#(( and went to bass pro shop today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

girlboybug · 1 year ago

Text

Crush

"he looks like he works with his hands, and smells like marlboro reds."

what's playing 🎧: crush by ethel cain

pairing : bfd!joel x reader (no outbreak au)

word count : 14k (oops)

*unedited*

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, age gap, heavy petting, grinding, fingering, handjobs, references to m!masturbation, unprotected sex, creampies, light dirty talk, riding, soft dom!joel, but also switch coded joel if u squint, slight angst kinda sorta

TRIGGER WARNINGS : lowkey dubcon just bc of the power imbalance that comes with the age gap but everything is consensual as always. joel knew the reader when they were 4, 16 years have passed so now they're 20! brief mentions of messy home life and brief descriptions of verbal sexual harassment

A/N : i've been dying to write bfd!joel, and when i heard crush i knew what i had to do lolol. so sorry this took ages, it wasn't supposed to be this long but here we are lol. i hope you guys enjoy <3 comments really motivate me, so if you liked it plz lmk in the comments :3

your eyes continually drift over to the time glowing in the corner of the screen on your register, wondering when joel was supposed to swing by. you pray that he hasn’t forgotten his promise to your dad of checking out your air conditioner to see what needs to be repaired.

the tiny fan that sits beside your half drinken water bottle does little to nothing, and it only adds insult to injury.

you think back to last night at dinner, in your air conditioned home, about the ‘exciting’ news your dad had to share. he rattled on about how he ran into an old college buddy and family friend, joel miller down at the pro bass shop—and of course it was at the pro bass shop.

after a few jogs of your slightly depleting memory, you finally, somewhat, remembered a face to the name. you vaguely joined in with your parents’ reminiscing of how he used to come over with his little girl sarah for play dates, and occasionally babysitting you when your parents went out on their date nights.

they also were quick to tease you about your little crush on him, one you swear you can’t remember, which in your defense, you really don’t, and desperate to change the subject, you asked about his wife, which only worsened the allegations of your crush on him.

“goin through a divorce, it’s actually why he moved back here, but i’m sure you’re happy to hear that,” your dad snickered with a little nudge, and you wanted to bury your face in the steaming mashed potatoes on your plate.

once you managed to wrangle them out of the conversation of your alleged feelings towards the man you barely remembered, it was briefly mentioned that he’d be coming by today to check out your broken down air conditioner at the store your parents owned and operated.

you’re the cashier there, unwillingly of course, but it helps pay for your very expensive books you need for your classes, so it’s not a total issue. however, as you blanky look around the empty sweltering convenience store, you honestly consider closing up early and ubering home to soak in a nice, cold shower.

the bell that hangs from the door rings at the front entrance, but you’re too tired and worn down by the heat to say your usual greeting, instead deciding to just remain slumped in your small wooden stool, aimlessly trying to angle your mini fan at the most optimal point of your face.

your peripheral view catches a navy blue hued shirt, and your head lifts upwards to get a better look in case it’s a customer.

your eyes fall onto an older man smiling down at you, crossed arms bulging from behind his short sleeves. something bubbles in the very pit of your stomach. “mr. miller?” you ask, slightly unsure, but he nods, chuckling when his arms drop to his sides. “heya hun, it’s been awhile, how are you?” he leans in for a hug, and you suddenly don’t feel the sweat that’s been stuck to your skin for the past three hours as you rise to your feet and off the stool to meet his arms that come around your waist. you manage to stutter a response of, “i’m good, and you?”

“doin’ alright,” he says through a grin– oh god, his grin is so pretty, you think you almost see a cartoonish sparkle glint in his teeth from the fluorescent lighting.

your stomach bubbles up the more you take him in, and oh no. the worst possible thing just came to fruition.

your parents were actually right.

he pulls back, hands still on the backs of your arms as he takes a moment to really look at you. “you’re so grown up now honey, i remember when you were just this big,” he holds a hand just below his hip and you join in his light laughter, feeling those fluttery feelings you felt all those years ago rush to your chest and tummy like a dormant volcano erupting.

he hasn’t aged a bit, maybe a few more wrinkles here and there, and the crows feet beside his eyes deepen more now when he smiles, along with the grays that take the place of where some strands of brown used to be. but he’s just as beautiful as your fuzzy memories, if not more.

“y-you look exactly the same,” you chuckle nervously, trying to not give in to the magnetic pull tempting your eyes in the direction of his chest and abdomen. he grows a little bashful, glancing away for a moment before he replies, a little pinker in the cheeks than before. “i definitely don’t weigh the same, sweetheart,” he sighs playfully, patting his stomach.

you hear the traces of slight disappointment in his words and it saddens you. you shake your head, feeling even warmer under the heavy feeling from his eyes blanketing over you while you frown ever so slightly. “i think you look great.” you say truthfully, feeling nervous as soon as the words part from you, worried he might think you’re too forward, but instead he smiles again, looking down at his boots.

“you’re too kind.” he grins, looking back up at you, his fingers running along the side of his beard. you feel flushed, glancing away from his smiles.

“goddamn, it is hot in here,” he pinches at his shirt, pulling it back and forth to get a slight breeze. you nod vigorously, plopping back into your stool, fanning yourself once more. “i can show you were the ac’s at,” you offer, and he agrees.

you guide him to the useless machine, eyeing it down with an irritated look, as if it were alive, and purposefully broken down to spite you.

he walks over to it, bending down to its level and you balance on your heels awkwardly, overthinking on if it’s the correct social etiquette to say anything right now.

“hmm, lemme get my belt from the truck, i’ll be back hun,” he nods at you, sending you a smile before he disappears out the store and back to his truck.

when you’re sure he’s out of view, you curl in on yourself, holding your face and opening your mouth to let out a silent scream.

all it took was seeing him for two seconds, for a crush you didn’t even remember existed until last night to come back immediately.

when he returns, he sends you a smile before he goes right to work, setting up shop beside the air conditioner, toolbelt wrapped around the alluring circumference of his waist.

you imagine what it’d be like if it were your hands instead of the worn down leather that envelops him, how his skin would feel in your palms and jesus, you are being so creepy right now.

he talks while he works, listing about all the things wrong with the ac, jokingly calling your dad a cheapskate for not being willing enough to upgrade to a functioning one that wasn’t manufactured before you were born. and of course, you laugh, leaning against a counter, hoping he just so happens to turn to the side to spare you a glance and notice that you look effortlessly sexy.

he mainly keeps his focus on the task at hand but, you keep hoping he turns to look over at you at some point.

no customers have come in yet, and for once you are eternally grateful for a slow day.

your eyes trail from his biceps, down to his strong forearms, they look safe, secure, like they could hold you and keep you locked in, and his hands…god his hands.

they’re long, and big. his wide palms that splay across the side of the ac make the machine somehow look small in comparison. his fingers are so skillful, prodding and working at the screws and confusing bits you didn’t even know were a part of the contraption — but honestly the mechanisms of the ac are not what you care about right now.

you care about how it would feel if it were your sides, your hips, being touched and caressed instead of the machine, and how his big strong hands could hold onto them, grip them, squeeze them tight like a real man would.

you notice the way he swipes his forearm across his forehead, clearing away the sweat that beads over the skin, feeling bad that he’s doing so much manual labor in such terrible conditions.

you depart from your shared space for a moment, padding towards the refrigerators stocked full of drinks.

you return to him, tapping his shoulder and smiling brightly when he looks at you, eyes darting down to the cold root beer in your hands. “for you. least i can offer while you work,” you beam and he chuckles, switching some weight onto his left foot, his hand resting on his hip when he graciously takes the bottle from you.

“well thank you hun,” he tips his head at you, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig.

you watch the way his lips curl around the rim, how his hand just about swallows the entire bottle and the way his adam’s apple bobs while he drinks. you have to fight back the urge to squeeze your thighs together to alleviate the tingly feeling spreading inside you.

“how’d you remember i like root beer?” he asks, eyes peering at you with a warm surprise, his fingers twisting the screwdriver into the side of the ac.

you hop up onto the counter beside him, swinging your legs while you shrug. “just randomly came to mind i guess,” he turns to look at you, taking note of the way his eyes land on your bare legs first before they flicker back up to your eyes. you feel a little cocky about that.

