#pervy!joel

You moved into the trailer park about a year ago. You wanted to live below your means to save up for a house. Blue Moon Trailer Park mostly houses divorced guys, you realized. There are a few families, a few other single people.

Then, there’s Joel, your next-door neighbor. He’s single, never been married, doesn’t have kids, and in his late forties. He works in construction, and for fun, he ogles your ass and your cleavage.

The day you moved in, he was sitting on his porch, wearing just his green plaid boxers, a beer bottle in one hand, a joint in the other. As you started unloading your car, he went inside his trailer, put on some jeans and a plaid shirt that he didn’t bother buttoning, then met you at the trunk of your car.

“Need some help, darlin’?” he asked, wearing a toothy grin.

You didn’t respond at first. You tilted your head to the side in slight confusion. 

He held his hand out and introduced himself. “Name’s Joel Miller. Noticed ya ain’t got anyone to help ya bring in all o’ your things. Just thought I’d offer.”

In all honesty, you were immediately attracted to him. Maybe you watched too much Sons of Anarchy, but there was something about a nasty, slimy guy that always did it for you. 

A guy who carried himself with confidence, unapologetic for his less than (typically) desirable habits. This guy was sitting half-naked on his porch with a drink and a joint in his hand when you rolled up twenty minutes ago. Now, he had put a shirt on, sure, but he hadn’t even bothered to button it, his slight gut sticking out. Joel fits the bill for nasty and slimy perfectly.

You shook his hand and gave him your name. You let him help you bring your things in. When he picked up especially heavy boxes and grunted in exertion, you felt your panties grow slicker.

He must’ve fucking smelled it on you or something, because by the time the two of you finished, he was suggesting he help you christen your new bedroom. 

//

After living in the trailer park for a while, you recently got a second job waiting tables on weekend nights just to keep busy.

Apparently, Joel hasn’t been taking it very well.

The text on your phone comes in just as you’ve plopped onto your bed, still in your waitress uniform. 

-Horny. R u up?

Is he serious? Did he seriously text you this at 3:00 in the morning, ten hours after you told him you’d be working until 2:00? Seriously?

Are you seriously putting your shoes back on and already crossing the eight feet of grass between your and Joel’s trailers?

…Yes.

You walk right in. Joel never locks his trailer when he’s in it, said he doesn’t see a point, and left it at that. 

You’re greeted with the sight of Joel sitting on his couch, clad in his unzipped jeans and an unbuttoned denim shirt, with his cock in his hand. 

“Thank the Lord,” he mumbles. “Get your pretty ass over here.”

You roll your eyes as you lock Joel’s front door, kicking your shoes off as you cross the living room.

“3:00 AM? Seriously, Joel?” you grumble. You stand in between his legs, undoing your jeans.

“Not like I forced you to come over here. Just asked if you were still up,” he points out, already slightly breathless as he lazily jerks himself off.

To the right of him, you spot old Playboy magazines.

You open your mouth again, but before you can give a speech about how offensive you find those magazines, Joel nods, saying, “Yes, seriously. Now c’mere. Need that sweet pussy real bad, baby.”

You push Joel into a lying down position, then shuck your jeans off, along with your panties, and kick off your shoes. He grabs the backs of your thighs and pulls you to the couch. You hover over his face, straddling his chest. He doesn’t waste time; he dives right in, pulling deep moans and groans from your mouth with ease.

He licks stripes up and down your slit until your thighs tighten around his head, a silent signal that he needs to get it together and actually eat.

Joel switches from long licks to concentrated swirls around your clit. You and Joel never really cared for drawing it out. The longest you’ve ever spent with Joel was an hour and a half, and that was only because he popped a viagra.

He feels your clit pulsate against his tongue, and that’s when he pushes you off him. You stumble back on his body while he sits up, his hands palming your bare ass.

“You worked a night shift at the diner, then came to my place to fuck,” he murmurs, his breath hot on your face, smelling of cheap whiskey and Marlboro Reds.

“So?” you groan.

“So... Someone likes me,” he teases as he pulls your shirt over your head, revealing the lace of your bra.

“Asshole,” you mutter as you roll your hips against his crotch.

“You’re not denyin’ it,” he hums in your ear, his hands still rubbing your cheeks.

“You got a condom or what?” you snap.

Joel shuts his mouth, purses his lips into a thin line, then nods. He reaches into his back pocket and holds up a single condom.

“Look,” he chuckles, waving the wrapper in your face. “Ribbed for her pleasure.”

You scoff and furrow your brow in annoyance, but pull his jeans down to his knees anyway so he can get the condom on.

“You’re scoffin’, but you know you like it,” Joel remarks as he rolls this condom over his hard length. “You just hate that you’re into me. The residential pervert, was how you put it last month, wasn’t it? Not like anyone’s gonna stone you for lettin’ me fuck you. We’re consentin’ adults, sunshine.”

“You think you could keep your mouth shut for five minutes?” you grumble as you hold him up to your entrance.

Joel clicks his tongue and gives a look of feigned offense. “Aw, baby, you know I always last longer than five minutes.”

You’re about to respond, but now he’s completely filling you, and you’re so full of him, so you have to moan.

“See? You love this,” he whispers.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble. “Big dick to match your fuckin’ personality.”

Joel’s hand comes down on your ass as you speak. A sharp pop pierces the air, and your moan follows.

“Hey, I’m bein’ nice,” he says, no anger in his voice. If anything, he might be a little hurt. “Didn’t force you to come over here. All I did was ask if you were awake.”

You don’t want to apologize because you know Joel isn’t being fully serious. Instead, you lean forward and kiss him, pulling a low growl from his throat. His hands move from your ass to your head, planting a firm grip.

“Mm,” you whine when he bites your bottom lip. “Jesus, fuck.”

Joel laughs, the sound deep and gravely in his chest. “You love this shit, dontcha, baby?”

“Shut up,” you pant, forehead heavily leaning against his.

His hands move from your head to your breasts, squeezing and kneading your flesh through your bra. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, a little less rough now. 

You moan softly and shut your eyes for a moment, focusing on the feeling of his cock pistoning in and out of you, his hands on your breasts, his warm breath fanning against your face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, squeezing your breasts, just a little too hard, which has you inhaling sharply through your nose, your eyes opening wide. “Eyes on me, darlin’. Didn’t ask you over here just so you can hide those pretty eyes from me.”

You open your eyes but narrow your gaze and purse your lips, nearly likening yourself to an angry bull, Joel thinks, and it makes him smile.

“Attagirl. Yeah, is that so hard? Hm? I just wanna see ya. All o’ your pretty face, darlin’. Can’t come right if I don’t.”

Oh, he was doing so well. He just had to add that last part, didn’t he?

“Do you have some sort of contractual obligation where you have to ruin every remotely nice thing you say with a perverted afterthought? Huh?” you ask, rolling your hips harder against Joel’s.

He chuckles and thrusts up even harder, pulling a soft, pleasure-filled hiss from your lips. 

“No,” he grunts. “Just don’t see a point in filterin’ myself when I know the way I talk makes you wet.”

You roll your eyes at that, and Joel grabs onto your jaw in such a way that has your lips puckering as he holds your gaze.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice low and husky.

You moan and ask, “Say what?” with a muffled voice as Joel keeps a tight grip on your jaw.

“Say you like hearin’ me run my dirty mouth.”

Joel doesn’t comment on the little gush of fluid he feels around his cock when you hear his words. He just keeps holding your gaze and waits for you to say the words.

“I-I like hearing you run your dirty mouth,” you say, your voice just a little higher-pitched than you’d like it to be.

Joel moans in appreciation, then shakes his head. “Mm, I don’t know, darlin’. I think what I actually wanna hear you say is that you love hearin’ me run my dirty mouth. Let’s try that, huh?”

You let out a soft whimper, then mumble, “I love hearing you run your dirty mouth.”

He nods in appreciation and lets go of your jaw.

“That’s my girl. Yeah, you’re such a good girl,” he praises as he plants both his hands on your hips and starts thrusting into you harder now.

You moan and lean forward, your hands planted on the arm of the couch behind him, your forehead against his as you watch his hips thrust up into you.

“Yeah, you like that?” he rasps. “Like watchin’ me fuck you? I can feel ya clenchin’ tighter around me. You’re just as fuckin’ perverted as me, aren’t ya, baby?”

“Shut up,” you moan, leaning your head back, moving your hands to his biceps, his thick, strong fucking biceps.

Joel doesn’t say anything; he just slaps your ass, which pulls a whiney moan from your throat.

“Yeah, you like hearin’ me talk, like watchin’ my cock split ya open, like it when I spank that pretty ass… You’re just too high up on that horse o’ yours to admit it.”

“Joel…” you moan, practically shaking on Joel’s lap now.

“Joel,” he mocks. “Don’t worry; I ain’t gonna make ya say it. Just somethin’ for you to stew on when you go home.”

You moan and lean your forehead against his again, your hands moving to his shoulders.

“I’m gonna come,” you whisper.

You feel him nod against your forehead. “I know, darlin’. You go on ahead. Show me how much you love hearin’ this nasty old man’s dirty mouth run. Go on. Be a good girl for me.”

That’s all it takes to have you turn into a shaking, whining mess. Joel fucks you through it, moves his hands to your breasts, massaging them through your lace bra.

Once you’ve come down, he whispers in your ear, “Okay, sweetheart. It’s Daddy’s turn now.”

You’re not expecting it, but you moan at his words. You’ve never called him that, and he’s never called himself that. It’s new and unexpected, and Joel doesn’t even realize it’s that word specifically that has you moaning. He thinks it’s just leftover from the orgasm he just gave you.

You don’t even realize you’re changing positions until the scratchy fabric of his couch hits your naked back. 

Joel’s entire body covers yours, and he’s thrusting again, clearly focused only on his orgasm now.

“This pussy’s fuckin’ magic, darlin’,” he grunts above you.

“You’re fucking pussy whipped,” you whisper, and he snorts in response.

“Not a very nice thing to say, baby,” he laughs before leaning down to kiss your chest and tug at the lace of your bra with his teeth.

“Take this off. Wanna see that gorgeous fuckin’ rack o’ yours before I finish.”

You scoff in indignation at how crude his request was, but comply regardless, reaching behind your back to unclasp the garment, arching your chest in his face in the process, given the position you’re in. You toss your bra to the side once it’s off, and Joel immediately dives in, sucking on your nipple and taking it between his teeth, just edging it, not biting down.

“Nicest fuckin’ tits,” he mumbles around your nipple.

He lets go with a loud pop, a string of spit connecting from your nipple to his lips.

Then, he brings his fingers down to your clit. “Want you to come with me this time. Come on, I’m so close. Know you can do it. Still feel you squeezin’ and drippin’ all over my cock. Come on, pretty girl,” he coos before bringing his lips down to yours.

You bury your hands in his hair and bite down on his bottom lip, pulling a soft grunt of surprise from him, but he doesn’t pull away. 

“Feelin’ feisty?” he rasps against your lips before ducking down and biting your jaw, then your collarbone, then the top of your breast, pulling a throaty moan from you each time.

You tug on his hair and present his chest to yourself. You take his nipple between your teeth and actually bite down.

Joel growls, but doesn’t pull away.

You clench around his cock, and he falls forward just a bit, inadvertently giving you access to his shoulder.

He moans, and his thrusts speed up.

“I’m gonna come,” he whispers, pressing down on your clit, pushing you over the edge with him.

You feel the warmth of his cum through the condom, and moan as your cunt flutters around him.

“Jesus, Joel,” you moan.

“I know, darlin’. It’s a lot, huh?”

He leans down and kisses you, gently this time. Then he turns the two of you on your sides, his back to the couch, so he doesn’t crush you. He keeps a tight hold on you so you don’t fall off, then buries his nose in your hair.

“You okay?” he whispers. “Didn’t go too hard?”

He’s asked this since the first time. Even though now the two of you know each other well enough to know the other’s likes and dislikes, he’ll still check in, just so you feel cared for.

“I’m okay. You okay?”

He nods and kisses your forehead. “You can stay over if you want. No pressure, though.”

You smile up at him and nod. “I’d like that, actually.”

Joel pulls you into the shower with him a few minutes later, taking care to be gentle and sweet. He dries you off and gives you a clean t-shirt to sleep in. 

When the two of you get in bed, he tucks you in, then gets in on his side, before scooting over to the side you’re on just so he can hold you.

He’s just a big dick with big feelings.

He’s also the reason you’ve extended your stay in the trailer park. You had the money for a down payment two months ago.

taglist: @person-005 @spectralgalaxygauntlet @marty-mccunt

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You used to love the rain. The way it cascaded down your skin in little droplets, cleansing your body from a hard day's work, and the way it made your hair look so perfectly disheveled.

You craved the rain, until it became nothing but a reminder of the night your parents died.

It had been years at this point, but you would never quite forget how young, and small, and unsuspecting you'd been when they told you to run. How cruel, that time might pass, you might change, but with one smattering of rain, you returned so swiftly to the worst night of your life.

The three of you had been living alone, making your way...somewhere, but they never told you where. Your parents' only wish was to keep you safe, that much was clear. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that upon an ambush by at least ten clickers, after both your parents had been infected, that they'd insist that you run.

"Please, darling," your mother had pleaded, a lump in her throat as she formed the words. "Don't make me beg. I need you to run. Promise?"

Your father was somewhere else, but you could hear him yelling in the distance, in a fight for his life. You were too young, even at thirteen, to understand that those were the sounds of a dying man.

"I'll be right behind you," she'd choked on the last phrase, and in hindsight, you knew she was lying. But in the moment, you'd believed her. You couldn't see the bite she was hiding on her arm, her fate already sealed. "I'll come for you, my love," she insisted, "but I need you to go. Head for the woods."

It was the last time you saw her. You'd turned tail and had run as fast as you could for the woods.

The last thing you heard was a gunshot. A single shot, echoing around you in the trees. It may have been impossible to know, but you didn't need to turn back. Your parents were dead.

If you hadn't found Jackson, who knows how long you might have lasted. Nearing your twenty-first year, you'd proven valuable to the community, and they'd welcomed you in. Jackson was the first home you'd had since you were five.

It hadn't occurred to you that you were years behind your peers in terms of...well, everything, until you met Joel.

Rugged, tan, and sporting a perpetual frown paired with an ever-present crease between his brows, Joel Miller was your patrol partner. You weren't exactly sure why, and he didn't seem particularly pleased about it, but then again—he never seemed particularly pleased about anything.

It hadn't struck you as anything to be proud of, or to boast about to the other young women in Jackson, but they certainly loved coming up to you and expressing their jealousy when they felt so inclined.

"What's he like on patrol?" they'd ask, their eyes wide and lips curled in smirks as they waited for any insight you could give them on his mysterious personality.

All you could ever say over the next four years was a quick, "He's quiet."

Maybe that was why the two of you worked well. He wasn't much of a talker, and after you'd lost your parents, you hadn't been one to waste any breath on conversation, especially when you had survived alone with your own thoughts for almost eight years.

Silence was your mutual understanding. No talking meant no questions, and no questions meant no problems.

And this worked. Until it didn't.

-- -- --

It started like anything started. Quietly, hardly a bother, until it sank into the marrow of your bones and demanded that you address it.

More literally, it started in your shoulders. You'd been on patrol with Joel, a quiet, "Let's go," his only words to you that morning. They were his only words to you every morning, and that day was no different.

Patrolling with him was easy. Like you'd said—no talking, so no problems. You rode next to each other on your respective horses, and there was nothing more than a glance or two toward each other when necessary. It was the only form of communication that the two of you shared.

His big brown eyes had always startled you, looking so inviting in the contrast of the white snow during the winter, but they never showed you more than he allowed you to see. And all you saw of Joel was his dedication to sleep, patrol, eat, and repeat.

You hadn't felt the desire to look that closely at him until some of the girls in Jackson asked you how big his hands were, or what he looked like up close.

"You know," one of them had crooned, not realizing you were unsure of their intentions, "what does he look like without that big old coat on?"

You'd shrugged. "Why should I know?"

Another one wiggled her eyebrows. "Doesn't it get...lonely out there? Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company?"

The faces of those girls, the glint in their eyes, it was something you couldn't quite decipher, as much as you wished you could. So one day, you'd asked the man himself what it all meant.

