pedroscurls - Tumblr blog

pedroscurls · 1 day ago

Text

SO FUCKIN GOOD

the way my jaw dropped - need this man BAD

Just This Once: Part Three

Pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: You spend the night at Joel's house, but have a close call in the morning.

Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), language, unprotected piv sex, oral (f!receiving), fluff, angst, they're catching feelings, jealousy/possessiveness, pussy pronouns, light spanking

WC: 5.8k

Part One | Part Two

Golden beams of sun bleed through the fluttering curtains, filling Joel's bedroom with a fresh morning breeze and the sounds of his sleepy neighborhood coming to life. It's a comforting scent — morning air — one you always savor when you get a chance. Considering it's a Saturday and Joel's face is buried eagerly between your thighs makes things infinitely better.

You simply can't think of a better way to wake up.

His hands wrap firmly around your legs, holding you still, right where he wants you. He looks lost in it — eyes slid shut, soft hums under his breath, practiced tongue gliding through your folds, scooping up your arousal with each pass. Seeing him take you apart with his mouth in the broad light of day has your legs trembling and your heart thundering in your chest. Like you're seeing something you shouldn't, yet you can't look away.

That is, until his lips messily suction around your clit. Your pussy clamps down around nothing and you throw your head backwards into his pillow with a strangled moan.

"Fu-uck, Joel!"

He sucks your clit harder and you see stars. Suddenly you're keenly aware that your skin is damp with sweat when his oscillating fan rotates in your direction, bathing you in that crisp morning air. You shiver and grab at his hair. Your hips begin to roll and Joel lets out a deep, satisfied groan.

"Yeah, that's it baby," he says, voice muffled. "Fuck my face, go on. Ain't gonna stop til you give me one more."

Heat crawls up your chest and neck. Each noisy lick and kiss he leaves at your center sends you higher and higher. The muscles in your stomach twitch and your breath begins to stutter — it's not even ten in the morning but between last night and now, you have no idea how you'll have the energy to get out of bed.

Something tells you Joel planned it this way. Planned on keeping you wrapped up in his bed all day, listening to the neighborhood outside go on about their lives while the two of you waste the hours in each other's arms. Given how difficult it is to find time to be together, you tend to make the most of it.

"Can feel you shakin', sweetheart," he growls in-between messy kisses, lips sucking and tugging at your clit. "Give it t'me."

You grind your hips upwards, pushing yourself firmly against his face. You can feel it, you're almost there, but the open window next to his bed has you distracted.

"J-Joel, the window—"

"Let 'em hear."

Christ, this is reckless. It's stupid and dangerous. Your father is right across the street. He could be watering the garden or getting his mail. But you can't stop, and neither can Joel. Your need for each other has grown so strong that it's blocking out all logic and reason. So you squeeze your eyes shut, drag in a lungful of air, and let go.

A shattered moan rips from your throat and your legs clamp down hard around Joel's head. His fingers dig into your hips and you feel him groan, the sound making your face flush with heat.

"Good girl," he mumbles around his tongue scooping up your release. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat when he swallows it down, and only when your muscles finally relax and you feel boneless does he break away. His wet lips leave a slow trail along the inside of your thigh and a shudder shoots through your entire body.

"That's it. Just how I like you — all messy and fucked out." He smirks against your skin and plants a soft kiss on your knee when you breathe out a shaky version of his name.

He releases your legs and sits up. You peer up at him through a haze, just in time to see his eyes fall to the mess between your legs. His gaze darkens and he practically growls at the sight.

You're beginning to realize Joel has no shame about being vocal — it's so unlike anyone you've ever been with before. He wants you to know how much he loves this. It's becoming painfully addictive and you know you're getting in over your head with something that was meant to be a one-time thing, yet you stubbornly continue to push that thought out of your mind.

He pulls his white t-shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere behind him. Your breath catches in your throat at his bare chest in the morning light, but he doesn't notice because he's kicking off his boxers and already climbing on top of you.

His hips settle between your legs and he leans down, forearms holding his weight on either side of your head, and he grins.