“always were a helpful girl,” he says, and you just about glow at his little compliment, folding a leg over the other while you rest on your palms, trying to hide how big your smile grows.

“thank you,” you say quieter, shyer than you mean to.

you two converse a bit longer, and you decide to sneakily flip the open sign to closed in the window while you listen to his responses.

the topic of college is brought up, and you respond to his questions about how it’s going, what you’re majoring in, and you answer, creative writing, feeling flushed when he pauses his work to smile at you.

“an’ you know what, you always were a storyteller when you were young, i bet you’ve only gotten better since,” he says wistfully, fondly imagining you typing away and creating stories he’d happily read all about.

he’s not a big reader, but for you? he could be.

when he finishes up, he calls you over, turning the knob on high and watching as the ac releases what sounds like a guttural groan before a gust of icy air greets your bare arms.

you gasp and squeal in delight over no longer being slowly cooked to death in your parent’s mini mart.

“thank you mr. miller you’re literally the best,” you gush and he waves you off, gathering his tools as he nears the register.

“ahh don’t worry ‘bout it. i’m happy to do it. ‘specially if ya had anyone else do it for you, i know you’d get charged damn near an arm and a leg,” he rests his hands on the counter and your eyes trace over his long fingers while you make your way beside him. you feel giddy when you notice the tan line on his ring finger.

a reminder of the fact that he’s single now.

you just nod, holding back from saying something along the lines of how you’d be more than happy to pay him for this service with a…different kind of service of your own in return.

“so how much was the root beer hun?” he asks, flicking through the bills in his wallet. you immediately shake your head, ignoring his protests of accepting a free drink.

“no that was on the house mr. miller, i will not take your money,” you say stubbornly and he squints at you, huffing in defeat. “you sure? don’t want you gettin’ in trouble with your folks if they find out you’re out here givin things away for free now,” his hands settle on his hips and he gives you a playfully testing look, still managing to cause a flurry of emotions to ripple inside your lower tummy.

“who’s gonna tell them?” you counter, voice lowering just a little, eyes following in suit as you stare up at him.

his soft chuckle fades between his parted lips at the shift in your demeanor. his jaw comes down for a second before his lips curl to the side. “alright, thank you sweetpea,” he concedes just an octave above a murmur.

“is there anything else you wanted to get? because in all seriousness, they’d probably get more upset at me for actually charging you instead of just letting you have it for free.” you say truthfully, feeling positive that your dad wouldn’t mind joel taking a few things home free of charge.

he holds out that big hand of his, chuckling when his gaze shifts to the ground before it rests back over on you. “nah s’alright hun, root beer was already mighty gracious of you,” but you’re not buying it, you head behind the register, arms extending along the expanse of the wall of products, pretending to sell the items like you’re showcasing the prizes on a game show.

“you suuure? anything you want, completely free,” you offer temptingly and his lips collect themselves to the side of his mouth, chuckling mutedly, a little shake of his head as he watches you.

“alright,” he leans forward, and you feel your throat get a little tight at his ministrations, suddenly noticing the slight glimmer of a chain hidden beneath his shirt.

“can you get me that pack of marlboro reds behind you hun?” he points at the carton of cigarettes, and for some reason his request makes your stomach get tight.

you think back to how not even a day ago you rambled about your visceral dislike for boys, discarding them as a waste of time — but joel isn’t a boy. he’s a man, and may the version of yourself who existed moments before he came in, forgive you for being a melted pile of hypocritical mush he’s managed to turn you into in the span of less than two hours.

you can hear your mother’s scoff in your head as you find yourself feeling giggly at his choice of a freebie. it’s just so. manly.

he’s so manly.

you hand him the carton and he pockets it, not before taking a cigarette out, deciding to indulge early. “thank you sweetpea,” he smiles, cigarette already being placed between his lips.

“no problem,” you nod with a grin. he eyes the closed sign before he looks at you once more with a knowing smirk. “closing early i see,” he pointedly nods at the sign and you shrug with a sheepish little smile, neither confirming nor denying the notion.

“lemme guess—folks won’t mind? and would actually be more upset if you didn’t close up early?” he teases, and it almost feels like flirting. you decide to tell yourself it is. so you play along, rolling your eyes and waving your hand dismissively with an equally teasing ha. ha. ha laugh.

“it’s been a slow day, so no, they actually won’t mind, for your information,” you fold your arms, wriggling your face blithely. he chuckles, lighting his cigarette, taking a drag before he continues. “d’you need a ride home then hun?” he asks, genuinely offering and you have to forcibly give yourself a moment to pause before immediately yelling an overly enthusiastic YES PLEASE.

“are you sure? you’ve already done a lot for me today,” you act a little bashful, mostly because you are, but you also are attempting to hide the excitement bubbling inside you at the thought of being alone with him in his truck.

he shakes his head, exhaling the smoke from his lips silently, unknowingly entrancing you. “ts’ not a problem at all, cmon,” he motions his head towards the door and you trail along like a lost puppy.

you lock up the door behind you before you’re greeted by the sight of joel holding the passenger seat open for you.

your face gets hotter than it was before he fixed the ac at the sight of his chivalry, pretending to curtsy with your invisible dress before you climb into his truck, mumbling a shy thank you, as he safely closes the door behind you.

he hops in, and you read your address out for him as he turns the keys in the ignition.

it’s a little silent for awhile, but it’s okay, you’re content stealing glances at him, hiding behind the fist that supports the weight of your tilted head, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your eyes cast over him adoringly.

he’s so beautiful. you definitely had taste as a kid.

he even looks strong, and not in an annoying machismo way, but in a natural, humble way. a kind way.

you want to touch his broad shoulders, kiss your way down his biceps to his forearms and down to each and every finger of his. you want to kiss away all the callouses and take care of him the way he deserves.

you can’t believe you’re daydreaming about him in such a way right in front of him, especially since it’s the first time you’ve seen him in about 16 years and this is how you react.

oh well.

the contrast of grey in his soft looking brown hair is so complementary, you hope he hasn’t turned into one of those guys that put dye over it, because frankly you think the natural look suits him quite well.

you drift your stares down to his strong hooked nose, admiring how charming it is. you want to trace your finger tip down the slope of it, and uh oh he’s looking at you.

you can’t be too obvious in your actions, despite the fact that you already are, so you just smile instead of whipping your head around in the opposite direction like you wish you could. “can i try?” you ask, motioning towards his cigarette, trying to play off the situation as to not expose the real reason why you were staring.

he just chuckles under his breath, his smile lingering when he turns to look back at the road. “that’s ahh, not really a good habit you wanna get yourself into sweetpea.” he says with a small shake of his head.

you almost give up right there, but you decide to push just a little further. “it won’t be a habit, i just wanna see the appeal is all,” you turn in the seat to fully face him, smile growing when he leans his head towards you in a jokingly exasperated tilt. he says your name warningly, and you deflate for a moment, worried he may actually be annoyed with you.

you don’t say anything else and he notices, feeling bad at your silence. he sighs with guilt, wanting to remedy the incorrect thoughts you have of him being upset at you as he hands you the cigarette. you instantly perk, taking it into your own fingers. “careful now. you might choke, waters right there in the cup holder if it burns. don’t inhale it too long,” he instructs, watching you from the corner of his eyes to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.

you wave away his worries, placing the stick between your lips, feeling warm all over when you get a thought that says it’s kind of like we just kissed through the cigarette.

you inhale, hold it in for a few passing seconds before you’re proving his warnings correct, coughing loudly and not flatteringly whatsoever.

you try to face away from him, your eyes beginning to water and your throat burning worse than when you smoked from a very suspicious wax pen. the last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this.

he brings a hand behind your back, rubbing it soothingly as he sighs to himself, feeling a tinge of guilt for letting you smoke.

“easy honey easy, drink some water,” he hands you the bottle of water and you down it, blinking away your tears as you hand him back his cigarette. “that was so embarrassing i’m so sorry,” you groan, burying your face in your hands.