When you said it for the first time, it was so quiet that you could hardly even hear yourself.

Joel grunted, the only indication that he'd heard you.

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn't find a reason why. This was just Joel. He seemed to know everything there was to know about life; surely he could help you understand this. "Why do the girls in town keep asking me what it's like to patrol with you?"

He didn't answer for a second, but then shrugged. "They botherin' you?"

"No." You weren't quite sure that was true, and knowing him, he could probably hear the lie in your voice. "They're just kind of...belligerent."

His eyebrow cocked. "S'a big word," he mused. "Sure you know what it means?"

Your cheeks grew hot. "Yes," you insisted sharply. "I do read, you know."

He murmured a response, but the wind carried it away from you. You rode in silence for a bit longer before he said, "Don't let those girls get in your head. I think they just wanna get a rise outta you."

"A rise?"

Joel nodded and brought his horse to a routine stop. This was where the two of you always stretched your legs. He reached up to help you down your own mount and set you on the ground gingerly. "You know," he said, as if you should know, but with no regard for the fact that you didn't. "You're still kinda new here. Seems they're still pretty dead-set on embarrassin' you."

"I'm not embarrassed," you insisted again. "I just...is there a joke I'm not getting?"

"Any reason you chose to talk so much today?" was his only answer, which made your stomach clench.

There was no reason for you to be offended, as it was your typical routine to remain quiet unless absolutely necessary, but you couldn't help the way your lips curved downward. "Sorry," you mumbled, "forget I asked."

He was quiet again as the two of you walked at least two hundred paces, stretching out your sore muscles in the snow. It used to be comforting, the silence. It wasn't maddening, it didn't ever bother you if Joel was in his thoughts. You weren't even sure at times if he had any. But all that had changed now; his brow creased more than it usually did, and you wanted nothing more than to ask him what he was thinking.

Joel was the one constant in your life now. Maybe it was a—well, probably it was a trauma response from losing your parents, but you couldn't help it. You didn't need much from anyone, just someone to stay. Joel was strong enough to take care of himself and was smart enough not to make any rash decisions. As far as you could tell, he'd stay.

So how could you be so embarrassed by asking these questions?

"I forgot how long you said you were...alone out there," his grunting voice filled the space between you once more. It was quiet, and he sounded hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how to speak.

"Since I was thirteen," you said mechanically, so familiar with others in Jackson asking the same question.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "And you're how old?"

"Twenty-five," you said, feeling oddly small in his presence.

He shook his head. "That's a long time to be alone," he muttered, blowing out a breath.

You huffed. "Yeah, well, I survived. And besides, I've been here for four years now, you know."

"I know."

Again, the silence. Infuriating.

Then, you couldn't help it. "What's...'spooning,' and why do those girls ask me if we've done it?"

Joel stumbled, reaching out for balance. His hand found purchase on your shoulder, and you caught him awkwardly. "You don't even know what spooning is?" He sounded incredulous, as if you'd asked a juvenile question.

The warmth from his hand was astonishing, and distracted you from your embarrassment, if only for a moment. It sank through his glove into your coat, and down toward your skin. Something about the weight of his hand on your shoulder, even for a second as he removed it quickly, was enough to send you spiraling.

Your face burned. "Never mind," you said quietly and mounted your horse again. How stupid could you get? You scolded yourself. You'd ventured too far into this conversation, and now you didn't know how to get yourself out of it. "I was just...never mind. We should get back."

He nodded, but his face still looked somewhat pinched. "Yeah. S'getting dark."

The sun was still up. No intention of sinking beneath the horizon for at least a few hours. You rode again in uncomfortable silence, this time letting it fill the space. You foolishly thought that maybe if you were quiet long enough, he'd forget that you'd made a fool of yourself, that you'd exposed yourself to the truth: that you knew hardly anything about...anything except for survival instincts.

When Joel spoke again, it surprised you. "I didn't mean to tease ya," he said. "It's just kind of a surprise that you're not...that you don't..." he looked over at you, and there was some type of pleading in his eyes, as if he were begging you not to make him say it.

"That I don't what?" you said dumbly, hoping you didn't sound as childish as you felt.

He pondered his next words carefully, and then he hummed, "If you want, I could...teach you some stuff."

"Like spooning?" You felt a warmth in your face as you watched his shoulders hunch with a soft laughter. Your own shoulder burned where he'd touched it, and something bloomed in your gut.

He chuckled. "I don't know about all that," he said, "but I'll help you get...back on track. Would hate for someone to take advantage of your...innocence." It sounded sinful, the way he said it, and the something in your gut pulsed.

"You don't have to," you shook your head, but you didn't even believe the words as they came out of your mouth. "I'll just ask someone else."

"Darlin', don't trust anyone else to give you straight answers. I'm older'n half of everyone in Jackson, anyway." He flashed you a look. "I'll help. Whatever you want to know."

You bit the insides of your cheeks, your stomach turning strangely. "Anything?"

He nodded dutifully, but his eyes had already left yours. Joel Miller, ever the professional. "Whatever you want."

-- -- --

Joel liked to consider himself someone who would never again suffer the shock of surprises. After having lived through and seen more shit than any normal person could, he thought he'd experienced it all.

That is, until her pretty lips had opened and asked him to teach her about all she'd missed. Until she asked him to teach her.

He hadn't really seen her as the picture of innocence until he'd heard how long she'd been alone, surviving with no one and nothing besides her own thoughts and the clothes on her back.

The least her parents could do was teach her how to shoot, he'd thought when he first met her. It was a curiosity that was quickly resolved, as she'd proven herself valuable to Jackson.

Tommy had wasted no time putting them on patrol together. "It'll be good for you," his brother had reasoned when he brought up concerns. "You know, to talk to someone out there. I know she's on the young side, but you don't gotta fall in love with her." He'd flashed an apologetic smile when Joel had scowled. "You're scarin' everyone, Joel. Bein' all quiet and shit...it's—"

"It's what?" he'd asked gruffly. "I don't do it on purpose. I'm a grown man."

This was all true, and he very much didn't do it on purpose. With no one around whom he deemed worthy of his conversation, Joel Miller had become the quiet, introspective version of himself that everyone decided to become scared of all of a sudden.

The way he saw things? It wasn't his fault everyone in Jackson was boring. Or childish.

But her. With her unmistakable will to survive and those eyes that could burn fierce with ire one moment, and soften with curiosity the next...it was only a matter of time before he agreed to do whatever she asked.

He should have seen it coming, especially considering her past. Every time he thought of just how...unsuspecting she was about...everything, he had to shake his head, clearing it of any thoughts that threatened to take advantage of her.

But being ignorant of spooning. He had to clear his throat every time he thought of what that might mean for himself in this particular arrangement. If she knew nothing of something so...palatable, he could hardly help himself when thinking of what else she might be unaware of.

He tried to be patient, and he tried to be respectful, but at the end of the day, he was Joel Miller. From the moment she looked at him with those wide eyes, he was lost.

-- -- --

"What I would give to give that man the ride of his life," one of the girls next to you hummed at breakfast the next morning, her eyes presumably glued to Joel, who'd just come into the cafeteria. You didn't look up at him, instead casting a confused glance toward the girl who'd spoken.

"Ride where?" You cursed your quick instinct to ask questions, as the girls erupted into a fit of giggles. Face burning, you looked down again at your plate. "Never mind," came your almost instantaneous response. You were getting used to having to apologize for your ignorance, and people rarely—especially not these girls—offered their kindness.

One of the other girls snickered. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway," she said, smiling widely. Her next words were nothing short of a drawl, the complete essence of mockery. "'Joel, what's it mean to ride?'" she pinched her face in what you assumed was an impression of you, and it only made your eyebrows furrow despite your stomach sinking in utter horror.

And then there he was. He'd called your name, and now he was standing behind your left shoulder, hand outstretched to save you.

You were sure his hand had never looked quite as appealing as it did now. The calluses on his palm were raised and visibly rough. For a moment, you stared at his fingers and wondered what they might feel like against your cheek.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, that something arose in your gut once more before you heard him murmur your name again.

"Come on," he grunted, but there was a gentleness to it that made the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end. "Time to go."

The girls at your table were silent when you took his hand gingerly and let him lead you from the cafeteria. You noted the swift wave of cold that hit your hand as soon as he dropped it, just a second later. Clasping your hands together, you hoped in a fit of desperation that you might preserve some of the weight and warmth of his touch on your skin. It failed.

"Thanks," you said later, when the two of you were outside the community's borders. Jackson felt a bit too stuffy for any real admissions of gratitude, you'd decided. It turned out to be a good conclusion when you felt the delicious churn of your stomach at the idea of being alone with him once more.

I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway, one of the girls had said. Doesn't it get lonely out there? You were reminded of another's teasing, and this time your cheeks burned at the memory. Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company.

He was big, you considered. When he stood next to you, his frame was almost larger than life, and his shoulders were sinfully broad when you watched him walk in front of you on previous patrols. The sheer size of him was enough to send you into a heady descent.

As usual, Joel didn't answer for what felt like ages, and you'd begun to wonder if he could see where your train of thought had led you. Then:

"You could have told me they were bein' that outrageous," he grunted, keeping his eyes forward. "I woulda helped you out sooner. S'no fun feelin' left outta everything."

It was...odd to hear such words come from a man like Joel. Although, you reminded yourself, you'd hardly spoken to him in the four years that you'd been in Jackson; who was to say he wasn't normally like this? A quiet, brooding older man, yes; but maybe he was naturally like this. One to offer his help.

"If you wanted to help, you would have made an effort four years ago." You let your words hang in the air. You didn't mean for them to come off sharp; it was simply the truth. "I don't need your help," you added, tightening your hands on the reins of your horse and swallowing roughly. "It was fine. I am fine."

He flashed you a look as if to say, is that so? You couldn't help but notice the way the corners of his eyes creased, the only sign of amusement. It was all you could do to keep your eyes on him, although you weren't sure how you were going to explain the way your mouth went dry at the sight of his big brown eyes.

"Besides," you insisted quietly, "you're not my dad."

Joel cleared his throat. Looked down, shoulders tense. Inhaled. "No," he said decidedly. "No, I'm not."

Emboldened by this clarification, you inquired, "So what did those girls mean earlier? Riding, I mean?"

If you could have guaranteed the image of Joel's eyes going wide in surprise to remain in your head for the rest of your days, you would have done it instantly. His forehead was creased as his eyebrows lifted, and despite his position facing away from you, you could see it all.

The way he seemed to wrestle with himself before answering, the way his hands seemed to clench in his gloves. "So, uh..." he started, and then paused again. Mustering up whatever courage he needed, Joel finished, "Well, ya see, when a man and woman love each other very much—"

"Joel." Oh. You couldn't help it when a breathless chuckle left your lips.

He was silent, and when he finally answered, it wasn't a question. "What."

"I'm not fucking stupid. I know how reproduction works."

Joel's chest rose and fell in a deep sigh, and you couldn't ignore the look of complete relief that washed over his rough features. "Thank fuckin' Christ. Didn't know if I had it in me for another sex talk. I'm too old to be doin' this."

"Believe it or not, my parents did leave me with the basic information." Swallowing roughly, you continued. "And I know...I know that men usually...take. It's an assertion of power, from what I've...seen."

He shook his head. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised that you've run into your fair share of dirtbags, even in the middle of the world goin' to shit." He ran a gloved hand through his hair, and you secretly enjoyed the way it stood up. "Anyone ever, you know...take...from you?"

Hearing your own words regurgitated back to you left you feeling fluttery. Shaking your head, you got down from your horse; you'd reached your typical resting spot. "No," you said firmly. "They never wanted me."

Joel nodded. "S'good," he said, and it bothered you to no end that you couldn't understand the emotion in his voice. "So..."

By now he was standing next to you, closer than you were used to, judging by the way his coat sleeve bumped yours as the two of you walked, stretching your legs. "So," you said, thinking up a way to make this conversation less awkward. "I just hate feeling like a kid again. I'm twenty-five, for fuck's sake. There's more than just survival when it comes to living. I just want to know what I'm missing out on," you confessed with a hand on your stomach.

When Joel brushed by your side again your stomach flipped. And what the fuck is that about, and why do I keep feeling it? You asked inwardly, but you were too nervous to ask. Bombarding Joel with questions, especially after you'd just started talking to him on patrol after four years, seeming to be the wrong path to take.

He shrugged, eyebrows still furrowed in thought. "There's nothing to miss if you don't know what you're missin'."

"Yes," you admitted, "but that doesn't stop any of those girls from making me feel like I'm..."

"Innocent?" he murmured, and you thought you weren't meant to hear it until he turned to look at you.

Those big brown eyes, they just won't quit, a voice nudged you in your head.

"I don't want to be innocent," you groaned, throwing your head back. "God, not in the sense that they see me in. Sounds like a damn curse."

The sound of his rumbling laughter, however quiet, sent a shock down your spine and you nearly tripped in the snow. "There's pros and cons, I s'pose," he offered. "It's like I said: I'll help you get back on track. If that's what you really want."

"It is." You stopped walking, took a look around at the landscape, otherwise empty with the scattering of trees. You swallowed, pressed one. "So...riding. It's a part of reproducing, then?"

He chuckled again, but this time it didn't come off as demeaning. It was like he was teasing you, but good-naturedly. "Let's not jump too far ahead of ourselves, yeah? Start with somethin' smaller. Then we'll work our way up."

Joel's eyes were piercing when he held yours in his gaze. If someone watched this conversation, you were sure they'd be able to see the blush blooming on your cheeks.

"Learnin' takes time, ya know," he mused, his growling voice nearly a hum that could have warmed you from the inside out.

You'd made it to the edge of the woods now. This was normally where you turned back, heading for home. But neither of you moved. The bubble of something pulsed again, and you swallowed roughly before whispering hoarsely, "So where should we start?"

-- -- --

If Joel were a better man, he might have warned her what the curse of innocence in a young woman could be. He might have shook his head, stepped back, and told her to ask someone else. He might have taken the reins and turned the two of them back toward Jackson.

If he were better, he wouldn't have stepped closer to her. If he were a better man, he wouldn't have looked into her sparkling eyes and let the question slip. Fuck it all.

"You ever been kissed, darlin'?"

-- -- --

You swallowed. Don't make a fool of yourself, you begged yourself before answering with a quiet shake of your head. "Not many contenders out there. Not any good ones, anyway."

He'd leaned closer to you with his question, and now you could practically see each line of age in his face. Joel's expression was unclear; he could have been pleased with this information or...or maybe there was pity in his eyes. "No," he said with an understanding nod. "No, I suppose there wouldn't have been."

He lifted a gloved hand to his mouth and you watched as he traced it along his lips. The gray strands in his hair glinted off the sunlight, blinking pleasantly in your eyes. That something pulsed once more in your stomach, and there was a sort of realization that came with it.

Joel, you thought. Joel is making me feel like this.

"Will you kiss me?" The words were out of your mouth before you could reel them in.

But instead of laughing, or scoffing, or giving any sign of mockery, Joel Miller inhaled quietly. "You know how much older I am than you?" he asked.

You nodded. "We're both adults, Joel. Besides," you felt a ghost of a smirk come to grace your lips, a feigned confidence coming to save you in this moment of truth. "I thought you told me to ask you these questions."

He sighed. "You're right."

"So? Will you?" you asked, with a small, "please?" coming out afterward.

He moved slowly, something you were equally thankful for as you were frustrated with, but his forehead met yours soon enough. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek, and he let out a shaky breath, letting it fan deliciously across your face. The knowledge that he was just as nervous as you were was not only a comfort; it was perhaps the most attractive thing you'd ever known.

And when you lifted your chin, just a hairsbreadth from his lips, your eyes fluttered closed, waiting for him to meet you in the middle. It only took a moment before he was closing his mouth over yours, and Joel Miller was kissing you.

He was gentle, of course, but there was something restrained about his kiss, the way he slowly slotted his lips over yours as if you might crack under any more pressure. It only made you want more, more, more...

You pressed your hands to his chest and curled them into fists, tugging his jacket to lessen the distance between your bodies even more. You didn't know how you were doing this, how you'd managed to find confidence in what could have easily been a humiliating experience. Your first kiss at twenty-five? With anyone else, it might have been a nightmare.

