#slowdivinqs

The duvet needs to be chucked outside.

You throw the blanket off of you with a quiet huff, your arms flopping forward onto the mattress once the duvet has flown nothing short of five centimeters off of you.

Joel Miller is a furnace, one who is insistent on holding you hostage - or cuddling, as he likes to call it - the whole night.

You may act like it’s the bane of your existence, shooting him glares in the middle of the night when your face feels like it’s on fire and you want to jump into a bucket of ice, but you still love it.

You turn over and snuggle into your man’s chest, deciding to forgo the annoyance at being warm, feeling the coarse hair tickle your cheek before you hear his deep, rumbling groan of sleepy approval. His arm clumsily wrapping around you and pulling you forward against him as he keeps sleeping soundly above you.

You can’t help but think of a big bear, deep in hibernation. It makes you smile to yourself before you’re falling asleep in Joel’s arms.

The sun decides to target your eyes the next time, and you glance over to see it’s now 10 am. Joel is still fast asleep above you, the arm that’s not cheekily resting on your ass is behind his head, making those biceps of his look even more delicious. You want to bite them, but your man needs his sleep. It’s his only day off after all.

You blink lazily, not really one for laying in bed once you’re awake, so you admire Joel sleeping next to you. That scruffy beard of his, unfairly long lashes, his full bottom lip, the trail of hair on his stomach that leads bellow the band of his boxers.

Your attention has been captured.

You lean your cheek against his chest - still nuzzling - as you stare at his underwear, eyeing the covered bulge of him that drives you feral every time.

You think back to last week, the day you had a very important meeting. The way he woke you up with his head between your legs, his hot mouth wrapped around your clit.

It’s only logical to return the favor, right?

Joel mumbles a sleepy protest as you escape from his arms, subconsciously grabbing your pillow and bringing it to his face, wrapping those big arms of his around it. Inhaling the scent of your shampoo and body cream and letting out a hum of approval as he promptly falls back asleep.

It makes you smile, momentarily losing focus as you slowly pull off his boxers.

His soft cock is a sight to behold. Ironically more enticing to you than when he’s burning bright red and dripping for you.

He was never embarrassed about it like your previous partners were. Whenever Joel got out the shower, with a towel wrapped around his waist, you could see the outline of him underneath, sometimes the towel would even slip, giving you a view of his tip.

You drool just thinking about it.

You shimmy his boxers down further, slowly lifting his package so his heavy, hairy balls sit above the fabric. Running a finger along his soft skin, humming at the sight of his tip leaking a small trail of sticky precum, twitching softly in your grip. You spend a few minutes just admiring him.

Stretched out on the bed like one of those Roman statues, his muscles on display under his hairy arms, tummy and chest. His thighs bent slightly, soft cock resting perfectly. His face, oh he’s so handsome. You love him, more than anything.

His hair has gotten fluffier, you suspect he’s been using your shampoo.

You lick a line up his cock, gathering that delicious pre on your tongue as he shifts in his sleep with a soft sigh. You still, waiting until he settles back into the cushions, you slowly take him into your mouth then, sucking down down down until he’s fully resting in your mouth, slowly twitching to hardness as your mouth warms him.

You stay like that for a few minutes, gently sucking on the warm weight of him until he’s dripping his precum down your throat, grunting in his sleep as his legs twitch up slightly - stomach clenching and relaxing again as his head turns to the side, a moan bubbling up in his throat.

You pull off as slow as you can, savoring the feel and taste of him against your tongue. The smooth, warm skin of the underside of his cock sliding out your throat. Moving your tongue so as to not graze the underside of his sticky tip - he’ll definitely wake up if you do that.

You let his cock fall gently from your lips, nuzzling your head lower, until you’re sucking one of his heavy balls into your mouth.

You feel a hand in your hair a moment later.

“Atta girl, keep doin’ that.” He groans with that sleepy, deep morning voice you love so much, his hips shifting up to guide more of him into your mouth. He keeps you pressed closer against him, inhaling that musk that's uniquely Joel. He spreads his hair-covered legs wider, stretching his back with the groan he always does as he lets you suck on his sac until he’s pulling you off him with a grunt and instead flipping you down on the sheets, climbing on top of you until his wet cock is nudging at your clit.

“You drive me crazy, Y’know that, angel?” He murmurs, his teeth nipping at your earlobe as he spreads your legs, humming in approval when he sees your wet pussy.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up.” You huff, your hands automatically going to his broad shoulders as he kisses your neck like he can’t stand to not kiss you as soon as he wakes up, you know he can’t : every morning you’re littered with kisses until you eventually open your eyes. It’s the best way to wake up you can think of, makes you feel warm and fuzzy and full of giggles. After, he usually spends ten minutes kissing whatever part of you he can until you either brush him off and he follows you into the shower, or you don’t even make it that far.