“s’alright honey, least now i bet you really won’t wanna make this a habit now right?” he asks, hoping you confirm your aversion to cigarettes. you instead choose to tease him a little, humming a contradictory response to his question. he squints at you and you giggle. “i dunno, might have to try again so i can really make sure.”

he taps the ashes out the window, laughing at your reply. “you’re gonna get me in trouble with your dad there hun f’he finds out i turned his daughter into a little chain smoker,”

you slide your hands under your thighs, watching him for a moment before you speak. “i won’t tell if you don’t,” you repeat yourself from earlier, alluding to something else, hoping he reads your mind and understands your allusions.

he purses his lips in a slight upward furl, looking at you once he’s reached a red light. “someone’s gotten a whole lot sneakier since the last time i saw her,” you laugh, leaning into the headrest while you look at him. “a lots changed since,” you say, voice falling quietly and he holds your stare, his eyes betraying him by clearly darting down to your lips. the red light switches back to green, forcing him to look away from you.

your chest bloomed at the way he looked at you in that moment, unsure if you’re delusional in even considering the possibility he maybe could reciprocate the attraction you’re feeling. but a little delusion never hurt anyone anyways.

“it sure has,” he agrees, the corner of his eyes taking in your figure once more.

but he shakes the thought from his head, almost rebuking it and instead deciding to change the subject. “can’t fault you too much though. sarah’s the same way sometimes,” he says through a chuckle that sounds nervous — did you make him nervous?

again, you tell yourself you did.

you sit up straight at the mention of sarah, visibly growing excited. “oh my god sarah, how is she? it’s been so long, i’m sure she doesn’t remember me,” blurred memories of playing with plastic makeup sets, and real makeup you two ‘borrowed’ from her mom, replay in your mind at the mention of her.

he shakes his head, disagreeing at your slightly saddened thought of being forgotten by sarah. “she’s good, she’s in school just like yourself, and she does remember you hun! matter a fact, she’s home right now, if you’d like, you can come over for dinner and catch up with her,” you clap your hands together excitedly, nodding happily at his suggestion.

“yes! that sounds amazing, i would love to!” you accept and he smiles at the thought of his two girls sitting together talking at the dinner table.

“i’m sure she’s gonna lose her mind when she sees you,” he squeezes your knee and you go still, frozen in place when you feel the heat from his palm radiate into your skin.

his touch is gone too soon, you want to hold his wrist and keep him there, but you pretend his fleeting touch doesn’t affect you as strongly as it actually does.

the heat from his skin has become yours and you cradle it, pretending you’re not beaming in his passenger seat from it while he talks.

“i’m kinda nervous, it’s been so long,” you say, pressing the backs of your fingers to your cheeks and feeling the warmth of nervousness flush to the surface of your face.

“don’t be sweetpea, nothin to be nervous about, i promise,” he comforts your nerves with a soft voice, and you allow it to cushion you.

—

joel was right about two things.

you really did have nothing to worry about, you and sarah clicked right away as if no time had passed. she squealed when she saw you, racing towards you and enveloping you in a tight hug, rambling about how she’s missed you so much. it felt good to know you were never forgotten in her mind.

he was also right about sarah being sneaky.

or rather ‘persuasive’ and ‘just so happens to forget to mention certain things’ as she would put it.

she managed to convince both joel (which didn’t take much convincing to begin with) and your dad to let you sleep over, which you were ecstatic about for obvious reasons but also because she saved you from having to scramble for a reason as to why you closed up the shop early.

you’re in her bed now, sitting behind her while you help gather her hair into her baby pink bonnet, talking about anything and everything there is to talk about. while also getting ready to sleep off the high from the wax pen she has hidden under her pillow.

“i can’t believe you’re really here with me right now,” she grins as you move back in front of her, leaning into her opening arms.

“i know, me too, it’s been so long,” you hum, rubbing her shoulders. “i’m kidnapping you by the way, this was all just an elaborate scheme to lure you in.” she mentions casually and you laugh, falling back into her bed with her while you rest your head on her shoulder.

“fine by me,” you say, and you mean it, but you don’t add that in.

“i’m happy you’re here,” she whispers, her nose scrunching up against yours. you smile, holding your forehead to hers. “i am too.”

“are you busy tomorrow?” she asks, pulling the blankets over your bodies. you shake your head, curling under the covers. “nah, we’re closed tomorrow at the store and i don’t have school that day,” you say, feeling pure adoration as you watch sarah’s smile grow the more she listens to you talk.

“why don’t we spend the day together then! my dad’s gonna be at work so we’ll have the house to ourselves,” she whispers as all the excitement from the day starts to add weight into your bones, easing you both into rest.

you nod and smile sleepily, leaning into her arm that drapes over your side. “okay, i’ll call my dad tomorrow,” you yawn and she closes her eyes at that, content by your answer.

—

it’s 3am. you should not be awake. but you are, and you’re looking over at sarah, wishing you were fast asleep like she is. you carefully peel yourself out of her arms, gently covering her with the blankets before you pad out of her room and down into the kitchen for some water.

you tiptoe down the stairs, your heart sinking nervously right into a tight spot inside your stomach when you see the fridge door agape, with a broad back sticking out of it, also in search of something to drink.

joel rises and turns to see your stilled figure standing awkwardly, staring forward like you’ve just gotten caught stealing.

he chuckles, scratching a few lazy fingers down his stubble when he shuts the fridge. “what’re you doin up sweetpea?” he asks, and oh god his voice is nice and gravely, a rasp from the depths of sleep that he evades every night careens around your ears and you nearly fold at the knees.

“just uh, randomly woke up and i couldn’t go back to bed. was just gonna get some water, sorry,” you sound meek and joel shakes his head, and walks closer. you panic a little. it’s a good panic.

“nuthin’ to be sorry about hun, i’ll getchu some water,” he holds your arm, smiling softly down at you, nodding at you for confirmation. once again his touch abandons the skin of your upper arm when he leaves to fetch a cup for your water.

your hand graces the skin he touched as you watch him pour you water. he hands it to you, and you thank him quietly, taking a sip from the old plastic disney princess cup he picked out for you.

“so what woke you up? you feelin’ alright?” he murmurs, coming in close again to press the back of his hand to your forehead. you weren’t overheating until he decided to do that.

you swallow hard, shaking your head beneath his hand. “n-no no—well i mean yes, yes i’m-i’m okay, i just wake up randomly at odd hours of the night for some reason sometimes,” you say hushedly, afraid to disturb the peaceful silence the night brings.

he nods understandingly, withdrawing his hand from your face and you want to tell him he can keep it there, but you mentally digress.

“happens to me too,” he sighs, visibly tired with a hand lazily running down his stubble. “sorry you’re goin’ through it too then hun,” his thumb runs a small circle over your shoulder comfortingly and your body molds around the curve of his fingers.

“it’s okay,” you mumble shyly and he smiles softly, his touch stalling on yours before it drops back to his side. the air that fills the quiet kitchen turns into something warm and calming when it floats between your tired bodies, and it feels nice. feels domestic. soft smiles mirror each other on your faces and you look away, unable to handle the weight of his stare.

“so, do you um…do anything that helps you fall asleep?” you ask curiously, mostly just trying to make conversation to keep him tethered to you, even for just a moment longer.

he scratches his scruffy beard and sighs, nodding like he’s somewhat ashamed to admit. you grow curiouser, deciding to test the waters and inch in just the tiniest bit closer. “and what do you do?” you question through a whisper.

“i smoke,” he responds just as hushed and you chuckle. “sounds like you’ve got a bad habit.” you prod, lightly teasing and he takes the playful jab, chuckling along with you.

“well, we’ve all got our vices,” he smiles at you in a way that's playfully guilty, and you roll your eyes with the same playfulness before speaking again. “was i stopping you from taking a smoke?” you ask, and he shakes his head, denying the notion. “no no, and if you were it’d probably be for the best,” he shrugs and you grin. an idea occurs in your mind.

“can i smoke with you again?” you ask bravely and the volume in his laugh rises before he’s silencing himself so as to not wake sarah.

