Hear Me Out...
pairing: Older!Joel x F!Reader word count: 2.5k summary: Joel gets hearing aids. He finds out just how much he's been missing out on. content/warnings: SMUT, peepaw joel (late 60s), unspecified age gap, established relationship, pussy eating, piv, he cries when he cums, they are IN LOVE your honor a/n: Hi friends! This was intended as part of a multi-chapter fic that I simply have not had the time or brain to finish. I'm hoping I'll get back to it at some point, but I hope you enjoy this little piece 👉👈 hoping there's nothing that I left in that requires context of the whole?? thank you to @ems-chaos-corner for designing the banner!! 🩷
Joel hadn’t planned to tell you right away when he got his hearing aids.
This thing between you was good. You felt solid. So in sync, most of the time. You’d been through enough together that he knew your foundation wouldn’t–couldn’t– be easily shaken.
But this didn’t feel like a small thing. Sure, you knew his age. You’d met him when you were volunteering at the goddamned senior center.
Hearing aids, though, were a step too far.
Because that meant he was officially old. People would think he was your dad, even more so than they do already. Or maybe even his caretaker, god forbid.
He looks alright, he supposes, for being a few years shy of seventy. But his bones ache, his hair is more grey than not, and wrinkles line his face. He has to face the fact that he’s an old man. And, while he’s facing the facts, he needs to admit to himself that he really can’t hear for shit these days.
He’s a tired, deaf, selfish old man, and he can’t bear to lose you just yet.
—
You’re out of town for the weekend when he gets the hearing aids. It’s perfect, really, because he can learn how to use them. They’re fairly low profile, and he’s let his hair grow longer these days, making them easier to hide.
Sunday night, you arrive back home. You show up at your door, weekend bag slung over your shoulder. As you pull out your keys, Joel beats you to the lock, swinging the door open wide for you. You’re exhausted, and it must show in the bags under your eyes, but you can’t help but smile the moment you see him.
He reaches to relieve you of your bag and you shrug it off, letting him put it down by the entryway bench.
“You have a good time, baby?” he asks.
“It was fucking wonderful. I really needed that,” you smile, reaching up to kiss Joel, “I’m really glad to be home now though-”
And then you kiss him again and hum against his lips, a happy little sound.
Joel’s never heard it before.
He wants to hear it again. He has to hear it again–
He kisses you again, a little bit deeper. Presses himself towards you and hears the way you moan against him, breathy and soft and desperate. What he’d felt only as vibration before now has a pitch he didn’t know he’d been missing.
Need hits him like a freight train, suddenly urgent and dizzying. In a moment, he’s hard and wanting, pulse pounding fast.
"Honey," he sighs, lips still hovering over yours, hot breath tickling against your skin. You look at him, glancing across his face, reading in it whatever he happens to be showing. He wonders if it looks like reverence. "I need you baby, I need you right now--"
You’re surprised at his abrupt enthusiasm, a crease between your furrowed brows, but a smile plays on your lips.
"I should probably go shower,” you tell him, turning towards the bathroom.
"Nuh uh," he shakes his head and reaches for you, pulling you close. "You don’t gotta. Unless ya really wanna. I just need you right fuckin’ now, baby. Want you any way you’ll have me."
You scrutinize him, looking him up and down. For a moment, he’s certain you’ve clocked him, that you know what he’s hiding.
Instead of challenging him, though, your expression softens. You shrug, like it’s simple. “I’m yours.”
It's been a while since he's greeted you like this, and you’re certain you must be missing something for him to be so turned on, so out of the blue. Sure, you’d been gone for the weekend, but it was just a weekend, and it’s certainly not the first time you’ve been apart, nor the longest.
He’s desperate though, more desperate than he knows how to be. He can’t keep his hands off of you, can’t stop touching you. His hands trace up and down your sides, making you gasp and whine at his attention. You revel in it.
When he gets you to the bedroom, he tries to pace himself. To savor it. He means to slow himself down.
He peels your clothes off, piece by piece. Gentle fingers fumble with the buttons, and he kisses that spot behind your ear that makes your breath hitch.
When it does, though– when that sweet gasp passes your lips, Joel is changed. Any restrained passion he’d been trying to keep in check dissolves, replaced by desperate frenzy.