“Can’t stay sleepin’ when a woman like you ‘s between my legs.” He murmurs, his big palm groping your breast as he licks the sensitive space above your collar.

“Mmm come here, I miss you.” You whisper to him in your own sleepy voice you know he loves just as much as you love his, kissing his lips softly as he slides his hands under your shoulder blades, holding you up.

“I’m right here.” He says with a gentle smile, but you can see behind that softness he’s desperate from your teasing, that he wants to be inside you even more than you want to feel his cock stretch you, which seems impossible.

“I still miss you, I need you.” You whisper, and he brushes your hair back off your forehead with that big palm of his, placing a soft kiss on the skin he’s revealed before he’s pressing his drooling tip against your weeping entrance.

“Come here, my baby.” He whispers, lifting your hips so his tip can push past your entrance, making room for itself inside your wet walls until the rest of him joins in a hot, slow roll, stretching you open so deliciously you have no choice but to let your eyes roll back as you arch against him, peaked nipples almost brushing against his own strong chest. The weight of him inside you is warm and heavy, leaving your clit throbbing as you clench around him.

Your mouth pours out whimpers of his name, holding onto him tightly as he pushes forward until the coarse hairs at the base of him meet your twitching clit, and he’s kissing you softly while his hand cups the bowl of your skull - the other your lower back, his thumb and pointer finger finding your dimples.

“I love you.” He whispers, gazing at your face and admiring you even when your eyes are closed and your mouth hangs a bit open. He’s fighting to keep his own eyes open, to not let them flutter shut as yours have - he needs to see that face of yours he loves so much. Needs to watch the effect of him inside you.

“I love you.” You whimper, and you smile to yourself before your thumb brushes over his nipple cheekily, wanting him to react in the way you know he will.

He lets out an irritated noise that’s the closest to a growl you’ve ever heard from him, and your mission has been accomplished . “Naughty girl, you’re playin’ with fire.” Watching your expression he seems to be looking for what you want. He gives a jerk of his hips, and hums as your eyes flutter.

“Why don’t you teach me a lesson ‘bout being naughty, then?” You say softly to him, biting your bottom lip in a way you know will drive him wild. Your hypothesis is proven when he flips you onto your stomach, raising your ass in the air for his viewing pleasure. You whine when his cock slips out of you, leaving you empty and dripping.

“Yeah? You want me t’be rough with you baby? Bruise those walls n’ this sweet ass if yours?” He emphasizes his words with a chomp to your ass cheek and a slap. Joel Miller loves ass and tits, but you know his neurons activate whenever he sees your backside jiggle. There’s a strict rule about what pants you can wear when he needs to focus, for his own sanity. He’s missed too many deadlines at work due to him being unable to resist you walking past his office. He knows the rule is futile as it became more of a prompt to do the exact opposite of what he asked for.

You both know he doesn’t mind.

“Yes, daddy.” You whimper, your legs kicking back and forth slightly as he spanks your ass again, spreading your cheeks to watch your puckered hole flex and pussy drip down on your clit. He presses a kiss over his bitemark before shimmying his hips up, his large hands finding place on your hips, thumbs digging into your dimples like grips. He spends a second admiring the sight of his cock between your cheeks, no matter how many times he’s seen it.

“That’s my pretty girl.” He coos, his heavy hand holding his cock as he moves it up and down teasingly through your slit, his tip catching on your entrance before he’s pushing into you again. The angle makes you gasp, his cock sliding so deliciously along your front wall, to that spot that makes you dumb, that you can’t help the way you cry for him.

It’s all ‘daddy, daddy, daddy.’ as he starts moving his hips, mixed in with the louder slaps of his hips meeting your ass - noticeably with his increased effort.

“Oh, baby, this pussy is so sweet.” He groans. You can’t see it, but his head falls back, his hands grip your hips harder. You can’t even register what he just said, your mind is nowhere. You can’t think about anything except the pounding of his cock into you - the hot drag of him as he slides through your wetness like you were made just for him, just for his fat cock. “Squeezin’ me so tight, gorgeous girl.”

He smacks your ass again, three times in a row, inhaling sharply through his teeth when you clench around him, feet kicking up from their position against the mattress and into the soft flesh of his own backside. He grunts out a small laugh before he’s spreading your previously closed legs with his thighs, driving back into you when he’s made space for himself.

