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almostempty · 4 months ago

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Want You Bad

Self Esteem Part 2

Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel ignores you at the lake until he can't. Loosely inspired by the song Want You Bad by The Offspring (to stay on theme, ya know?).

Warnings: fuckboy!Joel, dub con, smut, pwp, unprotected piv sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, public sex, reader is still sippin' on some dumb bitch juice for Joel (me), smash and dash, get railed against a truck, emotionally manipulative but sexually proficient Joel, toxic breadcrumbing Joel fucks, dirt, no use of y/n, AU no outbreak,

Notes: please leave feedback! open to constructive criticism or delusional inspiration

Thanks: major thanks to everyone who read part 1, as well as my muse @auteurdelabre , and my co-chair of the horny4joel club @lovely-vamp-princess for encouraging me

WC: 4.8K

AO3: Here | Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 3: Kick and Scream

Part 4: The more you suffer

Your fingers hover over the brightly lit screen of your phone. Your friend, Katie, invited you to a barbecue at Toad Lake and assured you it would be a relaxed group. Just food, drinks, sun, and swimming. But how can it be relaxing if Joel is going to be there? If he was even invited. If he even shows up. He drives you insane. It’s her fault anyway.

Katie’s boyfriend was friends with Tommy. Tommy invited Joel to some karaoke night at a bar a few months back. That was the catalyst for your personal hell. You don’t even know why he showed up; he refused to sing anything. But he did offer to give you a ride home so Katie could leave with her man.

You were surprised by the gesture. The way he’d barely said anything to you all night made you think he wasn’t interested in remembering your name. But the way his shoulders filled out the green flannel he wore and then when he rolled up the sleeves? He was like The Brawny Man come to life. And that paper towel mascot lookalike was so your type. In fact, the way he nearly flat-out ignored you was also a turn-on but not one you thought your therapist would approve of. So when he offered a ride, you accepted.

You tested the waters on the ride home, attempting to make some small talk. He was different one on one. Charmed you with his sharp wit and some flirty compliments. You couldn’t tear your eyes off him, his hands, his arms, his profile, and his dark features in the glow of the streetlights. You lingered when he pulled up to the curb in front of your place.

“I’m glad you drove me home,” you said, “it was nice to get to know you a little bit.”

“Was nice,” he agreed dragging his thumb under his bottom lip, pulling your attention to his mouth, “I’d like to get to know you a little more.”

You felt your cheeks warm at that and smiled back. “Would you like to come inside?” you floated the offer, and the look on his face sealed the deal.

But today, you haven’t heard from Joel in over a week. He doesn’t usually last much longer than two weeks before you find him at your door. He disappears just long enough that you start to build up the courage to tell him off for being a flake. The only reliable thing about Joel, though, is that when he does show up, he always leaves you feeling completely spent. What’s the harm in enjoying what he can do with his body? You don’t think you spend an unhealthy amount of time daydreaming about him.

You don’t want to anticipate seeing him at the lake and get disappointed if he’s a no-show. Instead, you’d rather your chest constrict with anxiety until Saturday while you debate sending him a text to ask him yourself. You decide against it. You don’t want to double-text since he never answered your last message anyway.

Saturday arrives quickly, and it’s the perfect day to be at the lake. Clear skies and hot sun. Your car is an oven as you slide your beach bag and cooler backpack into the backseat. You sit in the driver’s seat and roll down all the windows. You flip down the visor to look in the little mirror at your reflection.

It’s casual, you remind yourself. Just friends, food, and floating in the lake. You put on some waterproof mascara anyway, definitely not because Joel might be there. You look casual. You found your favorite black bikini last night and tried it on to make sure it still fits the way you like. Basic triangle top and bottoms with strings that tie on your hips. It still fits snugly but without cutting into your back or shoulders. It hugs everything in the right places and displays all the right skin. For your friends. At the casual barbecue.

You stare at yourself, practically pointing a finger at your reflection to drill the idea into your head. If he’s there, it doesn’t mean anything. If he wants to be nonchalant, you’ll be nonchalant even harder. And you’ll look good as you do. Give him a taste of the same rejection you keep experiencing.

Toad Lake is almost a secret. It’s small, outside of town, and private except for one small area with access to swimming and a small dock. When you and Katie lived together, you used to hit it up after work. Jumping off the dock unless there were people fishing. Or just floating near the shore with pool noodles while debriefing about the day.

You pull off the main road onto the winding gravel road that takes you to the public access. It’s dense with trees and full of potholes. You bounce along in your car, listening to the gravel crunch under the tires.

Parking is tight. The first lot only fits five or six cars on the gravel spots, and past that, maybe another seven or eight would fit in the dirt spots. You recognize most of the cars already parked as you pull into one of the furthest spots. You don’t see Joel’s truck, and your stomach drops with a wave of disappointment as you pull in between someone else’s truck and a jeep. You don’t want to think about him or feel let down.

There’s a short but steep and winding path that leads to the water. You round the corner, finally able to see through the trees to the beach, and recognize him immediately. The unmistakable frame of Joel Miller. The shape of his body and that signature stance. You’d recognize him by the back of his head in a crowd with one eye closed. Butterflies stir in your stomach, and at the same time, your throat feels dry.

He’s such a dick, you think as you trudge down the path in your sandals. Maybe you should ask him if his phone still works. No. That would blow up in your face. You’d just be broadcasting that it hurts when he rejects you. You do not want to face that fear. Maybe coming here was a total mistake. Regret and fear claw viciously at your throat with each step you take.

Joel seems to dance around you, just avoiding being on your path as you greet everyone and catch up. Tommy is friendly and chats with you for a moment before getting Joel’s attention, forcing you to interact.

“You remember Joel, right?” he asks.

You laugh brightly. “Of course, the one and only,” you say with a smile.

Joel nods at you. Doesn’t even say a fucking word. His dark brown eyes just bore into you for the longest second before giving you a curt smile. Tommy laughs at something while Joel turns away to find something to look busy with. Or someone. You gawk briefly as you watch him turn to chat with some woman you don’t know.

Blowing you off on your attempts at dates is one thing, but acting like he doesn’t even know you? What the fuck is with this guy? Who’s the woman he seems so friendly with?

You remember how to close your mouth and decide to set up your spot along the beach. You strip off your T-shirt and adjust the straps on your bikini. Rifling through your bag for some sunscreen, you find the lotion first. Smiling to yourself, you imagine asking Joel to help get your back. Would he refuse? Would his lady friend be jealous? You actually don’t want to know. You dig around until you find the spray sunscreen. You don’t need a man applying any cream to your back.

You swear you feel his eyes burning into you, but when you look around, he’s turned and talking to her. Whatever. You figure it’s safest for your sanity to head straight for the water. You grab your pool float and start to blow it up. You feel that burning sensation again, but you turn, and he’s busy swigging down a drink. You grab one for yourself, and with a drink in one hand and the pool float under the other arm, you march right into the water. It’s perfect. Just warm enough, it doesn’t shock your system. Cool enough to ease the oppressing heat of the sun.

“The water is perfect! Why am I the only one in here?” you call to Katie.

“Alright, I’m coming!” she calls back.

You laze in the water for most of the afternoon. Chatting with friends, cheering on a wobbly friend learning to stand on a paddleboard, and just resting peacefully.

Joel sits in a beach chair, observing. You stare back under your sunglasses, hoping it’s not noticeable. Your thoughts spiral again. What is his issue? You aren’t good enough? He doesn’t wanna get caught talking to you? You consider cornering Tommy to dig up some dirt, but it’s too late. Joel is pulling his shirt over his head. You’re locked on. You fight to keep from reacting. His sun-kissed frame strolls towards the lakeshore. You watch as he gets waist-deep before he pushes off and glides through the water. When his head re-emerges, and he shakes the water from his hair, you feel your mouth drop open. You quickly fill it with the beverage in your hand.

