#joelfluff

when you first moved in he was the first to offer his help. him and his brother came over first thing the next morning. both of them were exceptionally sweet, but you were captivated by him. those big strong arms carrying your vanity all the way to your bedroom without complaint. the veins that ran from his knuckles up to elbows. and that greying, short, fluffy hair that jus covered his forehead and kinda curled around his neck and ears.

after a long day of squeezing furniture through your front door, joel and tommy, though exhausted, had kindly refused any kind of payment except for a bit of spaghetti that you’d neatly packaged up for them both to take home. though you may have put a little more care into joel’s.

after that joel would wave to you as he packed his truck for work or when he would take a break from mowing the lawn. he bore a kind smile on his usually stern face every time, asking how you were settling in if your window was open. sometimes you would slip in a small issue just to pique his interest.

“my sink just ain’t draining right mr. miller. could ya fix it for me?”

“that storm last night just happened to take out a bit of my siding mr. miller.”

“mr. miller could you install this new shower head for me?”

of course, you could most likely figure all of those issues out yourself with your own toolbox. hell that shower head came with package instructions. he didn’t have to know that though. 

for now you’d use all the excuses possible to get him to come over. plumbing issues, renovations, even leftover dinner (which he oddly always declined). and this was no different today as you gazed out into your neighbor’s backyard. the window was open and you could just barely hear the birds singing, their beautiful trill sadly overwhelmed by the hum of that old mower. summer was certainly here in texas. the brutal sun had burnt you plenty of times over already and the grass between joel’s house and yours was growing faster than ever. 

your hands are busy in the sink, scrubbing away at a wine glass from days prior, but your eyes are busy watching his back as he pushes the lawnmower. the steaming hot water on the back of your hand brings you back to your own reality. you rinse the glass out, place it on the drying rack, and pick up a small whiskey glass in it’s place. 

tonight you’d planned on making something to cool you down. popsicles were freezing for dessert and you’d already made a batch of lemonade, but you really have absolutely no idea what to make for dinner. 

the hum of the mower grows louder as joel comes up on your window. he kicks the old machine off and grins up into your window. 

“how’re you doin tonight miss?” his sultry accent slides right off his tongue and suddenly your stomach flutters slightly. you smile and wave. 

“i’m doing just fine mr. miller, how about yourself?”

he runs a hand through his sweat-slicked hair and chuckles. “tommy’s got me workin horrible hours. had’ta beg him for a day off.” with one hand on his hip he gestures out to his finished yard, clearly exhausted, “an even then, the work never truly stops.”

you nod along sympathetically, truly upset to see the poor man so tired. you could only imagine how hard it must be, being a single dad and working for so long.

an idea sparks in your brain. 

“mr. miller,” you hum, leaning up against the window sill, “how ‘bout you come over for dinner tonight?”

his face drops and both his hands come up in front of his chest, “oh no miss, i’d hate to impose-”

“you’re not imposin’, for the millionth time.” you roll your eyes dramatically, earning a small chuckle from joel, “just come on over after you put sarah to bed. i’ll make dinner and you can relax.”

joel seems to contemplate the idea for a moment, scratching his scruffy cheeks in thought. you watch, your hands white knuckling the whiskey glass, fearful that you'll receive another polite rejection.

a puff of air blows from between his lips as he finally relents. 

“alright, i s’pose i’ll be over tonight.”

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giddy didn't even begin to explain your current feelings. you were ecstatic, over the moon, befuddled, but also, simply anxious as many people are when they host a dinner at their home, especially for somebody they admire.

you stand in front of your fridge a few hours later, robe wrapped tight around your waist with a towel still on your head. joel still hasn't text back telling you what he wants to eat. 

he didn’t look like much of a soup or stew man. you think maybe he would be a griller. all dads are right? and he had told you he was a hunter before. but you don't have a grill and the only meat you currently have is a package of chicken breasts anyways, which you can't see yourself doing much with if you did even own a grill. 