"Still with me?"

You giggle and wrap your arms around his torso.

"Just barely."

Joel hums and brushes his lips tenderly over your own.

"Feel good?" he asks softly. He kisses you again and it's so gentle, you feel like you're melting into the mattress.

"Mhmm," you hum. Your palms slide up his bare back, over the muscles in his broad shoulders and down his thick arms.

He drags his lips lightly over your cheek, slowly, like he has all the time in the world. Even though he must be painfully hard, he's not rushing. He wants to savor it — savor you.

You sigh and tilt your head to the side, exposing your neck. He doesn't hesitate. His mouth is instantly there, tasting your skin and sucking a small mark right under your jaw. A quiet moan falls from your lips and you feel his cock jump against your thigh.

"Greedy little thing," he chuckles when you lift your hips, searching for him to relieve the empty ache between your legs. His mouth leaves your neck and he raises his head to look down at you.

The sunlight catches him just right — the gold highlights his dark hair, dusted with bits of grey. The silver peeking out on his cheeks shines and his deep brown eyes practically glitter.

He looks so stunning that it takes your breath away.

"What?"

He sounds amused. The corner of his mouth twitches as he scans your eyes for an answer, wondering why you're looking at him all dopey.

"You're beautiful," you whisper, tucking a stray curl behind his ear.

It catches him off guard. His expression freezes and he blinks before he can figure out how to react. Finally, he decides on deflection.

"Must've fucked all the sense outta you, huh?" he says, but you see the bashfulness in his eye. The way his cheeks turn rosy and his gaze drops shyly.

You shake your head and trace a finger down his jaw. It gets his attention and he locks eyes with you again.

"Nope," you say softly, "still got some sense up there. I know what I see."

In retrospect, it's probably too intimate. It's too real. Too close to something far from casual.

His throat bobs and you drop your hand, letting it rest gently next to you on the pillow. You're both quiet, searching each other's faces, lost in your own thoughts. It's just a minute, maybe two, but it stretches on forever. Eventually, Joel parts his lips like he's going to say something, then thinks better of it. His eyes shift, he gives you a smirk, and you know the moment has passed.

"Let's see if we can do somethin' 'bout the rest of that sense, hm?"

And then it's like it never happened. You giggle, his hand finds your hip, and he sinks inside of you with a heavy groan. You gasp at the fullness and tilt your head back. You've had sex a handful of times by now, yet the size of him still manages to steal your breath.

"Christ, honey — so fuckin' warm," he rasps when his hips come flush with yours. You're writhing underneath him, wiggling and panting for air as your body adjusts to the heavy weight of him inside you.

You whine his name and stretch to bite at his lower lip. You're still so sensitive from the two orgasms he already gave you but somehow still desperate for more. He makes a rough sound from the back of his throat and kisses you, but this time it's not as gentle. It's hungry and messy. His tongue pushes past your lips and dances with your own, licking feverishly into your mouth while cupping the back of your head to keep you still. You whimper and grab his shoulders when he begins to move, pulling his hips back just to slowly push forward again as deep as he can manage.

He drops his weight so his body is pressed against yours and it's fucking heaven — the full weight of him on top of you, inside of you, completely encompassing you in every conceivable way. Your legs wrap around his waist and hold him close, savoring every roll of his hips and every soft grunt that spills into your mouth.

"Never felt anythin' as good as you, y'know that?"

His confession rips through you and your chest immediately swells. Your pussy flutters around him and he groans against your lips. He pulls you even closer, wraps his arms around you and begins to move a little faster.

There's hardly any air between you. Your skin sticks to his, each of you coated in a thin sheen of sweat that the small fan on his dresser can't fix.

"So fuckin'—" Joel tears his mouth away from your swollen lips and buries his face against your throat, "—so fuckin' sweet 'n soft. Drives me crazy. Got me — got me thinkin' 'bout you all the time. Almost nailed my goddamn hand to a two by four yesterday."

