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What if…we reverse the roles for a second and imagine it's you who takes Peepaw Joel's virginity?
Yes, of course old Joel dated. Plenty. I mean, look at him. Women were gushing for him. But going to bed with them? Never happened. And after the outbreak, sex just wasn't his priority. Survival was. Trust was. And by the time he reached Jackson, he'd built walls so high that even he forgot there was a virgin hiding behind them.
But Jackson changed things. Tommy was happy. Maria was pregnant. Joel watched those couples walk hand-in-hand, and something twisted in his gut—a hollow ache. He never had that. Not even once. And now he's sixty, belly soft from steady meals, hands calloused from years of work, he figured it's too damn late.
Who the hell would want a grumpy old virgin?
Then you came to Jackson.
Bold, young, too goddamn pretty. Everything Joel needed to stay away from, because his heart couldn't take it anymore. But when you placed a kiss on his cheek, told him he looked handsome, and invited him over to your house—he couldn't possibly say no.
"Ain't never...done this before," he blurted out the moment your hand slid under his shirt, while you sat on top of him. He braced for your reaction, embarrassed, but you only cooed, kissed him, and promised to take real good care of him.
And yes—Joel's cock was excited. He's old, but he's not dead. The moment your hands started roaming—his thigh, his belly, the zipper of his jeans—he hardened like a rock. Blood rushed to his groin with a desperation he'd never felt before.
But his insecurities hit hard. When you started to tug his shirt up, he grabbed your wrists. "Too much gut on an old man like me."
You just nuzzled your face into the soft skin of his belly and told him how much you wanted it pressed against you while he fucked you.
And when you finally wrapped your hand around his cock for the first time? That poor old man nearly had a heart attack. Deep, shaky moans spilled from his mouth. He tried to stay quiet at first, but the new sensations wrecked him—little gasps, grunts that turned into desperate groans, maybe even your name said like a prayer when he got close.
First time your cunt clenched around him? He was already gasping. A few pumps up and down, and he was babbling: "I'm gonna—fuck, I can't hold it—stop or—"
And he spilled inside you, all pathetic and breathless, gaping for air. His cock pulsed and pulsed, twitched and twitched until he collapsed, face buried in your neck, breathing hard. He was mortified. "That...that was damn pitiful. I'm sorry."
But you just stroked his hair, smiling to him. "It was perfect. And we've got all night."
And because he's old but not spent—once he caught his breath, his cock stirred again, curious and ready.
This time, you let him take control.
He was slower. More gentle. He wanted to please you. Wanted to make up for that quick finish. So he fingered you, licked you, followed your instructions until he had you gasping beneath him. Then he pushed in again, and he lasted longer. He learned. He memorized every sound you made.
Summary: Bed rotting with Joel ends up in something else.
Warnings: MDNI 18+, No outbreak, kinda sub!joel, ages not mentioned so just imagine what you prefer, fluff, oral (m receiving), cum eating
Word count: 2k
10:12 AM
You wake up in bed next to Joel as always, your leg on top of his and his warm, big hand on your belly. This has been your reality since you moved in with Joel and Sarah and you couldn’t be happier. Even though Sarah was a bit skeptical at first, she’s grown into living with you, and you’ve grown into having a daughter. You three really make a good family, you only need a dog to be stereotypically picture perfect.
Joel is sound asleep but you’re fully awake now, so you grab your phone and start scrolling until he decides to wake up.
It doesn’t take long for him to move, anticipating that he’s gonna get up soon, about three minutes you guess.
“Everyday I wake up with weird noises coming out your phone.”
There he is.
“They’re funny videos,” you answer, tossing your phone away and turning on your side to cuddle him. “Good morning, sleepyhead”
“Morning.” he yawns and places his other hand on your head, caressing your hair.
“Joel,” you call.
“Mm?”
“I need to pee.”
“Then go.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“And why is that?”
“‘Cause I’m cozy and you’re really comfortable to lay on.” you pout.
“Baby, I’ll be here when you come back, ain’t going anywhere.”
“Ain’t going anywhere,” you repeat in a whiny voice, parroting him as you get up from the bed.
“Watch it,” he warns.
After a couple minutes you’re back in bed, but this time you lay almost completely on top of Joel, your head on his bare chest, arm and leg bracing him.
“We bought a big ass bed just for you ending up like this every day,” he says.
You did have to buy a bed. When you moved in, Joel’s bed was a mess, the mattress so wrecked you finally understood why he had so many back aches.
“Just say you hate me,” you answer and roll on your back until you’re on the very other end of the bed, giving your back to him with dramatism.
“Don’t start.” He uses his broad hand to grab your waist and bring you back on top of him. “Didn’t say I don’t like it.”
You stay like that for a while, listening to each other’s breaths and heartbeats until you speak again.
“You know what I’m craving?” you ask.
“Tell me.”
“Hot chocolate with marshmellows.”
“That sounds appetizing.”
“I wish someone could go and make it for me…” you suggest, soft launching you want him to.
“Mm, that’ll be good.”
“I would be so happy…” you sigh.
“I’m sure you would.”
“And that someone would get some head afterwards…”
“Hey, that ain’t fair.” he looks at you, shaking his head.
“Seems fair to me.” you shrug.
“Seems like manipulation.”
“Seems like you’re not getting head.”
“You’re evil.”
“You chose me.”
“Fine,” he says, getting up from bed.
“I love you, you're the best.” you smile at him excitedly.
“I’m spoiling you at this point.”
“Oh come on, you’re right where you want to be.”
Joel leaves the bedroom — only wearing boxers, and heads to the kitchen to make your drink. You feel a little guilty for it, but you also know he’d do anything to make you happy, even if he has to get up from bed on a lazy Sunday.
You imagine him pouring the milk and mixing the cocoa powder, putting it in the microwave while he searches through the cabinets for the miniature marshmallow bag you made him buy the last time you went shopping. The microwave beeps after a couple minutes.
Joel’s steps get louder coming upstairs, and when he appears again in the room, the view melts your heart.
He has a mug in each hand, your flashy drink and his plain coffee. “Somebody asked for hot-but-not-that-hot-but-definitely-warm chocolate with marshmallows?”
“Oh my God thank you, you’re the best.” you smile at him remembering the perfect temperature you like for your drink.
“Already said that.” he hands you your chocolate.
“Yeah, ‘cause you are.” you sit up straight and grab it.
“Would you say it if I didn’t get up to get you your drink?” he sits again next to you, his back against the bedframe.
“That would’ve been so mean.”
“I know, right?” he places a hand on your thigh.
“But you didn’t, ‘cause you’re the best.”
Joel gives you a look that you answer to with a giggle. He’s not used to affection yet, the romantic type at least.
“Is Sarah coming back late?” you ask. She’s gone for the weekend at Ellie’s, her friend.
“I guess so.”
“Good.”
He looks at you furrowing his brows, silently asking you to elaborate.
“I wasn’t kidding about the… head thing.”
“Baby, you don’t have to, didn’t make you breakfast to get head.”
“But I want to, you’re so good to me, want to make you feel good too.”
“Are you comparing getting hot chocolate with sucking cock?” he asks so casually.
“Kinda.”
“God damn…” he shakes his head. “Just finish your chocolate before it gets cold.”
“It’s already cold, but don’t worry someday you’ll learn how to nail it.”
He stares at you before saying anything. “Next time you want something you’re gonna get your ass there instead of making me-”
You shove a marshmallow in his mouth before he can finish his sentence. He didn’t expect it, that’s for sure because he’s got his mouth open and is looking at you puzzled. You close his jaw with your hand. “Good boy. That’s it, swallow.” you giggle.
You’re poking the bear and you’re aware of it, knowing he can put you in your place at any moment, but that only makes it more exciting.
“I wouldn’t push my luck like that if I were you.” he says after chewing.
“You’re cute when you try to sound dangerous.”
“Oh, yeah?” he places his empty mug on his nightstand, freeing his hands and crossing his arms.
“Mhm.” you take a final sip before copying him and placing yours on your nightstand. “Very scary, but cute, like a chihuahua.”
“Those tiny motherfuckers ain’t scary, they’re all bark no bite.”
“Have you ever been chased by one?”
“That sounds more like a situation you would get into, not me.” he pats your thigh.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
To his surprise, you get up, pull off the sheets and straddle his lap. “Anyways…” you trail your finger along his chest down to the waistband of his boxers. His hands find your waist.