*ping*

your eyes catch the message on your screen before it fades 

i’ll eat whatever you make. i liked your pasta.

perfect. 

you grab the chicken, a package of frozen noodles, and the ingredients you’d need for a sauce and get to work. 

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dinner is still in the works when your doorbell rings. you jump a slight bit, wooden spoon falling to the ground with a harsh clatter. 

“just a moment!” you call out even though you know very well who it is. 

you quickly pick up the spoon and cover the cooking pasta with a lid. once you get to the door you take a deep, slow breath and reassure yourself. 

this isn’t a date. you’re just trying to get him out of his house. into your house. to get to know him better. it’s a win - win situation for you both really. nothing bad will happen.

you swing the door open with a small smile. low and behold joel is standing on your front porch, a large bowl held gently in his hands. your eyes rake over him before you can tell yourself to be subtle. 

his peppery hair is freshly washed and pushed back in a neat style. a few stubborn strands fall astray here and there but it all seems to add to his cool and stubborn charm. you can tell by the strong smell of his aftershave that his beard has been trimmed and seemingly brushed over. the hairs definitely weren’t that neat when you last saw him. your eyes stray a little lower and you can’t help but gaze at his chest in that tight black shirt he’s wearing. the red flannel layered over it doesn’t do much to cover the muscle he’s built over the years. 

“what have you got there?” you ask, blinking rapidly to try and clear your mind. 

“it’s just ah,” he avoids eye contact, his fingers thrumming against the sides of the bowl, “just a salad. i figured i’d bring over somethin’ so you didn’t have to do all the cookin’.”

you smile appreciatively and step to the side. “thank you joel. you can just set it on the dinin’ table.” he nods as he walks past you into your kitchen. looking at your ingredient cluttered counter, you suddenly wished you’d picked up a little. 

as you try and stuff down your insecurity, and make sure that dinner is still coming along, joel has a peek around your home. with absolutely no cares about how unkempt your kitchen appears, he wanders through the threshold and into the lounge, his hands now stuffed comfortably into his jean pockets. you watch him from a ways back for a moment, simply taking in the way he strides around so comfortably. 

he saunters up to your fireplace, gazing at your family photos, and picks up a picture of you and your older brother. 

“boyfriend?” he asks, not-so-subtly trying to make the question seem casual. when you almost burst out laughing, catching yourself with a hand slapped over your mouth, his face morphs into some befuddled expression.

“no,” your words come out breathy as you recover, taking the photo from joel and settling it back into it’s place, “that’s my older brother. nice guess though.”

a moment of silence passes between you two as joel processes this information. you hold a shit-eating grin on your face as you continue to hold back sudden bouts of laughter.

“so no boyfriend?” his brow cocks slightly in your direction. you give the same curious look and cross your arms over your chest. 

“why’re you so curious mr. miller?”

joel bites the inside of his cheek, his exhausted eyes meeting your lively ones. he takes in your features, admiring the soft look of your skin and the gentle curl of your lips as you break into a smile. “no reason.” he spits the words out confidently, his own arms coming up to cross below his chest. “i was just curious. i don’t wanna make the same mistake with a picture of you n’ your cousin.”

you roll your eyes and let your arms drop. “okayy.” 

as you walk past him to take dinner off the stove, you wonder if you’d read that conversation right. he was definitely asking to make sure you were single. right? or maybe he really was just asking out of curtesy. like how older relatives always pry at the younger ones' love lives around the holidays. 

you were terrified to flirt too confidently, fearful you would say something wrong or make joel uncomfortable. he was quite a bit older than you after all and was most likely much more adept in conversation, something you had always struggled to get a real grasp on. his 46th birthday had just come around a few months ago. 

fuck he was literally old enough to be your dad. 

you push those thoughts to the back of your head and try to focus on plating your chicken fettuccine. you set the table, one plate on either side, and uncover joel’s salad that sits in the middle of the table. 

you pop the fridge open and call out to your guest. “do you want lemonade or wine, joel?”