You wanted to admit the same — that you found yourself daydreaming about him at work or thinking about him when you were cleaning up your apartment. Even at the grocery store, you found yourself wondering if he would like a particular cereal or snack before you bought it. But it's impossible to form a coherent sentence when he's fucking you like this, deep and steady, filling you so perfectly with each and every thrust. Your whole body is electric, entirely focused on the delicious stretch of his cock, but you manage to give him a broken moan in acknowledgment.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" he goads, teeth grazing the column of your throat. "Like hearin' how fucked up you got me?"

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he starts to fuck you harder. The tip of his cock is hitting the spot that makes the heat build at the base of your spine and your stomach muscles clench. Your fingers scramble to grip his hair, desperate for something to hold onto as your body jolts beneath him every time he slams back into you.

"Oh, my god—"

Your voice cracks, your vision swims. He's so fucking deep and he feels so good. The solid weight of him keeps you pressed into the mattress, unable to move, and it's everything. You don't want to move. You just want to take what he gives you.

"You feel how hard you make me? Feel what you do to me?" he growls, nipping at your collarbone. His voice sounds thick and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine. Yet, despite how you feel like you're drowning in him, you still manage to hear something. Something downstairs, a firm rap on the front door. A familiar voice.

Joel doesn't hear it. He's still murmuring filth into your skin. But fear seizes your entire body when the realization dawns on you and the faint sound of Joel's front door swinging open hits your ears.

"Oh, my god!" you whisper scream before clapping your hand over your mouth.

"Gonna come f'me? Go on, lemme—"

"My dad is downstairs!"

Joel instantly stops moving. You both stop breathing. Then—

"Miller? Ain't you up yet?"

Joel quickly pushes himself up and both your hands cover your face, as if it could make you disappear. Your heart is racing so fast, you're convinced it's about to burst out of your chest.

"Uh, y-yeah, just gettin' outta the shower. Be right down!" Joel yells. A moment later, he roughly pulls out of you and you stifle a yelp.

"Sorry," he whispers, stumbling out of bed in search of clothes. You yank the sheets all the way up to your nose and watch as he hurries around the room. He's sweaty, his hair is damp and his skin is flush. He looks wrecked but he's still yanking on a pair of jeans before rushing to his bathroom to wet his hair at the sink.

"Stay right here," he says quietly when he steps out of the bathroom in search of a clean shirt. His voice sounds firm, confident, but his eyes look wild. You swallow the lump in your throat, bury yourself deeper under the covers, and nod.

Joel tugs a shirt over his head and whips around to face you. "I'll get him outta here. Don't make a sound. I'll — I'll be right back."

You nod again but he must see the fear in your eyes because he sighs and leans forward to kiss your forehead.

"It's alright. I'll handle it."

Then he's gone, closing the bedroom door shut behind him.

---

"Mornin'," Joel says breathlessly when he spots your dad in his kitchen. He's at the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup. When he turns to raise the mug in greeting, Joel guiltily drops his gaze.

"Thought you'd be out mowin' by now," your dad says while Joel pulls down a mug for himself. He clears his throat and takes his time pouring his coffee.

"Woke up with a headache," Joel says smoothly, "thought the shower would help."

Your dad hums and wanders over to the kitchen table. When Joel hears him sit with a loud huff, he curses softly under his breath. This was no quick visit. He was getting comfortable.

Joel crosses the room to join him but his blood runs cold when he spots something by the back door.

Your shoes. They were abandoned right where you left them after sneaking in last night. At the time, he felt so stupid meeting you at the street behind his so you could park your car out of your father's view. It felt like he was in high school all over again, sneaking a girl into his room. But now he was eternally grateful you had gone to such lengths to hide your presence — but who would have thought to hide your shoes?

"Any, uh — any big plans for today?"

Your dad shrugged and sipped his coffee. "Just yardwork. Maybe hit the hardware store. Gotta replace a drill bit."

Joel shifted his weight so he blocked your father from spotting your shoes somewhere behind him.

"Weather's s'posed to be nice. Good weekend for outdoor work."