“Angel, you don’t have to-”
You cut him off moving your hips forwards, making his body jolt. You lean to kiss his lips softly. “Let me make you feel good.”
Joel just nods as you grind against him to get him hard, it doesn’t take you long.
When you consider he’s ready enough, you get off his lap and crawl between his legs under the sheets. Slowly, you hook your fingers on his boxers and start to pull them down. His cock is hard against his stomach, tip flushed and starting to leak. “Be good for me and take it,” you say.
Before starting your maneuver, you grab your hair with your hand to stop it from being in the way and his cock with the other, bringing it to your mouth and licking the precum dripping from the tip.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
You continue to lick long stripes from the base to the head, wetting his long and thick shaft. Then, you suck the tip into your mouth, drawing circles with your tongue on his slit.
He bucks his hips up, searching for more. Instead, you back off. “Nuh-uh, just relax and lemme do the work.”
Joel obliges and lets his body fall flat on the mattress, bringing a hand to his temple.
You go back to business, trying to get more of him every time you bob your head. You can feel him twitch when his tip reaches the back of your throat, your hand jerking the flesh that can’t fit in your mouth. You gag and pull out to take a breath, leaving a thread of saliva mixed with precum.
He’s wrecked, panting and cursing as you brush your thumb over his swollen head. You spit on it and let it drip down his length before sucking him off again, gagging around it and moaning so he feels the vibration.
“Baby, ain’t gonna last much longer,” he says with trembling legs.
You pull out, “hold it.” then suck again, now taking his whole cock in your mouth until his hairs touch your skin.
“Please,” he whines and you ignore it, still deepthroating him.
“Can’t hold it, angel — fuck. Please.”
You give your throat a break again, using both hands to jerk him off. “Please, what?”
“You know what.”
“Mmm, not very sure about that. Tell me what you need.”
“Jesus… Just- let me cum, please.”
“That so? You want to come?” you jerk him faster. He just nods. “Then do it, baby.”
After some final strokes, Joel comes undone in your hand, painting it white with his seed. Staring at his eyes, you lick it all clean.
He’s still catching his breath, swearing he could come a second time just by seeing how his spend disappears on your tongue. “Goddamn,” he huffs.
“Good?” you ask.
“More than good. C’mere.” he pats his chest, inviting you.
You do as you’re told and rest your head on his arm, hand playing with the hair on his chest. He pulls up his boxers, tugging in his softening cock. Then, his fingers find your hair and start to massage your scalp.
“You’re too good to me,” he whispers before leaving a kiss on your forehead.
“You say that now, wait until your cock is soft and I make you go for a sweet treat.”
Joel suddenly rolls and sets on top of you, caging you under him. “You’re my sweet treat.” he starts to leave wet kisses on your neck, making you giggle.
“Already needy for a second round?” you tease.
“Just giving my girl what she deserves.”
“Sounds real nice.”
“Like hell it does.” he bites your earlobe and trails a hand downstairs, finding your drenched panties. “This wet just sucking cock?”
“I think I’m wet since you woke up honestly. You have that effect on me.” you trace his chest with your finger.
He chuckles. “What am I gonna do with you...”
“Don’t know, but you can start by fucking me already maybe.”
“Yeah I like that idea, gonna fuck you so good.”
You grab his face and kiss him, but when he’s about to tug your panties to the side, his phone rings.
“Fuck!” he complains, getting off of you. “Ain’t no goddamn respect these days- oh.”
You look at him confused, wondering who’s calling.
“It’s Sarah,” he answers before you can even ask.
Joel picks up the phone, grunting words instead of actually saying anything. He hangs up the phone and gives you a look. “Her friend’s parents can’t give her a ride. Now I have to go pick her up from wherever the fuck they live.” He gets out of bed and starts to put on the first clothes he can find.
“You’re not gonna leave like that, are you?” you point at his crotch, where his hard cock is making a big bulge.
“It’ll go down in the car I suppose.”
Before leaving, he shoots a look at you.
“I ain’t done with you yet.”
“Mm, don’t know if I can resist starting without you.” you start to play with the hem of your panties.
“Don’t,” he warns, pointing with a finger at you like an angry dad. It makes you giggle.
He leaves the room and, even though he doesn’t say it, he’s happy because he’s coming home with a daughter and has a wonderful woman waiting for them.
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| summary: you surprise Joel with a picnic in your garden for his birthday, and find out why the stars break his heart. Long story short he cries in your arms, you comfort him and then you know how it goes. 😛
| authors notes: I’ve been playing around with this idea for a while and I’ve been so excited to finish it, so I hope you enjoy!? (I think I’ve came to the conclusion that I just really like men crying…)
| content: fem reader, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), riding, sad!joel, gentle!reader, angst, reader comforts Joel, slight talk of loss, they do the tango outside , crying!joel, grief, yearning!joel, Joel can’t accept he’s enough, hurt/comfort
| word count: 5k
For as long as you’ve known Joel, he’s been the same when it’s came to birthdays. He usually doesn’t want anything, he never causes a fuss; and in fact, he tries to avoid mentioning it all together. Of course when you started getting closer to him, you opposed to this. You told him you’re his ‘friend’ and you’re allowed, even obligated to surprise him every once in a while. Birthdays are supposed to feel special, even if he pretends not to care about them.
Of course, he thought the whole idea was ridiculous. So every time you’d mention it, he’d shrug and give you that familiar look, then say something like, “Y’know me, as long as I got you,” with that stupid grin of his that you absoloutely adore. You never fought him on it, just rolled your eyes and tried not to smile too much, muttering “Whatever, old man.”
But this year you wanted things to be a little different. Not anything over the top or dramatic like some huge surprise party, but a small gesture to show him that you love and value him. Just something to show him you’re grateful you have him, to spend another year by his side. Something intimate for the two of you. Candles, wine. Something like a picnic.
You wake up on and stretch, the morning light filtering softly through the curtains. After about half a second of consciousness, you realise it’s the day- Joel’s birthday, and the evening you’ve got planned for him is running through your head. You scramble out of bed, hastily flattening your sheets down and moving quickly to get dressed. Yes, you told yourself you won’t make today a big deal, but you can’t exactly help it, he never lets you do stuff like this.
Truth is, he doesn’t even know, so he couldn’t have stopped you either way. You open your drawers and throw on a little white dress, then start doing your makeup quickly. You can’t help but smile in excitement. Once you’ve puckered your lips up to put on some gloss, then unrolled your hair from those shitty rollers that do more harm than good, you start putting on your shoes.
Your eyes flick to the mirror to have a double take, and once you’re sure you’re ready, you grab your car keys and head outside the door. The drive to the shops is quick, you nod your head to the radio and tap your fingers on the steering wheel. The whole time there’s a feeling of warmth and excitement engulfing you. Eventually, you get to your first stop and park your car outside, getting on with the things you need to buy.
Once you’re done with the first shop, you get back in the car, tightening your seatbelt and starting to move through your list with a quiet smile.
At the bakery you pick up a fresh loaf of bread and a few croissants. In the supermarket you grab these gorgeous strawberries, his favourite herby cheese, and some olives. You tick off everything mentally, then shrug and run back to the aisle you just skipped. You grab a bottle of red wine, then run over and pick up some brownies.
Might aswell.
The last stop is the florist, where you get a small bouquet of white lilies and pink roses. Everything fits neatly into your tote bag once your list is complete. You load it into your trunk and drive home, already picturing the peaceful setup under the tree in your back garden. Back home, you unpack everything onto the kitchen counter, keeping it all neat and simple.
After a little while of humming along to the music in your headphones while you set everything up, you take a step back and admire the little picnic in your garden. You can’t help but crack a proud smile at yourself, for being able to actually pull this off.
You and Joel are a little complicated, you’re not together but you’re also not not together? After the outbreak, after meeting in Jackson, you established this strange relationship. He’s yours, and you’re his and you both know it, but neither of you have admitted it, whether because you’re scared or for some other unknown reasons. He runs errands for you, he helps you on patrols, he calls you baby. But for some reason or the other, you haven’t named what it is between you yet. You haven’t even had sex yet.
Joel arrives at your door eventually, and once you open the door with your glowing eyes and big smile, he knows something’s up. He sighs in acceptance as you pull him in, shutting the door behind him. “Baby-” he starts, hands on his hips in protest. You just wave your hand in his face, like you’re not willing to argue on this, then pull out a thin piece of fabric and hold it up to him.