He rids you of the rest of your clothes, strewn garments in your wake as he guides you to bed.
Joel has always been a generous lover, always watching and learning. In the early days with him, he’d ask you to show him what you like. He’d keep his eyes on you, attentive, reading you with care as he’d replicate the ways you know to give yourself pleasure, as though ensuring your gratification were his life’s only goal.
You’re used to his eyes on you, watching how your body reacts to his touch, touching you gently when you need softness, being firm when you need redirection.
So, it’s always been good. But it’s never been quite like this.
He pushes you down onto the bed and grabs you by the knees, shoving them apart, making you gasp. He hums and grabs you, lifts you, and scoots you back towards the headboard. Resets your legs so your thighs are spread again for him and he’s slotted between them. You can feel his cock, fat and heavy against his thigh, straining against his jeans– and fuck the fucking denim– he’s still wearing his clothes.
It’s not fair.
“Get naked, Joel,” you tell him, “I want to see you.”
You can see a blush spread across his cheeks and nose, but he doesn’t look bashful as he used to be. He looks hungry. A smirk twitches on his lips.
You’re bare for him, and so so ready. And, you think distantly, you’re so incredibly comfortable with him. There was a time you would have shrunk away from this kind of touch that allows you to be so seen. For him, though, you love little more than to lean back and spread your legs, so bare and exposed, all for him. To show him every part of yourself, and simply trust that he won’t frighten.
He makes quick work of his clothes. Grabs his t-shirt by the back of the neck and rips it over his head. Unbuttons his jeans and shucks them and his boxers off in one go, his cock bouncing heavy between his legs. You let out a breath, watching.
He slips his arms under your legs and slots back in, rests his body face down on the bed, presses himself in between your thighs.
He examines your cunt; runs a gentle thumb from your navel to just above your clit and presses down with just the lightest pressure. And then a little more, till you’re squirming and whining and his nostrils are flaring, his breaths coming out as pants at your response. He drags wet, broken kisses down your body. His lips trace your tummy, the dips of your hips, down down down til he spits on your shiny seam, making your clit nice and wet.
You tremble, just a little, in anticipation of feeling him on you. But he doesn’t move towards you. He looks up at you, brown eyes looking at you with such love and concern. And then he looks back down, to where you’re spread for him. He hums, affirming.
“Oh– would you look at that– she needs t’ be filled up, don’t she?” he asks, breath hot against your soft cunt, his words making you jerk against him, trying to find some friction. He grins against you as you sigh, pretty little asshole and pussy both visibly clenching in tandem mere inches from his face.
He stills you, hands clutching your hips, holding you down.
“I think she might need a kiss first, though, huh baby?”
“Mhmm-”, you sigh.
Your breath hitches as he places a gentle kiss against your lips before he slips his tongue between them, gentle, languid- He lets you card your fingers through his hair as he licks into you, humming in affirmation when you grab on tight. He noses at your clit and draws a yelp out of you, groaning, the rumble of it vibrating against your skin.
There’s no rush as he pulls you apart. Just a little bit of time and some very precise pressure. You can feel yourself start to build as he flicks a pointed tongue against your clit. His focus is exact, and in no time at all, your breaths are shallow and desperate, your hips rocking up to meet his strokes, to feel his scruff against your thighs.
He’s eating you out like he needs it to live. Loud slurps punctuate softer licks as he buries his face between your legs. He’s so responsive, growling at every reaction you make.
He barely brakes for air, but when he does, it’s punctuated with filth. “That’s a good girl, yeah, say my name just like that–”
All you can do is breathe his name, a soft prayer, Joel, Joel, JOEL–
You chant, till the pull within you builds and breaks, sending you sobbing on his tongue, bliss coursing through every part of you.
Sounds that he didn’t know he’d been missing surrounding him like the most beautiful symphony, your sighs, gasps, moans– He knows it’s useless speaking with his pussy-stuffed mouth, but he growls into you, letting you ride his face through it, prolonging your orgasm, and not stopping until you can’t handle any more.