Your dad nods and sips slowly from his coffee again. Joel tries to casually lean against the counter while still blocking your shoes, but it looks awkward. Your dad frowns.

"Why don't you sit down?"

Joel takes a long sip from his mug to buy time, mind racing for an excuse. His eyes dart around the room searching for something — anything — to distract your dad for five fucking seconds. Then his eyes land on the front window and he spots it.

"Hey, did Marty get a new truck?"

Immediately your dad is on his feet and rushing to the window. Joel whirls around, grabs your shoes from the floor, and tosses them down his basement stairs.

"No shit, I think he did," your father says from the window. Joel wanders into the living room after him, heart racing in his chest but praying he appears calm.

"Must've set him back quite a bit. Look at that chrome edging," Joel says. Your dad tuts under his breath and shakes his head.

"The hell does he need all that fancy shit for? Havin' a shiny truck don't make a damn bit of difference when you're haulin' shit. Waste of money."

Joel murmurs in agreement and turns away. His eyes drift up the stairs, to his closed bedroom door, where you waited for him — naked in his bed. He swallows tightly and looks away.

"So, hardware store? Ace or Jeff's?"

He was hoping to remind your dad that he had errands to do, that he should maybe leave so Joel can go back to fucking his daughter senseless. Instead, your father says something that knocks the wind out of him.

"Jeff's. Hey, you hear his boy is back in town? The older one — uh, the hell's his name..."

Joel shrugs and waits. Your dad silently scratches his chin, brows furrowed as he tries to recall the name. Joel's eyes dart towards the stairs again.

"Luke! That's it." Your dad snaps his fingers and smiles. "Real nice kid. He's workin' at the store now, lookin' to take over the business when Jeff hangs it up. He's 'bout my daughter's age. Good lookin' fella. Was thinkin' of bringin' her with me."

Joel's throat goes dry. He blinks slowly, like he's still processing the information.

"Take her... with you?"

Your dad nods and strolls back into the kitchen.

"Yeah. Maybe they'll hit it off. He's a good kid, good head on his shoulders. She needs someone like that."

No she doesn't, she's got me.

Joel shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a deep breath. He hears your dad open the fridge and Joel rolls his eyes before begrudgingly following him into the room. On the way, his eyes dart up the stairs. Can you hear them? Maybe the fan and the open window drown out their voices.

"You, uh..."

Your dad grabs an apple from the crisper and shuts the fridge before turning to top off his coffee.

"You sure she's lookin' for somethin' like that?"

"What'dya mean?" He rubs the apple on his shirt and takes a loud bite.

Joel shrugs and crosses his arms defensively, coffee cooling and abandoned on the kitchen table.

"Just that I never heard her talk 'bout, y'know... meetin' someone." He scratches his jaw and looks outside. His grass is too long, your dad's right.

"Why would she have said somethin' 'bout that to you?"

Joel's gaze snaps up to meet your dad's.

"No, I mean, just — whenever she's 'round. Like when we were puttin' the bed together. You asked and, and she said she wasn't seein' anyone. Didn't sound like she was interested to me."

He sounds like such a fucking idiot. Joel swipes his sweaty palms over his jeans and looks around the room, avoiding your father's curious gaze.

"She's twenty-five. She ain't gonna talk to her old man 'bout that kind of shit."

Joel swallows and nods. "Yeah. Probably right."

Your dad is studying him, peering at him from across his little kitchen. His mug is on the counter, forgotten. His brows furrow and his mouth turns down a fraction.

Joel's pulse skyrockets.

He senses something.

"You don't look so good, Miller," he says slowly.

Joel drags in a deep breath.

"Yeah, must be comin' down with somethin'. What with the headache 'n all."

Your father's brow relaxes. He reaches forward to clap Joel good-naturedly on the shoulder.

"Well lemme get outta your hair, then. Rest up."

Relief floods Joel's veins when your dad turns to take a final swig of coffee. He's leaving. He doesn't suspect a thing this time, but Joel has to get it the fuck together.

