stare at ya while you’re tryin’ to work.”
You had grown to love the handy man that Joel was. Before you were moved in to his place, your shitty little apartment needed so much love that your asshole landlord never took the time to come and fix. But Joel would. That was his form of romance. He didn’t bring you flowers or chocolates on the first dates. Joel was replacing your leaky shower head and tightening your jiggly door knobs. He also managed to match the paint color on your walls so he could cover up the scrapes he made after he railed you into your mattress so hard that the frame made a few chips.
You were so happy to see his business getting the high recognition it deserved, however, Joel was taking quite the beating from it. You could tell by the way he slinked back into the house at the end of the night, his frame hunched over and walking with a slight limp.
He was sore, muscles aching and knees screaming at him. His joints were swollen by the end of the day and his sweaty, sticky skin ached for a refreshing shower.
The hardest part was always trying to shut off his mind when he got home. He was already thinking about the next day. What didn’t get done on time, what shipments of supplies were expected, how the delays would set the project back. He needed a break.
“Can’t take time off right now, baby. I’ve got deadlines to meet.”
There was this one specific project that was giving him hell. He called it the Astor because it was on Astor street. Every night this week he had come home beyond late because of the problems with the Astor. First it was that the project was exceeding the client’s budget, so they were giving him grief about that. Then it was labor shortage stuff, not being able to get people out there which then in turn caused timeline delays. With the client out of the country most of the time, Joel was receiving little to no communication from the owner. He was fighting permit and regulatory issues with the city, every day it was something new that caused a headache behind his eyes.
His dedication was admirable, but you knew that him being so physically and mentally clouded wasn’t good for him or for Miller Contracting.
You didn’t know shit about contracting, but you did know Joel.
You had texted him earlier in the day to drop whatever he was working on no later than 5 o’clock in the evening. You never did that, never told him to leave work early. But the last thing he wanted was for him to come home and have you upset with him. That was worse than any project issue.
Tonight would be about Joel. Anything you could do to make the stress melt away, you would try.
Joel pushed open the front door once home, a heavy sigh leaving him as he closed the door back in place and set his lunch box and keys down on the entry table.
“Joel?” Your voice echoed from the kitchen.
“Hi, baby.” His voice was low from the lack of energy.
Joel slowly moved down on one knee, a heavy breath exiting through clench teeth as his kneecaps throbbed while he untied one boot, then the other. They were covered in dust even down to the creases, steel toe covers making his feet sore.
“Hey, how was your day?” You asked as you grabbed a dish towel to wipe your hands with before tossing it on the counter, greeting him halfway as he made his way through the living room.
You were up on your tippy toes for a kiss, not wanting him to have to bend over and exert himself. He hated when you treated him like an old man, but with this job, you always teased him that it was coming sooner rather than later.
He kept his hands to himself, knowing they were a bit greasy and sweaty. His overgrown beard hairs tickled your face as you peppered him with a few extra kisses, one of his eyebrows playfully raising.
“Was fine. Did you see what I texted you?” He asked as he looked down at you, watching as your fingers grabbed the hem of his shirt, helping lift it off his head.
“Mhm. The HVAC guys didn’t show up until noon even though you scheduled them for nine in the morning. Did you see I texted you back? Five hours ago.” Your teasing tone made him crack a smile.
Joel was bad at texting. Typical guy thing, typical older guy thing. He said he wouldn’t even have a phone if it wasn’t for work and if Sarah didn’t insist on how texting was the new way of communication. Even though you texted him ten minutes after his initial one, his phone was already back in his pocket and he had long forgotten about your conversation as he returned to his work day.
His response came out in a chortle, a heavy breath through his nose since he was too tired to chuckle.
“Sorry, baby. Just wanted to complain, I guess.” He said as he watched you fiddle with his Miller Contracting shirt that had a worn in hole by the neckline. He went to reach for it, wanting to toss it into the dirty clothes bin, but you were quick to hold it to your chest.
“I’ve got it.” You said as you went to give him a soft kiss to the open plane of his chest, smiling at the salt and pepper chest hair he was sporting. It looked so good on him. You walked off to the bedroom and did it yourself, grabbing him a fresh shirt for the rest of the evening, a pair of boxers, and his worn dark plaid pajama pants he liked.
Joel’s curiosity had gotten the better of him. A heavenly smell was drawing him into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the sight before him. You had green beans in a frying pan and a gravy softly bubbling in a sauce pan. Then in a skillet was the most perfect looking chicken fried steak, the coating coming to the perfect crisp. He pulled the oven handle open just an inch to see golden biscuits rising.