You keep staring. Watching the beads of water roll down his shoulders. You’d like to sink your teeth into the skin on his neck. You’d like to wrap your legs around his hips under the water—“oh, shit!” you yelp.

A kid swimming behind you got a little too excited, kicking water and splashing it all over your face. You grimace. You didn’t mean to swear at the kid. It was just the shock of it. No big deal. Since your hair is wet now anyway, you might as well get all the way in the water.

You drop off your floaty and empty drink on your blanket. Tossing your sunglasses off, too. You walk back into the water and dive under yourself. It’s refreshing. You’re close to Joel when you pop up again. He looks at you this time. Acknowledges you’re a real, live human in front of him.

“All wet now, huh?” he smirks.

“Oh, fuck off, Joel,” you scoff at him. You swim away before he can say anything else.

You lay out, letting the sun dry your wet skin. Until you’re ready to leave. The idea of a shower and aircon sounds pretty good to you. You gather your things, say your goodbyes, and hike up the path to your car.

With your bags in the backseat, you grab your towel. Your bikini and hair are still dripping wet. You squeeze your hair with the towel when you hear someone approaching. You look over your shoulder, and of course, it’s him. You turn away, continuing to towel at your hair. You can feel his body hovering behind yours.

“Hey, baby,” he says, low and syrupy.

“Are you joking?” you spew incredulously, not bothering to look at him. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“My what?”

“I didn’t catch her name.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, baby. It’s not like that.” His large hands wrap around either side of your hips. “Y’look nice in this,” he coos, ignoring your spite and toying with the strings tied at your hips. You turn and shove at his chest. He leans against the truck behind him.

“Why are you up here, Joel? You want to ignore me around our friends, then follow me to my car like a dog? You’ve got fuckin’ problems, man. Why are you looking at me like that?”

He’s smiling at you like it’s endearing that you’re telling him off.

“Oh my god, let me guess. You think I look sexy when I’m mad?”

“No,” he defends and steps closer. He runs his fingers under the strap on your shoulder. His touch burns white hot against your skin, branding you. You shiver. “You always look sexy,” he rasps. It’s not charming. He’s still an ass. But it feels so good when he says it. He’s so close you can smell the sunscreen and sweat on his skin. Everything about his presence chips away at your defenses.

“Could barely stand watching you in the water,” he adds. When did his mouth get so close to you? His hot breath runs over the shell of your ear. “Want you bad.”

“Liar,” you argue with less venom.

“Am not,” he hums. A hand slides up your neck, thumb under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. His eyes are heavy with lust. He’s still smiling. You wonder if that’s how he’d look if you woke up next to him. A dreamy smile with his tousled hair and scruffy cheeks.

He takes your hand, so delicate compared to his. Slowly, he brings it towards his body and wraps it around the stiff bulge in his swim trunks. “Feel like I’m lying?” He watches the tiny muscles in your face twitch as you suppress your reaction. Then your brows pull together, and you glare.

“You think you can just follow me up here, get your hands on me, and then what? You’ll have me on my knees in the dirt for you? You think I wanna catch some dirty lake water disease from your cock in my mouth?”

He squeezes your hand harder like his dick will argue for him. Maybe you’d hear it out.

“You gonna tell me you don’t want this?” he asks, narrowing his eyes, “bet you’re wet from more than just the lake, pretty baby.” He’s not wrong, but you’re not going to admit it. Wait, did he say pretty? A laugh, shriek, and loud splash from the lake below breaks you out of his trance. Your tunnel vision expands. You pull your hand from his grip.

“Why are you up here, Joel?”

“Couldn’t just watch you leave.”

You scoff at him and whip back around. You’re quick, but he’s bigger and stronger. His hands pull at your hips, slamming your body back into his. The damp skin of his chest sticks to your back.

“We’re not fucking in the parking lot,” you snap. You can feel how hard he is. Pressed against the curve of your ass. His swim trunks and your wet Lycra bikini are the only barriers between you.

“Maybe s’what you get for being a filthy fuckin’ tease,” his gravelly voice rumbles in your ear.

“How am I a tease?” you squirm against him, but the friction only makes both of you more pathetic as you gasp and he groans.

“Wearing this.” He pulls at the string of your bikini on one shoulder and lets it snap back. “Laying on that towel, ass up, like you were waiting for me to fill it,” he squeezes a cheek for emphasis, “floating in the water with these perfect tits barely hidden.” He pulls at the triangles of fabric covering them, sliding them apart until your breasts pop out. Exposing you under the shade of the trees.

“You’re delusional,” you accuse. But all the venom is gone. The words come out breathy. His body is wrapped around you, constricting. His hand travels down your stomach, slipping under the bikini and between your legs. His fingers find exactly what they were searching for. Your slick folds part easily, welcoming his fingers deeper.

“Doesn’t feel like a delusion to me, baby.” Wretched man. Always has to prove a point. You’re running out of the mental fortitude to argue. You also feel ridiculous, standing between someone’s truck and your car, tits out, his hand between your legs.

“Isn’t someone gonna wonder where you are?” you try to find a reason you should stop.

“No, said I had to make a call.”

“A call? So your phone does work,” you chide, using your last brain cell. He plunges two fingers into your aching pussy, effectively shutting you up. A moan is the only noise you can form.

“Thought I already taught you to quit arguing with me.” His irritation is muffled by his lips pressed into the skin of your neck.

“Fuck you, Joel.”

“You wanna try askin’ nicely?” he goads in your ear. His fingers curl as he drags them in and out of you. You let yourself focus on the sensation. Your head falls, chin to your chest, and you watch the muscles and tendons in his arm flexing and rippling while he works you into a needy mess. It’s hot. His arm is firm and tan from days spent working in the hot sun. Against the soft, cushiony flesh of your curves, it’s almost menacing, but it provides you with support. Like he could balance you forever against his one arm. He might have to if your knees give out.

The noises coming from you both are obscene. You feel his chest rising and falling against your shoulder blades, slowing down time. Joel moves shamelessly, his hips roll and grind into the swell of your ass. He’s curled around you like a wild beast claiming his prize in the forest. It gives you some kind of sick ego trip; he hurt you, but now he’s here attached to you with desperate want. You slide a hand behind your head, feeling for his soft, damp hair on the back of his head, confirming this whole perverse scenario is real. You tug at his hair, eliciting a rough groan from his lips. He seems to have forgotten his own question, entranced by you.

Joel watches the sweat beading on your chest and runs his hot tongue up your neck into the hinge of your jaw. He savors your sweat-salted taste with a deep hum that vibrates from his chest into your spine. It lights sparks along your nerves.

You grind back against him as his palm presses firmly into your clit, and his fingers keep stroking at just the right spot. The pressure building feels overwhelming. He’s all consuming the way he surrounds you. The sound of his breath, his scent, the way your skin sticks against one another, it floods your senses. Your breath quickens, and your muscles coil tight with tension, buzzing with need.

“Give it to me,” his words scrape across gravel. The tension in your core snaps, abdomen spasming, and your pussy clenching at his fingers for more. The hand you have on the back of his neck clings tightly for support. He loosens his grip around you and slows his movements as you start to take deeper and deeper breaths of air. Fresh air. Because you’re in the parking lot at the lake. Your senses sharpen, and your vision clears. You fix your bikini top in a rush, adjusting the fabric and straps fighting through your tangled mess of limbs crossed with Joel’s.

You can hear other footsteps on the path. Turning to face Joel, you flash a smile on your flushed face at him.

“Good timing,” you quip as you look beyond Joel and past the bed of the truck to see who’s coming up the path. You wave at a couple of friends as they carry their bags to their vehicle. Joel doesn’t turn to look. Doesn’t seem to move a muscle. You look back at his face.

One brow raised; he looks like he knows something you don’t. A frown pulls at your face. He executes his maneuver before you can devise a retort for his expression. He yanks hard on the ends of the bows that tie your bikini bottoms together. Your jaw drops as the fabric falls. Your hand flies out to slap his chest at the audacity, but he grips your wrist in his hand.