When your dad goes to put his mug in the sink, he pauses. A moment later, a low devious chuckle fills the room.

"You son of a bitch."

Joel's heart leaps into his throat.

"Wh-what?"

Your father puts his mug in the sink and lifts out a wine glass with lipstick smeared on the rim.

"You're so full of shit. You ain't sick. You had a woman over last night, didn't you?"

Shit.

"Uh—"

But he immediately cut Joel off.

"It's 'bout damn time!" your dad roars, grabbing his shoulder again to give him a firm shake. He laughs and puts the glass back in the sink. "Why the hell didn't you tell me? Who's the lucky lady?"

Joel's stomach churns. He coughs awkwardly into his fist to give himself a moment to come up with a lie.

"Someone Tommy knows. You don't know her. Was a blind date."

"Looks like it went pretty fuckin' good," he teases with a huge grin. Joel forces a weak smile, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

"Yeah."

Your dad waits for Joel to elaborate. His hands are propped on his hips, big smile stretched across his face, and he waits. But Joel remains silent, unable to think of anything else to say.

He can't. He just can't do it. He can't tell your father about the night he shared with you, even if he was pretending it was someone else. And he's so paralyzed that he can't think of another lie. So instead, an uncomfortable silence stretches between the two men, where the only noise in the room comes from the ticking of the analog clock above Joel's sink.

Finally, your dad breaks. His hands fall to his sides, he laughs a little awkwardly, and points to the door.

"Alright then. Well, happy f'you," he says, stepping around Joel and heading for the front of the house. Joel turns and follows, guiltily murmurs his thanks, and holds the door open while your dad slips on his sneakers.

"I'll give my kid a call, see if she's free to come with me to Jeff's," he says, reminding Joel of his idea to set you up. Jealousy flares hot in his chest again at the thought. He rubs at it absentmindedly and nods.

"Yeah. Okay."

"Maybe we'll see you 'round later. Throw some burgers on the grill if you're up for it."

"Sounds good," Joel says, watching as your dad pulls his phone out of his back pocket. He gives Joel one more wave over his shoulder, then he's bringing his phone to his ear, walking in the direction of his house. From upstairs, Joel hears muffled movement amongst the bedding and your voice quietly answering the phone.

He quickly shuts the door and makes sure to fucking lock it this time, then hurries back up the stairs.

"Maybe tomorrow," you're saying when he opens the door. He stays quiet, listening to one half of your conversation. Your eyes meet his and you offer him a small smile. "I promised Chelsea I'd help paint her new place. She's been looking forward to it all week."

The lie falls effortlessly from your lips and Joel grins. You shift a bit, still naked in his big bed and holding his sheets to your chest. He feels a stirring below his waistband at the sight.

"Oh, yeah, uh... I think I remember him," you say hesitantly. Your face falls and you glance nervously in Joel's direction. "He was kind of a douchebag in high school. Really... immature."

Your eyes find his while you listen to your dad's response.

"I just don't think he's really my type," you reply, then deliberately drag your gaze slowly down Joel's frame. All the blood from his head rushes south when you pause and bite your lower lip. His fingers twitch at his side. Then you take a deep breath, lock eyes with him again, and say, "besides, I'm — I'm kind of interested in someone else. Ye-yeah, I don't know — uh-huh..."

You trail off and drop your gaze to the bed. You nervously chew on your nail while you listen to your dad on the other end, but Joel's already mentally miles away. His chest feels like it might burst and he's got the stupidest smile on his face. You picked him.

"Yeah, so, why don't I call you in the morning? I'll stop by, we can do something?"

You're fidgeting under the covers. He can tell you're nervous — you can't look at him now and your chest is rising and falling faster than usual. God, you're so fucking adorable.

"Okay, Dad. Well, be careful doing yard work. Go easy on your back. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

You hang up your phone, toss it somewhere on the other side of the bed, and bite back a grin when you finally muster up the courage to look at him.

"He wants to take me to the hardware store tomorrow," you say, humor lacing your voice. "Says he'll just stay home today and work outside."