“depends what kinda wine you’ve got in there miss.” he walks back into the kitchen and watches as you pull a rounded bottle from the fridge door. 

“ah, it’s a red semi-sweet,” you hum, “shiraz i think?”

"sounds good to me.” he’d always been a bit more of a beer guy, they were easier on his body, but he’d never turn away a good red wine if anyone offered. so while you were busy popping the bottle open, he was busy preparing two of your recently washed wine glasses, still setting on the drying rack. 

he takes a rag he presumes is clean enough and wipes the outsides of the glasses down carefully, then sets them next to you. with slightly shaky hands you fill each glass just about 3/4 of the way full. 

“easy tiger, i gotta know where my front door is when i leave here.” joel teases, picking up both glasses and carefully setting them next to each of your plates. you follow closely behind with the wine bottle and scoff. 

“if you can’t find it i’d be more than happy to help you.”

“that’s real kind of you. and so is all this.” he makes a grand gesture to the table, smiling at you over the salad bowl, “thank you for dinner tonight.” joel fishes the salad tongs out of the dish itself and settles a healthy helping of lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, and peppers on the side of your plate. once satisfied with your portion he moves on to his own plate. 

“oh it’s no trouble at all really. you look as if you could use a night away.” you reassure him eagerly before digging into your plate. 

“you’re right about that.” he chuckles, taking a slow sip of his wine, “i got tommy lookin’ after sarah tonight. figured i better not eat n run.”

“you are just such a kind soul.” you tease, reaching for your wine to wash down the thick fettuccine sauce. 

this was nice, you think. it was nice to have someone to share a sense of humor with, someone who could not only tease you, but enjoyed when you shot back with the same attitude. joel just made conversation seem so smooth and easy.

joel tucks in to his own plate of pasta, wrapping the noodle around his fork so he didn’t have to slurp like a true gentleman. as he goes to push the food into his mouth though, the noodle slips and he slurps it up so fast that the end whacks him on the tip of his nose. 

sauce dots joel’s nose bridge and stains his mustache. normally he’d be a bit irritated by the failure of his first bite but the way you laugh at his fuck up and those first few sips of wine have his heart feeling a lot lighter tonight. 

joel glides his tongue over his mustache, collecting the leftover sauce that he can reach all while making eye contact with you over the table. you watch him do so and shift a little in your seat. 

suddenly your face feels hot. 

“so,” you avert your gaze and pick up another noodle, “what do you actually do for work?”

“mmm,” joel nods, currently wiping at his face with a napkin, “me n’ tommy are carpenters. flooring, framing, building walls, you name it.” he takes another small bite and put a hand over his mouth to speak. “tommy’s been talkin’ bout starting his own contracting business though. wants me to join him.”

you nod along eagerly, brows raising at what you can only assume is good news. “you should. you guys would be good at it. especially with all the practice i’ve given you over here.”

joel’s eyes crinkle as he laughs and raises his glass to his lips. the red wine goes down smooth and he finds himself subconsciously taking bigger and bigger swigs each time.  “what about you miss? what are you doin’ for work?”

“i’m workin’ from home right now. i specialize in graphic design for companies.” you judge his expression as approval, maybe even surprise, and continue with your explanation. “i’ve got a trip comin’ up soon. they’re flying me out to new york city for it.”

“we’ll have to celebrate before you go then.” joel offers, “dinner can be my treat this time.”

“that sounds wonderful.” you agree, cleaning your plate of the remnants of chicken and salad. 

joel pushes his chair back and stands, taking his empty plate and silverware in his hand. "finished?' he asks, leaning down to be able to look you in the eyes. you gaze up at him, almost feeling stupid as you nod wordlessly. you manage to slip in a quick "thank you joel" as he turns away.

a gentle hum is all you get in response. joel is busy spraying down the plates in the sink.

you stand up as well, pushing in both of your chairs and gathering your wine glass in your hands. "so," you take a small sip of wine, "if you don't wanna eat n run, what do you s'pose we do?" joel chuckles to himself as he joins you, his own wineglass in hand.