With Joel, it was turning out to be the most delightful dream.

"So soft, baby," he pulled back to whisper against your mouth. "These lips are so soft for me."

You hummed your response and pulled him back to you, letting him see that you wanted more. That incessant pressure was building, and it wasn't until he had his arms sliding around your waist that you forced yourself to pull back, head spinning. "Joel."

He blinked. "What? Too fast?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, darlin', you're just so—"

"No, that's not it." You managed a weak smile, but the look in his eye, the question and the undeniable desire—is that what it looks like?—quivering in his brown irises, nearly made you collapse. He waited for you to continue, his hands never leaving you, a courtesy you were grateful for. "I feel...hot." Your cheeks warmed. "Um, there's this...pressure."

His lips closed in a tight smirk, and he squeezed your hips. "Where, baby?" he murmured, and you could have sworn you saw stars outlining his head at the sound of the pet name. "Show me," he cooed.

"Um." You paused, unsure of just how. But with his hands on your waist, his heavy, warm touch melting you on the spot, you took one of his gloved hands in yours and guided him to your stomach. "Here. Kind of."

"Yeah?" he said, and you forgot about the cold. About your horses waiting to be mounted, about your other responsibilities in Jackson. All you could see were his dark eyes that had somehow grown darker as you pushed his hand down, down, down...

"Fuck, babygirl," he cursed, and let his hand rest on the crux of your thighs, just barely pressing on the source of the tingling sensation. If anything, it made it worse, and you let a breathy whine fall from your lips. "You're gonna be the death of me, huh?" he groaned.

You couldn't form words. Just one kiss (a very good kiss, mind you) and a heavy hand on your core was all it took, apparently. You could hardly look anywhere but his face, your mouth dropping open as your hips moved of their own accord, grinding into his hand before you realized you were doing it. "Joel—" you whimpered, and he pulled his hand away.

There wasn't enough time for you to feel jilted, as he tugged you back to your horse and practically launched you onto it himself. "We're goin' back," he said firmly, "now."

Swallowing, your throat dry and rough, you pressed a hand to your cheek, feeling the heat swimming under your skin. "Did I do something wrong?"

You could hardly see him shake his head as he mounted his own horse, looking back at you to make sure you were following him. "'Course not," he called over his shoulder. When you caught up with him, the two of you shoulder-to-shoulder, he continued. "Look, darlin', f'I'm gonna be givin' you your first kiss and makin' you feel that good..." he sighed, his dark eyes finding yours. "I'm not doin' it in a fuckin' snowbank."

-- -- --

The entire ride back to Jackson was painfully long, silent but for Joel's mumbled directions, despite the fact that the two of you had taken this same route countless times in the four years that you patrolled together.

Your eyes were trained forward, and you knew his were as well, but it took everything in you not to glance at him even for a second. If you did, you were afraid that the pressure building in the crux of your thighs would never go away.

It would be unfair to say that you were completely unaware of what might happen when you got back to Jackson, but you still didn't know much, which left a nervous bubble rising in your gut. It wasn't like there were any books left in Jackson that you could read about it, or any movies that Maria would allow to remain in the community's borders.

Again, you got a wave of feeling like this should have concerned you, or at least made you a little anxious. But with Joel pulling ahead, his strong back the only thing you could look at, you felt the knot of tension release in your stomach. This was Joel. After four years—even four mostly silent years—of working together, you felt like you...knew him, somehow. That he couldn't possibly lead you astray.

Sure enough, when you were both within the borders, horses returned safely to their stables, the tension returned. Or had it ever really dissipated?

Joel hovered close to you as you left the stables. "Let's go, darlin'," he breathed, a gloved hand on your lower back as he guided you.

"Where?" you said, and you hoped it didn't sound as desperate as it did to you, the pressure getting worse. "I need—"

"I know, baby, I know," he cooed gently, his head on a swivel as if looking for anyone who might stop you. "We're goin' to mine. I've got the perfect lesson planned for ya, alright?"

It was all you could do to nod and let him push you forward through the snowy streets. If only those girls could see you now.

Once inside, you took a breath. There was no one around, and once the door closed behind you, the silence felt all the more heavy. "Ellie?" you asked, if only in courtesy.

He shook his head, and you bit your lip when you saw him smirk. "Just us, doll."

Joel shed his outer layers, and when he stood in front of you, you realized that this was the first time you'd seen him without his coat. Without his gloves, aside from that morning.

Your eyes snagged on his fingers, and you swallowed roughly when you saw the way they twitched, as if in anticipation for something. Or maybe he was holding himself back, you considered. His jaw did seem to have an impatient clench to it. Hands rough like you knew they would be, it didn't take long for your mind to wander into thinking of what it might be like to feel those hands on your skin.

With any luck, he'd give you the sweet release you craved, however it would unfold.

"See anything you like?" he teased, and your cheeks warmed.

"Sorry," you fumbled for a response, your eyes dropping. You'd meant to clear your head, but then your eyes were caught on his thighs. Specifically how hard the seams on his jeans were fighting to remain unripped. "Um, a lesson, you said?"

He nodded, reaching out a hand to take your own coat off, leaving you in the sweater and pants you'd had on all day. You were sure your hair was knotted and would be for days, but he only smoothed a hand down your face, letting you lean into his touch. His fingers were still cold, but your face was hot and it offered a dizzying sense of relief.

"I could never teach you all this," he murmured, his thumb rubbing back and forth in an absentminded swipe across your cheek. "Not without getting...distracted," he finished, pressing his other hand to your waist. Underneath the thick layer of your coat, his hand felt like a hot iron scorching your skin, despite there still being a few layers of clothes between your bodies.

"Distraction is okay," you breathed, lifting a hand to cup his on your waist. "Right?"

He shook his head, a chuckle lifting from deep in his chest. "Not tonight," he whispered. "Tonight, I want to stick to the plan."

"Which is?"

Wordlessly, he removed the hand on your waist and entwined it with your own, tugging you toward the living room where an old television had been placed on a rickety-looking shelf. "Sit," he directed, and you did so without hesitation. He paused, biting back a smile at your eager cooperation, and adjusted himself.

It occurred to you that as much as you were affected by him, he was experiencing a similar effect from you. His pants, already tighter than sin, seemed to have become even tighter, as a bulge began to grow while he stood just a few feet from your face.

"Joel—"

"No, no," he waved a dismissive hand and went to the television to grab something. He came back with something you recognized: a VHS tape. "Don't worry 'bout me, sweets. Tonight's just for you."

"We're gonna watch a movie?" you asked, trying to ignore the way your heart sank a little. You had been hoping that the two of you would kiss some more, and maybe even...you didn't even know the name for it.

"Not just any movie," he grinned, putting it in to watch. The video started. "A special one."

When the scene opened on a man and a woman in the throes of passion, you gasped. "No way," you whispered. "I thought Maria—"

He shrugged, sinking down on the couch beside you, his knee bumping yours. "She must've missed this one," was all he said.

The woman looked to be enjoying herself, as her scene partner kissed her neck, dragging his tongue from the dip in her clavicle to the curve of skin where her neck met her ear. A cartoon-ish moan left her lips, but you didn't pay it any mind. The sight of it made your thighs clench together subconsciously, the lick of pressure rising again in your center.

"Joel—"

"Shh," he said gently. "C'mere, darlin'." With no more than a heavy hand on your waist, he tugged you closer to him, situating you over his lap. "Comfortable?"

You almost said no; you knew that this wouldn't be an acceptable seating arrangement in the cafeteria (or anywhere public, for that matter), but when his hands landed on your thighs, you nodded swiftly. His fingers curled around your skin, and you could feel every pulse of his heartbeat through his fingertips, poised as if he might spread your legs from where they were squeezed together between his own thighs.

Something hard and solid nudged at your core, and you couldn't help it when you leaned back into his chest, head tilting back to rest on his shoulder. A breathy moan tumbled from your lips, and your stomach fluttered when you felt his chest rumble with a chuckle.

"That quick, baby?" he whispered, his breath fanning over your neck. "You really are a sweet young thing, aren't ya," he teased, pressing his nose to the joint between your jaw and your neck, "fallin' apart for me already?" He rocked his hips forward, his bulge pressing harder against you, and it nearly sent you into a spiral.

You swallowed, your throat dry. The sounds of the movie seemed far away as you opened your eyes and looked at his beard, peppered with gray and scratching at your chin when he leaned over you. "Joel," you whispered, bringing your hands to cover his own on your thighs, "I-I want to know everything." You'd never meant anything more fervently, more desperately, than this.

If you'd known how addicting this could feel, being so close to him, feeling his hands on you, perhaps you would have been embarrassed at the way your hips began rubbing yourself on his lap, hoping for—you didn't even know what could be after this. You just knew that the way you felt was the most intense thing you'd felt in your entire life, and you wanted to keep feeling this way, as long as you could.

Joel tutted, squeezing his hands on your thighs. "Oh, look at you," he groaned, a deep, carnal noise that made your chest constrict, "you're a natural, doll." His lips brushed your shoulder, and he darted his tongue out to lick a small strip up your neck.

Your heart swelled with the praise, and it was all you could do not to squeeze your eyes shut. "Please," you begged quietly, as if someone might hear you.

"I know, baby, I know," he crooned, dark eyes locked onto your own as his hand crept closer—to your waistband—closer—unzipping your pants—closer...there.

Your hips lifted from his lap with the heady sensation of his fingers pressed to a bundle of nerves between your legs. "Joel—!" you squeaked.

You felt him smile against your cheek. "So wet," he murmured, "so slick for my fingers, baby." He began rubbing that spot in tight circles, a slow, torturous pace. "Let me know when you're gonna come, yeah?"

"When I..." you trailed off. You'd never...how would you know? "I don't..."

Joel hummed in your ear, rocking his hips again and releasing a guttural groan. "S'okay, pretty girl," he reassured you, "I'll be gentle. Lemme know when it feels like it's too much. "I've gotcha."

You were too far gone to doubt him. This was Joel. He wouldn't let you fall, as much as you felt like you were going to slide to the floor at the feeling of his hand coming up from your leg to caress your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingertips. A strangled mix between a cry and a moan left your lips, and with one more kiss to your brow paired with a quick swipe of his finger over your ever-sensitive bud—

Something gave way and you jerked your head back, digging into his shoulder. Your legs spasmed and you squeezed your hand over Joel's, holding his hand in place underneath your panties.

"Fuck, doll, just like that," he encouraged you. "Look at you, eyes rollin' back for me. Shakin' like a good girl." His hips tensed beneath you and you felt his chest shudder as he released a punishing moan. "Got me feelin' like a damn teenager, comin' in my jeans."

His fingers stilled, but his hand didn't move. Your legs slowly stopped shaking, and the solid mass beneath you was softening. You let out a sigh, your eyelids fluttering closed. Your cheeks were flushed, you could tell; but this time, it wasn't embarrassment that brought the warmth to your face.

"You okay?" he murmured, carefully removing his hands from their places on you. "Feel alright, darlin'?"

Your head turned, nestling into the crook of his neck. Nodding quietly, you shifted in his lap. "I...I didn't know it could be like that," you shivered.

Joel paused the video, the living room falling quiet around you. Swinging a hand under your legs and tugging you to a more comfortable position over his lap, he raised his fingers to his lips, glistening with the remnants of your desire. Your jaw slackened when you watched him open his mouth, lapping at the tips of his fingers.

"Trust me, doll," he said with a glint in his eye. You whimpered in anticipation as he reached to brush a strand of hair from your face. "I've got so much more to teach you."

You put your arms around Joel's neck and his big hands slowly slither around you, feeling your back, your waist, your thighs, and coming to rest on your ass. His fingers dig in and he pulls you into him with a soft "Mmm."

Your hand nestles in his hair affectionately and his beard tickles your jaw as he kisses your neck, lightly sucking. One of his hands drifts to your inner thigh and he plucks at the fishnets. He murmurs, “Where’d ya get these, hmm?”

“You’re up, Joel,” Jesse, yells, then looks over and says quieter, “oh, shit. sorry.” He's one of the younger, newer guys and hasn't seen you with Joel before.

You dodge the question and distract him by scratching his scalp lightly. That drives him wild. You feel his cock hard against you.

You give Joel a peck on the lips. “Knock’m dead,” you say. There’s an obvious bulge in his jeans when he goes to take his turn on darts.

"You good, man?" Tommy asks.

Joel takes his turn in silence and still does better than everyone else, even distracted.

When he’s done with his turn, he gets behind you and puts his hands on your hips, pulling your ass into the hardness in his jeans. His lips brush your ear and he lowers his voice.

"What're you try'na to do to me, hmm?"

He grinds his bulge into your ass as he wraps his arms around you. He slips a hand into your low neckline, cupping a breast. Your nipples harden and desire pools in your stockings. He puts his nose in your hair and inhales deeply.

"I'm gonna miss you," you whisper.

"Yeah," he says. His voice is soft, low and horny. "I'll be back 'fore you know it." His hand is still in your neckline for all the room to see.

"Joel," Jesse says.

Tommy looks back at you. Your face heats up and Tommy shakes his head laughing. "I don't think he's playin' anymore, fellas" Jesse looks back and his eyes go wide. You clear your throat and Joel takes his time removing his hand from your breast, then smooths your neckline down and gives you a kiss on the cheek.

"Last turn," Joel says and he leaves you for a minute. You sit down on a stool at the high-top while he's taking his turn.

The guys are ribbing him.

"Gimme a break, we're 'bout to be gone for three weeks," Joel says. Tommy slaps him on the back.

When Joel comes back to the high-top, he wastes no time sliding his hand between your legs. His fingers trace the fishnets all the way to your seam and he inhales deeply through his nose when he feels how damp you are. Then he slips a finger through one of the holes and meets your dripping wet pussy. His lips part and his eyes go dark. He rubs your clit with the side of his finger and you throb with need.

He brings his lips to your ear and his voice is a low, horny murmur. "Go wait for me at the top of the stairs, baby." He kisses you wetly on the neck then lets you slide off the stool. You straighten your dress and he pats your ass as you start in the direction of the stairs.

"Y'all have a good night," you tell the boys.

"You leavin' already?" Tommy asks with a smirk.

"Yeah, be safe out there alright?" You say.

You walk up the stone spiral stairs and stop at the top landing. You lean against the cold, stone wall and wait for Joel. He has the darkest look on his face as he climbs the stairs and your eyes gravitate to the protrusion in his jeans.

When he gets to the landing, you turn to walk out the door with him, but he grabs your hip and spins you back around. Then he steps between your feet and walks you backwards into the wall, pinning you there with his arousal as his lips hungrily latch onto yours and his tongue thrusts into your mouth. He forcefully pulls your dress and bra down on one side, then brings his mouth to your breast.

You say, "I worry 'bout you, baby."

He releases your nipple with a sucking sound.

"Don't you worry 'bout a thing right now," he says, and pulls you off the wall and into his arms.

He hikes up your dress and rubs your throbbing warmth through the front of your stockings as his other hand holds your ass. He breathes heavily, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. He reaches both hands under you, digs his fingers into the fishnet holes, and pulls. The rip of fabric startles you and you feel the chill of air between your legs. The cool air also carries the sound of the guys being rowdy downstairs.

You ask, "Here? We're not going home?" Someone could walk through the door or up the stairs at any moment.

"Can't wait, sugar"

You look around hesitantly. He backs you into the wall and the stone is freezing on your ass. You wince. "On the wall?" You ask.

"You wanna ride?" He nods at the stairs. "cause that's your other option. 'less you wanna get on all fours." The steepness of the stairs is too scary.

He kisses you passionately and rubs you just right with one hand while he unbuckles his belt with the other. You can no longer wait either.

Joel urgently frees his massive hard-on from his tight jeans and strokes it a few times, then he hooks his hand under your knee and you wrap a leg loosely around him. He leans in you and aligns his cock at your entrance, then plunges into you with a grunt that slightly echoes. He breathes heavy, slowly rocks back, then plunges into you again and you sigh softly as you're joined completely. Nothing feels as good as him inside you. You wanna cry thinking about him leaving for three weeks. He can see it on your face.