“I put clean clothes on the counter in the bathroom, go shower, handsome.” You said before returning to the kitchen, frowning as he found his dinner before you had a chance to plate it.
“Joel.” You playfully scolded, pinching at his hip. “You’re ruining your own surprise.” You teased as you shooed him out of the kitchen, hearing an audible grumble in his stomach. It made you sport a proud grin. It was his favorite meal, said it reminded him of his mom’s cooking growing up with Tommy.
“I’m making mashed potatoes, too.” You said as you drained the water the potatoes were soaking in, putting them in a new bowl and getting out some milk and butter.
“You’re makin’ me hungry.” He hummed with a small, tired smile as his hands came up loosely on your hips.
His hands on you instantly made you grin, gently shaking your head at him as his head came to rest by your own.
“You’re distractin’ me.” His low voice carrying the weight of his day.
“No, you’re distracting me.” You made clear as your elbow playfully dug into the core of his stomach.
“Go shower, please. You smell like drywall dust… and paint.”
He rolled his eyes with his smile still lingering.
“Yeah, okay. Thank you.” He said as his lips dropped down to place a sweet kiss of sincerity at the base of your neck, a shiver rolling up you as you let out a huff and returned your focus to your five-star meal.
You heard the water hit against the shower wall and his small radio crackled to life, finalizing the last touches to Joel’s favorite dinner.
Joel came back to the living room in the clothes you had set out for him, his hair slicked back wet from his shower. God, he looked so good.
“Here.” You handed him his plate, seeing his lips part in excitement. His stomach let out an audible rumble. He probably didn’t have a spare minute to eat his lunch today, poor thing.
The two of you settled on the couch, Joel expecting you to turn on one of your shows since a new episode came out today.
“Do you uhm.. Maybe wanna watch one of those movies where they’re flying the jet planes? You said you wanted to show me it a while ago.” You offered, glancing over to see him already inhaling his food with the fork scraping across the plate to not let a single bit of gravy escape him. But your offer made him pause.
“You wanna watch Top Gun? You hate Tom Cruise.”
“Well, yeah, he seems kind of like a douchebag, but it’s okay.” His eyes narrowed on you as he thought about your offer but ultimately shook his head, shrugged, and kept eating.
“‘t’s fine, you can put somethin’ on.” He said as he stabbed a green bean, smeared some mashed potatoes on it before putting it past his lips.
You took a deep breath and issued him the remote control.
“You pick something tonight, honey. It’s your night.”
That caught Joel’s attention. His head whipped a little to fast towards you, his thick eyebrows furling at the concept.
“‘t’s not my night. It’s a Thursday.”
The look you gave him set him straight.
“Okay, okay.. It’s my night.” He declared in playful defense, taking in a deep breath through his nose and opted for some old Western show he liked. You didn’t care much for it, but Joel did.
Once you two finished dinner, plates stacked on the coffee table and discarded, your head was on his shoudler and your hand ran slow, soothing circles over his chest. You could feel him breathing deeply, relaxing with you.
You asked him questions about the main characters, showing genuine interest. Even going as far as to add a dramatic gasp when a shot was fired from a cowboy’s revolver which made him let out a hearty laugh.
“You’re so full of it.”
He was talking with a huge grin, you could hear it in how he spoke, and it warmed your heart.
Towards the end of your night, your hands were in yellow dish gloves as you washed your plates from dinner, sliding the clean ones between the dividers of your drying rack.
Joel slipped his strong arms low around your waist, his burly shoulders pressing into your own as you nearly toppled over with his presence
“Thanks for dinner tonight. Hit the spot.” He said as he kissed your cheek then on a spot where your jawline met your neck, right by your ear. His beard hairs tickled. You could feel that they were freshly trimmed now, he probably felt a lot better.
“Night’s not over yet.” You hummed, a playful smile on your lips that he was quick to take notice of.
“Oh?” His voice dropped an octave, rolling your eyes a bit as you dug your elbow into his stomach for the second time tonight to put some space between you.
“Okay, cowboy. Relax. How about you go to the bedroom and take your shirt off. I’ll be there in a sec.” Your choice of words were still leading him in a different direction, you almost felt bad. But it was funny watching him get worked up.
After finishing the dishes and blowing out the eucalyptus scented candles, you peaked into your bedroom. Joel was still cautiously removing his shirt, moving slow as to not disturb his aching muscles. You hated seeing him come home every night like this, as if his body had just been in a fight and taken a brutal beating.