"i s'pose we see if that fireplace of yours works." he nudges you with his elbow as he walks past, a grin lining his wine-reddened lips. you follow quickly behind and settle yourself on the cushy sofa.

"have you burned it before?"

"ah, not yet. There should be some wood inside but i was 'fraid i'd burn the house down." you respond, finishing off your glass of wine in one big swing.

the fireplace wasn't really anything fancy. it held your tv atop it, serving more as a decorative piece rather than something you'd use often. rusted wrought iron doors kept stray pieces of cloth, paper, or string from catching light. dark oak that matched the rest of your home made up the rest of structure, encasing your tv in a box with a mantle above it.

joel crouches down in front of it with a stiff groan, you can even hear his knees crack, and eases the iron doors open. "i'm sure we'll be just fine." he tugs a lighter from his jean pocket and clicks it on. using the small flame joel lets a smaller twig catch fire before tossing it on the logs. "we'll see how we get along with that."

It's not long before the fire is practically roaring in your lounge. All the times you'd curled up in a blanket because it was too cold in the house and you seriously could have just lit a fire with a spare lighter and been sweating in minutes.

you really don't know if the wine or the fire has contributed to the warmth on your face more. all you know is that the way joel is sitting on your sofa, his legs spread slightly, one large hand resting on his thigh and the other currently pouring you another glass of wine, is making you want to slide closer. you can still smell his after shave. the musky smell wafts off him and you wonder if he seriously got this ready just to see you.

"watcha lookin' at, hm?"

"huh?" your head snaps up and your mouth hangs agape a bit, completely caught off guard.

joel chuckles, his smile wide enough that you can see his teeth this time. "you just zoned out a lil' there." he lays a hand on your shoulder, slowly dragging it down towards your elbow.

a shiver races up your spine at the feeling of his callused hands on your skin and you blurt, "oh, i was just thinking."

joel must be really feeling the wine too because suddenly he's very invested in your thoughts. "what about?" he prods, letting his fingers continue to linger on your arm. you find yourself leaning into his touch and even scooting a little closer to the older man on the couch.

"nothin' important." you hum, simply staring back at him.

joel does the same, his green eyes flitting over your features as if he's drinking you in. finally, they land on your lips. plush, soft, and stained red from your consistent sipping of the wine. his fingers twitch restlessly against your arm and you think you see something change in his eyes.

before you can pinpoint his expression joel is setting his wine to the side and leaning in closer, his now free hand hovering close to your cheek. a moment of silence passes between the two of you as joel searches for words. blood seems to roar in your ears as you anticipate the question you know he'll ask.

"can i kiss you?"

you've never been more sure about anything as you briskly nod your head and the both of you lean in.

his lips are warm and a little rough but you melt into the kiss nonetheless. joel holds a hand on the back of your head, the other pulling you closer and closer until you end up on his lap. not knowing what to do, your hands find a home against his chest. your heart is racing and your stomach is fluttering. all of your past experience seems to fly out the window and you're not even sure if you're doing things right.

the seam of his jeans catches against your covered clit as joel adjusts his hips a bit, though you know it's on purpose. your sharp nails dig into the smooth cloth of his t-shirt, earning a little groan from joel's lips in return. the sound is a gruff vibrato that rumbles from his chest. you can only imagine how his moans sound. your mind begins to run wild and the feeling in your belly rises, thighs tightening around his hips in an effort to feel something.

joel's large hands roam over your body. from your shoulders to your hips, your ass to your thighs. he gropes and squeezes every supple expanse of flesh he can find but makes a valiant attempt to make his touches at least a bit more gentle. as his lips pull away from yours, significantly puffier and shiner, you notice how they puff out with the effort of huffing for air.

he smiles and grabs one of your hands. "how're you feelin' sweet pea?"

a giddy feeling runs through your body at the new nickname. no more of the uncomfortable "miss". it almost felt like a promotion. "i feel good." you tell him, running your thumb gently over his knuckles.