He continues a slow but powerful rhythm as he says, "y'know I worry 'bout you too, baby–" he cuts himself off with a grunt. "take my cock so good, I dunno how you go without it," he half-whispers. "sometimes, I wanna bring ya. do it fuckin' everywhere." He looks you in the eyes then kisses you passionately as he keeps thrusting into you and your body lifts against the wall with his momentum. The men are still yucking it up downstairs. "sometimes I wanna go," you say. "Too dangerous," he says, and you feel your climax getting closer every time he fills you up. He's hitting your g-spot just right. He sucks your neck and you fail to suppress a moan. The hubbub briefly pauses downstairs then there's quiet laughter and they start talking again.

You take a deep breath as you feel yourself on the edge.

"Imma be hungry when I get home, baby. . ."

He grunts again with a powerful thrust, and you see stars. You clench around his cock and float in another realm, pulsing, pounding, savoring the last minute of him inside you because he's never far behind. When you open your eyes his face looks in agony. One more pump and he erupts inside you. "Fill me up, baby," you say, hand in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. His groan echoes off the stone as he pulses into you, and your climax continues as his hot seed coats your walls. When he finishes, you sigh, and it's totally silent aside from both of you breathing heavily.

A few seconds later, there's quiet laughter again and the guys get back to it.

-

Joel might. He didn’t seem like he wanted to leave that day. He was acting like he could have stayed another night before you two got into your lil disagreement. You could kick yourself for being nosey and whatever the fuck else you are that makes you say dumb shit. No. You stood up for yourself and didn’t get put back into another Jackie Harris situation where you’re getting screamed at in the back of a Dodge Neon at sixteen because you’re scared to lose your virginity. 

You should’a done it then because now you’re never going to lose it. Not at this rate. 

You roll seven joints when you get home because you need to keep your fingers busy so they don’t accidentally type out a message to him that tells him to come over and kiss you again. As you roll your joints you speak affirmations to yourself out loud.

“You’re worth more than getting screamed at!! Worth more than fingers being pointed in your face calling you fucking worthless. You are worth more than that. So, you’re a very smart girl for kicking that douche--Joel Miller, to the curb. Fuck him. He is a prick.” You snort and feel satisfied because you feel a little better. 

You decided to smoke on the porch because it’s so nice out today. You can wear just shorts and a tank top out here. It’s not humid, not sticky. Just hot. You made yourself a drink with your coke from the fast food place and some of Cody’s whiskey. It’s hard to unwind when you cannot stop thinking about him. The way he felt when he was on top of you in the car? The way he kissed you? You had never, ever been kissed like that. It was like he was trying to crawl inside of you through your mouth and it was the hottest thing. You miss it. You could cry. 

Let’s not even get started on his cock? Please? It was so beautiful– honestly, the only cock you have ever really wanted to look at. Every other one you have seen was… alright. Nothing to write Dad about– that makes you chuckle aloud, the idea of writing your dear old Dad about all the cocks you see (which really isn’t many) and giving them your ratings and clear descriptions of them. You’d write about how Joel had a thick patch of dark pubic hair right at the base of him, and veins that crept from that base all up and along the thick shaft…he had been so hard– so throbbingly, achingly hard in his hand while he stroked himself. He was red in contrast to the rest of his tanned skin on his fist. The seam of him drooling precome like it got paid to. There was so much of it. So much on his shirt after he was done…

It was so erotic.  

You had never done that. Touched yourself for someone and watched them do that!! No! You got naked for Jackie Harris a couple times. Didn’t ever wanna watch him jerk off. You just let him look– store it in his memory for later, you did show him what you looked like with a couple fingers inside you…but that was it. You never finished alongside someone else like that. You honestly… had never finished with anyone before. Some got you almost there, real fucking close but then they’d lose their rhythm or get tired of try. Sometimes not even try because you wouldn’t let them fuck you. Fuck men. Honestly. They all suck. 

It gets dark so fast and you think about how you are lonely. You don’t know anyone down here. Sam took off literally two weeks after you got here. You text her.

Hey sisterrrr. I miss u and I know shit is tough for u right now. Im always here… always. Send me pics of u and carter. I don’t gave a shit about cody, tell him i said to go fuck himself. Jk i might be taking him up on that job offer soon. Love you. Text me back this time, ho. 

She’s been gone for three months and you have heard from her only once. Every other time you talk to her or even see her is when Cody texts you or facetimes you so that you can see her and know that she is still alive. Carson is growing up and you’re missing out on all that. 

Your phone rings. It’s Cody.

“What do you want, you fuckin’ loser,” You sneer into the phone with no real malice. At this point Cody is more of your brother than Paul. That asshole. 

“Hey, so… your sister isn’t doin’ good—” He starts but now you’re stiff in your chair. 

“What does that mean?” You whisper softly.

“She’s just really depressed. The wellness gurus here at the retreat thinks she needs professional help…like real therapy and shit.” Cody sounds so worried. 

“You’re gonna get her—”

“Duh, you fucking asshole. Of course. Literally would chop off my nuts for Samantha if she needed ‘em to get better. Shit. There is a specialist in Germany that is said to be a fuckin’ genie with this postpartum stuff so we’re going to go there for a couple months. Get her a change of scenery.” He sighs. 

“That’s good. Real good. I’m glad you guys are able to do all that. Fuck. That’s crazy… is she there?” You ask hesitantly. 

“Okay… don’t get upset with her okay?” Cody warns you and your stomach drops. 

“What?” You almost don’t wanna know. Why would you be mad at her?

“She’s not talking…” Cody whispers. 

“Huh?” You’re unimpressed with his answer. 

“She’s… I dunno. On some weird mute shit right now. Only answers me with nods or head shakes.” Cody is sounding more and more hopeless the more he talks about it. 

“Like… she’s not talking on purpose?” You’re so utterly shocked by this. That is no Samantha. 

“She barely gets out of bed. Doesn’t hold the baby. It’s fuckin’ sad…I feel so bad for her ‘cause she wanted this so…we both did and now, she can’t even enjoy it.” Cody sounds like he’s going to cry. 

“Do you want me to fly to Germany to meet you guys?” You offer even though the thought of being on a plane that long makes you want to throw up. 

“I appreciate that so much…” Cody sighs and now you are shitting your pants too because it sounds like he wants to do this. “I just dunno… If you think you should, come out here but I know you’re weird with the flying thing.” He is thinking of other solutions. You can hear it in his voice. “We’ll be okay. I got Carson. I’m a good dad, not like your guys’ piece of shit cock-sucking dad. I’m a real dad.” You know Cody is poking his chest real hard when he says this and it makes you roll your eyes.

“I’ll get you a mug or something. An award.” You chuckle into the phone.

“How’s the house? Still standing?” He asks nervously. 

“I flooded it. Ruined everything. I’m drinkin’ all your expensive whiskey.” You snicker into the phone and Cody groans loudly. 

“I should have locked it up, you bitch. Fuck. I knew you were gonna get into it. Thief!” He exclaims into the phone quietly like he might be a little mad. “What’re you drinkin’?” He sounds less mad and more curious. 

“I dunno. Something Macllins or something The Reach 18 or something.” You shrug because you didn’t look at the label. 

“You’re fuckin’ lying. I know you’re not drinkin’ it the way you should be. Drinkin’ it with a coke from McDonalds or something stupid.” He grumbles.

“Sure am. How am I supposed to drink that shit?” You snort into the phone. 

“Well seeing as how you’re drinking one hundred and twenty five… thousand dollar scotch. That’s been aged for eighty-one fuckin’ years, ya dingus, should be drank neat. One ice cube…if you need it. But should just be drank straight, ya fuck.” He exclaims into the phone.

“You just love talking about how much money you have. It’s gross. I’m surprised Samanatha married you.” You snicker. 

“She married me for the money, turdface. Fuck off.” He sounds annoyed and you love it. “Don’t drink anymore of the Macallans. You can drink anything else. I mean it. Seriously. Help yourself to that whole cabinet but I can’t get more of The Reach 81. S’all gone. Gotta wait another eighty one years for more— so stop fuckin’ adding it to watered down coke, you asshole.” Cody almost shouts into the phone.

“We’ll see. Your house is fine. Love you guys. Give Carson and Samantha a kiss for me. Maybe slap my sister a lil for me and see if she snaps back to normal.” Your smirk. 

“You’ll have to fly to Germany to do that. I would never. Say outta The Reach, bitch. Love you too. I’ll call you when we get to Munich.” Cody hangs up the phone before you can say anything else. 

What a good fucking husband. Doing literally anything and everything for her. Sometimes you’re jealous of Samantha but remember she is going through it right now. She also worked really hard in school and then at college. She worked her asshole right out of her body to get her degree to be a child psychologist. Worked so hard to do that…to then meet Cody who literally had more money than she had ever seen in her whole life. That didn’t make her fall in love with him, not at all. It’s how much fun she had with him. Cody is the life of the party. He’s incredibly smart. Very handsome. Hilarious. Self-deprecating in the best way. He’s a good guy and you’re lucky he’s in your life at any capacity. Cody paid for your entire trip down here. The moving truck you drove down here, paid for all your gas and hotel rooms. Gave up his air conditioned gym to have to work out in the hot ass garage. He’s a good man. A good brother. 

Better than Paul. 

Your phone dings in your hand. It’s Samantha. 

Love you, Squeak.

That’s it. It means more than anything. She calls you that because your mom used to call you that. It makes you smile and get goosebumps. Samantha is still in there somewhere. Hopefully this therapist in Munich can find her and help her back to the surface. You go inside. You do not have to work tomorrow so…you’ll stay up all night and read your true crime blog. Why not? Nothing better to do. You go to change into something a little warmer, it’s cooler inside with the AC on. Your fingers graze the lace material and you can suddenly taste your heartbeat. You touch it again, don’t pick it up… just rub the delicate, light blue lace between your fingers gently. 

Ideas come to your head. Familiar ideas. You’ve had this idea before. 

Fuck it. The Reach 81 is buzzing around in your head. You put the dainty outfit on before you can chicken out. You go to your full length mirror. It doesn’t… not fit. You have put on a couple pounds since you move down here but it’s not… too small. You’re busting out in all the right places and the fabric digs in and makes you look supple and soft. You pull out your phone and take one of your entire body with your feet pressed together at the toes. The next pose is you on your knees, with your legs spread wide– leaned back so you can get a nice lil look. Nothing is too directly exposed even though the lace is see through. There is a little bit left to the imagination. Except for your nipples and areola. Those are seen directly through the fabric. You turn your camera around and take a picture of you on your back, cupping one of your spilling tits in the bra. You bite your bottom lip an angle the camera so he can see down your body. 

You’re feeling so confident because these pictures are… actually really hot. That or you’re a little drunk. 

You send Joel Miller all three pictures and put a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie on over the lingerie. It makes you feel hot and sexy and so you don’t really wanna take it off yet. You don’t know what you’re expecting… really. 

You’re hoping he texts you or calls you back. You want that. 

You don’t think he will though. You just embarrassed yourself and now you have to quit your job at the store or just hope he never, ever comes in again. He might not. You just threw yourself at him via the phone screen. You look desperate and now you hate yourself. 

What have you done!? 

You go to see if you can delete them, un-send them or something but he looked at them. It says right under the pictures… 

Seen 8:22 PM

It’s almost eight thirty now… eight fucking minutes have gone by and he hasn’t answered. He might still be at work… could be. He liked Ava’s pictures before he called you the night he saw you. FUCK. Okay. You’re just going to delete those pictures from your text thread so you can pretend you never sent them. Then you delete them right out of your camera roll. What pictures? You never did anything. Nothing. 

You read your blog. Sadly. You wish Joel Miller had been a killer and just murdered you on the side of the road that first night. That had to hurt less than this. You know this is not true. You feel so badly for every victim in these stories. Sometimes they are hard to read but you do it anyway… for whatever reason. It makes you feel something. Sad. Better than nothing. Better than being bored and alone. Ugh. You need another drink. 

The Reach 81 goes back in the cabinet because you do not like annoying Cody that much. You reach for a different bottle and grab a can of diet coke from the fridge upstairs because you’re too lazy to go back downstairs to grab a regular coke from your fridge. You don’t wanna do anything ever again. You add ice to your drink when the doorbell rings. Your heart flutters for half a second and then you get so scared. It’s past nine now. Who is ringing your doorbell?? Shit. You have no weapons. Why does Cody have no guns? Fuuuck. You check your phone and there are still no messages from Joel. Or anyone. You get nine one one typed in and ready to call and walk slowly to the front door. 

The doorbell rings again. 

Ooooooohhhhhh noooooooooo.

Normal people only ring one time. 

Crazy people ring twice… fuck. Okay. Everything is fine. You can talk real fast if you need to yell your address to the operator. 

You fling the door open and Joel is standing there, shifting his weight between his feet nervously, he gives you a sheepish grin. You frown and then so does he.

“What are you doing here?” You ask that way because you had just been terrified and that hasn’t left your body yet. So you’re a little harsh. 

“Oh…did you mean to send those sexy ass pictures to someone else or were you fuckin’ teasing me?” Joel sounds genuinely upset. 

“I meant to send them to you…but what are you doing here?” You blink up at him and now he’s blinking right down at you too. 

“Did you…not want me to come over?” He raises one eyebrow in suspicion and maybe confusion. 

“I thought you’d text me back first.” You explain to him dully. Joel stops shifting his weight and his eyes flash from left to right three times before he looks at you again.

“Yeah. I should’a done that. I’m sorry.” He stands at the open door just looking down at you. You dunno what to say now that he is here…right here in front of you!! You thought if you ever talked to him again it’d be over text or the phone. Not in person. You can’t help yourself when he is…right here. “You want me to go?” He throws his thumb over his shoulder to his truck in the driveway. 

You shake your head no silently. 

The corner of Joel’s mouth turns up slightly. 

“You gotta invite me in. I don’t barge.” He shrugs his shoulders and speaks much more calmly and cool than he had been before. He wasn’t nervous anymore. 

“Do you wanna come in?” You don’t have any energy inside of you to produce sound so it just comes out in a whisper. He nods silently and side steps you into the house. 

“Sorry ‘bout last time.” He slips his boots off and stands in the entryway. His eyes trace along your comfy outfit and he looks almost disappointed for one second and then his eyes flash roguishly. Devilishly. 

“I’m not. Thanks for telling me you’re an asshole. Now I can make an educated choice on what I want.” You smirk at him and he takes one step towards you and tries to close the distance but you step back– but now you’re pressed against the closed front door. You sigh softly as he eliminates any distance left between you with two large steps. 

“What do you want.” He whispers quietly as his nose grazes across your forehead gently. His words are breath against your closed eyelids. “Tell me what you want, lil girl.” He’s demanding in his soft, throaty whispers. 

“You.” You keep your eyes closed but as you speak his hands find your hips and he’s pulling you against him. 

“You still got that sexy lil blue thang on under this?” He tugs at the hem or your sweatshirt gently. You still haven't opened your eyes, but his the tip of his nose trawls down the bridge of yours, his lips kiss the tip of your nose as he pass by and then his lips are on yours and he’s hungry for you. 

You moan in affirmation that you do still have that lil sexy blue thang on under all this that you’re wearing. His tongue pushes it’s way into your mouth, he doesn’t wait for you to open up for him. He needs you. You’re lips are wet with saliva as your mouths open and close against each others, tongues swirling whenever they can. He pulls away at the sounds of your protesting whines. 

“Wanna do somethin’, open your mouth.” He sighs softly his lips still touching yours. You don’t even care why he would want you to do something like that, you’re melting against this door and he hasn’t even really touched you yet. Just kisses you and played with the hem of your sweatshirt. He had one hand on your waist. That was it. 

Joel Miller spits into your open mouth. Loudly. You are appalled and pull away from him in horror. You want to spit it back at him but he closes your jaw with his strong hand. 

“Swallow it fer’ me, sexy lil thang.” He growls softly in that deep, country twang he has. You mindlessly swallow and then are even more horrified that you just did that!! What!! 

“What was that!?” You exclaim in annoyance. “Spitting into my mouth?” You’re offended that he thought you’d like that…. You didn’t wanna like it. Not at all. But you did kinda. Liked the way he smirked at you when you swallowed it. Loved how he growled at you. 