“How m’I supposed to stay mad at you when this creamy cunt’s cryin’ for her daddy?” He whispers as he leans over you, his chest pressed to your back as his arms wrap around your front, holding the opposite breast in each hand. He’s right, your pussy is creamy, proven by the white ring around his cock you can’t see, and it’s certainly crying for him - it sobs, mourns, yearns, weeps for him. His fist curls around your hair before he’s tugging as gently as he can to make your head tilt back, holding you like that.

“Oh, daddy-“ you hiccup, your voice shaking with his thrusts, every crack of his hips makes your words and moans break. It’s too much, and it’s not enough. You need him like this always, buried inside and holding you in a way that fixes you and breaks you apart all over again.

“I love you- she loves you.” You cry just as your pussy clenches around him again, you don’t care that the sounds of his thrusts are becoming increasingly lewd with the wetness seeping from you. You know he loves it like this:

Warm, messy and wet wet wet.

“I know baby, I know- she’s makin’ such a mess of daddy’s cock, should see the way your slick’s stickin’ between us- fuck.” He growls the last part, no doubt watching the webs of your wetness stretch whenever his crotch pulls away from your ass, judging by the way he’s twitching inside of you - veins thrumming.

You’d probably appreciate the thought a lot more if you could actually think it.

Joel grunts again, and soon you’re being rolled ontop of his chest after he moved himself similarly, his back pressed to the sheets as yours feels the tickle of his chest hair and happy trail. He plants his feet on the mattress, and you bite your bottom lip with a smile before you know it’s going to fall away with a silent scream of a moan as he starts bucking up relentlessly into you.

Your cries are hardly heard over the sound of his heavy balls smacking wetly against you. His hands have grabbed onto the underside of your thighs, holding them against your body as he thrusts with an amount of energy that should be impossible for a man in his fifties that just woke up.

His hands slide from your thighs, over your stomach to your breasts - his gasps, moans and grunts right next to your ear, sending goosebumps down your neck that feel like electricity. Your whole body is tingling. Not even his delicious sounds are enough to distract you from the slick, sloppy thrusts of him inside you, his tip seeming to target just the right spot again and again until your eyes scrunch closed and your brows furrow.

You can feel his smile against you when you suddenly go quiet, the only sounds leaving your mouth being gasps for air.

Your fingers blindly reach back and thread through his hair, just as he parts with one of your breasts to rub your clit with the rough pads of his fingers in little circles - it makes you arch away from him in a manner that he wishes he caught on video, just to save the moment forever. He flips you around once more to pulll himself out to the top, pressing you into the mattress as he slams back down into you. You’re both jerking forward with every thrust, his hand releasing your bouncing tit to wrap around your neck, squeezing gently to make you float up to that space only he can take you. The sloppy ache of him ramming into you further takes your breath away

“That’s my girl -mmph,oh fuck, cum f’your old man, cum for daddy-“ his growl breaks off into a breathy moan that has your toes curling, your cunt clenching around the thick, warm length of him.

What choice do you have but to listen?

Your orgasm hits you like a train, fire lighting through your body and shooting down your spine. Your hips jerk, pussy fluttering around him so deliciously he rewards you with one of his lewdest moans yet. Just when you think you’ll fall into a blissful afterglow, he speeds up.

“God fuckin’ damn, baby.” The words are punched out of him, broken and rough - just like his thrusts. “Good girl, ‘m goin’ t’flood this perfect pussy, then I’ll fuckin’ eat me outta you jus’ to pump you full again.”

It’s the best thing you’ve ever heard in your life, your head rolls back in bliss at the mere thought, not even mentioning the feeling of his sticky balls slapping against you, so plump and full you know he’ll be able to make good on his promise to keep your cunt stuffed until the sun dips down once more.

You can’t even cry his name when you feel his cock twitch upwards, spurting his release deep inside you, filling you with his warmth in a way that makes you feel blissfully cozy, like you’re safe and snug - ready to settle under the blankets with your scented candles burning in the room while Joel occupies himself by cleaning your cream-pied pussy with his tongue.

He kisses down the back of your neck as he gently pulls himself out, turning you on your side so he can kiss your cheeks.

“You okay, baby?” He whispers, continuing to kiss over your face as you keep your eyes closed.

“Yes.” you sigh, finally in that little blissful afterglow. He hums in acknowledgment before he kisses your lips softly, his hands pressing between your shoulder blades from where they’re wrapped around you.

“‘M gonna make us coffee, then I’m eatin’ that pussy ‘till I can’t no more.” He ends his filthy statement with a sweet kiss on your forehead, and you smile at him from the bed as he gets up, stretching your back.

“I love you.” You hum with a sweet sigh as your back pops. He’s currently picking up some laundry on the floor, bare as the day he was born.