“Not nice to hit people, baby,” he condescends as if you were the one in the wrong. You’re fuming. Blood boiling.

“What–” you’re cut off by his other hand grabbing your jaw with a vice grip.

“Quiet,” he snaps. You hear the sounds of the car backing out and pulling away. Tires kicking up a cloud of dust. You can’t see past Joel’s wide frame as he holds your head in place. You grab at his forearm, but it’s useless. You’re defenseless in his grip. Vulnerable between the vehicles and the trees. Why does that make your cunt ache and throb? You squirm. “You gonna behave?” he asks, but you know it’s not a question.

“Uhuh,” you respond through your clenched teeth, your lips unnaturally squished and parted between his fingers and thumb. You give up on prying at his arm and run your hand down his bare chest towards his swim trunks instead. Your touch brings a smirk to his face.

“Yeah, you are,” he agrees. Reading your sordid motives like a love letter, he carries on. He drops your jaw and readjusts your positioning. Joel moves you with ease. He lifts you and backs you into the window to the backseat of the truck, his hands under your thighs. If you had any sense left, you might consider it vulgar to be fucked wide open in a parking lot, but the animalistic expression on Joel’s face wipes your mind blank. You lock your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck as if he were the one caught in your trap. He looks at you like he’s trying to etch all the details of you in this position into his mind. It stirs that depraved sense of pride in your chest.

“Take it out,” he orders. You obey. Snaking a hand between your bodies to free his cock from his swim trunks. Both of you watch, chins tucked to your chests as your hand wraps around his stiff shaft. The sight makes your mouth water. He seems similarly affected. You think you’ll have hand-shaped bruises on the back of your legs the way his grip tightens and his fingertips dig into your skin. He leans closer, seeking your slick, wet entrance. You guide his leaking tip with your own pleasure in mind instead. He watches as you use him like a toy. You swirl the head of his cock around your swollen clit. The pressure and heat blur your vision. You slip him through your folds until he’s coated in your glossy arousal. You keep playing, creating lewd noises between your legs. He’s talking to you, you realize, and tune back in.

“Keep teasin’ like that. Gonna fuck you til you can’t walk. Give it to this needy little pussy the way no one else can, right, baby? Stretch you out and fill you up. Send you home dripping.” He rambles on with his threats. They make you dumb.

“Fuck, please, please, please,” you respond with tight exhales.

His head shoots up.

“You hear that?” he asks, and you freeze. Straining to listen. You can hear the birds in the trees. The muffled voices down at the lakeshore. You listen for voices or footsteps getting closer, but they don’t exist.

“Hear what?” you pant.

“The sound of you begging for my cock.”

Your face heats. You feel another surge of arousal flood your already-soaked center.

“Fuck off, Joel.”

“It’s a pretty sound, baby. Want you to be bad.” His words light something fierce inside of you. You need him inside you, now. He doesn’t help as you wiggle in his grip, trying to slip him inside of you. He exhales a puff of air in amusement at your struggle.

“Do it again. Beg.”

“Please, Joel.”

“Please, what?”

“Please, fuck me. Need you to fuck me hard.” A twisted wave of humiliation and need for approval courses through you. Begging for him, trying to tug him closer. You’re a mess for him.

“There she is,” he smiles. It’s devious, but it makes your heart flutter and your pussy throb even harder.

You line him up with your entrance, and he fills you in one motion.

“Fuck,” you mouth as your head slides back against the truck. He fulfills his threats and splits you around his cock over and over. His hips snap into you with a force that sends shockwaves rippling across your body. Joel fucks you like a man possessed. Driving into you brutally, rocking the truck behind you. You try to stifle the cries pouring out of your throat, focusing on breathing, squeezing your eyes shut, and digging your nails into his shoulders. Pinning you with his body frees his hand, and he wastes no time using it to grope at every inch of you he can.

He slows and rocks into you more tenderly, confusing you. He peers around the cab and waves at someone. Oh, shit. They can’t see you through the cab windows, right? Fuck.

“Hey, put me down,” you hiss.

“It’s just Tommy,” he replies. How is that better?

Then you hear him calling to Joel.

“Hey, you see my sunglasses on the dash?”

Joel looks through into the driver’s window as if you didn’t even exist.

“Yeah, you want ‘em?” Joel calls back to Tommy.

“Yeah, you comin' back down?”

“Yep, be there in a minute if you want me to bring them.” He calls back to Tommy. Still rolling against you, just grinding at a mind-numbingly slow speed.

“You’re sick,” you whisper at Joel while you grind back into him, and Tommy shouts a thank you in the distance. Joel thrusts up into you more harshly. Your breath catches as his eyes lock onto yours with his full attention.

“Felt to me like you enjoyed the risk.” His voice sounds like a taunt, but he’s not wrong. Joel talking to Tommy like you weren’t wrapped around his cock sent a rush through your veins. You decide not to admit that out loud.

“This is Tommy’s truck?” you ask between gasps.

“Yep.”

You had some snarky comment to make, but you give up as he resumes his pace, and your thoughts fade away. Joel’s filthy stream of consciousness starts up again between low grunts and groans. His voice and the noises he makes bounce around in your skull. He makes you feel weightless.

Each time his hips meet the cradle of your pelvis, you nearly burst, complimenting his movements with an enthusiastic rhythm. You arch your spine, angling just a little deeper, chanting out breathy prayers of fuck, fuck, fuck, and yes, yes, yes, when he slips a hand down to draw circles around your clit.

“That’s it. Let me feel it,” he demands as you writhe.

You give in, and it drives him crazy. The way your nails dig into his shoulders, your brows pinch, your mouth hangs open, and your body involuntarily shudders against him. He feels the way you start to relax, but your body jerks and clings tighter to him a few more times. He can’t slow down. It fuels his unbridled urge to come inside you as deep as he can.

“That’s my baby,” he husks. My baby? You feel butterflies as you try to catch your breath while he ramps up his force.

“Gonna fill you up. Fuck you full.”

“Yes,” you reply, not sure he’s even listening with the intensity of his look as he barrels towards his release. When he stills, and you feel it, you can’t stifle the sounds in your throat. You feel his cock pulsing inside you, and his hips lurch into you as if he could fuck his come any deeper. He smothers you as he comes down. With his chest crushing you into the truck, you can feel when his breathing starts to slow. You rake your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and breathing him in. Your pussy might be sore for a day, but your ego is full, and you feel sated.

Joel pulls out of you with a barely audible pained noise and asks if you can stand before releasing you fully from his grip.

“I still have two legs,” you joke. But you look like you might topple over if he lets go. He hugs you into him for a tender kiss; it’s quick, but you drown in it. He props you up and presses another kiss to your sweaty temple.

Then it’s happening again. He pulls his shorts back up, opens the truck, and grabs Tommy’s sunglasses. You grab your towel to wrap around your naked lower half. The truck door slams, and you turn. He’s already walking away.

“Drive safe,” he calls over his shoulder while you pick up your bikini bottoms from the dirt.

An empty feeling starts to shroud your satisfied glow as the sound of his footsteps fades away. He did call you “my baby,” though. He doesn’t say that to just anyone, right?

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big-snack · 5 months ago

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Porcus Isle Part I

Dom had always been larger than life. Standing at an impressive 6'5" and built like a linebacker, he was the kind of guy who turned heads wherever he went. But beyond his imposing physique, Dom was known for his easy-going nature and infectious smile.

Dom worked at a tech company downtown, San Diego, often putting in long hours. Despite his demanding job, he always found time for his true passion: exploring the vibrant food scene in San Diego. From taco trucks in Barrio Logan to high-end restaurants in La Jolla, Dom's weekends were filled with culinary adventures, always in search of the next great bite.