“Didn’t like it? I won’t do it again… I’m sor—” Joel does look sorry and like he feels really bad. 

“No. It’s fine.” You snap at him…because… you don’t know why. “No one’s ever done that to me before.” 

“So…you did like it? ‘Cause I fuckin’ love it. You could do it to me too…” He offers with the slightest raise of his eyebrows. “I’d spit more into yer’ mouth if you’d let me.” He whispers softly. This actually horrifies you. 

“What does that mean!?” You gasp softly. You make Joel chuckle. 

“Want me to tell you? We should go downstairs… n’ you can show me what that lil thang you got on underneath all them clothes really looks like.” Joel wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close to him. 

“Okay.” You sigh softly and let him lead you downstairs to your room. He’s down at the bottom of the steps and you’re on the second to last. He grabs you by the waist, his strong hands dig into your sides as he lifts you. He holds you against his chest and torso as he carries you past the bed and into your makeshift living room. 

Joel sets you down in front of the couch, steals a loud, wet kiss from your lips and then makes his way to the couch and sits down with his legs and knees spread wide. He’s comfortable. 

“Go slow.” He growls at you with that same mischievous look he had the the last time he was here and chased you. You blink at him. You have on just sweats! The hood of your sweatshirt was up over your head You didn’t look very sexy at all. 

“What do you mean? I have two things on! It’ll be over–” You exclaim, pulling the drawstrings of your hoodie tight and closing the hole around your face. Joel is shaking his head and holding his hand up for you to stop. 

“Go. Slow.” He shrugs his shoulders when you stop talking. “Simple. Slow.” He tips his head to the side as he shrugs his shoulders. You’re gonna spit on him. 

“Fine.” You loosen the drawstrings and pull the hood down and fix your hair so it isn’t frizzy anymore. 

“Y’look cute already… are you nervous?” Joel raises one eyebrow slightly as he watches you dance around on your toes nervously. 

“No. Why would I be nervous?” You shake your head at him and try to sound offended but you think you actually sound nervous. So, that’s nice. 

“I dunno… why would you be nervous?” He chuckles and shifts around on the couch to get comfy. “Drove almost ninety miles an hour to get here.” He jokes but it doesn’t really sound like a joke. 

“Why’d it take you so long then?” You flick one eyebrow up at him playful and he’s stunned by this. He has no words, he’s just chuckling but you don’t really like his lack of voice. He’s always got something to say. “Seriously… if you drove that fast… n’ you were home— you should have been here sooner after you saw the pictures.” You eye him doubtfully. The small smirk leaves his face and he sighs. 

“I’m never, ever gon’ lie to you if you ask me stuff outright like that. I was with Ava.” He says simply. You had your arms inside your hoodie, getting ready to slowly lift if over your head and show him your sexy outfit but you punch your arms through the sleeves and cross them over your chest. Joel chuckles. 

“Ok.” You sigh loudly. 

“Why’re you mad? I’m here…” He smirks now and stands. You take a step back but he doesn’t walk towards you. He goes to the light switch and dims the lights dramatically. You can almost barely see him. He comes back to sit on the couch and stretches his legs again, spreading his strong, muscular arms along the back of the couch. 

“Is that why it took you so long? ‘Cause you had to finish?!” You accuse him with a pointed finger in his direction. He laughs loudly and shakes his head. 

“No. She just lives further from here n’ I had to talk her off the ledge when I told her I didn’t wanna see her anymore.” Joel is smirking. You can see it now that your eyes have adjusted to the dimness of the room. “We weren’t even doin’ nothin’. Jus’ talkin’. ‘Bout to do somethin’...” Joel shugs one shoulder and tips his head again. 

You think in your head right now if you have a reason to be mad about this or if you should even believe him. 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” You give him another dubious look and tap your foot impatiently even though… you have all the time in the world. You’re off tomorrow. So is Joel. Tomorrow is Saturday so he has all the time in the world too. Shit. 

Joel shifts to the left slightly and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. He unlocks it and then tosses it to you without a word. You barely catch it and glare at him for that. You would have felt so bad if you hadn’t caught it and something happened to it!! So embarrassed. You stare at his phone in your hand. 

“My lil password or whatever is 072089.” He smiles at you. “S’my daughters birthday… not my other lil girlfriend. Don’t worry.” He winks at you like he’s so fucking funny. 

“What do you want me to do with it?” You stare at him as the phone screen goes black in your hand. 

“Look through it— since you like doin’ it so much. Look’it the messages from Ava tonight. They’ll prove I’m not lyin’.” He’s got a shit eating grin on his face like you’re going to be so happy with what you find in there you’ll get right on your knees and suck his dick or something. 

You tap the screen and the face ID doesn’t recognize you, so you enter the numbers he said to you and his phone unlocks. Okay— he can change his password. He probably will when he leaves here. The message thread from Ava is above yours. She’s currently typing stuff out to him but there are unread messages from her as well. 

“She’ll see that you opened them… you have your read receipts on… old man.” You smirk at him but he shrugs. 

“Don’t really care.” He still has that stupid grin on his face and you are going to spit on him. You sure will… kinda hopes he does it to you again. Soon. Tonight. 

You press Ava’s text thread and there are… countless messages all from within the last forty-five minutes. All the texts are some variation of… 

You have to be kidding? 

You’re not fucking serious, are you? Is it someone else?

Talk to me. Answer my calls. 

Just walk out? Really? We were having a good, real talk for the first time and all of a sudden you just have to leave? With no explanation? 

Ava starts to call him before you can read any more. You blink at the phone vibrating in your hands. 

“She callin’ again?” Joel asks casually. “You can ignore it. You could answer it…but that’ll just piss her off… n’ she’d probably show up to my house…smash my windows or something.” Joel isn’t grinning anymore, but he sounds like he means what he’s saying. Like you could really answer it if you wanted. 

“I don’t wanna talk to her.” You hold the phone back to him but he holds his hands up like he doesn’t want it either. 

“I said what I wanted to say. There isn’t nothin’ she can say that’s gonna change my mind.” Joel shrugs again and stretches his back, arching his chest towards the ceiling as you hold his still vibrating phone in your hands. It stops vibrating and then immediately starts up again. She called him right back. 

“Change your mind about what?” You ask softly, setting the phone down on the TV stand behind you but it just buzzes and skitters across the glass noisily. You pick it up and stare at it and then you silence the call. You stare at the black screen and it lights up again!! She called Joel again!! You set the phone down on the black, faux fur rug in your mini living room. It’s quiet and doesn’t move. You push it far away from you with your big toes. 

Scary. 

“I’ll tell you… I’ll tell you everything … but you gotta start taking them clothes off— real slow.” Joel draws the last two words out for so long before they end and he licks his bottom lip just as slow. You swallow hard. 

“Okay…” You whisper because what does everything mean? You’re so scared. You pull one arm into the sweatshirt slowly and Joel starts to talk. 

“I only saw her again ‘cause I didn’t think you wanted to see me.” He speaks quietly and calmly as you pull the other arm into the sweatshirt. Your finger the hem by your waist slowly and pull it up just an inch and expose the baby blue lace fabric that covers your skin. It’s so thin you’re immediately stricken with goosebumps as the cool air from the AC touches you. Joel keeps talking. “So… when you texted me those pictures— shiiit. I had to get outta there… but I knew I wasn’t gonna wanna see her again. So I told her that I had come over there to break things off… even though we weren’t really talking like we were about to break things off.” Joel admits quietly. 

“What were you talking about?” You almost coo to him even though you don’t really wanna know!! You pull the hem of your sweatshirt up another inch and the intricate, delicate design of the lace starts to appear. Blue isn’t really… your best color but it was just so pretty that you couldn’t stop looking at it while you were shopping for new bras. It was this blue color or pink— that looked worse on you. Joel sighs softly as he sees more of whatever you’re hiding from him under those baggy clothes. 

“Nothin’ crazy– honestly. Just tellin’ her ‘bout my day which I never do… then my phone goes off n’ I look at it… go wide eyed… and then tell her I don’t wanna see her anymore. She’s a lil confused. Probably a lil pissed off.” Joel shrugs his shoulders. “She knew what I wanted from her. Knew all along..” 

“You sure about that?” You pull the sweatshirt up and little higher and now the curve of your breast in the lace is visible. Joel makes an audible sound as he exhales. It’s not a groan or a moan. Barely a hum. It makes you smirk when he licks his lips again and has to readjust on the couch. He has to pull his jeans away from his groin with his fist. 

“She knows. Why you think that’s all our texts are ‘bout?” He nods his head towards the phone that is still ringing. She’s called him non stop. 

“You said it turns her on…” You pinch your brows and stop lifting your sweatshirt. Your nipples are just barely hidden. Joel speaks a little more rushed than he had been speaking earlier. 

“S’also the only type of text I respond to from her… We don’t talk outside of what happens in the bedroom.” He shrugs. 

“Okay. I don’t wanna talk about her anymore.” You grumble and feel annoyed and wanna put your clothes back on. 

“Okay. But that was the the first time I saw her since we stopped talkin’...” Joel trails off and lets you put the pieces together for yourself. He hasn’t slept with her since then.

“Again… how do I know you’re not lying?” You ask nervously, your arms are still hovering right below your chin, about to take the sweat shirt off but you had paused when you caught him in what you thought was another lie! 

“You ain’t gotta trust me. Really. I don’t care. It’ll just get annoying after a while.” Joel shrugs his shoulders and adjusts himself in his jeans carefully. “I gave you the all the evidence right there. Messages’ll show the last time I even liked one of those pictures she send…” Joel lifts his eyebrow. “I ain’t lyin’ to you, Little Birdie. Relax a little.” He whispers. “Show me how pretty you look.” He coos to you. 

You pull the sweatshirt off your body and toss it to the floor, covering Joel’s phone in the process. He grins stupidly. 

“Hell yeah.” He sounds happy, like… really happy with what he sees. “Got damn, you are fuckin’ beautiful. Them pictures didn’t do you justice.” He shakes his head no slowly. You’re blushing. So fucking hard.

“What else would you spit in my mouth?” You ask quietly as you hook your thumbs into the waistband of the sweatpants. Joel holds his hands up to you and speaks quickly. 

“Hold on!! Lemme get comfortable.” He stands quickly and undoes his belt and the button of his jeans quickly. You sigh as he pushes his pants to the floor and steps out of them so he’s just in his boxers and a black t-shirt. He looks so fucking hot. Fuck. You hate him for how attractive he is. “Okay… what did you ask me?” He asks, one of his strong hands slides to the bulge between his legs. 

“W-What else would s-spit in my mouth?” You’re stammering as you watch him tease himself through the fabric. His big– ridiculously big- hand gropes himself gently and just tugs. Pulling his cock away from his body as it continues to harden. You’re almost drooling because you forgot to swallow. You forgot everything. You don’t even know why you’re standing up here. You look down and remember you were doing something for him. Okay. 

“You like t’get freaky? You like it rought n’ shit? Kinda kinky?” He asks as his fist squeezes himself through his boxers gently.  You’ve never done anything even remotely kinky. Nothing. The most kinky thing you ever did was literally what you were doing right now…and what you did with the same man sitting in front of you, two weeks ago in his truck. So, apparently you do.

“Yes.” You answer quickly before it becomes a painfully long time of you being quiet, staring at him. He snorts softly and works on his erection slowly and gently. 

“Go just as slow with them pants… n’ maybe spin a lil so I can see the back when you bend over.” He orders gently with his cloth clad dick still in his hand. His voice is steady though. He’s not overly excited and you like that. 

“Okay.” You hook your thumbs in the waistband again and pull just the front of the waistband down and give him a little preview of your mound and the very top of your slit. Joel inhales sharply and his hips move a little on the couch but then settle. 

“So after I fuck you—” 

Joel says this so casually because he’s done it one thousand and ten times. So… it means nothing to him. But when he says I fuck you like that isn’t the most intense statement you’ve ever heard in your life. Especially because you’re seen his cock. It’s pretty big. You’re… inexperienced? Tight probably… going to be torn in half and now you’re so nervous but you listen to what this scary man is going to do to you after he fucks you.

“--I’ll probably come all over that fuckin’ pretty lil pussy—unless you’re on the pill…” He gives you a questioning look but you shake your head. He doesn’t care. “-doesn’t matter… after spread my come all over you, n’ make sure you feel what I did to you…” Joel pauses as you turn around so you’re back is to him– you wish he wouldn’t. You’re blushing so fucking hard he’s going to know you’re a virgin because what!? You’ve never heard anyone talk like that. Not even in porn. 

You read it in a fanfiction once!! You didn’t think people spoke like this in real life, Jesus fucking Christ. Okay. You push the back of the sweatpants down the curve of your ass and Joel groans softly in appreciation. You bend at the waist— who does that? Who takes their pants off this way? No one. You slowly let the gray fabric slide down your thighs, revealing the stockings your still have on. Joel gives you another slow, happy growl from his throat. 

“Then once you’re nice n’ sticky… I’ll go down there n’ clean you up.” Joel says simply. You look around at the wall and TV in front of you and frown. What does that mean? Where does the spitting come into it? You turn just your head and look at him over your shoulder. His cock is out of his boxers through that flap in the middle. He’s not even really stroking. Just holding his cock in his hand as he takes you in. He flicks his eyes to you frowning at him in confusion. “Lick you clean.” Joel clarifies for you. 

You have to snap your head back to the TV that isn’t on and try to keep your composure because what!? He wants to do what!? Lick his own release off your cunt after he fucks you and then he does what??

“Then you spit that into my mouth?” You figure it out for yourself but still need him to tell you as the sweatpants reach your ankles. 

“Yup. Love doin’ it.” He chuckles softly. “Dunno why, think it’s real hot.” He sighs as you stand straight and turn to face him even though your face is still beet red. You feel so badly that he's been so honest with you about everything. So upfront, too. Shit. You feel like such an asshole. You have to tell him. Have to before this gets too out of hand. You cannot let him fuck you and traumatize you!! You're already traumatized by Jackie Harris!! Shit!!!

“I’m a virgin..”

If you want to be added to the small tag list I have going, just let me know! (or you can tell me to go fuck myself)

The “U up?” texts from Joel slowly evolve into texts that say “I’m 5 mins away. U better not be wearing panties when I get to ur place” as time goes on with you living in your new house.

It’s around two months after you move into your house that you start getting fatigued, throwing up in the morning, not to mention how swollen and tender your breasts are.

Joel catches on and shows up at your house one night with a pregnancy test. 

“Seriously? Joel, it’s just a bug,” you insist as you shove the box back in his hand.

Joel shoves it back in your hand so hard you stumble a little.

“Of course, I’m serious. Now quit bein’ a brat and drop your fuckin’ panties and piss on this thing.”

You roll your eyes and snatch the box, then turn toward your bathroom.

Joel’s on your heels.

You turn around and glare up at him. “What, you got a piss kink all of a sudden?”

He rolls his eyes and pushes you into the bathroom with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“If I really knocked ya up, I wanna be there when we find out they’re real,” he says, and it’s so surprisingly sweet, you almost drop your frown.

With a mumbled “whatever”, you get on the toilet and go about your business with Joel leaning against the counter across from you, watching intently as you aim your stream on the plastic stick.

As you wash your hands and wait the instructed five minutes, you lean against the counter next to Joel, side by side.

After a moment, he says, “Of course, whatever we do here is your decision. I don’t know if just now I came across as ‘Oh, of course we’re keepin’ the baby.’ I ain’t the one doin’ the damn thing, but I’ll tell ya right now: if you are pregnant, I’ll take good care o’ you and the kid if you decide to keep it. You have my word.”

You don’t respond. You’re too emotional. You just keep staring at the window inside your shower and calmly cover Joel’s hand, which he has braced on the counter with yours.

You hadn’t given much thought to kids before, but maybe it’d be a good thing. You’ve never been opposed, so if the test is positive, why not take a chance?

Joel may be the most perverted man you’ve ever been with, but you know for a fact he’s capable of more.

When the timer on your phone rings, Joel takes a step back from the counter. It’s like he’s giving you the space to do this alone, but also near enough that you know he’ll come closer if you ask.