“I love you, honey bee.” He says softly.

You admire his muscled back, shoulders and ass as he leaves the room, snuggling into the warmth of the sheets - no longer overbearingly hot - until Joel comes back to keep you warm instead.

———————————————————————————————

“Joel?” You call softly, putting your book face down on the coffee table. The quiet of the house hums between your words and the silence. You turn, resting your head on the back of the sofa just in time to see him walk in. 

His hair is mused - whipped by the wind and his own frustrated hands - and he ducks his face lower to hide it from you. His jacket looks heavier with the damp snow along the edges, his gloves still on like he hasn’t found the energy to take them off yet.

“‘M here, angel.” He says gruffly, voice hoarse from shouting orders on patrol - a long one, up to an abandoned town in the Wyoming mountains. It scratches through the stillness like gravel. 

You move to stand and greet him, but he holds up a hand to stop you. “Gonna shower ‘n join you on the couch.” He grumbles, trying to move past you quickly like he’s perturbed. 

The routine is a kiss on the forehead before he lets you fuss over him – before he lets himself soften – but tonight he seems determined to breeze past you.

Something’s up. 

“What happened?” You ask immediately, standing despite his quiet request, following the familiar rhythm of his footsteps to the kitchen. He’s at the sink, chugging water like he hasn’t had any all day, droplets running down his neck and onto his thick Carhartt jacket. 

He turns away from you, and you frown. 

“Hey–” you begin, but he finally looks at you. His gaze skims just past yours, landing somewhere on the counter instead. That same avoidance that still plagues him when something becomes too much. 

The raised eyebrow on your face makes him talk. 

“It’s nothin’.” He mutters, putting his cup down in the sink harsher than he normally would have.The glass rings out sharply, echoing a note of frustration.

“Your eye is practically black, Joel. You’ve got blood in your hair–” You sigh, placing a hand between his shoulder blades. His back is stiff under your palm, the chill from outside sticking to his clothes like a second layer.

“That’s why I said ‘m goin’ to go shower and wash it off.” He says curtly, words clipped at the edges.

No room to argue. 

You sigh again and place the medical box from under the sink onto the counter, leaving it there in plain view – an offering he can take when he’s ready. You’ve learned not to push. He gets like this sometimes : unsure how to leave the frustration from patrol out of the house, holding it back with silence and the weight of everything he can’t quite say. 

He comes to find you in front of the fire half an hour later, hair damp and curling at the ends, a few plasters on his forehead and cheek, the skin around his eye starting to swell.

He doesn’t say a word. Just lowers himself onto you, the couch dipping under his weight. He grunts softly as his body adjusts to the warmth of your legs. 

You put your book down once more, turning to face him – ready for whatever version of Joel this night will bring. He doesn’t hesitate to settle, pressing his face into your lap with a quiet exhale, slumping there. Twisting his face to the side so he can gaze at the fire – flames dancing in his eyes, catching all the golds and ambers the world has dulled over the years.

“What happened on patrol, cowboy?” you ask softly. The fire crackles and pops, throwing light over the lines of his face. He inhales deeply, his broad shoulders rising before falling again as he settles heavier onto your legs. 

“Raiders — hidin’ out in the town. Got the jump on us.” His deep voice is muffled against your thighs, the words slow and tired. He sighs when your hands meet his fluffy hair – it’s at that awkward length you love, curling around his ears as he lets it grow out again. “Had to wrangle one off Tommy.” 

You hum in acknowledgement, fingers carding through his locks. “Wanna talk about it?” It’s an offer – one he usually doesn’t take, not when it’s still raw.

“They shot my horse.” He mumbles after a beat, arching into your touch without thinking. Seeking comfort in the only way he knows how. 

“Old beardy?” You pry gently, working with what he will give you. His shoulders are bathed in the warm amber light of the room. His arms snake around your lower half, holding himself to you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. 

He nods as best he can.

“I’m sorry, Joel.” You whisper,  placing  a gentle kiss to the top of his head. He exhales – deep and uneven – like it takes the rest of him just to let go of that breath.

He squeezes your hip in acknowledgement.

“I’m sad.” He says after a while, his voice small in a way you rarely hear. “Really loved that horse.” He curls in on himself slightly, and you massage down his neck to his shoulders – thumbs kneading muscle until he melts into it. His hands tighten over your thighs like he’s anchoring himself.

“‘S never easy dealing with that.” You murmur, letting him do what he needs. It’s rare he lets himself be soft like this. The fire paints him in light and show, each flicker tracing over his forearms, the veins and faint scars matted with the warm gold of his skin. 

“Just wanna lay here.” He mumbles.