“ain’t happenin’, shouldn’t have even happened the first time,” he immediately shoots down your request but you have a sneaking suspicion you’ll wear him down.

“but you said it helps you go to sleep,” you counter with a pout and he sighs with faux exasperation.

“hun,” he says warningly again, eyeing you in a way that pins you where you stand. “first time seein’ you in what? 15 to 16 years and i’m already becomin’ a bad influence on you.” he says amusedly, his fingers dipping into the pocket of his plaid pajama bottoms, tracing over the curve of the loose cigarettes that await him.

“it’s not like you’re giving me hard drugs mr. miller,” you say, tilting a shoulder at him persuasively. his eyes trace over your face for a few passing seconds, taking in the way you look back at him before he decides what to do next.

“last time, understand? just to help you sleep.” he says, but it sounds like he’s more so reminding himself than he is you.

“okay,” you smile, following him to the loveseat that faces the window, and you assume this is where he usually smokes.

he cracks open the window, and sits down into the plump cushion, leaning against the very texan quilt that drapes over the seat. you sit down on the arm of the seat, stretching your legs above his knees, the closeness in proximity feels so personal, and you want to live the rest of your life in this quiet and intimate hour with joel.

he hands you a cigarette, watching you put it between your lips, his available hand straying off to the side to grab the lighter that’s on the tray beside the loveseat.

he flicks the lighter on and your faces become illuminated by the small flickering flame. he looks beautiful as he carefully lights the end of it, his eyes on the bud of it while your’s memorize each and every wrinkle that crinkles around his eyes.

“inhale, careful now,” his words of concern blanket over you and pave a smooth passageway for the smoke to enter into your lungs, successfully preventing you from breaking out into another coughing fit.

you inhale, and keep it before you fan it out the window. he smiles and pats your ankle that rests beside his lap. “there ya go,” he nods the crown of his head at you proudly. you bow humbly, handing him the cigarette.

“feels nice. makes me feel warm,” you mumble tiredly, watching the way he takes a drag effortlessly. “don’t get too used to it now,” he chides, words shadowed amidst the mist of his smoke.

“i won’t,” you reply with a knowing smile as he goes to hands it back to you. he pulls his hand that holds the cigarette back, eyeing you. he says your name in that tone and you wave him off, taking the cigarette from his fingers. “kidding,” you remedy his worries of your possible nicotine addiction in the nearby future, inhaling another drag.

you two go back and forth like this for awhile, until the cigarette becomes an unrecognizable little stub,

“feel sleepy yet?” he exhales through a fanning breath, and you nod, watching him flatten the bud into the ashtray beside his side of the armrest.

“good,” he yawns, lazily running a hand across the side of his beard. “got a long day tomorrow — or today technically, an’ so do you little miss, try an’ get some rest.” he drawls softly, sleepily, and you nod your tired head at his words, free falling into them.

“goodnight sweetpea,” he says with a gentle finality, leaning in to hold you by the back of your head, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. you crumble into his touch, shutting your eyes as if to fossilize yourself in the moment.

“goodnight,” you whisper, feeling cold when he pulls away. you wish you had thought of something more to say, anything at all that would’ve kept him in your presence for just a little longer, but now you’re stuck sitting alone in the living room, watching his broad back ascend up the stairs, wishing you were trailing behind him, with your hand in his.

you finish the rest of your water before you’re trudging back up the stairs, the weight of exhaustion lowering its heft onto your shoulders with each step upwards.

and as you crawl back into bed with sarah, despite the attempts to push the thoughts away, all you can think about are the ways in which her father could tire you out until you fell asleep.

___

after that day, the miller household practically became your second home. more often than not showing up to their house rather than your own after school and work.

at first you were worried that maybe you were beginning to overstay your welcome, that maybe they just didn’t know how to tell you to stop coming over so often. but they quickly put those insecurities to rest when sarah called you wondering why you hadn’t shown up after work, saying how joel set a plate for you at the table and it was getting cold.

they were just as attached to you as you were to them.

they really loved having you over, loved getting to make up for all those years you all went without each other, taking the time to relearn everything there is to know about the other.

for instance, joel learned you have an affinity for tight tank tops that ride a little too low on your chest and rise a little too high whenever you bend down.

his fingers have a tendency to straighten out your spaghetti straps, and he always murmurs something along the lines of, showin a lotta skin today huh hun?

you’d grow warm under his touch, hiding behind a pretty grin and an excuse of oh, heat’s just gettin’ to me lately, or his personal favorite, damn dryer shrunk my clothes again.

he doesn’t mind whatever your excuse is, he’d just hand you his flannel, telling you to at least wrap it around your waist whenever guys were around, because i know how men think, he’d explain and you wouldn’t argue, you’d happily accept his flannel and listen to his heeding.

you wonder if he was having the same thoughts he was trying to prevent other men from having about you.

you like to tell yourself he was.

but there is one thing you don’t have to convince yourself of. joel really, truly, and utterly cares for you.

joel is nothing if not protective, he just wants to look out for you, make sure you’re safe, that you’re okay, and so when you called him at work, voice trembling and meekly asking if he can pick you up, naturally, he abandoned his meeting at work to race over to you.

creating blueprints for a new apartment building suddenly became unimportant the second he heard your voice crack over the phone.

he could hear the way your breath paused for a moment, only to come out shakily through tears when he asked if you were alright. your audible sadness casted immediate worry and concern over him, instilling itself in his chest.

he sees you now, rushing to walk out of the store, locking it on your way out, and he hops out of his truck, wanting to be the first thing you’re greeted by as soon as you raise your head.

relief rinses through you the moment you see joel standing in front of his truck, your eyes betraying the attempt at strength you were fighting so hard to have the second he pulls you into his arms.

his hands feel warm and heavy behind your back, rubbing all the quiet sobs out from you with each gentle circular movement.

“oh babygirl,” he murmurs under his breath, feeling his heart break with each little gasp you make through your tears. “what happened?” he asks, unintentionally causing the tears to fall harder, making you fist at his button up.

“today has been so bad,” you finally say, your head resting on his strong chest, shaking fingers tracing over the seams of his button up in an attempt at self soothing.

“wanna get inside an’ talk about it?” he asks just above a whisper, keeping his voice soft for you. you nod, twisting the knife in his chest when you sniffle.

he helps you into his truck, shutting the door behind you, meeting back with you soon once he’s in the driver’s seat.

“now what happened honey?” he asks, and you take in a deep breath through the tears, waving your hands at your eyes to try and stop the stinging sensation at your waterline.

“today has just been one bad thing after the other,” you wipe away the stray tears with annoyed fists, wishing they would cease their incessant presence. “first, i got into a fight with my dad, he called me selfish and inconsiderate for not canceling class to come down to the shop earlier and that there’s no point in attending class because i’m just gonna get overwhelmed and quit anyway,” you barely manage to say tearfully, further etching a frown into joel’s features, his chest aching at the way you’re visibly hurting.

he says your name tenderly, matching the way his hand reaches out for you to hold. you squeeze his hand, holding onto it when it rises upwards to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping a stray tear across your cheekbone.

you lean into his palm, shutting your eyes at his touch. “and i’m scared he’s right, today in class i was so stressed all i wanted to do was walk out,” you whimper ashamedly, and joel shushes you, bringing his free hand to fully hold your face, turning your gaze back up to meet his. his hold on you is delicate, like you’re a dandelion amidst a strong breeze, and all he wants to do is keep you with him, safe and sound.

your cheeks are cradled by his hands, his calluses turning into a thing of comfort against your cheeks, along with his thumbs that swipe away the tears that refuse to concede from your lash line.

he holds you like this for a while, wordlessly guiding your breathing with his, evening out your sporadic hiccups induced by your crying, settling your nerves down to a more manageable level.

your eyes flutter shut at the safety he drapes over you, your smaller hands holding onto his wrists, mindlessly running your thumb along his knuckles. “wish you were with me at work today,” you mumble, imagining the way he would’ve protected you from the creepy customers you had to deal with.