Joel doesn’t have to look at the test to know. The hitch in your breath and the hand over your mouth give you away.

He shifts his weight uncomfortably, then clears his throat.

“Whatever you wanna do, we’ll do,” he murmurs, his voice gruff. “Don’t let what I want fuck things up for you.”

You look up at him with bleary eyes and shake your head.

“I wanna keep it,” you croak.

Joel’s brows shoot up to his forehead. You’ve only been living in this house for about two months. He thought maybe that was enough big life changes for you in one year.

“Baby, are you sure?”

You nod, placing a hand on your stomach, then glancing down at the test on the counter.

“I had more than enough for this place and the furniture, so I’m…good. And I don’t know, it just feels right,” you explain, your voice wet with emotion.

That’s enough for Joel.

He grabs you by the hips and pulls you in for a hug.

A fucking hug.

You don’t think you’ve ever gotten hugged by this man.

Surprisingly, he’s a good hugger. His arms are secure around your body; his chin is resting on top of your head. You feel safe.

As he loosens his hold on you, he gets down to his knees and kisses your stomach, right below your belly button.

“Your tits are gonna get so huge,” he moans against your skin.

The first trimester is awful, but according to all the research Joel’s been secretly doing, that is to be expected. As you get over the morning sickness and head into the second trimester, Joel realizes he hasn’t even driven by the trailer park in almost two weeks.

You’ve needed him so much just in these first three months. He can’t imagine how much you’ll need him by the end.

His trailer isn’t the place he wants to raise his baby. Yours would’ve worked; you just have this ability to make anywhere feel like home.

Joel’s is worse than a typical bachelor pad. He never married and managed to avoid accidental pregnancies until this point. He’s got a couch, a table with two chairs, and his bed. That’s pretty much it.

In all honesty, you’re the first woman he’s seen consistently for more than a month in maybe twenty years. The last woman was a girlfriend who left him for the president of a fucking biker gang.

In between her and you, it’s exclusively been hook-ups and flings.

Technically, you’re still a hook-up. 

At least officially. 

He’s 47 years old, and he’s been practically living with the younger woman he got pregnant.

Maybe you already consider you and him as more. Maybe he doesn’t need to bring it up.

Although you’re growing his baby and letting him practically live here. He probably owes it to you to be the one to bring it up.

He’s getting back to your house late one night after a job ran late.

He’d never had to text someone to tell them about having to work overtime. No one’s ever been waiting for him for that to be necessary.

You texted back, telling him not to worry, but to bring you home French fries for your troubles.

So, Joel walks into your bedroom, sawdust clinging to his clothes, with a paper bag full of French fries from your favorite fast food restaurant in one hand and a milkshake in the other hand, figuring you’ll want something sweet to go with the fries.

He hears you finishing up in the bathroom, so he calls out that he’s here.

You open the door and walk out to the bedroom, ravenous for your snack, wearing only panties that have begun to dig into the meat of your hips and a tank top that emphasizes the slight swelling that’s happening in your middle.

“Hi,” you practically chirp as you take the bag of food from him.

“Hey, darlin’. How’s the kid?”

You crawl into bed and pull the covers over your lap.

“Probably fine. Y’know, I’ve still got a month or two before I can feel them,” you remind him as you pop a French fry into your mouth.

You nod at the milkshake in his hand.

“For me or you?”

Joel shakes his head and hands it to you. “Figured you’d want somethin’ sweet, too.”

You smile and gladly take the cup.

He’s a little tense as he stands near the foot of your bed.

“What, are you working up the nerve to tell me you want a night to yourself?” you ask softly.

It’s probably just the hormones, but recently, the thought of sleeping in an empty bed makes you upset. You’ve gotten used to waking up with morning wood pressing against your lower back. You’d miss it if it were gone.

Joel breathes in sharply and shakes his head.

“The opposite,” he mumbles.

You furrow your brow.

He sighs and takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

“My place ain’t the one we wanna raise this kid,” he begins.

You nod. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty unsalvageable in the way of child safety,” you murmur, smiling so he knows you’re not judging him.

Joel smiles right back, making the crinkles near his eyes all the more noticeable, which you only find more and more attractive as your pregnancy progresses.

“Anyway,” he continues. “I haven’t been by my place in about a week, I realized today. And we are havin’ this baby together. I don’t know, darlin’. I…I want us to be a family. I didn’t have the best childhood, and I want us to give this kid a real shot. Maybe tryin’ to be a nuclear family is the way to go, maybe it isn’t, but… I think, if you’re up for it, I would like to try.”

You smile and lean back against the pillows.

“I’ll do the math tomorrow and let you know what your half is,” you say.

Joel furrows his brow and cocks his head to the side.

“For the mortgage. And utilities and shit.”

You helped Joel with his taxes last year; you know he’s living below his means in the trailer park and that he has a fat retirement fund as well as some nice savings. He can afford to live in a house; he’s just chosen to stay at the trailer park.

There wasn’t anything pulling him out before. Now there is.

“Honey…”

Joel stops. He doesn’t really know what he could possibly say here. He meant to ask if he could stay with you while he looks for a house nearby, but if you’re offering…

Instead, he leans over your body and kisses you, tasting the salt from the fries on your lips. Then he leans down and kisses your belly.

He moves the two whole boxes of stuff he cares about into your house that weekend.

Once Joel’s moved in and he’s introduced you to his brother, Tommy (who you didn’t even know existed until you were sixteen weeks pregnant), as his girl, the pregnancy goes pretty smoothly.

Granted, Joel’s going through more viagra than he’d like to in order to keep up with your heightened libido. Other than that, he’s never been happier.

Sometimes, your hormones are a lot, and your insecurity about the changes to your body makes its way out, but Joel has honestly never been more attracted to you.

Your breasts, which he loved more than life itself before the pregnancy, have gone up a cup size. The fucking rack on you now is so fucking impressive that he has a hard time not grabbing them even when the two of you go out in public.

Every time the two of you fuck now, he has to see them. As long as he’s gentle with your sore breasts and lowers them carefully when he removes your bra, you don’t mind.

He’s determined to make you lactate before you give birth. He read up on it; apparently, it’s possible if all the stars are aligned. Plus, it’ll get you ahead on milk storage if you decide to pump in addition to letting Joel suck on your nipples. He suckles on your nipples when he’s balls deep in you while you clench and gush on his cock, hoping that the consistent stimulation will produce lactation by the third trimester.

And don’t get him started on your belly.

Seriously. Just watching you grow rounder and rounder while you grow his baby has been a fucking spectacle. He fucking loves your bump.

He’s insisted on taking as many pictures, naked or otherwise, of you as he possibly can. Sometimes, he’ll even set a timer on the camera so he can join. He’s just fucking obsessed with your body.

He was obsessed before; the photos he has saved on his phone from your previous text messages are a good indicator, but now he’s got his baby growing inside of you, and apparently, that’s a big turn-on.

And at this stage of your pregnancy, it truly does match his beer belly in size, just as he predicted on that last night in the trailer park.

At the 20-week ultrasound, he cries.

He’d been nervous all week. The 20-week scan is where you learn the sex, sure. And that’s really exciting, but it’s also where you find out if there are any abnormalities. 

You haven’t been too nervous beyond what you’d expect from a woman who’s had a smooth pregnancy so far, but Joel is a wreck.

So when the doctor says the baby is perfectly healthy and right on track, a few tears fall.

You don’t look at him when you feel a warm tear fall on the skin of your chest. You just squeeze his hand tighter and keep your eyes glued to the screen.

“Alright,” the doctor says. “Do the two of you want to know the sex?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Joel, in his excitement, beats you to the punch.

“Yes,” he says emphatically.

The doctor smiles and looks at you to double-check.

“Yes, we would like to know,” you say softly.

The doctor moves the probe on your belly to the side a few more times, then says, “Congratulations. It’s a girl.”

Upon hearing the news, you smile so wide your cheeks hurt, but Joel drops his head on your chest, still holding your hand with both of his.

His shoulders start to shake, and your eyes go wide.

The doctor quickly prints off the ultrasound photos and leaves the room.

You reach for a tissue and wipe the gel off your stomach. The movement jostles Joel, and he looks up at you with red-rimmed eyes.

“What? Don’t tell me you wanted a boy,” you murmur softly as you reach up to wipe his eyes.

He shakes his head.

“I ain’t worthy of a girl,” he mumbles.

Your gaze softens, and you sigh.

“Yeah, you are.”

“No, girls are sweet and dainty, and they need their daddies to be the kinda man who didn’t use to sit on his porch in his boxers, drinkin’ and smokin’.”

He sniffs and wipes his nose with the back of his hand.

“If you’re worried about deserving her, I think it means you already deserve her,” you whisper.

Joel sniffs, and you reach a hand out again to stroke his cheek. He leans into your touch and sighs.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

As soon as the two of you finish up at the doctor’s office, Joel drags you to the store to pick out pink swatches for the nursery. He picks ten and takes them all home.

You pick your favorite, and he heads back to the store for the appropriate amount of paint and gets to work. He builds the crib himself over the course of three weeks and carves in the words “You are so precious to me, baby mine” on the back rail.

It makes you cry when you see the finished product in the nursery, but Joel kisses you until you’re whimpering from desperation rather than being overwhelmed with awe.

“Yeah? Like seein’ me be a daddy?” he teases in your ear, his hands roaming your belly and your ass. “You know I’m gonna be the best daddy, don’t ya? Yeah, you do. You’re so fuckin’ happy to make me a daddy.”

He fucks you on the floor in the middle of the nursery, which you have some feelings about, but Joel insists it’s some sort of full-circle moment.

As your pregnancy progresses into the third trimester, there are only four things on your mind: eating, sleeping, dreaming about the day this baby is out and you can comfortably take a deep breath, and Joel’s cock.

You go through the motions at work, but your days off and the evenings are spent as hedonistically as possible.

Today, you had a half-day at work. Joel said he’ll be stuck in the office doing paperwork most of the day.

Perfect.

You show up at lunch time with burgers and milkshakes in a dress that barely covers your ass.

“What is your pretty little ass doin’ here?” Joel asks with a smirk plastered on his face as he looks up.

“Half day at work,” you say softly as you set the food down.

The “office” isn’t private. It’s a trailer with a few desks inside. Anyone could walk in. They probably won’t, but they could.

For some reason, the idea of one of the guys on the crew walking in and seeing Joel fuck his heavily pregnant girlfriend is incredibly appealing to him.

“Does my baby mama need some company?” Joel croons as he stands to grab a chair for you.

You bite back a smile and don’t say anything. You just let him help you sit and go about eating your burger.

Under the desk, you let your flip flops slide off your feet. You start caressing his shin with your foot.

Joel looks at you through his lashes but doesn’t say anything.

He undoes his belt, holding eye contact with you while you chew, then shucks his jeans down mid-way down his thighs.

He pats his lap, and you wordlessly round the desk and straddle him, your burger still in hand.

Joel rubs his hands over the expanse of your belly, the fabric of your dress soft on his palms. One hand travels lower to palm your cunt, and when he’s met with your damp pubic hair, he cocks a brow. The other hand moves up to circle his thumb around your nipple through the fabric of your dress.

“You’re pretty slutty for a pregnant woman,” Joel whispers, the smirk from when you walked in still present on his face. “No panties, dress barely covers your ass, can see your nipples through your dress… What kinda mother-to-be are you?”

You lean down and kiss his cheek. 

“The horny kind,” you mumble against his skin.

Joel pushes a finger into your entrance with ease, given how wet you are. You moan softly, increasing in pitch when he abruptly adds a second.

He moves his fingers in and out until he can feel you’re close. That’s when he takes them out and sucks them clean.

Carefully, he lowers your dress, exposing your swollen, engorged tits. You whimper softly, and he immediately dives in, peppering them with kisses.

“I don’t know how you expect me to share these with the baby,” he mumbles around your nipple as he begins to suckle on it.

You scoff and pull him off by yanking his hair.

“Don’t be a dick.”

Joel huffs and pinches your ass in retaliation for the hair pulling. 

You huff right back and lean forward for a kiss, though it’s more bite and growl than kiss.

He pulls back with a low grunt and sighs.

“Eat your food and lemme fuck you,” he says, and he’s not asking.

Joel positions his cock at your entrance and pushes you down on it by your hips.

You cry out, and Joel immediately starts thrusting up into you.

“These baby hormones must have you fucked up, huh, mama?” he rasps, keeping a firm grip on your ass as he ruthlessly fucks up into you. “They got you puttin’ on your skimpiest clothes, comin’ to my office to fuck in the middle of my goddamn work day. You need your baby daddy bad, huh?”

You whimper and moan, “Mm, the dress wasn’t skimpy before you knocked me up.”

He laughs softly and leans forward to take a bite out of the burger. 

“Point still stands,” he mumbles around the food in his mouth.

Joel takes the burger from your hand and tosses it on the desk behind you.

“Need you focused,” he says.

“Focused?” you gasp, your hands scrambling for purchase on the collar of his plaid button-up.

He doesn’t respond; he just dives back in on your chest, wrapping his lips around your nipple, which has you throwing your head back in pleasure.

“Joel, you’re gonna…”

“Gonna what?” he mumbles around your nipple.

Your breasts suddenly feel heavier, and you swear they’re tingling.

“Joel.”

A warning, but to what, you don’t know.

You say his name so quietly that he doesn’t hear you; he’s too enraptured by your tit in his mouth, and he swears your skin is flushing.

Joel scoops you up, his hands firm under your thighs, and sits you on the edge of his desk so he can get a better angle to fuck you.

In the midst of all the movement, Joel doesn’t realize what’s just happened, but you do.

You pull him off you by his hair, and it’s all over his face, dripping down your breast.

You’re not sure what to say. You’re already extremely aware that Joel was waiting for this to happen, and if the half-lidded look in his eyes is any further indication, it’s safe to say he’s pleased.

“You’ve got a milk mustache,” you mutter softly.

Joel lets out a laugh so loud, you’re almost tempted to cover his mouth.

He looks down at the white liquid dripping down your body, and the smile is almost fond, like he’s laying eyes on an old friend.

“You’re amazin’, y’know that?” he says softly.

You give him a sweet smile.

“Can I keep fuckin’ you?”

You nod, and Joel’s thrusts pick up again while his hands fondle your breasts, teetering on the edge of practically expressing your milk with his hands. 

“D’ya want a taste?”

Your eyes practically bug out of your head, and Joel laughs again.

“I guess we’ll work ya up to that.”

He doesn’t harp on it; he just starts fucking into you so hard, you swear your cervix will be bruised by the time you walk out of here. He hikes the skirt of your dress up so now the fabric is bunched up at the top of your belly. Joel keeps groping your breasts and rubbing your belly and thrusting in and out of you.

Joel is determined to make this a good experience for you, especially after you just lactated for the first time.

“You’re a fuckin’ dream, y’know that?” he croons. “This rack, and now it’s makin’ milk. This belly… God, I swear there ain’t a hotter pregnant woman in the whole state of Texas, darlin’. Hell, probably the fuckin’ country, if not the world.”

“Oh, the world?” you scoff, smiling.

He nods like it’s very important business that the two of you are discussing.

“Oh, yeah. Baby, the way you look all full o’ me,” he hums, his hands gliding over your gravid stomach. “Jesus H. Christ… Knowin’ ya look like this because I blew my load in this sweet pussy… I swear, if I were 20 years younger, I’d be rock hard all the time just thinkin’ about it.”

You can only whimper in response, and that’s when Joel finally brings his finger to your clit.

“Joel, I’m gonna… Jesus, fuck,” you whimper.

“Yeah, I know. That’s kinda the point here, mama,” Joel grits through his teeth. “I’ll go with ya.”

You come with a shaky gasp, and Joel’s right behind you, filling you up to the brim.

Once Joel starts softening inside of you, he pulls out and cleans you up with the takeout napkins you brought. He kisses your breasts and your belly before he readjusts your dress.

He sits down and leans back in his chair, admiring the view of you perched up on his desk.

“I’ll just keep ya like this,” he declares with a contented sigh as he tucks his now soft dick away. “All swollen and full. It’s a good look on you, sunshine.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “That sounds sadistic. I mean, you saw me waddle in here.”

Joel smirks and shakes his head.