“Then lay,” you answer simply, brushing your thumb along his temple. 

He hums, almost in thanks, and stays like that for thirty minutes – just breathing softly as you play with his hair. You read in silence, the fire crackling beside you, pages turning slowly. The book is one Ellie wanted you to read, and you smile faintly, thinking about how she’ll corner you both tomorrow and ask for your thoughts.

You think he’s asleep until he presses his nose inward, trailing it towards your inner thighs, the shift so subtle you almost don’t notice.

“What you doin’ there, handsome?” You ask, peeking over the top of your book to catch his eye. The look he gives you is molten – something quiet and desperate, warmer than the fire.

“Need this.” He says, voice low and rough. “Need you.” His fingers find the hem of your sweatpants – old ones you’d stolen from him – and tug lightly, his touch both hesitant and certain in the same breath.

You lower your book slightly, watching him with soft amusement as he now brazenly tugs at the fabric, his rough fingertips tracing idle circles against your warm skin.

“Joel…” you murmur, half in warning, half in invitation. 

He doesn't answer. Just breathes you in, discarding your pants somewhere behind him – the tension in him shifting, something sorrowful easing out through the touch. 

It’s less about wanting and more about grounding himself, finding warmth where the day has made him feel cold, shallow. 

“Just wanna taste her.” He whispers with a slow kiss to your inner thigh. “Keep readin’, sweet thing.” 

You let your eyes drift back to the page, the firelight flickering over both of you, his hands resting heavy and certain against your hips, head bowing lower like he’s at an altar. He presses his face closer, breath catching like he’s saying something only you would understand. 

You exhale, fingers slipping into his hair again. “Alright, then,” you whisper, voice barely breaking the quiet, “take what you need.” 

He does. 

His lips meet the inside of your thigh again, quicker this time, making their own path towards the place where you’re warmest. His fingers shift from your hips to the lace lining your panties, pulling them to the side so he can take what he so desperately needs.

The words your eyes are skimming over become fuzzy when he places a kiss to your clit, his breath tickling the skin before his hot tongue extends downwards, opening you up to him with a single glide. 

You bite back a moan when his tongue sweeps over your entrance, lapping up the wetness that’s formed there and groaning at the taste. 

He eats at you for what must be hours, slowly caressing his tongue through your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the pulsing bud. He draws climax after climax from you with just his mouth – taking and taking until the tension bleeds from his shoulders, replaced with the wetness leaking from your pussy. 

“God– Joel!” You cry, book long since abandoned as you tug on his hair with both hands, his head moving side to side as he borderline tortures your puffy clit – slobbering over you like he can’t get enough. His beard, covered in your slick, tickles the sensitive skin.

Your legs shake when he pushes two fingers inside. “Atta girl, just like that– taste like fuckin’ heaven, baby.” He groans, resting his head against your restless thigh, watching as his fingers noisily move through you – wetness creating sounds to lewd his eyes go hazy. 

“Are– Are you?” You whisper breathlessly, half-heartedly looking down at his lower half : searching for that tent you love. Your eyes barely stay open as your brain shuts down on you, too overrun with pleasure.

“Gimme a minute, angel. He takes a while.” He murmurs, free hand squeezing the half-mast erection that lies between him and the couch : working himself to hardness. It’s been more difficult as of late. “Let me make you cum again,” A kiss to your inner thigh as his fingers curl up, “Then I’ll be ready for her.”

You’re clenching around his fingers in less than two minutes. 

“Come here.” You whisper to him, breathless and warm as he finally lifts himself to join you. You taste yourself on his tongue as he gently pushes it into your mouth – kissing you sloppily as he discards his pants somewhere behind him.

You stroke him once, twice, before his hand wraps over yours – guiding you to place his weeping tip at your entrance.

“I love you, sweet girl.” He whispers, forehead resting against yours.

“I love you too, cowboy.” 

He pushes inside you slowly – the stretch molten and delicious as he fills you. 

He moans when he’s buried at the hilt, the hair at his base quickly becoming soaked in your wetness. His thrusts are slow, deep – like he’s trying to reach home. 

Neither of you last very long. “Fuck, darlin’. ‘M gonna–” He grunts, a few drops of sweat falling from his nose as he moves faster – panting out as his thighs smack against yours, aching sac drawing up tight.

“Inside, please– I want it.” You cry, arms wrapping around his neck as thumb moves to swipe over your clit – the pleasure is blinding, stinging, and you’re suddenly clenching around him. Your whole body jolts at the sound of his moan – so vulnerable, like it was ripped from his chest and melted into a whine. 

He watches his cum drip out of you, catching it before it can drip onto the couch.