“what else happened?” he lightly coaxes it out of you, wanting you to get everything out so you don’t have to carry the burden of the day’s stress on your shoulders.

“these guys came in, and they were just so weird,” your hands tighten around his wrists, recounting the uncomfortable interaction you were subjected to.

“kept…kept making weird jokes about everything…i said if they needed anything to let me know and i heard one of them tell their friend i better be careful saying things like that, and they like—ugh,” you take a moment to catch your breath, refocusing on the way joel’s gently running his fingers across your temples, something he’d do for you in the middle of the night whenever you’d get a headache.

“they kept making jokes about me taking off my clothes because it’s summer and it’s hot or whatever i dunno it was stupid but they kept ‘suggesting’ i should lose the tank top because walking around in a bra is the same as wearing s bikini at the beach,” you grimace at the fresh memory, and joel wants to take it away from you, wants to wash you clean of all the pain you felt today.

when you look up at joel his jaw is clenched, lower jaw jutting out in anger, his hands falling from your face down to your hands, holding them in his, while he shakes his head. “fuckin’ disgusting,” he mutters to himself. “probably good i wan’t there, woulda fuckin’ killed them,” he utters under his breath, and more so to himself, his hands migrating down to your hands, squeezing them hard. his eyes that hold an image of what he’d do to the men who harassed you dissipate as soon as they shift back up to you. “i’m sorry hun,” he sighs, cupping your cheek, cradling you into his palm, speaking gentler this time, “an’ as for your dad well…he’s an asshole. but i know you already know that,” he pauses to smile at your little giggle.

“he couldn’t be more wrong about you. you are so smart hun, an’ you can and will accomplish everything you set your mind to.” the soft gravel of his voice tides around you like an embrace, enveloping you in it as an attempt to wash you clean of your distress.

your eyes well and your heart soars up high inside your chest at his kindness.

“thank you mr. miller, you are so nice to me, it—it means so much coming from you, and i can’t even begin to explain how grateful i am that you even came here at all,” he left work for you. you groan with guilt at the remembrance. “and—god i’m so sorry that i just like, randomly called you at work i’m so sorry you were probably super busy, i just didn’t know who else to go to,” you ramble with guilt, but joel’s already shaking his head as you rattle off with apologies, his hands coming back up to your cheeks, stilling the words on your tongue.

“hey hey hey,” he shushes you softly. “no apologies, okay?” his thumb runs under your lash line, clearing away your tears. “i’m glad you called me, rather you call me than have to hear what happened from someone else.” he pacifies your guilt for calling him, and he does it successfully, watching the upset furrow between your brows disappear.

your lip trembles and you suck it in between your teeth, closing your eyes and leaning forward into his chest. he takes you in with no hesitation, his arms forever acting as a sanctity for you to hide in whenever you need.

he hesitantly pulls away from you for a moment, mumbling a soft, give me a sec sweetie. he shifts around to the pull at the bottom of the driver seat, extending it backwards and giving him more space between him and the steering wheel.

“cmere,” he says above a whisper, opening his arms for you once more. you’re being guided into his lap, gently wrangled in until you’re wrapped up in the thick protection of his strong biceps. he rubs your back, head resting safely on top of your’s, keeping you down to earth, keeping you in his arms.

he takes in all your tears, takes in every racking sob from your chest into his, his lips every so often pressing their silent reminders of his presence into your temple. he rocks you back and forth, his soft shushes folding over the sound of your fading cries, lulling you into a calmness you didn’t know you could feel.

“you’re okay, you’re okay,” he promises, and you believe him. you finally raise your head from his chest, the scent of him still lingering around you, his presence feels pliable, the way he’s looking at you, eyes downturned and scanning all over your face lovingly feels like a sign you know isn’t real. he says nothing, just clears away your stray tears, and that’s when you act.

you lean in, holding his wrist and intertwining your fingers as your lips do the same. you sigh into his mouth, ascending in his arms when you feel him kiss you back just as rushedly, almost like if he’s too slow you’ll vanish from him.

but it’s him who vanishes first. he pulls apart from you with a gasp, shifting you further away from him in his lap, your heart immediately cracking straight down the middle. “what’re you…what are you doing?” his questioning comes out breathless, he feels like he’s asking himself rather than he is you, and he prays you say the right thing, he prays that you call him disgusting and that you climb right out of his lap, removing the temptation and opportune to lean back in.

but you don’t. “i’m sorry,” you whimper, embarrassment flushing through your whole body, he shuts his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose. “i’m too old for you, you know that right?,” his knuckles drag across your cheekbone, and you nod solemnly, swallowing hard. “i’m not a kid though, joel,” you say shakenly, nerves rattling your bones when you say his name for the first time, unhidden by the lieu of mr. miller.

“compared to me, you are,” he sighs, his hands gripping his own thighs, weighing them down to prevent them from gravitating to your’s. “i’m too old for you,” he repeats to himself, closing his eyes and leaning into the headrest, the sight and feeling of you looking up at him in his lap is too much for him to combat. “i’d be takin advantage of you,” he mutters, shaking his head, guilt starting to settle into the base of his chest.

you’re quiet for awhile, and he takes it as his answer. that he’s right, this is wrong.

but you contradict his thoughts. reaching up to pull his gaze back onto you. “you’re not taking advantage of me, i know that i want this.” you promise hushedly, and he wants to believe you. your eyes connect once more, a quiet tug of air being shared between the two of you, and you’re willing to let him have it, to let him have all the air you can offer and more. he leans in and you stay still, watching when he inches backward when he gets too close, like you’re a flame whose flicker burns too bright the closer he gets. and when you inch in, you can’t get yourself to break the seal and press yourself into him, a weight of nerves keeping you stagnant before him.

his stare rises and falls down from your eyes to your lips, and you feel it in your bones that your body needs to have him more than it needs anything else. your gaze rests on him while your body acts for you, your hand finding his and holding it, squeezing it. “please,” you whisper, your words leaving you before you can process them. he swallows down everything holding him back, lurching forward to take your lips into his. his hand slides from yours, and up your arm, squeezing it as a test to see if you’re real. his hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, kissing you hard and keeping you still, greedily wanting to keep you all for himself, wanting to memorize the taste of cherry coke on your tongue and raspberry lip balm on your lips.

it smears across his own lips, your taste immersing with his own, his mustache and beard tickling your skin just like you imagined it would, and you moan in his mouth at the feeling, flicking your tongue desperately over his, mindlessly bucking your hips against his. he groans deeply into you, grasping your hips and rocking himself into you, not a single thought in his head, just a carnal need to feel your cunt satiate the ache traveling down his cock.

you pull apart for a breath, lips still pushed together, foreheads melded in close, hips crashing into each other with need. “feels so good,” you whimper into his mouth, the pleasure from the friction making you blatantly honest.

he nods in agreement, never having heard truer words. his fingers indent the shape of themselves into your flesh, his hips acting on their own, desperate to push up into you while his mouth catches yours once more.

he groans, his cock twitching when he feels you slip your tongue into his mouth, a little moan of your own floating out when you taste a hint of root beer from his kiss.

your movements grow rushed, hands finding the heft of his flannel and fisting it to steady the heavy rocking of your hips crashing and tiding over his cock.

desperation flows in your veins where your blood once was, replacing all sense of anything except for the physical need to rut your cunt against his bulge. he can’t keep up, all he can do is let his head fall in your shoulder, his big hands coming around to find purchase on your welcoming hips. his thighs clench underneath yours, tensing when he feels you dampen him through his pants.