“You love bein’ all full o’ me. Don’t sit there and say the cons outweigh the pros,” he says, reaching his hands out to caress the tops of your thighs.

He leans forward and kisses your belly, then his chair scrapes against the floor as he gets even closer to the desk, now wrapping his arms around your hips and rubbing his face against your bump.

“Say you love it. Admit it,” he mumbles.

You sigh and run your hands through his soft hair.

“Say. It,” Joel says again, his voice muffled by your stomach.

“I guess there are worse things,” you mumble softly.

“Worse than what?”

He won’t give up.

“There are worse things than…carrying your baby,” you mutter through half-closed lips.

“Mm, you’ve almost got me pleased,” he hums, raising his head to look at you more closely. “Be more specific, honey.”

“I…love being full of you. I love carrying your fucking seed inside me, and I love that everyone knows it’s you who made me this way,” you say, speaking softly and breathily.

Joel smiles, a real toothy grin, and squeezes your hips.

“Good girl. I could really feel that one,” he says, bringing a hand to his heart.

You huff out a breathy laugh and shake your head. 

“I gotta go home. Baby wants a nap,” you say, sliding off Joel’s desk. 

Joel scoots back, getting out of your way, and grabs your purse for you. He helps you down the steps and keeps his hand at the small of your back as he walks you to your car. 

Once you’re in the driver’s seat, Joel leans his head down and kisses your bump. 

“You be good to your mama, baby girl. Take it easy on her. Love you.”

Another kiss, then he straightens up and kisses your cheek. 

“Drive safe.”

The rest of your third trimester is relatively the same: filled with naps, food, sporadic deep breaths, and Joel fucking you at your whim.

At the final checkup, which falls on your due date, your doctor informs you that it’ll probably be another week before the baby decides to make her appearance.

“More than half of first-time moms go past their due date,” your doctor tells you. “In this pamphlet, there is a list of a few methods used to induce labor, sex being the most effective.”

The doctor hands you the pamphlet, and you don’t even have to look over your shoulder; you can feel how big Joel is smiling at that news.

As Joel drives you home, you go through the list.

Membrane sweep. You literally got that done today.

Eating dates. Joel got some yesterday after reading about them inducing labor. You ate five this morning.

Nipple stimulation. Joel literally hasn’t stopped groping your tits since the day you started lactating.

Sexual intercourse. You haven’t let Joel get in your pants in a week. You’ve been too uncomfortable.

But right now, with your unborn daughter getting way too comfortable and way too big for your womb to contain her much longer, 15 minutes of slight discomfort paired with an orgasm sounds pretty damn good.

Joel pulls into the driveway and parks next to your car. He kills the engine and hops out, rounding the hood to open your door and help you out.

Once the two of you are inside the house and Joel’s got his back turned while he locks the door, you blurt out, “You have to fuck me.”

He turns around, his brows pinched, and you can tell he’s fighting back a smirk.

“Oh, do I?”

You nod, already pulling your sweatpants down.

“Joel, we’ve tried everything else. I’m not going overdue. If this kid isn’t out of me by tonight, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

He was ready to tease you and make you beg for it, but the look in your eyes right now and the echo of how hard it is for you to even get off the couch these days make him change his mind.

Joel takes a few steps forward, then gently reaches out to grab your chin and put your gaze right on him.

“Get naked and on the bed. I’m in charge of gettin’ this baby outta you. Got it?”

You can’t tell if you’re nodding of your own volition or if Joel is moving your head for you. Either way, when he lets go of your chin, you head to your bedroom, and Joel stays behind for a moment. Either to build anticipation or actually do something productive. 

When Joel joins you in the bedroom, he’s got the bottle of chocolate syrup from the fridge in his hand.

Your eyes widen, and Joel just smirks as he steps further into the bedroom.

“I’ve been havin’ this milk straight up for weeks now, darlin’,” he begins, kneeling on the edge of the bed now. “And don’t get me wrong, mama, it’s good. But a man can want a little variety, can’t he?”

You’re stunned.

You’re actually fucking stunned.

Here you are, asking for what is essentially a mercy fuck with the sole purpose of inducing labor, and your baby daddy wants to, what, pour chocolate syrup on your nipples so it mixes with your breastmilk?

He’s crawling up the bed, hovering over you, and popping the cap off the bottle.

“We should have some fun before we become responsible parents. One last kinky hurrah before we’ve got a screamin’ baby interruptin’ us every five minutes,” Joel murmurs softly.

Surprisingly, you’re on board with what he’s saying.

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” he coos.

You nod your head, and Joel leans the bottle against your hip while he gets out of his clothes. When he picks the bottle back up and angles it over your left nipple, he looks at you one more time. When you nod again, he gently squeezes the bottle, and the two of you watch as the chocolate syrup lands on your areola.

Joel clears his throat and furrows his brow just a little, obviously fighting the urge to forget about everything and start licking you. His cock, hanging heavy between his legs, is twitching.

You let out a soft whimper and feel the telltale signs that you’re about to start leaking, even though it’s obvious that’s exactly what Joel wanted here.

He pours syrup over your other nipple, then shuts the cap and puts it on the nightstand.

His cock is throbbing and aching, and he can’t take his eyes off of you.

“Baby, this is… Wow,” he husks.

You’re breathing heavily and staring at Joel’s erection, and then you feel the milk start to leak from you, and Joel lets out an impossibly pathetic whine.

“Can I…? Baby, please?” he whimpers.

You nod, and he doesn’t waste any time diving in.

Joel wraps his lips around your nipple and groans against you. The chocolate syrup mixed with your breastmilk is everything he imagined and more. It’s sweet, it’s rich, it’s a little tangy, somehow.

He can feel your chest heaving beneath his mouth, and he’s so fucking grateful he’s making you feel good.

He sucks your nipple clean, then moves onto the next one, and the process is the same.

Once Joel has licked your chest clean, he kisses down your belly, worshipping it, as if he’s saying goodbye, and you hope to whatever God there is that he is.

You hope he fucks you so good that your water breaks on his cock.

“Baby, your milk mixed with chocolate… Holy shit,” he mumbles against your belly. “Best fuckin’ thing I ever tasted. The fact that you… Mm, shit, sunshine. You’re incredible. Gonna miss this when it goes.”

“Miss what?” you ask, your hands now playing in his hair. 

Joel sighs against your skin and presses a kiss to you before peeking his head over your belly.

“You, all pregnant and full and swollen and leaking… In all honesty, I once watched a porno where the lady was expectin’. I don’t know why, but at the video store, that’s what looked most enticin’ that night. It was, like, ten years ago. I don’t know, the way this woman carried… I had never really given pregnancy much thought before. The way her, I guess, scene partner fucked her and talked to her really got to me. I never… I don’t know, honey, I never thought I’d have this. Never thought I’d get to bear witness to this, a beautiful woman, my beautiful woman, growin’ life. It’s amazin’.”

That last part chokes him up a little, though his erection is still maintained. 

This fucking guy.

“Joel, how do you manage to say the grossest stuff and follow it up with the sweetest shit?” you murmur, wiping your eyes so tears don’t fall. 

He smiles softly and braces his hands on either side of your head, then leans down to kiss your lips.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. A real goddamn smokeshow. You’re carryin’ our baby so pretty. But I know ya ain’t taken a deep breath in about a month, so I’m gonna fuck this little girl outta ya now. Okay?”

You nod, and he kisses your cheek, then starts rubbing your clit.

When he inserts two of his thick fingers, it doesn’t take long for you to climax.

Joel then lubricates his cock with your arousal, then swipes up some of the breastmilk that’s leaking down your chest to add to his shaft.

He slides in with ease, then reaches for one of the pillows and shoves it under your hips.

“Comfy, mama?” he asks, his voice raspy. 

You can tell he’s holding back, his desire to keep you comfortable battling with his instinct to pound into you as hard as he can.

“I’m good, daddy,” you reply, smirking when his gaze darkens at the sound of the moniker on your lips.

“Can I move?” 

When you nod, Joel begins to slowly rock his hips back and forth. His hands caress your thighs and squeeze your hips.

Your hands palm your breasts and tweak your nipples.

“Joel, you feel so good,” you whine. “Fuck, I can’t believe this cock put a baby in me.”

Joel lets out the most pathetic whine. He seriously sounds like someone just reached through his ribs and grabbed his heart.

His breathing speeds up, and the grip he has on your hips tightens.

“Don’t say that,” he pants, bringing a finger to your clit.

“Why?” you moan breathily.

“Because I’ll finish before this is over, and I’d rather die than do that right now,” he grits out.

You sigh and don’t respond. You’re just here for the ride.

“God, woman… Can’t wait to put another in you.”

That’s the last straw, what snaps the coil inside of you. You gush around Joel’s cock and feel your breasts leak more milk as Joel fucks you through your climax. The thought of doing this again, for him, despite your current discomfort, is fucking thrilling.

He follows shortly, coming with a rough grunt, spilling his seed deep inside of you.

He leans down and kisses your belly, and his lips are met with the poke of a hand or a foot.

After Joel pulls out, he heads into the bathroom for a washcloth to clean you up, which he does as gently as possible. Once he’s finished, he sits on the edge of the bed beside you, his hand roaming your stomach.

“I bet that’s what’s gonna do it,” he says softly.

You smile and cover his hand with yours.

“I hope so. Will you help me up? I wanna shower.”

Joel obliges and even gets in with you, doing all your washing for you. 

Once the two of you get out, he rubs lotion and oil on your body while you handle your skincare.

It’s not even noon yet, and it’s a Saturday. Joel drags you downstairs and parks you on the couch while he gets started on lunch.

All he can think about is getting some good food in you, in hopes that you’ll go into labor soon, and his food will be enough to sustain you.

He doesn’t like feeling useless, and the more he thinks about your imminent labor, the more useless he feels. All he’ll be able to do is hold your hand and tell you how good you’re doing and how proud he is of you.

You say that’s enough, but Joel disagrees. He thinks he should snap his fingers and make the baby just magically appear in your arms, automatically shrink your stomach back down (though the latter is more for you than him), and save you the trouble. That would be enough.

He sits and eats with you on the couch, watching you balance your plate on top of your bump. It’s the cutest fucking thing Joel’s ever seen, and he’s beside himself that he won’t get to see it after today (hopefully but not hopefully).

Joel takes the dishes to the sink when you’re both done, and as he helps you stand from the couch, it happens.

It’s not a big splash; there’s just a wet spot in the crotch of your sweatpants, and it’s getting bigger.

“It’s not piss,” you murmur softly.

Joel’s first instinct is anxiety. His second is to say, “Well, ain’t my cock a miracle worker?”

You look up at him and glare, scoffing as you shake your head.

“Asshole. Go get me some clean pants.”

Joel rolls his eyes and heads to the bedroom to retrieve some clean pants, as well as a towel.

When he gets back to the living room, he kneels in front of you.

He’s eye level with your crotch, and as he helps you get your feet through the pants and pulls the elastic up, he gets the impulse to kiss your mound, like he’s sorry he came inside you and that the morning-after pill didn’t work, and now it has to spread wide enough to deliver his baby.

You laugh softly when he kisses your crotch, but you don’t say anything.

In the car on the way to the hospital, Joel keeps both hands on the wheel. Normally, he keeps one on your thigh, but right now he’s so nervous about crashing or swerving, so he’s got both hands on the wheel at ten and two.

As soon as you get settled in the room, the contractions start. Your breathy moans of pain make Joel’s stomach churn.

He holds your hand and whispers in your ear how strong you are, how good you’re doing.

The nurse suggests that you go for a walk around the maternity ward. Joel keeps his arm steady as you hold onto it, sometimes burying your face in the sleeve of his plaid flannel when the contractions peak.

After the second lap, you steer the two of you toward the nurse’s station and request an epidural. The charge nurse informs you that the anesthesiologist just has two patients ahead of you, so it’ll be a 20-30 minute wait.

You nod and start to walk another lap, Joel’s bicep still clenched in your hand. It’s not that long. Your contractions are five minutes apart, so a 20-30 minute wait will only be around 4-6 contractions, but that’s 4-6 times where Joel gets a lump in his throat and feels utterly useless as you breathe through the pain.

After about ten minutes, you head back to the room. You bend over and brace your hands on the edge of the bed. You let out a soft groan, and Joel puts his hands on your hips, rubbing his thumbs into your lower back.

It’s only for a moment, and he can’t help it, but he almost thrusts his hips against your ass. Thankfully, he catches himself in time, but he can’t help the smirk on his face at the thought, even though you’d probably kick him out of the room if he hadn’t stopped himself.

Once you straighten up and sigh, Joel leans down and kisses your temple.

“Doin’ so good. Just a few more minutes, and you’ll be all loopy and happy.”

Joel ends up being more scared of the epidural needle than you are. He kneels in front of you while you sit on the edge of the bed. He keeps your hands in his and keeps his gaze on your eyes.

Once the epidural is administered, you lie back and finally begin to feel better.

Joel settles in the chair beside your bed and holds your hands for hours.

At 11:00 PM, the doctor tells you it’s finally time to push. You’ve heard that pushing can take hours, so you’re convinced the baby will come after midnight, technically being a day late, but to your surprise, she’s born at 11:48 PM.

You finally loosen your grip on Joel’s hand and let out a sob when the doctors place her on your chest.

Joel lets silent tears roll down his face as he leans down to kiss your sweaty temple and place a hand over yours on your daughter’s back.

“She’s perfect,” he whispers in your ear.

Your baby is still wailing, but she’s beginning to calm down on her mother’s chest with her father nearby, willing to do anything to protect his girls.

“I got you. I promise.”

You look up at Joel through bleary eyes and smile.

“I know,” you whisper, nodding your head.

When Joel leans down to kiss his daughter’s head, her cries finally die down to soft whimpers, like she already knows there aren’t any other people in the world she’d be safer with.

taglist: @person-005 @marty-mccunt @saralovesjoelmiller @svrgs-blog @upintheclouds95 @pleurspetal @wildthyng @hystericalanduseless9 @exstazeey @bisexualmiserybaby @chewie-bars @mabelmiller @hoziersguitarr (if you would like to be removed from or added to the pervy!Joel taglist lmk)

Panting, lying on the mattress with no bedframe in the middle of your new bedroom, Joel asks, “The hell is this?”

He just spent the last three hours, hopped up on Viagra, fucking you in all the rooms in your house, finishing here in your bedroom, and you’ve slipped something cool and metal into his sweaty palm.

Joel holds the item up in front of his face and bites back a smirk.

You’ve given him a goddamn spare key to your new house.

Oh, somebody likes him…

“Tell me, darlin’, would this happen to be the key to the shed you got in your backyard?” Joel asks, turning on his side to look at you, your breasts still heaving as you regain your composure.

You just roll your eyes and fix your gaze on the fast-moving ceiling fan above you.

Joel smiles and inches his face closer to yours.

“Or maybe it’s the spare key to your car? Hm? Am I gettin’ warmer?” he whispers in your ear.

You can feel his breath on your skin, but still you study the movement of the ceiling fan rather than entertain Joel.

“No? Hm, well… Maybe–and this is a wild guess–this key is the spare to this very house? Your new home?”

You roll your eyes and look down at the key in his hand. “I’ll take it back if you’re gonna be a—”

Joel immediately lies back and holds his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Nope. I get it. This was a sweet thing for you to do. Even I know when to quit,” he says. 

But does he?

A week later, you’re in the middle of unclogging your rain gutter. You looked it up; it was supposed to be easy, and it probably is, but it’s so fucking stuck, and you’re pulling so hard.

“Need some help?” asks a voice you don’t recognize.

You brush your hands off on your shorts and look up at a tall, slender man. Probably in his mid-thirties.

“Sorry?”

The man gestures toward the rain gutter. “Is it clogged?”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m struggling with it. I just moved in last week, and the forecast is calling for rain this weekend, so I’m trying to get it together, y’know?” you say, chuckling.

“Well, I’m Nick, three doors down on your right. House with the blue shutters. Anyway, I had the same problem when I moved in. If you’d like some help, I’d be happy to.”

You introduce yourself to Nick and accept his help, which takes the form of directing his leaf blower into the top of it, which does the trick.

You’re in the middle of thanking him when big hands wrap around your waist.