When the stimulation becomes too much, you yank his head back by the hair. He grins up at you, sheepish. He's panting, wipes his slick mouth with the back of his hand, and stares at you, so fucking hungry. “Probably a good thing you had me stop where you did,” he tells you, “Nearly came now just from eating you-
"I love you--" you sigh, barely able to think, the intensity of your climax making you fuck-drunk and languid. A smile breaks through the hungry, wild expression on Joel's face, and he draws himself up and pulls you toward him so you're seated.
"I love you, too," he presses his forehead against yours, damp curls tickling your brow, till he pulls back and swipes his hair away, pressing back against you.
You hum, so comfortable and happy, and Joel sighs.
It takes you a few minutes to fully come back to yourself, Joel holding you close the whole time. When you do, you know you need more. You pull back gently, shifting yourself apart from him until you’re able to straddle him. He’s still hard, painfully so, and neither of you need to say a word. You lift yourself, line him up with your swollen pussy, and sink down slowly, inch by stiff inch. Your eyelids flutter shut at the sensation. He watches you in awe and adoration.
He reaches around you, grabs your ass with each of his hands, and starts to rock you gently.
“Yes–” you hiss, and tilt your hips to match each thrust.
It’s gentle at first, careful, and considered as he fucks you in his lap. But then, you adjust your position just a little and start to bounce, taking more with each thrust, grinding hard against him as he fucks up into you and hits just the right spot.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fUCK!--” you cry, sensation overwhelming you.
Everything is so much, so deliciously overwhelming, every little breath and moan and gasp that passes your lips finally tipping him over the edge.
“Honey–,” he hums, “I’m– I’m close, not gonna last–”
“Give it to me.”
“Fuck–” He keeps rocking into you, but his movements still just a little as he lets go. You can feel the way his cock pulses and shudders in you, his balls throbbing, your insides coated with cum, all of this sending you over again.
He whines as your clenching pussy chokes him, drawing even more from him.
It’s pure ecstasy.
You close your eyes for a moment, trying to reduce the overwhelm. When you come back down, your breathing starting to even out, you open your eyes to discover–
Joel, staring at you, reverential, with tears streaming down his cheeks.
You’ve only seen Joel cry a handful of times, and never once while he was still inside you–
“Oh fuck, babe, what is it?” you ask, suddenly panicked.
He shakes his head, thumbing his tears away, “No, no,” he tries to reassure, “Nothing’s wrong–”
But that doesn’t reassure you. The love of your life is balls-deep in you, crying, and you don’t know why.
“I promise,” he insists, and then he tucks his hair back behind one ear.
It only takes you a moment.
“Joel Miller. Did you get fucking hearing aids and not tell me?”
He laughs; a wet, spluttery thing.
“I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on so much- I–”
You let him collect his words, his thoughts. You love that he tries, even when it’s hard. He makes sure you understand.
“I never heard you like that before, baby-” he tells you, “Those gasps and moans. All those sounds you make for me. I can hear them now. And I could’ve been hearing them this whole damn time if I hadn’t been too proud.”
He shakes his head, frustrated.
“I was worried you’d think I was too old.”
Your eyes widen. Somehow, that wasn’t what you’d expected.
“Baby, you know I know how old you are, right? I met you at the fuckin’ Senior Center,” you frown.
He glares at you. Some of the puffiness around his eyes dulls the intended effect.
You know it’s not exactly that, though. It’s really just the irrational fear that you both have, of losing the other when you’d only just found one another, manifesting in any way it can.
So you press your lips to his, and hold him close. He’s still sheathed inside you, and you can feel him start to twitch hard again.
“You know,” you tease, rocking your hips again, “I think the hearing aids are kind of sexy.”
Joel scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“No, I mean it–” you insist, “You’ve always been attentive. But– I don’t know. I know it’s something that’s been bothering you–and I also know you weren’t super into the idea, getting hearing aids– I guess I’m proud of you.”
He snorts, but you can see the smile he’s trying to hide.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he shakes his head, “I just– I shouldn’t have put it off so long.”
“It’s okay, old man,” you tease, pulling forward to kiss him gently. Still seated on him, you roll your hips with just a little more vigor than you’d intended, cutting yourself off with a gasp.
He groans.
“Lets find out what other sounds you’ve been missing out on-”