“Turn around then” you giggle, and he has no choice but to do as you say. You stand on your tiptoes while you tie the blindfold around his eyes, before pressing a shy kiss to the nape of his neck, which is dusted with silver hairs. You pat him on the shoulder to say you’re done, and he straightens up with an amused grin, letting you guide him.
“Lord,” Joel chuckles, shaking his head as you drag him through the house, a blindfold over his eyes. You giggle, holding his arm tight, guiding his broad figure around tables and chairs to get to the glass double doors in your kitchen, the ones that lead to the back garden. “Baby I’m gonna trip,” he laughs, allowing you to push and shove him in the right direction.
“Shh you party pooper, we’re here” you pout, halting at the door, tugging at his sleeve to stop him from walking into the door, but probably a little too late.
“Ah shit” hisses Joel, rubbing his nose that just collided with the door. He steps back cautiously, a hand still over his face as he groans softly.
You clasp your hands over your mouth to stop yourself from bursting into laughter and say “Shit, I’m so sorry Joel,” as you choke through giggles. He shakes his head, just happy he can hear that sweet laugh of yours.
“That’s alright, can I take this stupid thing off my eyes now?” he grumbles as you watch him frown. You sigh, tugging on the sliding door to your garden.
“Okay, step” you instruct him, and he takes a wobbly step over the door. You laugh softly and tell him, “Yeah, whatever, you can take it off now” as he fumbles with the fabric and eventually pulls it off.
Joel blinks against the soft twilight that has wrapped the backyard in gentle shades of purple and gold. His eyes adjust slowly, landing on the corner you’ve created under the old oak tree. The stripy blanket lies on the grass, anchored by a few stones you’d gathered earlier. At the center, a jar holds the bouquet of lilies and roses you’d picked out for him, their petals releasing a sweet fragrance into the evening air.
Arranged around it are the fresh loaf of crusty bread, the golden croissants, and the bowl of glistening strawberries you’d bought. He lets his lips form a small smile when he sees the wedge of that specific cheese you know he likes, along with those fudgy brownies. The bottle of red wine sits beside two simple glasses, with the string lights you’d draped overhead now flickering in their reflection.
He stands motionless for a long moment, his broad frame silhouetted against the house. One large hand rises to rub the back of his neck, a gesture he has a habit of making when he’s caught off guard by affection. “What is all this?” His voice comes out low and gravelly, laced with that familiar mix of protest and underlying warmth.
You feel a rush of nervous excitement but step forward anyway, your white dress swishing softly around your legs. “Happy birthday, Joel. It’s not anything crazy or over the top. Just something small for- us. I really wanted tonight to be special for you.”
He exhales a long breath, shaking his head slowly, though the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, darlin’. I told you before—I don’t need fussin’ over. As long as I’ve got you, that’s enough.”
“I know you said that,” you reply gently, reaching out to take his hand. His palm is warm, rough from years of work, and his fingers close around yours without hesitation. “But I wanted to do it anyway. You deserve it- even if you say birthdays don’t matter.” Your eyes flick up to his softly as you ask, “Come on, sit with me?”
Joel holds your gaze for a beat, those deep brown eyes searching your face as if looking for a way out. Finding none, he nods with a fond sigh. “Alright. You win this one, bossy.”
You lead him across the grass to the blanket, watching with affection as he lowers himself down. His knees give a faint creak in protest, and he stretches his legs out in front of him, one boot heel digging slightly into the ground at the edge of the blanket. You settle beside him, smoothing your dress over your thighs, and reach for the wine. The cork releases with a satisfying pop, and you pour two glasses for you both, the rich aroma of berries filling the air between you as you hand him one.
You sit for a while, quiet and comfortable. You tear off chunks of the bread, spreading them generously with the cheese before offering bites to him. He accepts each one with a soft grunt of appreciation, his eyes lingering on your face more than on the food. You pop a strawberry into his mouth next, the juice staining his lower lip a faint crimson. Leaning in without thinking, you kiss it away, tasting the bright sweetness mingled with the salt of his skin.
“You’re spoilin’ me awful tonight,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, his expression softer than usual.
“Good,” you whisper back, smiling. “You work so hard all the time, Joel. You take care of everyone- let me take care of you for once.”
He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling in his chest like distant thunder, and takes a slow sip of wine. From there, the conversation unfolds naturally, like it always does between you two. You tell him about your day in more detail- the quick drive with the radio playing his favorite old country songs, and the way the bakery lady had smiled knowingly when you mentioned it was for a special occasion.
He tells you snippets about his own day, about the young apprentice who nearly crushed his thumb off, and some more talk about contracting and buildings and bricks. You love listening to him talk about his day, and you watch him with love as he speaks, barely hanging on to the words he’s saying. His shoulders loosen visibly with each passing minute, the tension he permanently carries easing under your company.
As the sky shifts fully from twilight to dark blue, and the stars begin to show, you scoot closer to him until your knee rests warmly against his thigh. The air between you feels thicker now, charged with intimacy and the kind of quiet understanding that only comes from deep love. Joel sets his glass down carefully on the grass and turns toward you, one big hand coming to rest on your waist, thumb tracing lazy circles through the thin fabric of your dress.
“Thank you,” he says after a while, his voice sincere and a little rough around the edges. “For all of this- the food, the flowers, the effort. Didn’t expect nothin’ like it, but it means more to me than I can explain baby.”
Your heart swells, pressing against your ribs. Baby. Unable to help yourself, you reach up and cup his stubbled cheek, feeling the familiar rasp under your palm, and before you know it, the words are slipping off of your tongue like honey. “I love you, Joel. So much.”
The words settle between you like a gentle spark. He goes completely still, his eyes widening slightly as they lock onto yours. Even though you’ve exchanged sweet words before, something about the care you put into this, the stars above and the vulnerability of the setting makes “I love you” land heavier. His throat bobs as he swallows hard.
“Yeah?” he breathes, the single word cracking with raw emotion. In the next instant, his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you onto his lap with that effortless strength that always makes your breath catch. You settle across his thick thighs, your dress riding up slightly as his hands anchor firmly on your hips, holding you close like you’re something precious and fragile. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply the scent of your skin, the faint floral notes of your perfume and the summer night air that clings to your locks.
“God, I love you too,” he murmurs, the words vibrating warmly against your collarbone. “So damn much it scares me sometimes. Don’ know what I did to deserve you baby.”
You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, fingers sliding into the silver curls at the nape of his neck, holding him just as tightly. His embrace grounds you, the steady beat of his heart thumping against yours. You stay like that for what feels like a long while, wrapped up in each others arms under the old tree. The string lights cast a soft golden glow over his shoulders as the faint breeze carries the sweet scent of the roses in the air.
Eventually, Joel shifts beneath you. He leans back a little, tilting his head upward to gaze at the sky. The constellations are clear tonight, scattered like diamonds across the dark canvas that’s the sky. His expression changes subtly- something distant and aching flickers across his weathered features as his eyes trace the familiar patterns. You watch him quietly, sensing the difference in his mood.
“Sarah used to love nights like this,” he says softly, almost to himself at first. “She’d bother me every night to take her outside with this little plastic telescope she’d saved up for. Knew all the constellations by heart- Orion’s Belt and shit.” His voice thickens noticeably, cracking with the weight of memory. “She loved the stars. So much. I’d forgotten how much I missed seein’ them through her eyes.”
You can see his eyes beginning to glisten as the fairy lights twinkle off them. What pains you is the fact that you know how hard he is on himself, how he’s trying so hard not to cry. Your own eyes sting in response, and so you cup his face gently with both of your hands, thumbs brushing tenderly over his jaw.
“Joel,” you whisper, your voice full of care. He doesn’t pull away, but his jaw clenches tightly, fighting against the rising tide. His broad shoulders tremble once, then again. You rub the nape of his neck gently to soothe him, fingers meeting his soft curls as your hands move up and down. “It’s okay Joel” you murmur softly, your breath warm against his skin. “You don’t have to hold it all in.”
He shakes his head softly, like he’s convincing himself more than anyone that he’s okay. “I’m fine, I just- I missed her y’know?” he asks, and his voice cracks. His eyes are threatening to let tears out, and he still doesn’t want to admit he’s in pain.