“Howdy, buddy.”

Nick looks up from demonstrating something related to the drain and makes eye contact with Joel.

“Uh, hi,” Nick says, clearly caught off guard, smiling nervously.

Joel extends his right hand out to Nick, but keeps the left one tight on your waist.

“I’m Joel. Gotta say, I find it mighty kind that you offered this sweetheart some big, manly help.”

“Nice to meet you, Joel. I’m Nick,” he says brightly, not quite catching Joel’s meaning as he shakes the man’s hand.

“Uh, I was just helping your lady with the drain pipe, just being neighborly.”

“Joel’s just my friend,” you correct, all too quickly for Joel’s liking.

Behind you, Joel shakes his head and smirks, as if to say to Nick, “Don’t believe this chick; I was balls deep in her just yesterday.”

“Uh, well, either way…” Nick says awkwardly, getting the feeling Joel would like some alone time with you, regardless of the true nature of your relationship. “We actually have a neighborhood get-together every other month. I’m hosting next Saturday at 4:00. You should come. Both of you.”

You smile kindly at Nick and step to the side, forcing Joel to let go of your waist. “I think that sounds great. But I think next weekend is when you have that work trip, isn’t it?” you say, looking from Nick to Joel, hoping to God that once again Joel will “know when to quit.”

Joel puts his hands on his hips and smiles, but you think it might be somewhat forced. 

“Well, I’m not sure, but just for you, I’ll check my schedule,” he says. Then he looks at Nick. “Thanks for the invite.”

Nick nods and mumbles a soft goodbye, then picks up his leafblower and heads home.

Without another word, you walk straight into your house, locking the door behind you.

You hear the door rattle, then you hear the key turn in the lock.

Fuck. You’re really regretting that now.

“What?” Joel bellows from the entryway, the sound carrying over to the living room where you sit on the couch. “ You embarrassed by me? That it? Don’t want your new fancy, suburban neighbors to know who you’re in bed with? Hm? Or is it that you got big ole heart eyes for Nick now? You move outta the trailer park and trade me in for a newer model?”

You scoff. Is he really being serious? He’s insecure? Joel Miller? The guy who smokes in his boxers on his front porch?

“God, you’re unbelievable,” you groan, leaning forward until your head touches your thighs.

“Well, ya ain’t denyin’ it,” he grumbles. “All I ask is that you’re straight up with me.”

“Okay, straight up? You’re acting like an insecure jerk!” you bite back, your head shooting up to get a good look at him.

That, paired with your angry expression, shuts Joel up for a second. He’s not the most in tune with his emotions, but then he didn’t think you were either. Maybe he did feel a pit settle in his stomach when he pulled into your driveway and saw you laughing at another (much younger) man’s joke. This man, who lives in a nice neighborhood instead of a trailer park and wears polo shirts instead of t-shirts and plaid, is probably a more appropriate choice for you now that you’re moving up in the world.

Aside from that, why is the prince unclogging your rain gutter and not Joel? Joel, who is admittedly rough around the edges, foul-mouthed, but incredibly capable of doing all kinds of arduous labor. Why not just ask Joel to do the simple task of unclogging your rain gutter?

“You fucking–”

You raise your eyebrows in response. “What, Joel? You never have a problem talking. What cat’s got your tongue?”

Joel narrows his eyes and picks up the throw pillow at the end of the couch, and throws it at your lap.

“That one!”

Your brows crinkle in irritation as he throws a fucking pillow at your crotch. You grab it and throw it back at him, hitting him in his soft gut.

“Fuck you!” you whisper-shout, now standing at your full height.

“My fucking pleasure,” he growls, pulling you to him by looping a finger in the elastic of your cotton shorts.

Joel tugs your bottoms and panties down, then shoves your thighs backward, causing you to lie back on the couch again.

He doesn’t waste any time; he starts licking at your pussy, but harder than he ever has before. It almost feels scratchy, like an animal’s tongue, but you’re too angry to say anything. You just lie back, your head resting on the arm of your couch, and let Joel work his frustrations out on your cunt. If nothing else, you know you’re at least getting an orgasm out of this.

Usually, Joel blubbers on and on with his lips moving sloppily against your pussy while he eats you out, but you don’t hear a peep from him besides his heavy breathing.

Obviously, he’s genuinely upset about something, but he’s a grown man of 47 years of age. If he wants to have a mature conversation with you, he can, but you won’t force anything out of him.

Even angry, the man can eat the fuck out of your pussy, alternating the length of his licks, the shapes he draws on your clit with his tongue. He squeezes your thighs around his head and practically breathes you in.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you whine.

Joel sucks your clit in between his teeth, and just before that coil in your lower belly has the chance to snap, he pulls away, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you shriek as Joel stands back up.

“No,” he says, a bit of a bite in his tone. “I ain’t fuckin’ kiddin’. You have fun at your neighborhood block party.”

Joel storms out of your house, leaving you with your shorts around your ankle, and you don’t hear from him for a week and a half.

//

You end up going to the get-together that Nick mentioned, hoping to make a good impression on your neighbors. They all seem to be nice people, if a bit boring. Just a bunch of polo and khaki-wearing PTA presidents. Not really your kind of people, but there isn’t anything wrong with socializing with them.

Nick asks you where Joel is, and you tell him that he did end up having a work trip, which puts too bright a glint in the man’s eye for your liking.

You’re one of the first to leave, and when you get home, you sit on your couch with a rom-com on the TV with a half-finished pint of ice cream in your hands.

What you need right now is to get fucked, what you want is Joel, but you don’t want to let him think he can get away with taking his insecurity out on your pussy and leave without speaking to you for over a week.

So you press the call button on his contact and wait for him to pick up.

“Does somebody miss me?” His voice is smug, and he’s obviously fucking pleased you were the first to break.

“Joel.” You feign worry as you speak. “Fuck, my bathroom sink won’t turn off. I don’t know what happened. It’s gonna flood the whole damn house, and I just spent a lot of money moving in here; I don’t really have the funds for a plumber or–”

“I’m on my way,” he says, the smugness in his voice immediately gone before he hangs up.

Perfect.

As you wait for Joel to arrive, you head to your bedroom after turning off the television and putting away the ice cream, where you light a candle to set the mood. You remove your clothes and freshen up in the bathroom before checking your drawer to make sure the item you need is there.

Shortly after, you hear the rumble of Joel’s truck approaching your driveway, the slam of the driver’s side door, and then the turn of the key in your front door.

“Baby?” he calls out.

He thought he’d hear running water, maybe a few frustrated shouts from you if your sink is on the brink of flooding your house.

When he turns the corner to your bedroom attached to your bathroom, he stops dead in his tracks.

You’re naked, posed on the bed like you’ve been lying in wait to seduce him.

“Oh… I take it someone got lonely?” he teases as he approaches your bed. “Somebody miss their daddy?”

You don’t say anything; you just smile softly and watch his hand wrap around your ankle and pull you toward him.

Joel smirks down at you and leans forward, balancing on his hands. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, which you reciprocate, but otherwise you stay still.

He keeps kissing you and lets his hands roam your body like he’s trying to memorize it.

After a few moments, you bury your hand in his hair and tug gently so you can look him in the eye, then whisper in his ear, “I wanna ride you.”

A smile creeps up Joel’s lips, and he stands up straight, unbuttoning his cotton button-down.

You arrange the pillows in a comfortable setup for him while he shucks off his jeans and kicks off his shoes.

Once he’s comfortable, sitting up against the headboard, you throw a leg over his lap and start grinding your cunt over his erection.

“I think you missed me, Joel,” you whisper. 

He huffs and raises an eyebrow, but for once in his goddamn life, he lets you do the talking. 

“I think you felt real stupid leaving my house last time. I bet you thought about this pussy,” you continue, grinding against his shaft a little harder as you say “pussy.”

You take his hands and cover your breasts with them, and he instinctively squeezes. 

“Bet you missed these, too,” you purr.

He only moans in response and rubs his thumbs over your nipples.

Then you take his hands by the wrists and hold them up.

“I want you to close your eyes for me,” you say.

“...Why?” he asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

“‘Cause it’ll be fun,” you sigh, trying not to get annoyed.

Joel rolls his eyes, then shuts them with a huff. 

“For you, maybe,” he grumbles under his breath.

You take hold of both his wrists with one hand and, slowly and as quietly as possible, reach into your bedside table’s drawer. You pull the item out as quietly as possible and push Joel’s joined wrists to rest against the headboard.

Joel shivers when he feels the metal of your headboard’s spindles brush against his skin, and then he hears a clicking sound, and he blinks his eyes open.

He tries to pull his hands away, but he can't. He’s stuck. 

You fucking bitch.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he demands.

You shrug and reach back into your drawer for a condom.

“I’m not the woman you ghost for a week because you got insecure,” you say as you rip the condom wrapper open. “That’s a start.”

Joel rolls his eyes and pulls on the cuffs again, but it’s no use.

Even in your anger, neither of you is a monster, so you ask, “Is this okay?”

He glares at you, but still nods, mumbling, “Yeah, do your thing.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, then roll the condom on Joel’s cock and pump your hand over the length of it a few times.

Once he’s whining and practically huffing like a bull out of the sheer effort it’s taking him to not run his fucking mouth, you line him up and sink down on him.

Joel swallows his groans and keeps his lips pursed into a tight line while you moan at the stretch of him, throwing your head back and exposing the column of your throat to him in a way that looks all too enticing. 

“Listen,” you begin, placing your hands on his chest to balance while you slowly begin raising your hips before lowering them back down again. “The fact that you thought even for a second that I’m the kinda woman who falls for guys in polos is insulting in and of itself. Got it? The mere thought, Joel.”

He doesn’t say anything, so you reach out and pinch his nipple, which finally pulls a curse from his mouth.

“Oh, Jesus, fuck! Fuck, I got it! Goddammit!” he growls.

You beam down at him and lean forward to kiss the nipple you pinched, soothing his skin with your soft lips, then you look up again.

“Good. Know what else I gotta get through that thick skull of yours?”

It’s a rhetorical question, Joel knows it, so he just keeps glaring at you while you bounce up and down on his cock.

“I am not the kind of woman who receives ruined orgasms,” you state with all the poise of a politician. “Do you understand, Joel?”

He huffs through his nose, but this time, he nods. “I understand.”

You smile at his compliance and lean down again to kiss his collarbone and neck, growing more and more pleased with yourself with each breathy sound Joel lets out.

“Good boy,” you murmur against his skin.

You’re surprised to hear him fucking whimper in response, prompting you to look straight at him.

“You liked that,” you whisper teasingly. 

Joel just pants in response. You’ve been slowly fucking yourself on his cock for about six minutes now, and he hasn’t had an orgasm in ten days, with the exception of masturbating to old nude photos you sent him yesterday because he got restless. 

“Joel,” you croon, tilting your head to the side. “Admit it.”

His chest is rising and falling rapidly now, clearly struggling to keep it together. 

“Fuck,” he pants. “Shit, I-I liked it,” he whispers.

“What was that? Didn’t quite catch that, baby boy,” you say, furrowing your brow like you really don’t know what he said.

He rolls his eyes and pulls on the cuffs again like a petulant child. 

“Fuck me, I liked you callin’ me a good boy,” he whines.

You smile and clench your pussy around him, which pulls a throaty moan from him. 

“Who’s your daddy now?” you murmur, holding back a laugh at how silly the words feel coming out of your mouth.

“Fuck, honey, please just fuck me, so I can come, please,” he begs pathetically. 

“Not yet.”

“Please.”

“No!” you groan. “You come when I say you can.”

Joel whines and tugs on the cuffs again. 

“At least let me touch you,” he begs. “Please, I gotta feel that sweet body, baby, I missed it!”

You can’t deny that you’ve always loved his hands on you–his calloused palms coming down on your ass, the rough pads of his thumb and index finger pinching your nipple, his fingers tugging on your hair, his arms around your body–it’s all amazing.

After too long a moment of deliberation, in Joel’s opinion, you unlock one of the cuffs, his left one.

“Just the one,” you say sternly.

Normally, Joel would argue, but he can tell you need whatever tonight is, so he keeps his mouth shut and immediately brings his left hand down on your ass.

You let out a clipped shout of pleasure, then immediately grind your teeth together.

“Little fucker,” you mutter under your breath.

Joel smirks for the first time since he walked in here and spanks you again, pulling a blissful moan from your lips. “Yeah, well, you’re the one who cuffed me to your bed and is lettin’ me spank you.”

“Mm!” You catch his wrist before he delivers a third spank. “You’re just pissed; you’re not even spanking me for either of our pleasure, asshole!”

That stops Joel, his wrist going limp in your hand.

“I wanna be good enough for you,” he says, like it’s some scary admission, and it honestly is.

Your gaze softens, and he continues.

“You were right. I was insecure when I saw you talkin’ to Mr. Polo Shirt. Ain’t proud of it. Just…couldn’t stop thinkin’ about the key…” Joel glances over at his jeans on the floor, the key in the back pocket. “I wanna be worthy of that key,” he whispers, his free hand dropping from your hand and reaching up to gently caress your cheek.

You huff out a sigh and lean your head back, looking up at the ceiling fan spinning clockwise.

“Wouldn’t have given the key to you if I thought you were unworthy, in any way. I’m not an idiot,” you murmur, looking back down at him again. “I don’t wanna fuck the guy who wears polos; I wanna fuck the guy who wears too much plaid and never knows when to shut his fucking mouth. I want old and comfortable and familiar, not new and shiny and boring. So, if you can get over yourself, I’ll reward you by uncuffing your other hand.”

Joel mulls everything you’ve said over for a moment. It’s reassuring to hear that no one else trips your trigger the way he does. It makes him feel a sense of hope for himself that he hasn’t felt in a while.

“I can get over myself, but I don’t want a reward,” he says, his voice low and gravely.

You smirk and put his left hand on your breast. “Yeah? This enough for you?”

He shrugs and rolls your nipple between his fingers. “Absolutely not, but I ain’t ever been the one cuffed before… It’s interestin’.”

That makes you giggle and pull your bottom lip in between your teeth before finally resuming your bouncing on his cock.

“I think I’ll have fully forgiven you by the time I come,” you say, the tension in the air finally seeming to dissipate.

Joel chuckles softly and continues working on your nipple, pulling more and more breathy whines from your throat. “That right, darlin’?”

You nod and grind on him just a little bit harder. “Uh-huh!”

He smiles and leans forward to kiss you, and you bury both hands in his hair, gently tugging, earning appreciative groans from Joel.

Joel’s cock twitches inside of you, but he holds himself back, which results in some strained breathing on his part.

“You can come, baby,” you coo against his lips. “Been such a good boy since I put you in your place. Go ahead, honey.”

To your surprise, he whines against you and bucks his hips up into you. “Yeah, Daddy?”

That shocks you to your absolute core. While you do manage to keep rolling your hips into his, your mind goes blank. One thing is for sure, though: you liked it.

“Yeah, baby, you come for me,” you whisper.

And he does, and the noises and the feel of him and his fingernail brushing against your nipple all send you over the edge with him.

Once you get your breathing steady, you uncuff his right hand and kiss his wrist, then rub it to make sure the blood keeps flowing. 

“You okay?” you whisper.

He nods and cradles your face in his hands.

“I’m sorry I was an insecure ass,” he mumbles before kissing you. 

You shrug. “Didn’t mind reminding you of your situation.”

Joel smirks and leans back against the pillows, his hands rubbing up and down the tops of your thighs.

“Didn’t mind either, darlin’. Not one little bit,” he says, voice content and with a smirk on your face that tells you he won’t be feeling insecure for at least six months. “You forgive me?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Fully.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

tags: @person-005 @marty-mccunt @saralovesjoelmiller @svrgs-blog @upintheclouds95 @pleurspetal @wildthyng @hystericalanduseless9 @exstazeey @bisexualmiserybaby @mabelmiller @chewie-bars @hoziersguitarr @shrewdreader

p.s. if you would like to be added to/removed from the taglist for this series (Pervy!Trailer Park!Joel) ((different than Pervy!Trailer Park!DILF!Joel)), just leave a comment asking. you can also ask to be added to the general Joel Miller taglist, or the general Pervy!Joel taglist, or even my all works taglist