“You feeling better?” You ask quietly, a lazy arm slung over your eyes as he rights himself, moving to grab a tissue to clean you. 

He hums in agreement, gently correcting your panties before he’s helping you sit up from the couch, placing a slow, long kiss to your temple as he does.

“C’mon, wanna hold you in bed.” He murmurs, guiding you up the stairs to the  comfort of your sheets, “Damn back’s killin’ me.” He grumbles.

“You still got it, old man.” You giggle tiredly when he pinches your backside.

“For you? Always.” 

He’s snoring in your arms ten minutes later.

Why can’t people just stick to their contracts? You wonder petulantly. A part of you hopes to never see the word ‘obligation’ again, still knowing you’ll have to stare at it tomorrow and have the same thoughts.

Banjo’s leg kicks softly in his sleep, the Border Collie sighing where he’s resting against your foot. You groan and try to adjust yourself — comfortable as it is, your backside still aches.

You begin typing again softly, cursing your asshole of a boss for dumping a load of files on your desk five minutes to seven this evening. Fuck you, David. I hope karma gets your ass.

You keep at it for another thirty minutes, Banjo has retreated to his bed in the living room around the time you got to the thirteenth page of the document. Ellie sent you a text an hour ago saying she and Dina got back from the movies, and you set a reminder on your phone to say thank you to Dina’s older sister for having Ellie over tonight. You feel guilty you haven’t managed to spend much time with her this week, with anyone for that matter.

The candle next to you flickers with a gust of air, prompting you to turn your attention to the slowly opening door of your bedroom.

Joel shuffles out, looking sleepy and warm as he quietly makes his way to the kitchen — rubbing his eye with his knuckle just like Sarah does. Your eyes land on the framed photo he’s standing next to: Sarah on one shoulder, Ellie on the other, and your smiling face in the corner as the sun sets over the Seattle beaches. It was your first trip as a family, you still remember how you thought Sarah’s eyes were going to pop out at the size of the aquarium.

Joel pours two glasses of water before he says anything.

“Ellie get back to Dina’s alright?” He rumbles, voice heavy with sleep. He comes to stand next to you at the dining room table, close enough that you feel the warmth of him before he touches you. He places both glasses on the coasters before looking at you tiredly. When you hum in affirmation, he nods gently, “Come to bed, angel.”

He looks impossibly cozy, like a hug embodied. His sleep shirt is rumpled, the navy fabric hanging over his plaid pyjama pants — the Paddington socks Sarah got him keeping his feet warm. Internally, you smile at the way his hair sticks up in five directions. He runs a hand through his scruffy beard. It’s amusing to see such a large man look like a teddy bear.

“I’m almost done with this case.” You murmur, voice weak from misuse.

You sigh tiredly as he kisses the crown of your head.

“You can finish it in the morning, baby. C’mon, it’s late.” He whispers, his hand running over the back of your head before settling gently on your shoulder.

You contemplate his words.

On one hand, you only have two more pages to read over — but he’s warm, and you’re just so tired. You shake your head.

“I’ll just be awake thinking about it if I don’t finish now.”

He squeezes your shoulder gently, picking up his glass of water.

“I’ll help you sleep, now c’mon.” He repeats in that soft voice of his that you can’t argue with. You’ve been going to sleep past three every night for the past few days, and Joel is putting his Paddington-adorned-foot down gently.

You relent, because you love him, and because he’s right.

What you have with him is perfect. Committed and devoted in a way that doesn’t need a label, even though you know he’s been thinking about slipping a pretty ring over your finger — it seems a bit juvenile, a bit unnecessary, but it’s sweet, and if he asks you’ll say yes without a doubt.

He hums his approval as you close your laptop, and he puts it on charge for you when you stand to stretch.

He guides you to the bedroom with his presence at your back, shutting off the few lights that were on.

You stand at the bathroom sink for a moment, only feeling the weight of your tiredness once you left your work behind. You blink at yourself in the mirror tiredly, bringing a hand up to feel the dark circles under your eyes. You look like a mess, and a wave of anxiousness passes through you.

Joel’s standing behind you a moment later, his large, warm hands on your hips. He buries his face against your shoulder, the light of the bathroom hurting his eyes. You lean your head towards his, and he kisses your shoulder before straightening once more.

You don’t say much as he grabs your toothbrush, putting the toothpaste on for you. It makes your heart squeeze.

You’ve missed him. Late hours at the office have taken away from your time with him, leaving you tired and busy when you eventually get home. He’s been patient with you, understanding you’re so close to becoming a partner — how badly you want this, not just for yourself but for the entire family. It’ll take pressure off of Joel’s business, especially because he’s been paying for Ellie’s school fees while you work. It’ll let all three of you fly out to visit Sarah in Massachusetts where she’s studying to become a doctor at Harvard itself.