"Sounds like you're stuck here with me til the sun sets then." Joel grins and pops the button on his jeans. Your eyes immediately clock the movement and your lips part excitedly.

"Sounds like it," you answer breathlessly.

Joel lifts his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor. Your breath catches in your throat.

"Anythin' else?"

You lick your lips and watch as his jeans slip down his legs.

"He wants— he thinks some boy I used to know would be a, uh... a good match for me, or something."

"Yeah? And what d'you think?"

Joel drops his boxers next and your mouth goes dry as you watch him fist himself. It's just slow, measured strokes while he waits for you to answer, but it still has your mouth watering. You swallow and sit up a little straighter in bed.

"I th-think it's — stupid."

Joel's mouth curls into a devilish smirk. "Hands and knees f'me, baby."

A shiver shoots down your spine. You exhale shakily, drop the sheet from your chest, and do as you're told. You roll onto your hands and knees with your back to Joel and wait with bated breath.

The mattress dips behind you and suddenly his voice is closer.

"Why's it stupid?"

His hand slides up your thigh, slowly. His palm gently caresses your ass while he patiently waits for your response.

"'C-cause," you stammer, "I'm no-not interested in him."

"No?" he asks, voice light, "Why not?"

He leans forward. The tip of his cock nudges the inside of your leg and you whine. You arch your back and rock your hips, but his hand holds you steady.

"Asked you a question, sweetheart."

His voice is so thick and deep, it has your pulse galloping in your throat. This is exactly what you love the most about being with him — he can be so soft but also knows how to take control. It's a duality that can only come from experience and age.

"Because... because I only want — you."

His hand pauses. It's quiet for a moment. You can't see his face, can't gauge his reaction, and it has your heart skipping a beat. Maybe you said too much.

Then he exhales behind you, shifts forward, and glides his hand around. His palm skirts up your side and cups your breast. He gives it a gentle squeeze before rolling your nipple between two fingers and murmuring, "That's my fuckin' girl."

Your eyes flutter closed at the praise and you gasp when he drags the head of his cock through your folds. He inhales sharply, releases your breast, and grabs your hip.

"So fuckin' wet," he murmurs in awe. You jump when the fat tip of his cock nudges at your opening. The air around you thins, your head swims, and you hold your breath.

"You ever get this wet for anyone else?"

His voice sounds different. Harder. Your arms begin to tremble and you shake your head.

"No," you whisper.

He grunts softly, a pleased sound, and begins to push inside. You gasp and your head drops between your shoulders at the stretch, reveling in the now familiar and addictive sting of being worked open on his cock.

"Fuck," he groans, feeding you a few more inches. You whimper and arch your back. "F-fuck, darlin' — so goddamn tight. How's this sweet pussy still so tight when I was just inside her twenty minutes ago?"

You can't answer. You can't formulate a single thought. The only thing you can focus on is the way he splits you open and fills you up so perfectly, every single time. But that's okay, because he's not really looking for an answer.

Your hand shoots backwards to grab his wrist when he bottoms out. Your upper half collapses onto the bed. You're gasping, shuddering, rolling your head on the mattress and making sounds that cause Joel to grind his molars to dust in order to stop himself from coming too soon.

"J-Joel," you moan. He's so fucking deep from this angle, it's making you see stars.

"'S'right," he growls, sweat already dotting his forehead again, "say my name. My name. Not some—" Joel drags his hips back until he's halfway out of you, then slams back in. You yelp in surprise and your grip on his wrist tightens. "—Not some fuckin' kid who wouldn't— wouldn't know the first thing to do wi-with you."

Your skin feels like it's on fire. The rush you get from the possessive tone in his voice coupled with the deliberate, deep thrusts he's giving you is unmatched.

Every time he sheathes himself inside you, he reaches a spot you didn't know existed. It's an indescribable feeling, the way he is able to read you and tear you apart so quickly. Your cunt flutters and sucks him in with each devastating stroke and he groans your name, kisses your spine, squeezes your hips.