But Dom's favorite place was a small, unassuming diner near the beach. It was there, over a stack of pancakes and a steaming cup of coffee, that he found a sense of peace. The diner was a hidden gem, known only to a few locals, and Dom had been coming there since he moved to Socal. The owner, Jack, greeted him like family, and the regulars always had a seat ready for him. The whole diner was run by and frequented by big men. Dom felt right at home with these guys.

One sunny Saturday morning, as Dom was savoring his breakfast, a new face walked into the diner. He was a tall, built man with sharp features and immense confidence. He took a seat at the counter, glancing around the diner as if taking it all in. Like he was appreciating all the men. "Hey stud, you find what you're lookin' for?" Jack asked...

Intrigued, Dom decided to introduce himself.

"Hey there, first time here?" Dom asked, flashing his friendly smile.

The man looked up, meeting Dom's gaze with a curious look. "Yeah, just moved to San Diego a few weeks ago. Name's Alex," he replied, extending his hand.

"Welcome to the best diner in town, Alex. I'm Dom," he said, shaking Alex's hand firmly. "What brings you to San Diego?"

Alex chuckled. "A bit of everything, really. New job, new city, looking for a fresh start. I'm a software engineer."

Dom's eyes lit up. "No kidding! I'm in tech too. It's a great field, but it can be pretty demanding. This diner is my escape from all that stress."

As they talked, Dom and Alex found they had more in common than just their profession. They shared a love for video games and a passion for good food. Dom offered to show Alex around the city's best eateries, and Alex eagerly accepted.

Their friendship grew quickly, and soon, weekends were spent exploring San Diego's food scene together. Whether it was sampling street tacos, enjoying a craft beer at a local brewery, or having a quiet meal at the diner, Dom and Alex's bond became a craving for both men.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week at work, Dom and Alex decided to unwind at a new barbecue joint that had just opened in North Park. The restaurant was buzzing with energy, the scent of smoked meats wafting through the air.

As they dug into a platter of ribs and brisket, Dom looked at Alex and asked, "So, how's the new job treating you?"

Alex wiped his hands on a napkin, leaning back in his chair. "It's been challenging, but in a good way. The team's great, and the projects are interesting. It’s just... sometimes I miss having a bit more of a work-life balance."

Dom nodded. "I hear you. That’s why it’s important to have nights like this, to just relax and enjoy good company and good food."

Alex smiled. "Speaking of good company, thanks for showing me around, Dom. Moving to a new city can be pretty overwhelming, but you've made it feel like home.", "Anytime, man" Dom replied, raising his glass.

As the night wore on, their conversation shifted to their mutual love for video games. Alex mentioned an upcoming release he was excited about, and Dom suggested they set up a game night. This became the perfect way to unwind after eating out.

One evening, after a particularly intense gaming session and drinks, Dom and Alex found themselves talking about their interests. Alex expressed his admiration for Dom's physique and said he's looking to join a gym. "All this eating is starting to fill me out." Alex jiggled his belly. Dom's eyes darted to his bloated stomach. "Damn man. I didn't even realize." Dom was stupified.

He had always been focused on his own weight, but he hadn't noticed the changes in Alex.

"Yeah, it's been creeping up on me," Alex admitted, a bit embarrassed. "I've been so caught up in work and our food adventures that I haven't made time for the gym. Do you think you could help me out?"

Dom smiled, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect. "Of course! I'd love to help you. Dom had no idea why the thought of Alex's weight gain turned him on.

That night in his dark room. He thought about that moment. His belly jiggled like it was no longer a part of him. There was no visibility of his ribs. His arms filled out his shirt sleeves more. His face softened up. Dom had never masterbated to a guy before. He stopped for a second to think about it.

It was late. He was alone. No one could judge him if he stared to look up what he was fantasizing about. He pulled up Google and started with image searches. 'Fat belly': 'fat belly guy'; 'beer belly'; 'beer belly men'.

That night he spent a few hours looking at fat guys. The bellies started small, but the longer he searched the bigger they got. He glanced at a picture of a man 600 pounds. His belly was covering his lap in bed. Every single ounce of his body jiggled from the slightest shallow breath from being overstuffed. The guy leaned back on his bed and his head disappeared. The big bulbous crescent shape stood at least 4 feet high; he imagined.

Dom hit his climax and started to cum. His body filled with chills, made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "I need to see this in person" he screamed and then he slumped back in his seat. He had some clarity and was worried about what he'd just done. "Why the hell did I do that?"

The next day he saw Alex at the diner, for brunch, and had a new appreciation for his body. "You know, after you mentioned it, I thought more about your physique." Dom shared. "Oh really? What is it you appreciate?" Alex said flirtatiously. "Um, well, I mean you're pretty beefy. That's a popular body type." He said nervously. "Beefy implies that I've been working out. I'm all jello, buddy."

The entire restaurant is quieter than normal. Dom didn't notice, but all the men in the diner were listening.

Dom could feel a twitch in his pants. "Ugh, shit, not this again." Alex was blushing. Dom was intently looking at Alex's body well beyond what was normal. "Something tells me you like it." He said with a smirk.

Dom smiled nervously. "I mean, you could say I appreciate the way you look." Dom was getting hot. "I need to use the restroom" Dom said. "Perfect, I'll go with you" Alex responded. Dom struggled to stand up straight.

They walked to the bathroom. "I feel like we're both flustered." Alex said. "Oh yeah, I guess it pretty obvious. I'm not sure what's going on lately", Dom replied.

Instantly and without hesitation the locked bodies and started making out. Dom's hands caressed Alex's newly sprouted love handles. Alex pulls back from Dom's lips and whispers, "You did this to me."

The door handle turns and someone walks in. They separate and the man said, "Are you that clueless, Dominick? We have all been dropping you hints for a while now.

"Is this like a chubby chaser establishment?"

The man responds "You mean the diner between a bear bar and a leather shop? Of course that's what it is. We managed to get you to gain 20 pounds man."

"Holy shit!" Dom exclaimed. "No wonder I love this place. Fat men make me horny. I can't believe I just said that out loud." Panic washed over him. "It's ok Dom. Nothing has changed." Alex reassured him.

"You were a part of this?" Dom questioned.

"Not really, you spoke to me first. I was coming here because I knew what I wanted. It took me a while to realize you had no idea what was going on. I thought you were playing hard to get"

"Dude I just found out I might be gay, I don't have the bandwidth to come to terms with a fetish."

"Great tech pun" Alex replied.

They both started laughing. When Dom rejoined the room it was like he was seeing it all for the first time. Some men had their large sack of flesh bulging out of their shirts.

"All right you guys. Dom knows what's going on." Alex announced.

That day was the moment Dom knew that Alex was the one.

---

The next part flashes forward

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wildemaven · 7 months ago

Text

look at us | joel miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 2748 warnings: 18+ blog; Smut, maybe even smut with no real plot, Nipple play, orgasm through nipple stimulation, praise, multiple orgasms, using arousal as lube, mutual masterbastion (f & m), cum eating/sharing, mirror watching, my horrible attempt at keeping a conversation flowing during sexy time, Joel can’t keep his hands to himself, fluff, established relationship, mentioned that reader is wearing a dress & bra but has zero descriptive features, can be read as no outbreak or prior to outbreak Joel, there’s no Sarah in this universe notes: this is a reimagined version of an older fic i posted and didn’t really like for some reason. Switched the characters and reworked it a bit. Smut is so hard to write for me, I just question the whole thing in its entirety and never want to do it again. But I love this storyline so much more now as Joel that I honestly don’t even care if the smut is wonky— I just want joel now. This writer supports Palestine and does not share or support the views of tlou creator.

It’s a heady sensation.

Visceral. Demanding. Gratifying.

His touch. A grounding force that burns through you, igniting every nerve ending in its wake.

Plaint and warm, your body blooms with a carnal appetency.

He’s emboldened by every sound he plucks from you. The softest whimpers that fall from your lips, kiss every single inch of his dewy skin. He’s forever addicted to your willingness to take what he has to give you— always wanting more.

Generous. Attentive. Steadfast.