You still remember Joel breaking down in tears when she got her acceptance letter last year, so damn proud. Years of single fatherhood weighing on his shoulders, wondering if he’d done anything right by her. It’s something you two related over, you also wonder if you’d been a good mom to Ellie.

The memory of Joel meeting her seven years ago, when she was eight years old and feisty as all hell, makes you smile. She’d immediately jumped up and hung onto his arm like a monkey, grilling him over how much he really liked dinosaurs, trying to investigate him: protecting her heart. He won her over easily, the second he showed her he’d brought Curtis and Viper II for movie night.

The trip down memory lane has your heart warming so much it immediately makes you feel sleepy, and you look around for what Joel has been doing.

He’s currently fussing around in the bathroom, and you wonder what he’s doing as you brush your teeth. Your questions are answered when you see he’s grabbed everything that’s a part of your night time routine, laying it out on the counter for when you get out of the shower. He really is your biggest supporter: stable, present, able to understand you without you having to teach him.

You make a sad little face at him, pouting. “I love you,” you say, it’s garbled around the toothbrush in your mouth but he presses a kiss to your forehead regardless.

“I love you too, angel.” He whispers, pressing another kiss to the crown of your head. “My hard-workin’ woman.” It’s murmured, like an afterthought, but you smile at him regardless. His eyes soften at the sight, letting out an amused hum at the foam that lines your teeth.

The heat of the shower relaxes your sore muscles, and by the time you’re patting yourself dry, yawns are flowing out of you by the minute. It doesn’t quiet your mind.

Will you have enough time to finish the work by tomorrow? The final copy needs to be handed in by eight tomorrow morning…that’s in less than six hours, you still have to plan for the meeting. If you sleep for three then, no that’s not enough, maybe you can—

Your thoughts are interrupted by a grunt Joel lets out. “Stop worryin’ and come rest, baby.” He sits up from where he was lying against the headboard, waiting for you to finish showering. “You got more than enough time tomorrow.” Gentler this time, he holds his hand out for you. Naturally, you’re pulled towards his palm, grasping it with your own.

“I’ll get into my pajamas.” You whisper, agreeing with him. His grip on your hand tightens.

“Hold your horses, baby. Gotta make sure that mind ain’t runnin’ a mile a minute the whole night.” His voice drops lower, and you know exactly what he means: goosebumps erupt over your skin.

You let him guide you to lay flat on the duvet, towel left at the foot of the bed as he leans over you, a hand planted next to your head while the other cups your cheek. “Gonna let me take care ‘f you?” He asks, and you’ve never wanted anything more in that moment. The weight of stress and constant anxiousness finally slamming down over you, making you realize just how much you’ve needed this. Needed him to take control just for a minute. Needed him to take care of you.

You nod softly, “Please.” It’s meek, small, and he tuts.

His hand slides down slowly, deliberate, like he’s grounding you back into your body — over your ribs, your waist — until it settles, warm and steady, over your chest. He cups the soft mound before he continues his descent.

He adjusts himself, moving down the mattress so he’s kneeling between your spread legs. His fingers trace over your mound before they pause.

“Haven’t had a chance to taste you in so long, sweet girl.” He whispers, parting your sex with two fingers as he glances up at you, watching how your breath quickens at his touch.

“I know, I’m sorry,” You murmur, your head tilting back just slightly. You feel heavy, a tiredness settling deep in your bones the more his touch forces you to relax.

“No need to apologise, angel,” he hums softly as he feels the trickle of your wetness on his fingers, bringing his fingers to his mouth before he’s settling against the mattress. His hands slide underneath you to hold on to your ass, squeezing the flesh as he drags you closer to him. The broadness of his shoulders keeps your legs spread, and you stare down at him as he places a soft kiss to the top of your mound. “All that hard work and you’re still drippin’ like this for me.” He murmurs, almost to himself, fully aware that he’s quieting down every thought in your mind that’s not on him.

Your whine makes him shudder.

He waits a moment to see if you’ll pull back. When you don’t, his warm tongue parts your folds in one long lick: collecting all of your wetness before wrapping his lips around where you need him most. You cry out as he sucks slowly, tongue flicking slightly along the underside of your clit.

He pulls off with a small smacking sound a moment later, burying his face against you as his tongue drives over your leaking entrance, nose pressed against your clit sinfully.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling at the strands gently while he moves his tongue over you, dragging over your clit again and again before taking it back into his mouth. Your legs are already trembling, having not felt this for days.