“baby,” he finally lets out shakily, thumbs running circles over your hips. “can’t—shit,” a beat passes with an involuntary grunt falling from his lips. “cant, can’t do this here,” he breathes, eyes hanging low upon you, his hips betraying his words with each thrust that meets your pelvis.

you slow your movements, catching your breath quietly, nodding in a silent agreement. “i don’t wanna stop,” you admit truthfully, no longer feeling bashful about the fact.

his cock aches at your honesty and he exhales through his nose, his hands tightening around you. “don’t have to,” he swallows, eyes drifting down to your hardened nipples. “just not here.”

his answer satiates you, which almost leaves him regretful when you climb off his lap and leave him cold and void of your warm cunt pressed up against him.

he starts the truck and all you can do is stare at the concentrated look on his face and his hands gripping the steering wheel.

you wonder if he’ll hold you by your throat the same way. your thighs squeeze together tightly, causing the hem of your jean shorts to rub against your clit just enough to soothe the ache inadvertently caused by joel.

he notices, eyeing you up and down, lips parted just a breadth at the sight. his hand itches to alleviate some of the pressure you’re carrying deep inside you, but instead he alleviates some of his own first. his right hand falls from the steering wheel for a moment, just to squeeze his cock when he watches the way you squirm and stare up at him from his passenger seat.

he turns away, knowing he’ll crash if he keeps staring at you, bringing his wandering hand back to the wheel.

“can i touch you?” you ask, seemingly innocent and his eyes shut for a passing second, a curt shake of his head joining the action. “not a good idea—“ he really wants you to though “gonna make me crash,” he exhales, though his hips say otherwise, inching towards your side with need.

your hand trails from his thigh down to his crotch, palming over him gently, and he grips the steering wheel, jaw vibrating with low groans.

a 10 minute drive has never felt so far until now.

your fingers curl over his bulge, straining against the seatbelt trying to lean in as close as it’ll let you until you decide to rid yourself of it all together.

“seatbelt,” he says warningly, and with concern, but you wash it away the second your lips meet the side of his neck, with your hand pawing over him to ensure his submission. and joel just about crumbles far too easily at the touches.

you’re impatient, he definitely sees that now, and you’re making it way harder than it needs to be for him to maintain his self control.

“i thought about this a lot,” you hum in his ear, leaving kisses in the wake of your warm words. his throat gets tight just like his lower belly, excitement strumming through him when he halts at a red light.

he turns towards you now, his hand dipping between your thighs, a little upward curl of his lips teasing the side of your cheek, his scruff leaving kisses of their own on your skin.

you stifle a whimper, holding onto his wrist when you grind down on his fingers. “thought about touching me like how i’m touchin’ you?” he murmurs, pressing chaste kisses to your jaw. you nod, your chest pounding at the wave of realization of what’s happening. it excites you.

“thought about it too,” he pulls away from you when the light turns green, and you stay frozen, your body suddenly unsure of how to function with a lack of his touch and proximity.

“didn’t wanna admit it to myself, but i thought about doin…a lot more than that whenever you’d come around,” he pays you a once over, his eyes lingering over the plushness of your thighs that fill his passenger seat.

“your skirts and shorts kept gettin’ so damn short, i felt guilty for wondering if it was on purpose,” a smugness takes over his face when he glances at you. “an’ now i know it was.”

you flutter at his confessions, a sense of pride swelling in you at the confirmation that your little tactics seemed to have paid off. “i just wanted your attention,” you say softly, words falling like pillows and he catches them with open arms.

his glance shifts from his crotch, up to your eyes knowingly, and he smiles faintly. “i can tell you that you had it even before you started wearin all that,” he rests his hand on your thigh, guiding the wheel with his left hand now. “but i can’t say i minded the change in outfits.” he brings his fingers over your clit, putting pressure over it and you whine quietly, bucking your hips into his touch.

“if you ever want me to stop you need to tell me okay?” he tells you, and he’s serious, his fingers pull away for emphasis and you nod profusely, holding onto his wrist desperately. “i promise, joel i don’t wanna stop,” you plead with him, and as a simple man that he is, he doesn’t seem to need much more convincing. the pads of his fingers run circles over your clothed clit, and you grind down into it, hungry for more.

“i want you,” you pant and he chuckles, drumming his thumb against the steering wheel.

“you’ve got me.”

“but i want more.”

—

it’s quiet when you arrive back at his house, the driveway is thankfully void of sarah’s little yellow volkswagen and relief blankets across your shoulders knowing she isn’t home.

he ushers you inside, his broad, strong chest pressed up against your back with his hands guiding you by your hips.

he closes the door with his back, leaning against it, watching you turn around to face him. it’s quiet for a few ticking seconds, and he watches as you lean in closer towards him. he doesn’t stop you but he doesn’t lean in to meet you halfway either. he says your name like he’s unsure if he’s even allowed to utter it, purposefully avoiding eye contact. you hum a soft little “yes?” and he sighs, his eyes falling shut for a moment.

“this ain’t right,” he reminds himself, and his hands begin to loosen on your hips. you clamp a hand over one of his, the other coming up to lure him back into you, a gentle palm of yours cupping his scruffy jaw, thumb running across the crows feet that gather at the corner of his eye. “says who?” you counter gingerly and he chuckles breathlessly, shaking his head in your hold, feeling all restraint trickle straight off him the second his eyes catch yours.

you move your hand away from his when his grip grows tight again, letting your now free hand hold both sides of his face when you go up on your tippy toes to meet him for a kiss.

he catches you off guard and pulls you deeper into him, your crotches pressed flush together when he slips his tongue into your mouth, hooking and reeling you in.

you moan into his mouth and it eggs him on, sending his hand into a downward motion towards your ass. he feels smug when you whimper in his mouth, pushing harder against his cock when he squeezes your ass.

he rubs over your ass posessively, squeezing it hard, almost in disbelief that he gets to have you like this. kiss “need you to tell me if and when you wanna stop,” kiss. you don’t reply, you just fall into him whenever he presses his lips back to yours. your lack of a response leaves him discontent and he pulls apart an inch, eyeing you down expectantly. you huff impatiently, hooking your arms around his neck. “promise. i will.” which is good enough for him as he melds into you once more.

his hands roam all over you, caressing, holding, squeezing all the places that only his eyes have traveled.

it feels good, it feels all encompassing, to feel the trails of fire his hands leave all across your skin, and you can’t get enough. “can we,” a kiss to your throat, “go to your room?” you ask, somewhat breathless and he pauses for a second, eyes tracing the outline of your bitten lips before he nods. he holds your hand, leading you into his bedroom.

the second you’re inside you’re guiding him into his own bed after having shut the door. he gazes at you amusedly, handing you the reins for a moment, keeping his hands on the edge of them while you take charge. he thinks it’s cute.

you sit him at the edge of his bed, straddling him while you push at his chest until his back meets the mattress. you’re leaning back down, holding his face in your hands, your lips hastily meeting his once more. he welcomes you, his hands holding you down on top of him by your hips.

you grind down on him, panting in his mouth at how good it feels to have him pressed right against your cunt. but it’s not enough. you need more.

your hands travel down his strong chest, fixing towards unbuttoning his flannel. he lets you, busying himself with unbuttoning your little denim shorts, but he wants to unwrap you slowly. he wants to make a show of it.

he flips you on your back and you gasp, feeling hot under his stare and stature above you. his knees rest on either side of you, indenting the bed while he maintains eye contact. his fingers take their time unzipping your shorts, and you whine quietly, bucking your hips towards him.

he pushes you back down and shushes you. “patience.” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs over your upper thighs. he doesn’t rush taking your shorts off, wanting to savor the feeling of getting to do this for as long as he can. the vision of you in his bed, wet, and impatient, laying before him in your little pink panties is about to make him burst.

he’s still fully clothed above you and it casts a warm feeling throughout your bare body. you bring your knees close to your tummy, shutting your legs at your sudden shyness. he moves in closer, shaking his head with his palms on your knees.

he pushes them back down, slipping a hand between your thighs. you gasp, arching your back into him and exhaling with relief when his fingers trace over your clothed clit. “i wanna see you honey,” he careens you gently, coaxing your shyness away. your legs part for him, and he takes full advantage, running the pads of his fingers up and down slowly, feeling the slickness start to bleed through your panties.

he pushes them to the side, swirling over your clit and feeling proud when you moan into his shoulder. he dips into your little soaked hole, exhaling into your neck at how wet you are. “barely e’n touched you and you’ve already made a mess,” he tsks you lovingly, hints of teasing in his words, and it only excites you more. your stomach and chest get tight at his touches and the way he talks to you, it’s so unreal, and you could honestly cry in this moment from how bad you want to fuck him.