You can’t watch him hide from the world like this- hide from you. Gently, you move your hands to cup his face in both sides and whisper to him, “Joel, I’m here, just let it out.” At that, a teardrop rolls down his face as he blinks it away, but even then he’s shaking his head, wiping at his eyes nonchalantly. “Please Joel.” you whisper as you look into his brown eyes.
Finally, the dam breaks in quiet waves. His arms tighten around your waist as deep sobs roll through his chest, the grief buried for years finding release in the safety of this moment. You hold him through every croak, your fingers gentle and comforting in his hair, the other hand rubbing his back. He presses his face into your chest, his breath hot and uneven against you. Between his whimpers, you whisper reassuringly to him: “I’m right here,” and “You can talk to me,” pouring every ounce of gentleness you can into the words so he feels it.
The minutes stretch out, the quiet sounds of his crying blending with the rustle of leaves overhead. When the sobs gradually ease into shaky, uneven breaths, he finally lifts his head. His eyes are red-rimmed and glistening with grief, but there’s a clearer, lighter look in them now, as if a burden he’s been carrying has shifted ever so slightly.
“I don’t deserve any of this,” he rasps, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Don’t deserve you. Not after all the ways I’ve failed.” You shake your head firmly but lovingly, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose, then each of his damp eyelids reverently. “I ain’t worthy of shit.”
Your lips brush softly over his wet eyelashes, over the last traces of his tears. “You do deserve this, Joel. You’re worthy of birthdays and picnics and stars and-” you pause to breath, exasperated. “You deserve the world baby, and I love you with everything in me.” You swipe your palms across his cheeks, gently drying the glistening trails that were his tears.
He lets out a shaky exhale and rests his forehead against yours. The air between your bodies feels heavy with everything you’ve shared- grief, comfort, love. Your mouths meet in a slow, lingering kiss that begins tender and reverent, full of all the things you haven’t managed to say yet. His lips are warm and slightly salty, tasting like tears.
Gradually, the kiss deepens, and his tongue brushes yours with need as his hands slide down your back, settling firmly on your hips and pulling you even closer against him. Your chest is pressed to his as he holds you, both muscular arms firm around you, covering you like a shield. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin.
When you finally pull back to part for air, foreheads pressed together and breaths mingling, Joel’s voice drops to a rough, but soft whisper that sends a shiver right down your spine. “Let me make love to you, baby.” he asks, eyebrows furrowed like he needs it.
“Yes,” you breathe immediately, your heart pounding hard. “I want you Joel.”
He captures your mouth again in an urgent kiss, his hands moving with purpose. With careful strength, he eases you back onto the blanket, the cool grass beneath you having a gentle contrast to the heat building between you. He hovers above you, his eyes shining with nothing but love. His calloused fingers trace the thin straps of your white dress, slipping them slowly down your shoulders one by one. He follows the path with his mouth, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone and the swell of your breasts until he tugs the fabric lower, and you’re bare to the cool night air.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs reverently, his mouth pressing wet kisses onto one of your breasts. His tongue licks softly, teasing and giving you attention until you arch up into him with a soft, needy moan. Your fingers thread through his hair, holding him close as he gives the other breast the same devoted treatment- sucking gently, just enough to send sparks of pleasure shooting through you.
His free hand wanders lower, bunching the dress at your waist before lifting your hips to pull the garment off completely over your head, along with slipping your underwear down your legs. The cool breeze kisses your hot skin, but his body quickly chases it away as he settles his broad shoulders between your parted thighs.
He kisses a slow, worshipping trail down your body, to your stomach, your hips, the sensitive crease where your thighs meets where you need him most. When his mouth finally reaches your core, you gasp sharply at the first touch. He licks a long stripe up your folds, humming deeply in satisfaction at your taste. “So sweet f’me,” he groans softly, the vibration sending pleasure through you. He closes his eyes and lets out a soft groan, yearning for you. It’s like there’s nothing he needs more in this world than you- nowhere else he’d rather be than between your thighs.
His eyes meet yours, and without losing eye contact, he moves his hand until two thick fingers tap against your entrance, like he’s asking for permission. You nod, eyebrows knitted together in desperation, and gently, he presses them inside you, moving them deeper excruciatingly slowly. His own mouth falls open in awe, and he looks back up to watch you, curling his digits expertly to stroke your sensitive spot.
“Joel- oh, fuck,” you whimper, your hips bucking up instinctively into his face. His lips seal around your clit as he watches your euphoric expression, and he sucks with perfect, gentle pressure. He holds you steady with one powerful arm across your waist, sleeves rolled up, showing the dusting of grey hair across his forearm.
“That’s its dollface, just feel it,”His fingers pumping in a steady rhythm as his tongue works relentlessly faster. Pleasure coils tighter and hotter in your belly with every movement of his fingers.
He adds a third finger, stretching you impossibly while his mouth doesn’t move, like his mission is to make you break. Before you know it, your legs feel weak. “Ah fuck, Joel please-” you moan, hips shaking around his head.
All he does is whisper “Shh, I got you.” into your heat, pushing your leg down firmer with his free arm. “Let go f’me sweetheart.” His voice is low, coaxing you to let go.
Your first orgasm hits you intensely- walls clenching hard around his fingers while you cry out his name, your thighs trembling around his head. “Good girl,” he whispers into you. He doesn’t stop, easing the high with soft kitten licks through every wave until you’re shuddering, only moving back to give your nub a gentle kiss.
He crawls back up your body, pressing his lips to yours so you can taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into it, hands fumbling at his chest to get off his shirt. He helps you, pulling it off to reveal his broad, defined chest- covered with scars you know the stories of, and a trail of light hair leading downward.
Your palms roam over his chest greedily, and you can feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your hand. He unbuckles his belt quickly, pushing down his jeans and boxers together to reveal his heavy cock. It stands flushed and hard and you can’t help it when your lips part in desperation, seeing him already glistening. You wrap your soft hand around him, stroking slowly with your thumb swirling over the sensitive tip until he groans like he’s in pain, his hips twitching forward into your grip.
“Fuck baby, I ain’t gonna last,” he groans, voice strained with need as he hovers over you.
You smile up at him teasingly, guiding the glistening head of his cock to your slick entrance. He lowers himself, following through with it. “Joel, I need you, please.” you beg.
He locks at you, eyes full of emotion. “Look at me, darlin’.” As your gazes hold, he asks gently, “Are you sure you want this?” Your breath hitches and you nod your head desperately. His heart aches at your visible need. Finally, he takes hold of his throbbing length. “Alright, I gotcha sweetheart,” he says understandingly, “let me take care of you.” With extreme care, he starts to push in slowly, inch by thick inch.
He stretches you open with that burning fullness and all you can do is moan. You feel like he’s about to tear you apart. A low groan tears from deep in his throat as he bottoms out, filling you entirely. For a long, breathless moment he stays there, forehead pressed to yours, your hot breaths mingling. “I love you,” he whispers weakly. “So fuckin’ much.”
He begins to move, back snd forth while his tip consistently hits that sensitive spot. The blanket beneath you bunches beneath you with the power of each snap of his hips. You cling desperately to his back, nails clawing at his shoulders as waves of pleasure spark up your spine. He fucks you like it’s his job, and keeps going, his hand trailing to your face, the other braced onto your side to keep himself up. “Joel” you whine desperately, “I need you- I need more.”
The stars shine silently overhead, the cool night breeze a contrasting with the wet heat between you, where your bodies join. Joel bucks his hips into you purposefully, the hand on your face moving to your mouth.
“Look at me,” he rasps again, voice rough. You obey, locking eyes as he thrusts, faster. The raw emotion in his gaze tightens something deep in your chest. He hooks his thumb into your mouth, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he fucks you. “That’s it baby, suck.”You close your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around the digit as the rhythm of his thrusts grow more urgent. The obscene sound of skin slapping on skin fills the night air, mixing with your moans and whines.
Suddenly, he shifts angles, hooking one of your legs higher over his hip. The new position lets him hit that spot inside you, making you moan with devastating pleasure. Your walls flutter around his length, releasing slick as he moves in and out.
“Attagirl,” he encourages through gritted teeth, a bead of sweat formed on his brow. “Let go while I’m deep inside you baby,”
You shatter again with a broken cry, but around his dick this time. Joel lets go of a few strained curses, groaning as his thrusts become irregular while he chases his own peak. He bucks his hips into you a few more times, his thrusts powerful and deep and then buries himself as far as possible, closing his eyes desperately. “Fuck- I’m gonna-” he croaks, hips faltering as he repeats your name over and over again desperately. “Baby- you feel too good, please-” he begs.