Joel undid the clasp of his watch, the band and watch face dirty and making digging a bruise into his wrist, but it told the time. He felt better after his shower, having made it a steamy one to relax the stinging in his upper neck and shoulders as well as his lower back.
His belly was good and full, happy to have something homemade rather than a quick pizza in the oven or just a cold bottle of beer before bed.
You were taking care of him tonight. Not that you didn’t every other night. He was actually giving you the time to take proper care of him. It felt off at first, taking on all the attention he usually reserved for you after long days. But maybe it’s what he needed.
His head turned as he felt a warm pair of arms circle just above his plaid pajama pants, your soft fingers undoing the knot he had tied in the front of them.
“I would’a taken my pants off for ya if you’d just ask.” His tone taunting, stepping out of the soft material before spinning in your arms and attempting to scoop you into him.
“Lay back, goofball.” You said with that gleaming smile of yours. Made his stomach twist. Whatever you had planned, you obviously wanted the lead on.
He did as instructed, happily falling into the comfort of the mattress with ease.
“Close your eyes, please.” Your voice was sweet like honey. He’d follow it into the shadows, into hell, more likely into heaven since it’s where Joel thought you belonged.
He could already fall asleep, though it was no later than eight. He felt the bed dip first at his legs, your body shifting up to sit by his hip. His hand naturally felt out for you, his warm palm holding you at the curve of your lower back.
When Joel was given the okay to open his eyes again, he was surprised to see a few candles lit around the room, the golden glow adding a bit of ambiance.
He watched as you squirted a few pumps of a lotion in your hands, circling it up in your palms to make it a little warm before you started to lather it into his calves.
The sensation made his breath hitch. You were giving him a massage? He sat up on his elbows and watched the white-ish cream get all wrapped up in his dark leg hair.
“Darlin’-”
“Shh.”
He tightened his lips, feeling a bit futile all of a sudden. There was a pause before he spoke again.
“Don’t have to do this for me.” He insisted, his eyes on yours, but you were focused on adding subtle pressure to his calf muscles.
“Know I don’t have to. I want to. Lay back down.”
You wanted to. You wanted to take time out of your evening and bathe him in attention. You had cooked one of his favorite meals, and to perfection he might add. You also let him watch a show he wanted to watch, something he knew you didn’t have a taste for. But you were intrigued anyway, to show you cared.
He was so comfortable and at ease, the problems of today didn’t seem to matter much anymore when you were here to greet him so lovingly.
Your fingers kneaded gently into his skin, Joel’s eyes dipping closed as he began to sink deeper into the mattress. Of course he couldn’t just do nothing. He had his warm palm splayed on your back where the shirt you were wearing was riding up a little bit. You smiled at the gesture. No matter how much effort you tried to dedicate to Joel, he was still showing his care even when he was dead exhausted.
You worked the lotion up into his thighs, the slight tug on his hairs making his face crinkle a little. You dared not to get too high, again, not to give him the wrong idea of where the massage was heading. It was okay to be just attentive to his needs for tonight. You could relax him in other more sensual ways another time. He needed something a little deeper.
You leaned down and peppered sweet kisses up his torso and over those salt and pepper chest hairs you admire so much, stopping just at his lips with a small smile.
“So handsome.” You praised in a whisper, kissing him with a grin on your lips.
He hummed softly and moved his hand to gently cup the back of your head, keeping your kind presence in his proximity just a moment longer.
“I’m getting too old for you.” He whispered back in a teasing tone, making you bubble up a laugh in your shared space.
“You’ve always been too old for me.” Your thumb gently glided over his chin and admired a small white patch just at the base where his neck sloped down. “But I’ve never minded. Because you’re a good man. A hard working, blue collar man. It’s very sexy.” You teased with a smile, happy to see one blossom on his lips as well.
“Thanks for treatin’ me so good tonight. This week’s been…” he let the sentence die before shaking his head.
“I know, Joel.” You said with a small nod before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips again before sitting up straight.
“Wanna roll over and I’ll do your shoulders?”
He let out a breathless laugh as he looked up at you. “Please.” Like you had to ask.
He wasn’t used to this sort of treatment, but boy, maybe he should start asking for it.
Joel moved to lay on his belly, letting out a short groan in the process that made your chest flutter.
You let out a short huff before you straddled his back, topping yourself right on his butt after getting a short groan from Joel for being on his tailbone.