Earnestness bleeds into a lustrous selfishness. The anticipation palpable, watching as you come apart in his arms, your pleasure is his forevermore.

It’s intuitive, the way he’s drawn to you. Most mornings, taking advantage of what little time he has with you, before work is pulling you both in different directions. Then you’re reunited for the evening and he’s making up for lost time, devouring and satisfying, well into the next day.

An endless cycle of being connected and reconnecting.

When weekends come around, he’s selfish. Overindulging beyond his means. Knowing he has ample time to relish in the closeness. Met with endless opportunities to have you near in any capacity as the hours of the day tick on, time he doesn’t take for granted.

Today is no different. From the moment the truck backs out of the driveway, beginning the several mile drive across town in the direction of Tommy’s home, he’s reaching for your hand.

Palm to palm, fingers perfectly intertwined as your hands stay connected over the center console of his pickup. The afternoon sun streaming through the window, adding to the already budding warmth that’s building between you. The conversation is light. Joel listening intently as you share details from your week, his thumb working over your knuckles as you move through the highlights of your story.

The remainder of the drive has a comfortable lull as the miles roll by. Music streaming through the cab, the lyrics provoking a wave of affection. Joel’s lips find the top of your hand periodically, his gaze never breaking from the road ahead. Your heart racing instantly at his instinctual gesture.

The gathering of friends— barbecuing, music and laughter, doesn't deter him from keeping you within arms reach.

Joel’s hand settles on the small of your back, fingers lightly dragging back and forth over your tingling spine, as you both exchange hello’s and hugs to the group friends in attendance scattered around the backyard

While Tommy is busy tending to the food on the barbecue, Joel and you are caught up listening to Paul, Tommy’s old army buddy and the newest hire at Joel’s construction company, share stories from his and Tommy’s time together in the military. Both of you enthralled by the recounts of close calls and embarrassing moments for the younger Miller brother, only to be interrupted by a flustered Tommy calling for Paul to grab plates and napkins from inside.

The minute you’re alone his hand is wandering south, grabbing at the meat of your ass and pulling you flush against him. It’s the first moment you’ve been alone since arriving and he’ll be damned if he’s not going to take advantage of it.

You smile into his kiss, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt as he leans in close, his hushed words fanning across your ear.

“You look so damn pretty in that dress. Can’t wait to get my hands on you later.” The husk in his voice nearly makes you melt further into him, not even surprised by the cool dampness coating the silk panties you chose today, just for him.

“Hmmm— your hands haven’t left me since we got here.” You muse.

“I like havin’ you close.”

“You’ve made that quite obvious, Miller.” You joke, before he’s silencing you with another less than chaste kiss.

Dinner is served as the sun begins its descent. The air dropping a few degrees cooler, has goosebumps pricking at your skin. But it’s nothing compared to the shiver Joel is causing you, his hand nestled between your legs under the table.

You find it hard to focus between all the lively conversations being volleyed across the table, dishes being passed around and laughter cutting through friendly onslaughts of fuck you’s.

Joel mindlessly massaging at your thigh as he talks. Filling everyone in on the projects he’s started around the house, while your brain is muddled with thoughts of Joel’s hands and only Joel’s hands.

You can’t be positive it’s a deliberate move— or is it? You’ve been with him long enough to know what a calculated man Joel is.

He leans forward to reach for the ketchup bottle, his other hand shifting further up your thighs, his demeanor is cool and even as his fingers brush over your clothed mound. His fingers slowly gliding over the very drenched fabric. You swallow a thick gasp as your hips cant forward on instinct, chasing his retreating hand, your cunt aching and desperate for more of his teasing.

The wink he shoots you as he settles back in his chair is all the evidence you need to know his plan worked.

“Look like you saw an infected zombie or somethin’. Everything okay, Baby?” You want to kiss the devilish smirk right off of his handsome face.

“Y-yeah.” Horny and desperate for you, but fine.

“Y’sure about that? Those perked nipples of yours are tellin’ a different story, Sweetheart.” He quietly calls you out. You glance down to see the thin fabric of your summer dress and lace bra are no match to conceal the hardened peaks— your body so easily betraying you is nothing new.

“We should head out soon.” You say softly, Joel nods immediately, the silent agreement has you eager for what’s in store when you arrive home.

The ongoing conversation among the others is now muted background noise as you stare into his needy eyes, your hand cupping the side of his face as your thumb traces over his plush lower lip.

“We’re headin’ out. Thanks for havin’ us, Tommy. Hope to see y’all again sometime soon. ‘Night.” Joel rushes through announcing your departure, pulling you from your seat, his body crowding behind you as he ushers you towards his truck.

“You’re not even gonna stay and help clean up?” Tommy pouts from his chair.

“You’re a big boy Tommy, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Joel yells over his shoulder with a two finger wave as the gate clicks shut, home and you are the only thing cares about for the remainder of the evening.

“Fuuuuuuuck— Joel!” Your mind slowly seeping into a deep pleasured state.

There’s little recollection of leaving Tommy’s house and the drive home, other than Joel’s unrelenting need to have you close at all times— no complaints from you whatsoever.

Joel’s firm grip on your hand when he all but drags you to the bedroom of your shared home, clothes stripped at the foot of your bed in a hasty fashion.

The accumulation of Joel’s fiery touches throughout the day were merely effortless foreplay, all considered and aiding in his profound efforts that have been unfolding since arriving home.

“You look so fuckin’ good. Look at us, Baby.” The low gravel of his voice is overwhelming, but laced with pure authenticity. You lift your head just enough as your eyes slowly flutter open, trying to catch a glimpse of what he sees in the full length mirror positioned on the wall across from where you both are in bed— a mere coincidence that it was placed in there when you moved in.

“‘M l-looking, J-joel.”

It’s exquisitely striking how your cunt flutters madly against the cool air of the bedroom. The sight alone is better than any pornography you’ve consumed together.

Joel sitting up against the headboard holding your body close to his. Your back firm and tacky against his chest, breathing in rhythmic unity.

His feet hooked around your ankles, keeping your legs spread out as he hones in on the two luring forms glaring back in the mirror, a view that will forever edge out his own fantasies of you.

His large hands hold the weight of your breasts with pleasing dexterity, whispering the most beautiful obscene things into your ear.

I love your body. I love the way you moan. Missed your pussy all day. God, you’re always on my mind. Fuck, you’re makin’ me so hard. Louder. Fuck. Look at me.

Your gaze finally catches Joel’s in the reflection. It’s direct and overwhelming, his warm brown eyes flickering with a bold desire igniting a ripple of goosebumps over your body.

You’re both possessed by the new wave of arousal, glistening in the afternoon light, as it ardently drips from your pussy down to the bed sheets. Desperately craving to be devastated by this handsome man.

Joel’s thumbs swipe over your hard sensitive nipples, pulling a breathy gasp from your lips. Your head falling back into his shoulder as you let the sensation fully consume you.

“You like that don’t you?” You can only manage to hum in response, which encourages him to continue his work over the pebbled skin.

“Y-yes. You know how much I d-do.”

Joel knows this. Well enough too. It’s a normal occurrence that you find yourself in this identic state. Your body buzzing and exhausted, molded against Joel’s. His cock weeping and begging for relief, snuggly nestled between your roaring bodies. His skilled hands reducing you to putty.

Rolling. Pinching. Pulling. Flicking.

Each thorough caress sends an intense and deep feeling of delirium surging through you. Building and building the delicate structure for an elaborate release.

“So perfect all laid out for me. You gonna come for me?. I think you’re almost there, Baby. Just need a little more, huh?”

“Joel— I-I don’t think I can this time. N-need— oh fuck Joel! I need a little m-more.”

You’re cut off when you feel Joel’s fingers faintly slide over your throbbing clit and bypassing it completely. He swipes through your wet folds. You think he might finally give in. Plunge one, maybe two of his thick fingers into your aching heat, caress your velvet walls until you’re coming undone. Your body jolts as he gathers your arousal on his fingers, then abandons the ache and returns to his previous ministrations.