You whimper, overwhelmingly full with his final deep thrusts, and noticing that he’s close, finally say, “Mhm, let go inside me.” At that, noises you’ve never heard from him escape his lips, and he breaks- spilling hot and thick cum inside you with a long, groan of your name. His hips twitch through the aftershocks, filling you completely as he kneads one of your breasts, desperate for anything to hold on to.
He collapses carefully over you, supporting his weight on his forearms so he doesn’t crush you while he tucks his face into the curve of your neck. You stroke his back in lazy circles as you both come down from your high, hearts pounding together in sync. After a few minutes, he rolls onto his side, pulling you flush against his chest.
His fingers trace affectionate patterns along your spine while you nuzzle your face against himc, pressing soft kisses to his collarbone and shoulder. “Best damn birthday I’ve ever had,” he murmurs eventually, his voice sleepy as his hands move down to rest on the swell of your ass.
You smile against his warm skin. “We’re not even done yet, old man.”He lets out a soft, rumbling chuckle that vibrates through both of you as hands begin to wander again. One hand rests on your ass, the other reaching to hold your breast and teasing the nipple until it peaks under his thumb.
Fresh heat stirs low in your belly, after you’d thought it impossible considering how hard he just fucked you. You tease him right back though, nipping at his jawline, biting and licking at his stubble. Soon he’s helping you sit up on him while he lays back. You sink onto him with a relieved sigh, pressing both hands to his chest to ground yourself. This round is slower and more loving, his hands maps every inch of you reverently: the dip of your waist, the valley between your breasts. When you begin grinding, he praises you, knowing it’s what you need right now. “That’s it sweet girl, just like that.” he coos, letting you take the lead and give yourself the pleasure you need.
Much later, when the night air turns cooler and the sky is dark, Joel gathers you into his arms lovingly and carries you inside the house, with your legs wrapped securely around his waist. In the bedroom, he lays you down on the bed with gentle care, like you’re an angel laying beneath him. The third time is lazy and unhurried. Your bodies move in perfect, familiar rhythm, fingers intertwined, soft gasps filling the quiet darkness. It’s like you’re savouring the pleasure, wanting it to last forever as you gasp breathlessly against eachother mouths.
You eventually fall asleep wrapped in his arms, his steady heartbeat like a lullaby against your ear. The smell of vanilla, sex and him linger warmly on your skin as you lay, intertwined together.
When morning light spills through the curtains the next day, you open your eyes to find Joel propped on one elbow, watching you with lovingly, a seriousness in his gaze. His fingers trace lazy circles along your cheek and jaw, his expression relaxed, unlike anything you’ve seen in a long time.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, meaningful. “For last night. For seein’ all of me- the good and bad parts. For lovin’ me anyway.”
You lean up to kiss him, sweet and full of promise. “Always, Joel. Happy birthday.”
He pulls you closer into his chest, and in the gentle morning glow, surrounded by his warmth and the lingering memories of stars, you know this is only the start of many more birthdays you’ll make sure he never spends alone.
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Summary: You never meant to catch feelings for your dad’s best friend, so you aren’t surprised when it ends. You are surprised, however, when you come back and Joel is just as enticing.
Pairing: DBF!Joel x neighbor!reader
WC/tags: 6,517 / legal age gap, neighbors to lovers, arguing, Joel is bad at feelings, dirty talk, p in v smut, MDNI
Part one here
A/N: anyone else find this one a bit rushed? Idk I went back and made a few tweaks but idk…let me know your thoughts. Also thank you for 600 followers :)) a gift is coming SOON
The party has died down, only your parents and a few stragglers still lingering in the kitchen. You check your phone, but there are no texts from Joel. He’d promised to come back for cake, but you hadn’t seen him since you left the kitchen earlier.
It hits you then, the way he kept his gaze flickering between your face and the door when you talked, how he had tensed when you mentioned Tennessee. He left.
You swallow hard, excusing yourself from the conversation before slipping out onto the front porch. The night air is cooler now, thick with humidity as crickets hum in the grass nearby. Your eyes scan up and down your street before settling on his house, dark except for a single light glowing through one of his downstairs windows.
You bite your lip so hard it almost draws blood.
Walk away, some rational part of your brain pleads.
Go to him, argues another.
Your heart wins over logic this time as you cross the street towards his porch, barefoot and reckless just like when you were twenty four.
Your knuckles wrap on the wood of his doorframe before you can change your mind, and you step back, hugging yourself with one hand while the other holds the paper plate. You wait for several minutes, bouncing on the balls of your feet until the door cracks and Joel swings it open. He looks confused and then surprised when he sees you, and you frown.
“I promised I’d save you a slice,” you say after a few moments. You hold out the plate, nodding toward it. “It’s vanilla.”
Joel's heart stutters in his chest at the sight of you standing on his porch again after so long. He'd resigned himself to wallowing in his own misery and now you're here, looking like a vision with the moon illuminating your soft features.
He clears his throat, reaching for the paper plate wordlessly. “Didn't think you'd actually bring me a slice.”
“I promised I would,” you say and he takes it. You fidget, swallowing hard. “Can I come in?”
Joel’s brow creases. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, sugar.”
The nickname is a slip of the tongue and it covers you like a lashing.
“I still think about you,” you rush out, digging your nails into your palm. “All the time. I thought it’d go away that it was just a crush but, I- he asked me to marry him and I said yes when I should’ve said no because he wasn’t what I wanted.”
Joel's eyes darken, the muscle in his jaw clenching at the mention of your fiancé. Hearing the words out loud makes it real, makes the jealousy he's been trying to bury rise in his gut like bile.
He wants to tell you no, tell you to leave because you're not good for each other. But the soft look on your face, the please in your wide eyes is his undoing.
He sighs, opening the door wider and stepping to the side with a muttered, “Come in, then.”
You walk past him tentatively, your heart hammering behind your ribs as you step into his space. Joel closes the door with a quiet click, placing the plate on the side table before standing to his full height.
“I thought it’d go away,” you whisper. “It’s been five years and it…it should’ve gone away now right? When I would think of you I’d just, say rest in peace.”
Joel shoves his hands in his pockets, forcing himself to keep his distance. He doesn't trust himself to touch you, not when he's so close to just pinning you against the wall and taking what he's wanted for five years.
He's quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks his voice is rough. “Why'd you say yes, then? To marrying him.”
“Because he was nice,” you give a halfhearted shrug. “Because he was easy, and he was vanilla and vanilla is safe. Because i thought eventually id feel what im supposed to feel.”
Joel's chest tightens at your words, pain and jealousy and anger stirring in his core. He wants to wrap you up in his arms, to tell you that only he could make you feel what you're supposed to feel, but he forces himself to keep his voice measured.
“And did you? Feel what you're supposed to feel with him?”
You chew at your lip, your fingers fisting in the fabric of your dress before you slowly shake your head. Joel exhales and he takes a few heavy steps forward, until he’s so close you can count the grey in his beard, the scent of him filling your head and making it spin. His proximity has you dizzy, the memory of his touch on your skin coming back in waves.
He stares down at you, his eyes dark and full of that possessive heat that makes your breath falter. He reaches out and runs a calloused finger over your bottom lip, gently tugging it from between your teeth. “Don't do that,” he mutters, his voice rough. “You’ll draw blood.”
You sigh against his hand, and he falters, his fingers slipping around your face, cupping the side of your jaw.
“Joel,” you whisper, closing your eyes. “Tell me it isn’t just me. That it isn’t all in my head.”
Joel's breath hitches as he takes in the way you lean into his touch, the way his heart rate quickens at the soft sound of his name on your lips. He steps even closer, invading your space completely, his other hand settling on your hip with a possessive grip.
“It's not just you,” he says hoarsely, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “It's messy, but it's not just you.”
You’re the one that breaks first.
You surge forward, pressing your lips to his in a desperate kiss. He pauses, his hands raised as if to push you away before he melts, sliding his arms around you to drag you closer.
Joel groans into your mouth, his grip tightening as he pulls you flush against him, one hand tangling in your hair and the other sliding down to squeeze your ass. He can't stop himself, not when you taste like the past five years of yearning. He deepens the kiss with a grunt, biting at your lip until you gasp before soothing it with his tongue.