More lotion was squirted into your hands before you started to apply it across the landscape of his back.
“We should do a skincare night.” You said, feeling his body shudder at the cold lotion.
“Uh what?” Joel’s voice muffled against the comforter, his head to one side so he could see you just out of his peripheral.
“You know what skincare is, you see me do it every night.”
“I don’t know what the he-ll you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He said, his words stuttering as you pushed particularly harder in his lower back. Jeez, it was knot after knot under your fingertips.
“Ugh, Joel!” You whined as your motions paused.
Joel had a habit of doing this. Declaring he had no idea what it was that you were talking about, making you tirelessly explain for several minutes, before he goes ‘Oh, why didn’t you just say that? I know what that is.” It made you roll your eyes each and every time.
“You’re handsome, but you don’t listen.” You hummed out before cupping your hands at his shoulders and doing circles with good pressure, your upper body weight being put into his stern muscles.
“All I heard you say is that I’m handsome.” He moaned into the sheets, a blush creeping on your cheeks at his comment, but also his heavenly moan.
“It’s.. where you apply skincare to your face. You know, using a cleanser, applying an exfoliator, moisturizer..”
This was when Joel started muffling random nonsense into the sheets and you playfully pushed into his crying shoulders harder until he let out another long groan of discomfort.
“Okay, okay, I know what you’re talkin’ about. Skincare. I don’t need it.”
You tutted, shaking your head as you held in a laugh.
“Everyone needs it. Every. One.” You said as you leaned down and kissed the back of his head where his curls were starting to form.
“Especially you, Joel! Your pores are so big, you’ve got dust and dirt getting all in there. And it’s been so hot outside, your skin’s drying up. Gotta take care of your skin baby.”
“Why? So I’ll look young agian?” He teased as he reached a hand back and squeezed your hip as well as he could from his position.
“Because it’s good for you. Makes me feel good after a really long day.”
You could feel his eyes on you, a throat hum leaving his lips. “Thought I made you feel good after a really long day.”
A huff left your lips as you were back to doing circles into his shoulder with your thumbs. “Shut up.”
The last of the lotion had sunk into his skin, the massage hopefully healing more than just his dry skin.
Night’s like this with Joel were rare, but exceptionally special. He had energy to talk to you about everything under the sun, something you didn’t expect to transpire with your age difference at first. You discussed your mutual plans for the weekend, a barbeque at Tommy’s house. Joel was insisting on you wearing your new bikini, green to match his beautiful eyes. He could be such a horn dog.
He wanted to stay up as long as he could, but the long day he endured couldn’t help but put weight on his eyelids. His words turned to mumbles, his arms snaking around your waist in his silent gesture to fall asleep with you.
You shook your head with a small, tired smile, your hands planting themselves on his forearms to put a stop to his motions.
“Turn around.” You whispered, the notion making his tired eyes pop open with a “huh?” leaving his parted lips.
“You heard me, old man. Turn around.” You said as your hand roamed over his warm hip.
Joel assumed you didn’t want to cuddle tonight, maybe he was too warm for your taste despite the fan running above the both of you.
Joel’s chest tightened as he felt your warm body return right behind him, a bashful grin on his face.
“Are you tryna big spoon me?” His southern accent was dripping heavier than usual with the tiredness stringed in it.
The question erupted a giggle from you, Joel feeling you kiss over his taut shoulder blade.
“I don’t know how well I can big spoon you.. You’re so long.” Your arm tightened around Joel’s waist anway, his big hand finding yours as your fingers interlocked. He felt grateful in this moment, albeit a bit shy about the position. He was used to being the big spoon, it was different for him to be on the receiving end. But it was warm and settling, he couldn’t deny that.
“So I’m uh.. I’m like the ladle to your big spoon?” Joel asked. He could feel your grin on his back, your legs tangling with his own.
“Yes… you’re the ladle, but even the ladle needs a big spoon.” Joel’s blinks slowed until his eyes were closed, heavy with sleep.
“Thank you for today.” He murmured into the pillow. You barely hear it, but even if you didn’t, you feel it in the way he holds your hand and keeps your arm settled around him.
“Thank you for everything you do, Joel.” You whispered back, your forehead on the top slope of his back as you take in the smell of his body wash combined with the lotion, his body falling slumped in your protective hold.
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the romanticism of undressing someone and seeing their curves and edges and birthmarks and scars and moles and freckles and kissing every single one of them
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