His arousal slick digits glide over each of your perked nipples. The wet eager strokes have your back arching as you moan into the room, your body tense and vibrating.

“Joel— yes! That feels so good! fuckfuckfuck! I— I’m so close Joel! D-don’t stop!” You let out a sharp moan.

“I ain’t stoppin’, Sweetheart. So fuckin’ beautiful. Can’t wait to see you come, Baby— just let go.” His hushed words paired with the way he rolls your stiff nubs between his fingers is just the push you needed, your climax vibrant and beautiful as it erupts, spreading through you faster than you can announce its existence.

Joel watches you fall apart in the mirror. Your breathless state has his hips grinding against your lower back as he continues to clutch your breasts. The glimmering beads of sweat rolling down your throat and chest, joining the layer pooling between your bodies.

It’s the view of your cunt that nearly takes him out, empty and pulsating, he’s never been so proud of a sight. He adds the mental snapshot to his backlog of imagery he’ll store of you until the end of his days.

“God, Joel. That— that was amazing!.” You say, peeling your satiated body from his.

Turning to face him, you sit in the space between where his legs are sprawled open, your hands massaging at his calves. You take in how enticing he looks, laid back on the stack of pillows, a slack grin on his handsome face as he slowly pumps his hardened cock.

You’re completely entranced by the sight, all thick and tempting. Biting at your lip teasingly, a hand all but subtly slips between your legs and your fingers begin delicately tracing circles over your clit.

Husked gasps falling from Joel’s parted lips as he alternates his movements. Long languid strokes over the length of his shaft then pausing briefly, his grip stilled and tight around the base as the reddened tip slowly leaks.

You gasp as the warmth of your sex engulfs your fingers triggering another gush of arousal to trickle down your thighs. Your other hand still connected to Joel’s leg, grounding your floating form to him.

Joel's eyes scan you, absorbing your blissed-out state, his hand matching your own steady movements, rhythmically moving over himself, his breaths now emerging as heavy pants.

Your fingers enthusiastically moving in and out with ease as your hips writhe keenly in search of the perfect position. The remnants of your previous orgasm are still lingering, beautifully aiding in the build up of the next. Your brows pinched in pleasure.

The room is dense with sexual humidity. Doused in a mixture of the ambered vanilla candle you burn frequently and a sweet ambrosial musk.

“Fuck— how’d I get so fuckin’ lucky with a woman like you? fuck!.” His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, neck taut and nose flared as he tries to breathe through how good he’s making himself feel. “Why don’t you— shit —c’mere.”

“Mmm-ah! T-tempting, Baby. ohgod! Think I’ll stay put. I’m actually enjoying the view quite nicely from here. You look so good like this, Joel.” Seeing him accept your praise is a vision you’ll never get tired of, allowing himself to give in and take what he needs.

Your fingers graze over that delicious little spot with success, a cresting wave set in motion, the sensation causing your walls to convulse. A moan escapes your lips, paralleling with Joel’s own sounds. Your head involuntarily tilts back, as you ride out the euphoric moment.

“Shit! Sweetheart, I’m— I’m gonna— Hnng!Fuuuck!”

Joel’s fist erratically pumps over his length, his eyes locked on your naked form, ragged breaths and eager moans. Your eyes struggle to stay focused through the hazy chaos, drawn to his flushed body, paralyzed with an ample dose of desire as he nears his finish.

“Come for me, Joel.” You’ve shifted yourself a little closer to where he’s eagerly working himself over, encouraging him to let go.

He does— white hot ropes of cum paint his stomach, his actions slowing as the last few drops spill over his hand. He breathes out a deep sigh, giving you a lopsided grin as his arms fall to his sides. Eyes heavy with a mixture of lust and love.

“Fuck— now will you c’mere?”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth, now hovering over where his now softening dick rests against his stomach. You don’t break eye contact as you lean down and lick at the sticky mess.

“Goddamn— Ah!” Joel hisses, the warmth of your tongue dragging up the length of his cock. Lapping at the dappled layer of silky brininess covering his lower abdomen, purring with satisfaction as you swallow it.

“God.Damn.” You echo his words back to him, your lips move over his— he groans at the taste of himself still on your tongue.

A slow, content smile forms on your face as you tenderly kiss his neck, followed by a series of soft kisses down his chest and stomach.

“Gimme a minute— just need to regroup and then I’ll be ready to go again.”

“Whatever you say, my love.” Joel’s arms wrap a you and you melt into him. “Or I can draw us a hot bath and we can soak until we’re prunes.” A yawn perfectly placed at the end of your suggestion.

“Sounds like a plan. How ‘bout we nap then soak?” You sleepily hum in response.

"Love you, Sweetheart," Joel whispers, before pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“Mmm— love you, Joel.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #no outbreak!joel miller #pre outbreak!joel #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

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wrangleandtame · 4 months ago

Text

Clouds Don't Perish (They Dissipate)

Think you could get off this road?” Kate hollered, “feel like I’m in a paint shaker.”

Tyler glanced at her with that mischievous smile, the one her mom had deemed his “shit-eating grin.”

“Short cut!” he yelled back.

“I can see the map, you idiot, this is twice as long!”

He shrugged, “I got you alone in this truck for the first time in a week. I’m goin’ the long way ‘round.”

“Your plan is to fuck me in some random field, isn’t it?”

He snorted, “sure as hell is now!”

He released his full-throated laugh, revealing all of his perfect teeth, crow's feet splaying out from his sunglasses. She loved that laugh; it should be labeled a contagion. The man could suss out the fun in nearly any situation, and his exuberance nearly always stirred Kate from her occasional tendency towards re-erecting emotional barriers.

This was one of THOSE moments wherein Kate perceived her own contentment: bouncing around the cab of his truck, Tyler singing (not well) along to Lydia Loveless blasting, windows down, kicking up a trail of rocks and dust behind them.

Backward cap, button-up green flannel, and the now ever-present perfectly manicured two-day scruff (possibly motivated by Kate mentioning the pleasing sensation of his unshaven face between her thighs) were absolutely doing it for her. He caught her gazing and leered back suggestively, waggling his eyebrows over the top of his sunglasses. She dissolved into laughter.

She felt her phone vibrate so she lengthened her torso and yanked it free of her side pocket. The lit screen displayed, “Mom.”

“I was just thinking about you,” she said by way of a hello.

Tyler’s head whipped back to her in interest, tipping his head low enough for his eyes to be seen over his sunglasses. He raised his eyebrows in question.

Kate mouthed “mom,” and the easy smile returned to his face. He twisted the dial, lowering the volume of the music and raised the windows with a flick of his finger.

“Hi Cathy!” he called.

“And where are you guys at today?” Cathy questioned.

“Close actually. Like, uh, 20 miles north of Tulsa,” Kate peaked at the radar projections again, hoping for something more promising. “We’ll probably stay in that area today, unless things change.”

“Well, if things don’t change and you want to come home, you can invite your crew to save a few dollars and stay at the farm.”

“Did she say hi back?” Tyler nagged, and Kate scowled and waved him off. Her mother’s aloof demeanor brought out a rare obsequious quality in Tyler, and this usually amused Kate. At the moment, she just wanted him to shut up.

“That would be amazing. I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

Tyler interrupted, “appreciate what?”

“Mom invited us all to stay at the house tonight.”

“Just made my day Cathy,” he yelled at the phone.

“It’ll be nice,” Cathy continued. “I’ll make a mess of barbecue.”

Kate’s mouth watered at the thought of real food, “that sounds so so good.”

“Call me later and let me know.”

“I will.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She hung up, stowed her phone in her pocket, and Tyler asked again, “did she say hi back?”

“Yeah, she says hi,” she lied, and then swung her head towards the backseat to tell Addy and Praveen about the barbecue food waiting for them.