Bending he picks you up and your legs wrap around his middle. His back protests but he pays it no mind, his mouth on yours as he climbs the stairs with you in his arms.
When he makes it to his bedroom he kicks the door closed behind him. He lays you down, tongue licking into your mouth as his hands run up and down your sides, pushing up the fabric of your dress to bunch above your hips. When he sees the dark red lace of your underwear he groans, head falling to your collarbone before you tug gently at the strands of his hair.
Joel's breath is ragged against your neck, his fingers tracing the lace of your panties before he drags them down, letting out a low noise when he realizes you're glistening beneath them.
“Fuckin' hell,” he grunts, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh as his hands knead at your hips. “Been waiting for this, sugar?”
“Maybe I missed you.” you whisper, watching as he tosses the underwear over his shoulder. He hums, pressing a kiss to your pelvis before he sits up. You whine at the distance and he hushes you.
“Shh,” he murmurs, tugging at his shirt. “You can be patient can’t you?”
His shirt meets the floor and then he’s stepping out of his jeans, an obvious tent in his underwear. You sit up, running your palm over the bulge and his hips jerk.
“Not when it's you.” you pant, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as he towers above you. The sight of him like this, his hair mussed and eyes dark, ignites a fire low in your belly. “You were dead to me.”
He shivers at your touch, his hand tightening on your hip as you explore the hard lines of his body. He hovers above you fully naked, flushed, his cock already hard. Veined and red, twitching with the effort of how badly he needs to be inside you, but he didn’t rush.
Joel doesn’t move until you cup his jaw and pull him down into a kiss. Mouths met softly, then harder, his tongue tracing your own in slow movements. His body sinking into yours, skin on skin as he shoves your dress up and away, heartbeat to heartbeat.
You grip the back of his neck and whisper against his lips, “Let me show you how much I missed you.”
He groans, deep in his throat, and you flip him onto his back, straddling his hips with shaking thighs. Your bare cunt slides over his length and he hisses, hands flying to your hips as you drag against him.
“Fuck, sugar,” he gasps “all wet already.”
You lean down, your breasts brushing his chest, and ground your hips against his length once more. “Because of you,” you whisper. “I used to think about us. The way you’d fuck me, when we snuck around. Other boys are clumsy but you, you knew how to touch me. How to make me feel like I had angel wings.”
He is gone, watching you take full control.
You rise on your knees, just enough to bare yourself to him, and guide him inside, sinking down slowly, inch by tight inch, until he is buried to the hilt.
Both of you moan, raw and loud, mouths agape from the stretch. He is trembling beneath you, the flush of his skin spreading across his cheeks and down his chest. His breathing is ragged, and he's struggling to maintain his composure. “Jesus,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “You feel so good, sugar.”
You start to move, slow at first, grinding your hips in deep, lazy circles that drag the tip of his cock right against your most sensitive area. His hands clamp harder on your hips, trying to keep himself tempered, but you aren’t making it easy.
“You gonna come just from riding me?” he asks, breathless.
You nod. “Already there.”
He groans, slipping one hand between your bodies to rub firm, precise circles over your clit. “There you go sugar,… let me feel you. Let go for me.”
The moment his fingers touch your clit, the knot in your belly pulls tighter, just a little more, just another stroke and-
You're coming with a choked gasp, your thighs shaking as you clamp down around him. He curses under his breath at the tightness of it, watching in awe as you fall apart above him.
Before you can even catch your breath he flips you onto your back without pulling out and starts to move inside of you again, deep and slow. “Gonna make sure I’m all you think about.”
If you weren’t so cockdrunk you’d be embarrassed by how easy you fell apart. He doesn’t stop, his hips snap into you relentlessly now, grinding deep as your soaked cunt flutters around him, so overstimulated your vision blurs.
His name falls from your lips like a mantra—a prayer that only he can answer. His gaze is so heated, so filled with desire and possession, that it sets your body aflame with a hunger that only he can satisfy.
He takes your hand and places it above your head, pinning both of your wrists with one of his big hands. His fingers wrap all the way around them, holding you in place as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “Just as sweet as I remember, sugar.”
You can’t answer, just moaning with a nod, nails dragging down his chest, thighs shaking uncontrollably.
“That’s it,” he whispers, his breath hot on your cheek as he leans forward, one hand wrapping tight around your throat. You moan again, your walls fluttering and he grunts, jerking up into you with three final brutal thrusts as his cock pulses deep inside you, filling you so completely that you lose your breath.
The post-sex silence is thick, and all you can hear is the sound of your blood pumping under your skin.
Joel takes a few moments to catch his breath and when he looks down at you, his expression softens, his grip on your wrists loosening.
His gaze roams over your face, taking in the flush of your skin and the way your hair is messy and wild from the way his hands had been tangled in it. He brushes a strand away from your face, his touch unexpectedly tender.
“You okay, sugar?” he murmurs, searching your eyes.
You nod slowly as his hand drags away from your throat, dragging a thumb on your jaw. “M’okay.”
His fingers are gentle as they trace the curve of your cheek, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. He exhales hard, trying to calm himself down before pulling away and collapsing onto his back next to you with a groan.
For several long minutes, neither of you speak, then he sighs heavily and runs both hands through his hair before dropping them onto his chest with a rough chuckle. “Well... that was somethin’.”
Leaning up, he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead before rolling onto his side again, pulling you against him as he does.
His fingers trail lazily over the curve of your hip and down to the inside of your thigh as he lets out a contented sigh. The scent of sex hangs heavy in the air between you, but underneath that, there’s something else too; something Joel hasn’t been able to put his finger on for five years.
“Where do we go from here?”
Your question is small, slipping past your lips like a secret. Joel’s fingers pause but just for a moment, then they’re back to moving up and down your side.
He sighs, his hand rubbing over your hip. “That's the million dollar question, ain't it?”
There's so much more he want to say, wants to confess. But he's scared, terrified to put it out in the open in case you laugh in his face and tell him it was just a one time thing, that you didn't actually feel anything.
So he just says, “We go one day at a time.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, turning your neck to face him. “One day at a time.”
-
When day four comes and goes and not a word from you, Joel thinks he’s ready to lose it.
You had slipped from his arms like a thief in the night, promising you’ll figure something out. That you’re grown, more than you had been when you’d first gotten involved with him, and that your parents would eventually understand.
But you hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, and the worry is eating at him.
He's sitting at his kitchen table, hands wrapped tight around a lukewarm cup of coffee, staring holes into his phone screen.
One day at a time, he thinks bitterly, except it’s harder than he anticipated. His thumb hovers over your contact before he finally caves and taps out a message:
You alive? He deletes it, rewrites it, erases again. Eventually settles on: You good?
Short. Simple. Not too desperate, enough to remind you he exists without making himself look like some lovesick fool who can’t go five minutes without thinking about the way you came apart underneath him.
The waiting is what kills him though; watching those three dots appear then disappear like you can’t decide if talking to him is worth the trouble.
Can I come over?
Your text comes nearly an hour later, and he scrambles for his phone. He considers your words, drags himself to the bathroom and runs water over his face before he texts back.
around 7 should be good for me.
Joel's heart is a damn drum in his chest, his palms sweaty as his fingers fly over the keys. He lets out a long exhale as he presses send, then leans over the sink and splashes more water on his face to calm himself down. It's not that big of a deal, he tells himself, as he checks his reflection in the mirror, trying to flatten his hair into something semi-decent.
He's not nervous. Not really. It's just that it's been so long, and he hopes you still like what you see.
At seven sharp, you tap your knuckles on the wood of his front door. You rock on your heels as you wait, butterflies swarming rampant in your stomach. When he opens the door is like liquid peace settles over your bones. You smile, and he smiles back as he steps aside, letting you.
Once you cross the threshold, you don’t wait. You snake your arms around his neck, your nose brushing his as you kiss him. He smells like soap, like he had showered right before you came, and his lips are soft beneath yours.
Joel groans, his hands immediately gripping your hips to pull you even closer. His breath stutters against your mouth, his body responding on instinct—like you'd never left. His tongue slides against your own and he kisses you hungrily, backing you up until you're pressed against the door.
His mouth explores your neck, biting at the skin until he's sure it'll bruise.
“You have no idea how much I missed you.” he mutters against your shoulder, his hand sliding up under your shirt.
“It’s only been a few days.”
“Sue me.”
You giggle, dropping down from your tip toes before peering up at him. “So…I spoke with my dad, and then my mom.”