“Joel,” you moan, arching into his touch as his strong hands pull you even closer to his face, the sounds of him eating at you causing another wave of arousal to flood through your body.

“I know baby, I know,” he groans, a line of his spit connecting his bottom lip to your pussy. “Been workin’ so hard, providin’ for all of us. Gon’ take care ‘f my stubborn, beautiful girl.” He whispers the words against you, before tilting his head to bury himself between your thighs: tongue pushing slowly at your entrance. You watch his brows furrow in arousal, feel his shaky exhale against your sex. The sight quietens the remaining thoughts in your mind, giving way to nothing but overwhelming pleasure.

You repeat his name in a desperate whine, it’s all you can do. His tongue slowly breaches you, and your back arches enough to push it deeper. He groans against you, and the vibrations run up your spine.

“I’m not going to last.” You whisper, broken and shaky in its exit. Hips grinding in little circles against his face, the scratch of his beard deliciously sinful.

He already knows what to do.

His lips wrap around your clit once more, free arm skirting up to hold your breast as he keeps sucking, surrounding you with the pure heat of his mouth and tongue.

Your orgasm hits you at a blinding speed when you see he’s grinding his aching hardness against the mattress.

“Good girl,” he groans against you, tongue lapping up your release, “So fuckin’ good for me. So gorgeous.‘M so proud ‘f you.”

Your hips twitch against his face, delirious pleasure pulsing through you as he works you through your orgasm. Your hands reach for him blindly, pulling him up until your lips meet his in a filthy kiss. His tongue pushing into your mouth as his body blankets over yours, so warm and large. You taste yourself on his tongue and moan.

He’s clearly not done with you yet as two of his thick fingers press inside of you, curling up while spasms still rock through you.

“You’re gon’ give me another, then you’re goin’ to sleep.” He murmurs against your ear, nipping your lobe gently. His fingers are slow and thorough, pressing just right against your front wall as his thumb massages your pulsing clit.

He tuts at you when you fumble with his boxers, pulling them down just enough to free his aching cock. He wants to take care of you, but you want to take care of him too.

He hisses when you rub your thumb over his tip, gathering the wetness to spread down his length. He kisses you again, and you moan into each other’s mouths as you work one another to completion.

It doesn’t take very long.

“Fuck, angel. Just like that,” he moans, his fingers working faster as his hips twitch up towards your palm. You can feel he’s right there. His forehead drops to your shoulder, a deep groan leaving him as his balls draw up.

At your breathless moan, his come splatters over your palm, triggering your second orgasm of the night that knocks you: blinding heat wracks through you, leaving your legs shaking as you work each other through. It’s pure bliss, every last bit of tension leaving you.

At the last spasm of your pussy, he pulls his fingers out, licking them as you do the same to your own.

He kisses your forehead softly, before he’s picking you up, bringing you to the bathroom to clean up for only a moment.

The sound of the toilet flushing dulls when he closes the bathroom door, herding you back into bed. Your mind is blissfully empty, eyelids heavy with tiredness.

He pulls you close once you’re under the sheets, a kiss pressed to the back of your neck.

“I love you, angel.”

“I love you more, Joel.”

“Never.”

“Always.”

He huffs his disagreement, and your eyes finally close.

Yeah, you think, David can go fuck himself.

༺──────────────༻

“You sleep last night?” Dotty asks, eyeing you in that wise way that tells you she already knows your answer. You take a slow sip of your coffee – losing the eye-contact battle as you look away quietly, resisting admittance. “Not much.” Your voice is rough when you say it, already retreating into yourself at the prying. Not ready and not willing. “Thinkin’ about him again?” She pries anyway, pushing her soft finger on the wound, wiggling around. The question lands like a pin drop that slowly deflates your personal balloon. 

Your lack of answer is telling, even if she didn’t need to ask at all. She knows, more than you wished she did. 

Dotty doesn’t push further, just hums – one of those old songs Earl sings when he’s tinkering away – picks up your empty plate and cup to help you clean, always helping in ways you never ask for. “It’s alright not to say it, dear.” she murmurs to you once you’ve followed her to the front door, handing her basket back to her. “Still makes it true.”

Your mouth pulls tight, looking down at the much shorter woman. There’s a glint in her eyes that tells you she knows you’re tough enough to handle her jabs, softening when you give her a hug anyway.  “You deserve something nice, talk to the man for my sake.” Her eyes shine as she looks at you, a glimmer of something like hope and mischief.

“Thank you for the food, Dotty.”

“Anytime, angel.” she closes the door softly behind her, and your mind goes back to where it was before, harsher now.