“i always get like this for you—oh,” you cry out into his shoulder when he pushes his thick middle finger inside you, his digit so long that it easily hits the little spongy spot inside you that you usually struggle to reach.

“aw sweetpea,” he coos, kissing your forehead while his finger curls inside you. “got you walkin’ around all hot and bothered with no release, i’m sorry,” he kisses your temple, his gentleness contradicting the way he’s fucking you with his finger, grunting under his breath at how tight the fit is when he works in his ring finger.

you choke on a gasp at the stretch, starting to wonder if his cock will fit if his fingers are already making you feel like this.

“you gonna make it up to me?” you whimper, still maintaining an air of playfulness in your response. he chuckles, pulling apart ever so slightly to look at you, to watch the way you struggle to stare up at him with his fingers in your cunt.

“i’ll make it up to you, and then some,” he says, his voice falling low on a raspy curve. you believe him, his response feeling like a promise he intends to keep.

he’s on you again and you invite it wholly, legs coming around on either side of him go trap him into you. his fingers fuck into that sweet little spot inside you, every single flick of his wrist has your lower back bucking up into his touch.

his palm hits your clit with every movement, it’s almost cruel, giving you just an inch when you need a mile. you’re running your hands all over him, kissing him messily even when there’s a mix of your saliva dribbling on your chin and air is depleting from your lungs. none of it matters, all that does is consuming as much of joel as humanly possible.

your fingers struggle to unbutton his flannel once more, shaking and trembling too much to do it as ladylike as you wish you could but he doesn’t mind, it makes his cock twitch knowing he’s the reason why you can’t stay still.

“feels so good joel,” you whimper, fucking yourself onto his fingers when you finally undo all the pesky buttons on his flannel. he kisses your cheek, his beard tickling your skin while you slide your hands underneath his wife beater.

“good honey, s’all i wanna do,” he curls his finger right there, drinking in your cries with his lips clamped over yours. your nails drag down his chest and he winces above you, your lips still brushing together. “sh-shit m’so so sorry joel,” you remedy the scratches with gentle caresses but he shakes his head, kissing your chin. “no no s’alright baby—kinda liked it,” he chuckles, thumbing over your clit, precum starting to leak through his boxers at the way you keen into him at the little action. you giggle at his response, raking your nails softly down his chest, fingers suddenly halting only to begin trembling when he picks up the pace inside you.

“want more joel, i—fuck,” you’re panting, arching up into him, the saturation of the room is getting dimmer and glittery, it’s hard to keep your eyes open and the pounding in your chest and cunt is nearly blinding you. “need more of you, please? please god i’ll do anything,” your desperation is loud and clear and you couldn’t care less. he can feel it, can feel you gripping his fingers, squeezing him so good and he certainly hears how ready you are for him; he revels in the slick clicking sound eliciting from between your legs because of, again, him.

he swipes the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes and he shushes you, kissing you wherever your tears appeared, rubbing that little spot inside of you soothingly.

you hum in pleasure, hands traveling up to his shoulders. “don’t need to cry honey, i’ll give i’to you,” his promises fan out over your lips, slipping his fingers out of you.

the loss of his fingers inside you feels cruel, you feel clingy, all you want is joel near you, around you, on you, and in you.

the sound of his hands undoing his belt hangs in the air, quiet and low breaths of desperation flicker from out your lips while you watch him pull himself out of his jeans. his cock, fat and heavy, and twitching, falls with heft on your lower tummy, resting with impatience on your skin.

you whimper, hand nervously wrapping around it, your fingers barely able to cover the thick circumference of it. “you’re huge,” you choke, unintentionally adding fuel into his ego and he chuckles, shaking his head when he kisses you.

“you’re flatterin’ me,” he murmurs against your lips, wrapping a hand around himself, guiding his tip to circle around your clit. you gasp, curling upwards into him, your forehead resting on his broad shoulder. you kiss his bare skin, the comfort of his skin to yours soothes you while he slides his cock up and down your folds.

“oh—ooh,” you suck in a big breath, hands flying to his forearms to hold onto when he starts to push in, his tip inching into you feels just as big as it looks. “shit,” you whimper at the burn that follows along with the stretch that he pushes into you and he pauses with concern. he hovers above you like a gracious adonis and it almost makes you forget the twinge of pain between your thighs.

“you need me to stop?” he asks, his words of gentleness cradling you and you shake your head, running your palms down his chest. “no, please keep going, i can take it,” you nod as further emphasis, pushing your hips up, aching to feel more of him.

he brings his lips to your’s again, sighing when he feels your little moan escape into his mouth. his cock rocks into you at a steady pace, unintentionally pushing you further up into his bed, and he holds onto you tighter, not wanting you to move an inch away from him.

“haven’t felt like—shit,” he shudders something like a whimper against your lips, and you have to hold back a moan at the sound. “ha-haven’t felt like this in so long honey,” he swallows hard, caressing the side of your face. “haven’t thought about someone like this in years’,” he groans, pushing his cock in deeper.

your clit pulses at the way he speaks to you, the way he fucks you. “had to fuckin’ jerk off like i was a teenager again after you’d leave—y’have no idea what the hell you’ve been doin’ to me honey,” he messily kisses you between each word, his thrusts growing heavy and rough inside you, the fat head of his cock prodding perfectly into the spongy little spot inside of you.

“should’ve told me sooner joel,” you whine, bucking your hips to feel more of his cock. “touched myself every night thinking of you,” you whimper out, eyes falling shut when you feel his lower half brush against your clit. he pushed in especially deep at your confession, and you gasp, holding onto him tighter.

“joel—fuck, sl-slow down, it’s so much,” you cry, barely able to hold onto him while he starts to pound into you, like he’s lost the reins and his body is in control now, an energy and stamina he hasn’t had since he was in his 20’s was back in full force and it all went into fucking you stupid.

“m’sorry honey—you just, ohfuck, feel so good an the things you’re sayin’ i just—fuck i can’t help it,” he breathes out, pressing a chaste kiss to your bitten lips. “just take it for me baby,” he groans, his hands squeezing your tits before traveling down to your hips.

his head hangs low while he splits you open on his cock, struggling to keep his eyes from shutting, but he forces them open to watch the way his cock stretches you wide. “you’re so big,” you whine, teeth coming down to sink into the heft of his shoulder. he groans in your neck, sending you a particularly hard thrust.

the scent of cigarettes wafts around you the more he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips nip at your skin and you whimper into his shoulder at the thought of you going home smelling like him.

his calloused hands mold to the shape of your body no matter where they travel, forming perfectly around you to hold onto you as tight as he can.

silence falls between you two, the only communication occurring is the shared grunts and groans that slip into each other’s open mouths. his forehead rests on yours, occasionally moving to your collarbone or ducking down to graze his teeth across your breasts, tongue darting out to wetten your nipples.

the sound of your soaked cunt getting fucked is near obnoxious—it’s loud, and you pray that the windows in his bedroom are shut, because there’s no doubt that if they aren’t, his neighbors will hear everything.

your legs shakily hang off his lower back, pushing him in deeper and deeper.

his thrusts start to slow in pace, and each drag of his cock inside you feels hypnotic, feels amazing, and he groans the same sentiments in your ear, kissing the skin behind it. “m’sorry,” his hips pause to a halt and you panic for a second, wondering if you somehow did something wrong. “everything okay?” you ask softly, clearing the hair away from his eyes. he nods, avoiding eye contact embarrassedly. “my back—startin to cramp up on me,” he mutters, pulling out of you and you hold back a sound of disappointment from the lack of weight on top of you.

he sits up, back facing away from you, head in his hands. “i’m sorry honey,” he apologizes, still not looking at you. you frown, shuffling on your knees towards him. you hold him from behind, kissing the side of his neck.