Joel stiffens instantly, his hands freezing on your hips. The mention of your father makes his stomach churn. He's already half-expecting you to tell him some bullshit about your father banning him from ever seeing you again.
“Yeah?” he asks gruffly, trying to remain casual despite the tightness in his chest. “And what'd he say?”
“He was kind of…caught off guard at first. He definitely thinks I’m too young for you. Mom said something similar.” You reply, and Joel gives a little roll of his eyes.
“Can’t blame ‘em.” He mutters but you shake your head.
“But he also said I’m a big girl. That I can decide for myself,” you say in a soft voice that has Joel tripping over himself. “That if you’re good to me…and make me happy? Then who is he to stop it.”
Joel lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Relief washes over him, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. He'd been prepared to have to fight for you, to argue his case and defend himself.
But then he realizes what you said, and his breath hitches.
“Wait,” he says gruffly, pulling back to meet your gaze. “Repeat what you just said.”
Your brows crinkle. “That you make me happy?”
He shakes his head, his hands gripping your waist. “No, the other part.”
He needs to hear you say it again, needs the reassurance. Because there's a small part of him that still can't believe you're here right now, looking up at him with those eyes of yours.
You smile softly. “That you’re good to me.” Joel nods, his mouth twisting and you cup the side of his face. “And you, are Joel. Good to me.”
Joel exhales sharply, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he soaks in your words.
“Fuck,” he murmurs against your skin before pressing a slow kiss to the inside of your wrist. When he opens his eyes again, they're honeycolored and wide.
He doesn't say anything else; doesn't have to. Instead, he pulls you into another kiss, gentler this time, softer than before but just as desperate, like maybe if he holds onto you tight enough now, neither of you will have to let go again.
Summary: You never meant to catch feelings for your dad’s best friend, so you aren’t surprised when it ends. You are surprised, however, when you come back and Joel is just as enticing.
Pairing: DBF!joel x neighbor!reader
WC/Tags: 6,517 / legal age gap, neighbors to lovers, arguing, Joel is bad at feelings, dirty talk, p in v smut, MDNI
Part II here
A/N: this became a whirl wind lolz for my Softly’s locket collection!
You aren’t sure when it started. You just know you never want it to stop. Joel has been your neighbor for the past three years. You never paid him much mind, not until your dad started bringing him around more. It was then that you noticed how handsome he was, in a rugged kind of way. And how lonely.
It became a sort of ritual.
You were changing into your swimsuit to meet your friends at the lake, lathering your skin with tanning oil in your room when you felt…watched. Glancing out your window, you spotted him. Mr. Miller, mowing his lawn, a ratted baseball cap on his head and his tan skin shirtless, exposed to the sun. Staring right at you.
You had blushed, a fluttering in your pelvis that made you feel bold. You blame it on the fluttering, your behavior. The fact that you had untied the back of your bikini, let them dangle before letting them go completely slack, falling away to reveal your breasts. He hadn’t looked away, but even from the distance you could tell he’d been surprised. He’d stared for a few moments before tucking his cap, and going back to his lawn.
You thought about that interaction all day, stuffing your cunt with your fingers that night until you came with his name on your tongue.
It had progressed quickly after that. The first time he kissed you had been on Memorial Day, a burnt hamburger in one hand and your face in the other. He’d gotten so lost in the feel of your lips on his, your tongue prodding at his mouth that he’d dropped his hamburger, crushed it under his sneaker in his haste to get closer to you.
When he’d taken off your clothes for the first time, sneaking you over after Sarah had gone to bed, he had spent hours worshipping you. He’d kissed every square inch of your skin, made you see stars on his tongue. He’d coaxed you to crest multiple times, and by the time you had to go home, you’d been boneless, fried with a delicious ache between your legs.
Joel wasn’t your first. But he was certainly your best. Every touch, every caresse left you feeling like you were floating, counting the minutes until you saw him again.
It was a whirlwind of hidden kisses and gentle hands that you craved, and he could never get enough of.
He should feel bad.
He knows he should.
But as he stares down at your spread thighs, cunt greedily clenching around his length, he can’t find that he does.
Joel presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, your ankle leaning on his neck as he thrusts in and out, taking him exactly like he likes. Like you were made for this.
“You should really leave.”
There’s the pesky situation.
You’re panting, your lips red and parted, bare tits bouncing with each thrust. “Dad’ll be- home soon.”
Your father, his best friend, would probably kill him if he ever knew. If he ever found out the way that Joel bends you over, stuffs you full. The way you beg for it, eyes big and slit dripping. He can’t ever say no to you, but especially when you ask like that, which is how he found himself fucking you on your dining room table in your family home.
“You don't want me here, sugar?” Joel asks, his hand snaking down your leg to grip your hip. “Then why does your body say otherwise?”
You groan, pink nails scratching at the edge of the table as his thrust grow harder.
“I-i need it.”
“Need what?”
You gasp, your brows pinching and Joel slaps the side of your ass, hard. A yelp escapes your lips and your back bows. “Y-you. Need you.”
He wants- needs- to tell you that you don't. He wants to tell you to go, to run away. To find someone better, not him.
But the way you tighten around him, the way your eyes soften and your breath hitches-
He knows better. He knows he's a selfish man, a weak one.
And it's for you that he'll be a sinner.
His hand grips your chin, tilting your eyes up to meet his. His expression is stern, a little demanding.
There is something there. Something he’s never said out loud and doesn't really let himself think about, but it shows in the way his hand is holding your chin. The possessiveness of his grip.
He gives your cheek a pat in retaliation for the sass.
“I know baby,” he murmurs, fingers moving to your clit and begins a slow, hard circular movement with his thumb. “I gotcha.”
You hiccup, your cunt clenching and he has to bite his cheek harder to stop his own orgasm as you fly through yours.
“Shh, shh.” He whispers, releasing your chin to press his hand over your mouth.
He can feel the heat of your breath, the way it quickens as he continues to touch you. He watches your face carefully, the way your eyes flutter shut as he pushes you closer to the edge, the way your body arches against him, desperate and wanting.
His own climax slams into him like a punch to the gut; hot, relentless, the kind of release that leaves his head spinning. He doesn’t pull out, can’t bring himself to, not when you’re still trembling beneath him. Instead, he leans in closer until his forehead presses against yours and removes his hand. His breath is ragged as it fans over your lips.
For a second, just one fucking second, he lets himself stay there. Lets himself pretend this is something it isn’t, something more.
Then the sound of an engine drags both your attention and his to the front window, and you jump from the table, adjusting your shirt and skirt as he tucks himself back into his jeans. You look at him with wide eyes before dashing to the bathroom and he runs to the kitchen sink, turning on the faucet and washing your slick from his mouth and hands.
The door opens and Joel turns quickly, his hands bracketing the edge of the sink just as your dad comes walking in, arms laden with groceries.
“Joel!” He exclaims, his brows knitting. “What’re you doing here?”
“He was just coming for your chain saw,” You interrupt, rounding the corner of the kitchen, a dark green chainsaw in hand. “I figured you’d let him borrow it so i went to get it for him but your garage is a mess so it took forever.”
Your dad rolls his eyes with a playful grin as he sets down the bags. You pass Joel the saw, fingers brushing his and he gives you a quick nod.
He ignores the pink that’s still in your cheeks, the way your hands are still warm from being intertwined with his.
“Here you go,” you say, the lie easy. “Sorry it took me so long.”
It's clear that your father hasn't caught on, and Joel takes the chainsaw from you with a nod of thanks, careful to keep his expression neutral. It's a skill he's perfected over the years, hiding his true feelings.
“Thanks,” he mutters, his gaze flickering to you for a split second before he looks away again. “Yeah, I've been meaning to borrow that. Appreciate it.”
You smile, wide and devilish and Joel wonders if his cum is dripping down your thighs.
You move away, leaning on the opposite side of the counter as your father bundles up the plastic bags.
“Finish up your work?” He asks, eyes moving to you and you nod.
“College classes aren’t nearly as hard as everyone said they’d be,” you reply, and shrug. “I’m up to date on all my classes and it’s only Wednesday.”
“Smart cookie,” your dad beams. “Ain’t she Joel?”
Joel clears his throat, shifting the chainsaw under his arm. He looks anywhere but at you, the way your skirt is still riding up over one of your thighs, the hint of pink peeking out. He swallows thickly.