"yeah?" he stares at you adoringly, pushing your hair out of your face, "do you wanna keep goin'? maybe move on to your room?"

"god, yes." you sigh heavily, your hand tightening slightly around his.

"alright." joel laughs heartily at your reaction, his cheeks going bright red. he grips your thighs and pulls you closer to his stomach. "put your arms around me, pretty." of course you do as he tells you to, arms interlocking at the nape of his neck. once you're secure, joel pushes himself up from the couch cushions and sets off towards your bedroom. the skin on his neck is warm and inviting, smelling heavily of that same damn enticing aftershave. you kiss along his collarbone, over his shoulder, and up his neck.

joel kicks your door open gently with the toe of his boot and crosses the threshold into your bedroom. his heel taps the door shut. you start to get a little more nervous, the hazy buzz of the wine starting to wear off, and as joel lays you down on the edge of your bed he seems to catch on.

his thumb caresses your cheek as he hums, "we can stop anytime you want sweet heart. we can stop right now if you want to okay? just say the word." you nod briskly, lips shut tight in embarrassment. "use your words, tell me if you wanna stop."

"no, i wanna keep going." you tell him, tugging on his flannel collar, "i'm just a little nervous."

joel smiles warmly and nods. "i understand. we'll just take it slow, okay?"

"okay." you breathe.

his hands run down your hips and over your belly. he slides them up under your back and urges you to move up to the headboard where you'd undoubtedly be more comfortable. there's a soft *puff* as your head sinks into the cloud like pillows that he had unknowingly picked out for you when you first moved in. joel kicks off his boots and then crawls after you, fully on his hands and knees, his pupils blown up with lust.

you lean upwards, capturing his lips with yours, and drag him back down with you with a hand on his cheek. joel hums against your mouth, almost giggling into the kiss like a teenage boy. the action is contagious and soon the both of you are separated and laughing softly.

once the both of you were calmed down, joel begins toying with the hem of your t-shirt. "can i take this off sweet pea?"

"of course." you murmur, freely allowing his warm hands to slide up under your shirt, exploring your the soft skin on your belly. once he reaches your ribcage, he pushes the fabric up and over your head revealing your breasts to the cool air in your room.

"shit." he huffs, eyes raking over your body. "you are so pretty sweet heart." joel continues where he left off with you, first placing a kiss on your lips, then your cheek, your jaw, and gradually beginning to travel lower. his lips roam across your neck slowly, stopping every now and then when he finds a particularly sensitive spot that causes you to squirm underneath him. hickeys begin to line your collar bones and, as he continues to go even farther south, the tops of your breasts.

he brings a hand up to test the waters, gently massaging your flesh. your head falls back a bit and you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. "does that feel good, hm?" he rumbles.

"yes." the response is airy, your head feeling cloudy as he continues to practically make you melt into the mattress. the only thoughts in your head right now are about him. you are completely, utterly, totally, focused on him.

joel kisses down your sternum, his beard scratching against your skin. "good," he hums quietly, almost grumbling against your belly, "that's what i like to hear." he continues to lay wet kisses along the top of your abdomen. his fingers tease at your waist band, tugging on the stretchy fabric just far enough to allow his mouth to place a gentle kiss beneath.

"joel," you whine, shifting your hips, "please."

his fingers dip below the waistband of your pants yet again, this time toying with the top of your underwear in the process. joel's eyes meet yours, sweet and soft under his thick brows. "can i take these off?" a brisk nod is all he needs to continue, popping the button on your slacks and tugging them down along with your underwear.

you gaze up at him and, when his eyes meet yours, he smiles warmly. "doin' okay?"

"i'm doin' great." you respond, fingers tingling in anticipation as he sinks down between your legs, the muscles in his broad shoulders almost rippling. joel hums in approval, taking his time to kiss his way up your thighs. his teeth nip here and there, leaving purple and red bruises all along your flesh. when he finally reaches your cunt, he blows cool air over pushes sopping folds, chuckling at your surprised hiss. joel swipes his tongue over his lips before finally leaning in.

you gasp at the surprisingly warm feeling of his tongue on your slit, your hips pressing into the mattress.