Later, even with hindsight and self-awareness intact, she would be astounded by her certainty that they had been an arm's length away, faces lit with excitement. Addy even pushed her glasses up with her wrist, just as she always had, her glasses ever-slipping and her hands ever-full.

Kate gasped and caught a peripheral of a smiling Jeb at the wheel. She threw herself against her passenger door and screwed her eyes shut, pressing the palms of her hands into her sockets.

“Kate?” Jeb said, concern lacing his voice. No, not Jeb. TYLER said, concern lacing HIS voice. Tyler Owens, she corrected her stupid brain.

“You okay?”

She didn’t look up, keeping her palms planted firmly against her eyes. A sob escaped her mouth instead of the reasonable explanation she intended. Why did she sound like that?

“Whoa, whoa. Kate? Hang on.” She felt a hand on the top of her head, but she still didn’t move. If she didn’t move, she reasoned, perhaps this nightmare would conclude quickly.

She felt the truck swerve and stop, the rumbling of the engine cut out. What should have been silence overflowed with the sounds of hyperventilating and an approaching freight train.

She felt sure her death was imminent. Her body shook uncontrollably, and her heartbeat pounded ferociously, attempting to break out from her chest. She had unconsciously pulled her knees up and had formed a tight ball with her body.

“What’s going on? Can you hear me?” Tyler sounded as if he was in a tunnel. Shit. Maybe an underpass.

She thought she might be able to speak, but gasps and sobs colonized the space where words should be.

“Can you try and look at me?”

Kate released the pressure on her eyeballs and attempted to tip her head up to see Tyler but her vision was completely blurred by tears. Was she crying?

Her teeth chattered, and Tyler placed a hand on her cheek, “I think you’re having an anxiety attack.”

“No,” she sobbed, “I don’t, I don’t have them anymore.”

Was that her voice? Kate doubted it. That didn’t sound like her.

Blurry Tyler’s head nodded, “Let’s say we just try to take some deep breaths anyway. It can’t hurt.”

She realized that the thunderous freight train was an oncoming tornado. People always describe the sound of a tornado as a train, but she wouldn’t have described it as such before now.

For her, tornadoes sounded like monsters, growling and roaring. She looked out the windows, frantically searching the bright horizon. Where was it?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Tyler cooed, “You’re okay.”

It wasn’t okay. Nothing was fucking okay.

HER tornado was coming for them, and she couldn’t even see it! She could hear the change of the roar to the cacophony of whooshing and clanging when it’s devoured Praveen and clamoring for Addy. The bellowing while yanking Jeb from atop her. The deafening barrage when it’s aiming to suck Kate out from an underpass. Fucking stop. Stop. STOP!

“Kate?” Tyler tried again.

“I can’t. Can’t make it stop,” she cried, her thoughts jumbling, her mind jumping time. Past, present, past, present.

She suddenly launched herself forward, peering into the back seat to see if they were still there. They weren’t, of course, because they were dead. They wouldn’t be eating barbecue today. Not any day. They were dead. She knew this. She’d known this for a long time.

She planted herself back in her seat, and looked into Tyler’s face, clenching with concern. Maybe worse than concern. Shit, he thought she was crazy. He had a point. Sane people don’t see ghosts. Sane people don’t hear invisible tornadoes.

She clamped her hands over her ears, trying to dampen the bellowing and keening, “Stop. I just…please stop.”

Tyler carefully pulled her hands from her ears, “Kate, look in my eyes. Can you see me?”

She focused on his vivid seaglass-green eyes. Where did his sunglasses go? She nodded and stammered, “Yes. I. Yes.”

“Okay, good. You’re doing good. Now listen to me. Stop trying to make it stop.”

Stop trying to make it stop. What the fuck was he talking about?

“Just focus on me if you can. Be here with me.” He kept her trembling hands in his, but she pulled them back from his grasp. She quickly checked the backseat again. Empty.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

She refocused upon his face, nodding.

“Atta girl, okay, we’re going to breathe together now.”

His movements seemed exaggerated, his chest and mouth moving slowly, “okay, breathing in two three four, and out two three four, breathing in two three four.”

She attempted to mimic him but couldn’t figure out the actual mechanics of breathing, and this terrified her even more than riding shotgun with her dead friends.

“Can’t,” she shook harder, her teeth clacking together. How do you breathe!? How?

“That’s okay, that’s okay. I’m going to breathe and you just listen. You’re doing fine.”

“Not fine,” she stammered.

“You will be. Y’hear me? This won’t last much longer. It’ll be over soon. You’re gonna be okay.”

She shook her head; nothing was okay.

“C’mon Kate, let’s get some air. It’ll do you good.”

“No!” she grabbed his forearm, frantically looking outside. Didn’t he know how much danger he was in? A new wave of fear rippled through her body.

“You’re safe. I promise,” the sincerity in his voice almost made her believe him. “Let’s look at some clouds. You’re not in any danger. It’s going to be okay Kate. Trust me.”

He placed his rough warm hand over hers, and she looked at his arm where she clutched him, knuckles white, fingernails plugged into his skin. She felt paralyzed. She couldn’t even rotate her eyes off the soft hairs on his tawny arm.

“I’ll be with you, and we’ll just look at some clouds. Just you and me. Just Tyler and Kate, okay?”

She had no memory of agreeing, of releasing his arm, or of him exiting the truck and moving to her door. She blinked, and he leaned in the open passenger-side door, expectantly waiting for her. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do or say. Did he ask her a question?

His face was achingly soft, eyes balmy with affection. He slipped his arm around her back and one under her knees, “this okay?”

She nodded, and he scooped her into his arms, lifting her from the truck cab and using his booted foot to close the creaking metal truck door.

He crossed the road and ambled into a low-growing field of green. He carried her, but she was the one panting in uneven sporadic bursts, clutching handfuls of his soft flannel shirt.

He murmured softly to her as he walked through the field, “it’s alright. You’re alright Kate. I’m right here. Just going to look at some clouds. Just breathe. You’re alright.”

She tucked her head against his chin, desperately attempting to anchor time to his voice.

“This looks like a good spot. We’re going to sit for a spell and see if we can find some clouds, okay?”

“K,” she mumbled, and she felt him nuzzle her forehead with his scratchy chin.

“Smell that?” He lowered them to the earth with a soft grunt, her body draped across his lap.

“Do you smell the clovers, Kate? They’re blooming. Love these. White ones smell better than the crimson ones.”

She could smell them. The growing ground heat released the morning petrichor from last night’s rain - wet and sweet with a light floral perfume.

“Smells nice,” she mumbled, and he gave her a praiseful squeeze in response.

“Bumblebees are louder than the damn birds. You hear em?”

He was purposefully engaging her senses, she realized. How did he know what to do? Why couldn’t she remember? She was the one who had over forty of the damn things. New York rules: if at work, run to the restroom, hide in the stall, and endlessly flush the toilet to cover sounds of crying and panting. Fucking useless skills in this situation.

He considered the sky for a moment and then smiled down at her face, “look up Kate.”

She tilted her head back, neck cradled in the crook of his arm, and saw the sky bluer than it had a right to be. To the east, she spotted a big bouncy cumulonimbus tower with a bulbous bottom layer.

“What are you seeing?”

“Mammatus,” she whispered.

He chuckled happily, “yep. What else?”

She watched them move for a moment, a gorgeous slow roll. Her eyes caught another edge of the sky, and she lifted her heavy arm, which felt weirdly unattached. She wiggled her fingers. They did what she told them, so they must be hers. Raising her thumb to the sky, she measured a cloud.

“What time is it?” She croaked, throat dry, her voice slightly foreign to her.

He raised his wrist, “let’s see, it’s uh nine fifteen am.”

“Altocumulus.”

“Damn straight, altocumulus. Beautiful, huh?”

“Beautiful,” she agreed. She knew they were beautiful, but she didn’t actually feel the beauty.

He shifted her off of his lap, arm still curved under her neck and tentatively lowered them both to the soft bed of green clovers, “better vantage.”