“She is.” He manages to choke out. He doesn't even have to feign the admiration lacing his tone. “She's pretty goddamn smart.”
You smile, dismissing their praise with a light wave. “It’s easy.”
Your father begins to list off the classes he took that you’re also taking, and how they were hard for him but seem to be easy for you. Joel is only half listening. He can’t take his eyes off you, the forbidden fruit that he’s already tasted and wants to taste again.
“I should get goin’,” Joel grunts, nodding awkwardly. “Sarahs uh, probably waiting.”
“Good to see you Joel,” your father shakes his hand, and Joel feels a prick of that guilt in his chest. “Honey, walk him out?”
You push off from the counter, glancing at him as you stroll into the hallway. “Sure.”
Joel follows you, his fingers flexing at his sides as he steps out onto the front porch. The air is cool, a stark contrast to the heat still simmering low in his gut. He turns to look at you, taking in how flushed your lips still are from earlier, the way your shirt is slightly rumpled where his hands had been gripping it too tight.
For a moment, neither of you speak.
Then he exhales sharply through his nose and runs a hand down his face before muttering under his breath. “Fuck.”
“What’s the matter, Mr. Miller?” You ask politely, like he hasn’t seen you naked, like he hasn’t tasted the salt of your skin.
“Don’t,” he bites, and you have to swallow down your grin. “If your dad-“
“I’m twenty-four years old,” you shoot back. “I’m not a child. I drink and have sex and know what I want.”
“Jesus, kid-“ He grits out, jaw tight. “It ain't about you being *a child.* It's about the fact that your daddy trusts me and I just- fuck.” He drags a rough hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before dropping his voice to a harsh whisper. “Do you even know what you're doin'? You think this ends well for either of us?” His eyes are dark, burning into yours like he’s trying to make you understand something without saying it. That this, whatever this is, is messy and complicated and so dangerous because he knows what you mean.
You blink a few times, inhaling through your nose. “What do you want Joel?”
He doesn’t answer. Can’t answer, and you frown.
“You’re gonna make this hard huh.” You murmur, and he scowls because it isn’t that simple and you know it. Folding your arms, your frown deepens. “I go back to school in a few weeks anyways.”
“A few weeks-“ He repeats, his brow furrowing at your words. “And then what?” He can't keep the anger and frustration from his voice, his hand moving to grip the railing to keep from taking you by the shoulders and shaking you. You gonna find yourself another guy at college? Some pretty boy who can't keep his eyes or his hands to himself? Is that the plan?”
“I don’t know, maybe!” You shoot back, and his spine tightens. “Not like it should bother you.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t.”
You both know it’s a lie, the absolute opposite of what he truly means. He doesn’t know when it got so messed up. When you turned into something else.
He turns away, taking the porch steps two at a time and you don’t stop him. You watch him cross the street, slamming his front door behind him and when you’re alone you wilt like a petal.
In his home Joel drops the chainsaw, racks a hand through his hair. He swears he won’t touch you again, won’t dream about your thighs or the sound of your laugh. He won’t answer when you call.
And for five, long years, he keeps his promise.
He heard about your birthday party from your dad. You were coming home for the week to celebrate with your folks, bringing a fiance in tow. He acts like it doesn’t make his mouth run dry at the idea.
Naturally Joel and Sarah are invited but with Sarah away for the summer on a college retreat, it’s just him. He figures with how much time it’s been, he’d be fine seeing you again. He had seen you here and there over the years, but from a distance, never going over when you were in town. Now as he stares down at the text from your dad, he wonders if he can handle it.
He decides he can.
He brings a case of beer and shaves a few hours before the party starts. When he walks into the backyard there’s groups of people, your dad already at the grill flipping burgers. Your mother ushers him in, directing him to the kitchen to put the beers in the fridge. He thanks her politely, the AC smacking him the moment he walks inside.
Several women gather in the kitchen, organizing the fruit and hamburger buns and he excuses himself as he squeezes through to the fridge.
“Mr. Miller?”
He pauses, lets the fridge hang open for a few moments before he spares a glance over his shoulder.
Joel turns, eyes moving over the women behind him before settling on you. You're all grown up, he thinks in spite of himself. You're a goddamn woman now.
He clears his throat, closing the fridge with a jerk as his free hand goes to his hip. “Hey.”
“Hi,” you smile, taking a few steps forward and surprising him with a hug. “It’s been a while.”
Over a thousand days but who’s counting he thinks bitterly.
He hadn’t loved you back then, not really. But he had cared for you. Too much, way too much. So much that he wonders if he could have, if the time had been right.
He tries to make a glance at your left hand inconspicuous, but your hands are in your pockets now and he can’t tell if there’s a ring on your finger.
He returns the embrace with a tentative pat on the back, trying hard to ignore the way your scent, that's still you somehow, makes him dizzy. You pull away after a moment, and he misses the way your curves pushed against him, the softness of your body. You're as gorgeous as the last time he'd seen you, more so even.
“Yeah,” he grunts, glancing at your left hand as subtly as he can. “How ya been?”
“Good! Finally graduated and working,” you laugh, shrugging. “You know. Grown up things.”
“Yep,” Joel hums, and nods once. “Heard you got married.”
Your face falls but just for a moment and you tuck your hair behind your ears. “Oh, no actually. It…didn’t work out.”
Joel's heart gives a thump against his ribcage at your words, and he hopes to god you don't notice the flicker of satisfaction on his face. It shouldn't make him feel good, but it does, that you're not wearing someone else's ring on your finger. It makes him hopeful, a feeling he hasn't felt in a long, long time. He clears his throat, shoving that thought away. “Sorry to hear that.”
The tone of his voice suggests he's not sorry at all.
You give a weak smile, folding your arms as if to protect the muscle thumping in your chest. “S’okay. Better now than if I took his last name right?”
Joel's expression darkens at the mention of you taking some other man's surname, and he shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from doing something stupid, like reaching for you.
“Guess that's true.” He grits out, watching you closely, the way your eyes keep flickering over his face, like you're trying to memorize his features.
“How’s Sarah?” You ask, changing the subject and he lets you. He tells you about his daughter, what she’s studying, and you applaud him. “Wow she’s so grown up.”
Joel's chest swells with paternal pride as he talks about Sarah. She's his whole world, always has been. “Yeah, she's somethin' else. Gonna end up doin' real good in this world, I think.” He looks at you, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. “Takes after me though, of course.”
You snicker, nodding. “Right of course.”
Joel grins, and pulls a beer from the pack he had placed in the fridge. “Want one?”
“God yes,” you exclaim, taking it from him. Your nails are light orange and they scrape his finger lightly. “This heat is strangling.”
“That's Texas for ya." He mutters, clearing his throat to dispel the sudden tension. “Always hot as hell.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” you mutter, popping the tab. “That’s one thing I like about Tennessee. Still hot just, not like this.”
He listens to you prattle on about Tennessee, about your school and your friends and your life that’s states away. He realizes that he’s missed out on so much, that while you’re still the same girl who kissed him til he was weak in the knees, you’ve also become someone else. It makes him miss you all the more.
“Where is the birthday girl?” Your mother calls and you turn towards the noise. Joel takes a slow swing of his beer, watching your hair swish over your shoulder.
“I should go to her,” you sigh, putting down your beer bottle. “I think they’re gonna cut the cake soon. Meet you out there?”
“Save me a slice.” he agrees, nodding at you. You smile, a real one that pulls at your lips before you go out the back door to the patio and your party, and Joel leans against the kitchen counter, willing his heart to slow.
It's a mistake, being here, and he knows it. Seeing you, talking to you, being in the same room as you after years apart has his body reeling like it's on fire. He has to get a grip on himself, and fast.
There’s a bubble of voices from outside, and Joel walks to the window, watching as your mother holds a white frosted cake with candles up to you. Your dad holds your shoulders, grinning with an expression that matches your own and you laugh in light embarrassment as everyone sings. Another woman with dark hair, maybe a friend of yours from school, hugs you tight before you blow out the candles and everyone claps. Joel watches with light envy, wishing he could touch you as brazenly as they do, and he takes a long swig.
You look happy. You’re surrounded by love, with a smart head on your shoulder and a big heart and he doesn’t belong anywhere near it. He’ll just screw it up. With quiet resignation, he chucks the bottle into the trash, and leaves out the front door quietly, leaving you to your celebrations that have no space for a man like him.
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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.
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