"ah, ah, don't run." joel murmurs, holding your hips with his arms as he fully digs in. the arch of his nose bumps against your throbbing clit as joel pushes his tongue past your entrance. his tongue curls and pulls, pressing right against that spongey spot that makes your toes curl. hot pleasure runs down your legs and you squeeze your thighs tight around his head. joel chuckles in response, only pulling you closer with his muscular arms.

a rather loud moan of his name falls past your lips and you grab hold of the man's hair, tugging as your arms tense up with the pleasure. the soft tip of his tongue traces a figure eight over your clit repeatedly, the sensation making your knees quake.

"that's right sweetheart," joel encourages you with a muffled groan, his scraggly beard scraping wondrously over the soft plush of your thighs, "cum on my tongue. it's okay." you're entire body trembles, a feeling like no other running up your spine and out through your arms and legs. your chest feels full as you huff and puff, trying to keep yourself quiet.

one of your legs rests over his shoulder, encased in his grip and trembling harshly against his clothes, while the other is left to lay free on the mattress. joel runs his palm along your skin, soothing you, keeping you grounded as you practically lose your mind.

you're right on the precipice, moans slipping out unabashedly at this point. with one more rough scrape of his beard, his tongue lauving up your folds and over your clit, you finally cum.

your chin tilts up and your eyes squeeze shut. joel grunts as your grip on his short hair tightens dramatically, but he doesn't pull away. instead he works you through your orgasm, keeping your hips pressed down, his tongue still lapping gently at your sore clit. you whimper pathetically at the feeling of his wet beard still grazing over your folds. the sharp bristles stick to his lips and cheeks, completely saturated with your cum.

joel raises his head when you've finished and the sight of him makes your head spin.

his eyes are dazed, lips puffy, wet, and red, and his beard is soaked to a deep brown. "you did such a good job sweet pea." joel's hands rub over your thighs and up to your stomach.

"thank you." you huff, smiling up at him as you recover. one of your hands grabs his collar and tugs the man down to your level. you place a sloppy, wet kiss on his lips, tasting your own release on his tongue.

when you release his collar, joel pulls away with heavy breaths. his eyes are completely blown up now, almost black, with desire. his hips slot between your own, replacing his face with rough denim, strained against his hard cock. desperate to get him in the same situation as yourself, you begin to push his flannel down his arms.

"steady now," joel laughs, helping you to get his t shirt off, "there's no need to rush sweet heart." as he tosses the fabric to the floor, his lips meet yours for a brief kiss. as much as you want to pull him back in for more, but the aching need for his cock outweighs the need for his lips.

joel pops the button on his jeans and shimmies out of them, kicking the denim off the bed into the pile of both your already discarded clothes. you gaze, completely enamored, at his body. his torso is lightly covered in scars from work. though he's well built, you can't find his abs. there's just a bit of fat layered over what you know is strong muscle. you reach out and joel let's your palms wander over his body, feeling all the way up to his chest.

gently, joel takes both your hands and settles them on your own belly. "keep em there. " he commands, thumbs hooking into his boxers. you swallow harshly, throat going dry as he pulls the tight fabric down his legs.

his cock bobs, head flushed and dripping with pre-cum. he was average in length, but god was he thick.

you stare up at joel, wringing your hands on your stomach while seriously contemplating if he would fit. "that won't-" you begin to gush your thoughts, but he shushes you.

"we'll go slow." he promises, kissing your forehead, "you can take it, i know you can." joel sits back on his knees and spits into his hand. you watch as he works his cock slightly, wetting it down to make it as painless as possible.

once he's satisfied, he leans over your body and presses his lips to your cheek. you can feel the wetness from his beard transferring onto your skin. "ready?" he hums.

you nod in response, grabbing at his bicep to prepare yourself.

joel lines himself up with your soaked entrance, running his head through your folds, teasing you just a bit. the feeling makes you want to cry, pathetic desperation running through your veins. you needed him so bad, and he was messing with you?