You're both on your knees but he's the one worshiping at your altar.

Joel's knee nudges your legs further apart. You make a pathetic noise and sink deeper into the mattress. He folds his body over yours, glistening chest pressing against your back, and continues to snap his hips ruthlessly against your ass. He kisses up your spine, his hand drags up the side of your thigh until it comes to rest on your ass. Your jaw drops and you cry out when his palm suddenly cracks loudly across your skin, then he chuckles darkly against your shoulder.

"She's squeezin' me," he teases, pace still relentless, skin slapping loudly against skin. "She liked that. You liked that."

You moan and your eyes roll. Your hands grab uselessly at the sheets, clawing at them, desperate for something to hold onto as you succumb to his punishing pace.

He does it again and you moan his name, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears. His cock swells at the sound so he spanks you one more time, just to hear it again.

"Joel," you gasp wetly, "Joel, I'm—I'm—"

His teeth sink into your shoulder. Each thrust is paired with a deep grunt that you can feel reverberating through his chest and into your back. His arms are now braced next to your head and when you crack your eyes open, you see his hands are curled into tight fists.

"Go on," he pants. His face is pressed against your back. He leaves messy open-mouthed kisses against your sweat-soaked skin. His entire body is covering you. The heat is almost too much to bear but it feels so good because it's him. "Go on, let go. Give it t'me. Lemme — lemme feel it."

And you can't hold back any longer. You do as he says and you let go with a scream. Your vision whites out and your muscles seize up underneath him, clenching around his cock like a vice.

"Oh-h, f-fuck," he moans, hips stuttering. Your body sags and you sigh with relief, but you still manage to keep your hips up in the air. Joel is panting behind you, breath skittering across your skin, moans of your name mixed with curses float through the air until his body stills. You feel his warm release flooding your cunt and you sigh again. He grunts softly, pushes into you one last time, making sure to give you every last drop, then his body collapses on top of you, pinning you to the mattress.

It's quiet then. He lays on top of you, each of you catching your breath and basking in the afterglow. His hands find yours and your fingers intertwine wordlessly. His lips leave feather light kisses across your back and a shudder rolls through your body when the fan blows cool air in your direction once again.

"You— you okay?" he breathes, voice a little raspier than before. You nod, eyes closed.

"Yeah," you sigh. His fingers tighten around yours. Then a minute later, he slowly lifts himself off you. Your eyes open and you gasp in a full breath of air now that his weight isn't crushing your lungs, then wince when he gently slides his cock from between your legs.

Before you have a chance to move, Joel rolls onto his side and pulls you with him. He tugs you into his chest, circles his arms protectively around your waist, and sighs.

Across the street, you hear your dad's radio. He's playing classic rock in his garage. The telltale squeak of the hood of his truck tells you he plans on tinkering with the engine in the driveway for the next few hours.

"What're we gonna do all day?" you murmur sleepily.

"I'm gonna make you breakfast," Joel says with a kiss to your shoulder, "and you're gonna stay right here. If I got any say, you ain't puttin' on one single piece of clothing til nighttime."

You giggle and tilt your hips back to grind against him. Joel groans and his lips glide up to your neck.

"Gotta feed you first, baby," he warns. You pout, even though you know you don't have the energy to go again anyway. "You like eggs? Pancakes?"

"I like anything you give me," you say, making him laugh softly.

"Easy to please."

You hum, he gives you one more kiss, then he pushes himself up from the mattress. You roll onto your back and watch as he pulls on his clothes from before. When he turns around and sees your bare chest on display, his breath catches in his throat.

"Feel free to — wash up. If you like," he says, hitching a thumb over his shoulder towards the bathroom. You nod, then stretch and yawn. Joel watches for a moment like he's conflicted, then drags a hand through his hair, murmurs something under his breath, and leaves. You smile to yourself when you hear pots and pans clanging downstairs.

Today feels good. Today you don't care about the consequences. Today — you're just going to enjoy the time you have together.

#joel miller #fic recs

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