“don’t be.” you murmur, moving around in front of him now. you push at his chest gently, clambering on top of him. his eyes widen, a grin slowly spreading across his lips while his hands rest on your thighs. “what’re you doin?” he asks under a raspy breath, his cock twitching underneath you with excitement.

you hold his shaft, realigning him with your eager hole, leaning down to press a kiss before you speak. “i’m taking over.” is all you say as you sink down on his cock, wincing at the intrusion.

his eyes roll back and his head falls into the pillow, his hands starting to grip your hips. “baby,” he moans to himself, his cheeks growing hot. you have to inch him in at a cautious pace but he doesn’t mind, your tight warmth is something he welcomed wholeheartedly.

you start to grind your hips experimentally, hoping it feels good for him. you honestly have no idea what you’re doing. you’ve only had sex once but you don’t know if it even really counts.

if a guy putting it in then pulling out because he came too fast counted then, sure you’ve had sex.

however all of this; it’s different with joel, that was a boy, and now you’ve got a man’s cock buried in your pussy. and you want to make him feel like one, you don’t want him to feel ashamed about his age or anything like that. you’ll make him forget about everything.

you shudder a breathy moan at the new position, resting your hands on his broad chest, admiring the beautiful man that rests under you. “tell me what makes you feel good joel,” you murmur, head falling towards him, making direct eye contact with him. he swallows hard, his cock aching at how fucking hot you are.

“shit baby, just use me how you want, use my cock honey.” he groans, licking his fingers and bringing it to your clit. you whine, almost toppling over on top of him at the contact, but you hold yourself up, determined to make both yourself and joel feel good.

you grab his hands, unclamping them from the grip that rested around your hips and instead dragging them up your sides and onto your breasts, silently telling him to squeeze as much as he pleases.

and that he does.

he squeezes them, bucking his hips upwards into yours as he watches the way your flesh fills the gaps between his fingers. you rise and fall onto his cock, bouncing on it with a rhythm that hits every sensitive spot inside of you.

you look down to where you meet, sucking in your bottom lip at the sight of him disappearing inside of you each time you lower yourself onto him. you rock back and forth, whimpering at how deep he can reach in you. you watch the way he swirls his fingers over your clit, touching you better than you could ever do on your own time.

“c’mere honey,” he groans for you, and you obey, bending down to rest on his chest. he stops you before you can fully lay on top of him, holding you just under your ribs. he pulls you into his mouth, sucking over the soft flesh of your chest, tongue licking messily and hungrily all over your breasts. you gasp, arching your back into his mouth. “j-joel,” you moan, struggling to maintain the rhythm you built.

his teeth tease your nipples and you shiver, your nails digging into his shoulders at the sensation. you bounce on his cock, mind going numb and fuzzy while your senses take over, each thrust feeling like electric in your veins.

after he’s done sucking bruises into your soft flesh, your hands reconnect once more, and you pin them down beside his head, hovering above him while you ride his cock.

i love you, almost slips from your lips while you stare at each other, chests rising and falling heavily, mouths parted, tongues darting out to wet your lips with hunger. the words hang in the air without sound, you’re sure of it.

you grind down onto him as far as you can take him, feeling him nudge your cervix, and you whimper at just how deep he can go inside of you. he takes your moment of weakness as an opportunity to flip you right back to where you all started; underneath him.

you gape at him, unable to process his quick movements. you’re laying at the foot of the bed now, and he’s grabbing your calves, tugging you closer towards him. he pushes back in and wastes no time in pounding you like nothing happened. he grabs your leg, pushing it up further towards your chest, angling himself in even deeper, pure desire fueling him. “shit baby,”

he mutters, his hair falling in his eyes as he kisses your jaw.

he rubs your clit with his thick fingers and you cry out, starting to tremble uncontrollably beneath him. “think m’gonna cum joel, m’so so so close,” you whine, your eyes falling heavy with your impending orgasm.

“let me have it honey, cmon,” he kisses his encouragement into your cheek, fucking you with determination to make you cum, hard. his fingers never relent on your clit, and you can’t stop the panting that leaves your lips, all you can do is writhe beneath him while he fucks you through your dizzying climax. you moan his name in breathy chants, spasming as your body tries it’s best to ride out the stimulation that joel bombards you with.

his hips grow messy and sporadic, he’s catching your lips in a hot kiss, tongues clashing and saliva falling to the corners of your mouth. barely taking any time to break apart for air. “m’almost there—where can i…” he trails off breathlessly, unsure of how to ask in a way that a gentleman would ask but you don’t care, you don’t need him to sound like one, not when he’s fucking you as if he’s never heard the word before.

“inside, y-you can do it inside, please,” you beg with need, curling your legs around his hips and pushing down on his lower back. he shudders, and has a millisecond to want to ask you if you’re sure, but he can’t stop pushing himself inside you, it feels too good, and he’s glad you’re trapping him between your legs, because he never wants to stop.

“sh-shit, i’m cummin’ honey,” he shakily moans in your mouth, struggling to keep his kiss coherent but the way your spent cunt tightens around him makes him lose all sense. you whimper against his lips, feeling hyper sensitive to each and every touch, but the feeling of him cumming inside you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

he slowly pulls out of you, peppering your face with kisses when you make a sound of discomfort. you two lie in a comfortable silence, trying to catch your breaths. you turn to look at each other, and he smiles at you, leaning over to cup your face in his palm. “you okay?” he murmurs softly, running his thumb across your cheekbone. you nod into his touch, holding the back of his hand with yours. “yeah,” you grin. “you?”

he chuckles heartily, and nods as well. “yeah. i’m alright,” he sends a playful wink and you can’t believe that it still manages to make your tummy flutter with butterflies. you suppose he’ll always have that effect on you.

you stare at him for a little longer, testing the waters to see if he’ll stop you as you lift up his arm and scoot closer to him. and when he doesn’t, you smile to yourself while he only pulls you in closer, tightening his arms around you. you can feel his heartbeat against your back, and you’ve never felt more soothed before.

you trace the veins on his strong arm that cradles you into him, your head resting on his other bicep. you don’t want to disrupt the peacefulness that’s settled upon you both, but you have questions that just might do that.

“joel?” you ask and he hums a response. “would you ever want to do this again? or not even this but just…like…hangout?” you unknowingly grip onto his arm with nervousness, and hope that he says yes.

he takes in a breath and you shut your eyes at the impending rejection. “honey,” he starts, and your eyes glisten with tears already. “i don’t know if this is something we should’ve done to begin with—not that i regret it—lord,” he shakes his head, chuckling dryly to himself. “lord knows i don’t regret it. but i don’t know if this is something we could sustain. i want to though, sweetpea trust me that i do,” he tilts your chin towards him, feeling his heart break when he sees your watery eyes looking back at him.

“oh honey,” he sighs sadly, shifting you around so you can look up at him properly. his arms encase you, his warm hand running up and down your back while he pressed gentle kisses to your forehead. “why?” is all you manage to ask and he shuts his eyes, resting his chin on top of your head. “your dad’ll shoot me down and hang my body in front’of the whole neighborhood if he knew. and sarah? i don’t think she’d take kindly to me datin’ her best friend.” you hate that he makes perfect sense and you hate that you sound childish, that you didn’t even take either of those things into consideration.

“we don’t have to tell them—at least not now? and we don’t have to be anything serious, i just…i like being around you.” you softly murmur, feeling pathetic as tears line your lashes once again. he thumbs across them, ridding your eyes of their wetness. “i like being around you too,” he returns your sentiments, leaning down to peck you. it feels gentle, domestic, and you can’t imagine going without more of them.

“i’ll still pick you up after you have class, i still want you to come over for dinner like you usually do, nothin’ has to change and,” he closes his eyes for a beat. “—despite everything i said, i…i don’ know if i could handle not havin’ you around honey, feels like somethin’s missin’ when you’re not around.” he admits, and to himself as well, for the first time.

you bloom with happiness at his words, surging forward to kiss him. he holds you by the back of your neck, tracing circles into your jaw. you hold his face in your hands, pressing kisses along his cheeks, feeling warm all over and when he laughs. it’s filled with a comforting airiness.

he holds your wrist, turning to kiss your palm. he plucks your index finger, bringing it to his lips to kiss gently. “got me wrapped around this little thing,” he says just above a whisper, and your heart aches, overflowing with adoration.

the door suddenly opens downstairs and you both share a look of horror.

“dad? i’m home!”

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