"joel, please." you spread your legs for him and dig your nails into his arm.

"oh, what a good girl fer me." he mutters, southern accent thickening immensely, "keep 'em just like that pretty."

slowly, joel sinks his hips forward. the head of his cock presses past your hole easily, and you swear you feel every ridge running along your walls. he watches as your nose scrunches and your eyes fall shut. your lips press into a thin line as he thrusts forward gently, pushing in just an inch more.

every pulsing vein catches on your gummy walls. you almost feel too full when he continues, pushing himself forward inch by inch, keeping his promise to go slow and be gentle. your legs are trembling, nails just about to draw blood from his strained bicep, as he finally bottoms out.

the both of you gasp, hot, heavy breaths hitting each other's faces as joel rests his forehead on yours. it's intimate, the way the arch of his nose settles against yours, the way you can feel his breath gently brushing against your lips. you tilt your head just slightly, catching his lips in a kiss that joel readily replies too. his mouth is hot, lips plush and soft as he kisses you back passionately. you gasp against his lips as joel pulls his hips back slowly, till just his tip rests inside of you.

your hands grapple at his shoulders, clawing and scraping as joel thrusts back into you in one fluid motion. he keeps his movements gentle for the moment, still pressing kisses to your lips, but as the pace picks up, the tip of his cock nudging at your gspot, you lose the energy to kiss him back.

joel watches your face through hooded eyes, your chin tilted and cheeks a bright rouge. your eyes were practically closed, just your pupil's peeking out between your lashes as you gaze back up at him. your hair was ruffled across your damp forehead, some strands sticking to your skin while others stuck straight up.

to him, you were possibly the prettiest mess he had ever seen. what he would give to be able to see this perfect portrait of you every night. your beautiful body spread out, though this time on his sheets, while he fucked you stupid.

staring back down at your fucked out expression, joel chuckles. "you feelin' good pretty baby?" he asks.

"mhm." the sound barely comes out past your quiet whimpers and moans. your brain felt numb, like it was melting into mush, and thoughts no longer swam around your mind. the only thing you even wanted to think of was the heavy drag of his cock along your quivering walls, punishing your cunt with the rough yet steady pace he had set.

"use your words sweet pea," he uses his hand to brush the hair from your forehead.

"yes, fuck, yes joel." you cry to him, your sharp nails digging through the skin on his shoulders all the way down to his waist.

"atta girl," joel growls, his teeth gritting at the burning pleasure that now runs all the way down his back. your cunt squeezes him at the gravelly sound of his voice. he whimpers, voice cracking, as he asks, "gonna cum on my cock, huh?"

"yeah," you puff, "yeahyeahyeah-" you lose track of how many times you tell him yes. you only know the burning hot pleasure that's building in your belly. joel keeps his forehead pressed to yours, his free hand cupping your jaw gently.

"look at me baby," he demands, very carefully nudging your jaw upwards, "just let it go," he's kissing the tense parts of your face, shushing you as you whimper and cry out that it's all too much, "it's okay sweet girl, i've got you."

that's when the pressure in your belly finally overflows. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close so that you can bury your face in his neck. you chant his name like a prayer, right next to his ear just to make sure he can hear.

joel's thrusts become sloppy, his hips canting wildly forward, and his breathing starts to grow shallow. you feel his cock twitch inside of you, but just before joel finishes he pulls out completely. he groans, his nose scrunching, fists squeezing the pillow behind you, as his release lands across your belly.

for a moment all that's heard is the quick breaths between the two of you. a warm feeling grows in your chest as joel presses his face into your neck, sighing heavily.

and then you laugh a little.

"what?" joel picks himself up and looks at you, puzzled.

"nothing," you hum, still dazed, and cup his face, "we should clean up."