She barely noticed, following the white clouds with her eyes like a meditation.

After a few moments, he pointed at the sky, “dragon.”

She followed his finger and spotted the dragon in the clouds, “I see it.”

She pointed next to it, closing one eye to better focus her vision, “banana.”

“Yup.”

The dragon’s torso elongated and detached, and its head resembled a dot to a dot from her childhood activity books.

Tyler pointed at the dissipating dragon head, “oatmeal.”

“Cheating.”

“It’s not cheating. It’s oatmeal. Oh, oh, wait, no, now it’s grits.”

She smiled - the impulse natural, the action dull and stiff. She only heard birds tweeting, Tyler’s soft breathing, and an occasional bee buzzing by.

This was when she realized that she wasn’t panting, crying or hallucinating. She felt slowed like moving through water, and a debilitating mix of shame, embarrassment, and guilt settled within her chest.

“We should go,” she frowned and tried to sit up, seized by dizziness.

“Should we?” Tyler sat up and placed his hand on the middle of her back. She pulled away with none of the subtlety she intended.

“We were supposed to meet up at that QT off seventy-five ages ago Tyler.” Look at Kate, stringing a full coherent sentence together.

“I called Boone. Remember? Told everyone to meet us at your mom’s.”

When did that happen? Tyler’s face telegraphed that she should easily recall this memory, and she hadn’t even a hazy version floating around in her mind. Nothing.

“Oh,” she said dumbly. “Sorry.”

“For what?” He asked, cupping her elbow with his hand.

“Don’t,” she pulled her arm from him.

“Okay,” he scooched himself back a bit with a kindness she interpreted as pity.

“Sorry,” she snapped, knowing she sounded irrationally angry, but completely unable to control her tone.

“S’okay Kate,” he folded his elbows over his knees and picked a white clover flower, spinning it between his index and thumb.

She lay flat on her back so she could again stare at the sky and not his sweet ridiculously understanding expression.

“It’s not okay. I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“Not your fault.”

“It really is,” she glanced at him.

He cocked his head, “a panic attack isn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not that.”

He tentatively lowered himself alongside her, giving her more space than she now actually wanted. A moment ago she felt too ashamed to have his hands on her, and now she wanted to climb inside him and disappear. Make up your mind, Kate.

After a bit of silence, he asked, “your friends? Is that what you think is your fault.”

“That was my fault,” she scoffed. “It’s pretty well universally agreed that they died as a consequence of my reckless actions.”

“Who the fuck would agree with that?” His outraged tone astonished her. She found it unnatural to see the fire in his eyes presenting as fury instead of desire. “Someone blame you for what happened? Who?”

Instinctually, she tempered his anger with vague assurances, “it doesn’t matter. It’s stupid. My point was that I don’t need you to tell me that it wasn’t my fault. Can’t change it anyway.”

He sighed audibly, “I know you’re freakishly good at finding tornadoes, honey, but you don’t got dominion over ‘em. Got some omnipotent power I’m unaware of?”

They quieted, and she tried to not mentally replay her panic attack in a feeble attempt to avoid a self-conscious rut.

“It’s just so beyond fucking humiliating.”

Surprise flashed in his expression, “but, Kate, it’s just me.”

She couldn’t look at his face, so she looked at the sky again, “I don’t want you to see me like that.”

“Beautiful and brave?”

“I’m not sure I’m either of those things at the moment.”

“This is grief and trauma and your body reacting to that.”

“It’s been almost six years!”

“Not a set time for this shit, Kate. So just try to be gentle with yourself, will ya?”

She reached for his hand, grasping at his rough fingertips.

“Hasn’t happened in so long. Just surprised me.

“Do you know what happened?”

“I, um, I saw them. In the truck.”

“Saw who?”

She blinked and tried to say their names.

Tyler filled in the blanks like he majored in it, “oh, Addy and Praveen?”

She nodded.

“Jeb too?”

Their names sounded wrong in his mouth, but she drew comfort from his familiarity with what mattered to her. They mattered.

“Mmhm.”

“I figured.”

“You figured?”

“Yeah.”

She almost laughed, incredulous, “you FIGURED that I hallucinated my very dead friends sitting in the backseat of your truck?”

He smirked, “Something along those lines. My brother, he had panic attacks. PTSD from Afganistan.”

“I didn’t know that; you never talk about him.”

“We don’t see each other much; he lives in Idaho. I was only ten when he came back. Brain injury from an IED. I sat with him a lot during his panic attacks.”

She mentally conjured an image of child-Tyler, “that’s an awful lot for a ten-year-old.”

He winked, “well, I was an exceptional kid.”

“I bet you were,” she smiled genuinely, her face now just a foot from his.

“Once we figured out most of his triggers, that helped loads.”

“I think it was the barbecue.”

“What?

“Barbecue. My mom, when she called, she offered for the team to stay over and said she’d make barbecue, and she said the same thing the day they died,” her speech gradually took on a frenetic pace, “and just like I was on automatic, I started to tell them, Praveen and Addy, you know, and they were there, and then it was happening all over again, and you know the shittiest thing? It’s that really here I am, and they’re not. And did I learn anything, no, I’m just doing it all over again really, just in a truck with you, taking people I care about to their deaths and am I doing the same thing, did I learn a fucking thing? No, no, I just keep doing what I want to do because I’m so goddamned selfish and -“

Her chin started to quiver, and she became breathless again when Tyler interrupted, “you’re the least selfish person I know.”

He brushed her hair back from her face, “also the most logical, so listen up: the team was here doin’ our thing before you met us. We’d be here if we’d NEVER met you. But Kate, with you, we just do more good, get more accomplished and generally have more fun. All because YOU are with us.”

Her eyes began leaking again, and she whispered, “want you to be okay.”

“Me? I’m here, next to you, on this gorgeous day. Kate, I’m better than okay.”

With the shuddering breaths of a child all cried out, “I’m so fucking scared. I just. I don’t want. I don’t want you to die.”

She couldn’t fathom why she would say this out loud, when she barely recognized the truth herself. She felt pathetic and vulnerable, a combination she attempted to avoid at all times.

“Oh Kate, darlin’ I’m not going anyplace.” He smiled his sweet little smile, soft wet eyes pleading with her, “thought I told you to be gentle to yourself.”

She leaned her face into his hand, and inched closer to his chest. Tyler wrapped his arms around her pulling her flush against him. She buried her head in his chest and wept, grateful he didn’t shush her. They let the tears and the little hiccups fade in their own time, his hand tenderly holding her head against him. Her body relaxed into him, and she didn’t feel out of control. Just absolutely fucking heartbroken and so incredibly exhausted.

She didn’t remember falling asleep; all she knew was awaking sweaty and confused within Tyler’s embrace.

“I fell asleep.”

His voice was deep and rumbly, “sure did.”

She rolled onto her back, studying the grey sky, the sun’s blanketed halo in a confusing position.

“Jesus, what time is it?”

“One O’clock.”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s fine Kate.”

“It’s fine?”

She peered up at his ridiculously handsome face, “where’s the team?”

“Remember, they’re at your moms? I texted them to meet us there.”

“Are they angry? That we missed an entire day?”

“No one expressed anything other than being thrilled to go to your mom’s house. Everything fizzled out anyway.”

“Do they know? That I…?”

“Hm? Oh, no. That’s your call to make.”

She kissed his jaw and he peered down at her, “okay?”

She answered him by climbing onto his lap, straddling him. He sat up, clutching her, thumbs rolling around her hipbones.

“Feelin’ better, honey?”

“I don’t know,” she responded honestly. “I don’t want to think about it right now. Just so tired.”

She brushed her thumbs along the grey hairs at his temples and kissed him slowly, stilling her mind to focus only on his soft salty mouth.

He ended the kiss after a moment and pulled his face back, examining her expression.

“What?”

“Just catching up,” he whispered.

“What does that mean? You don’t want to -“

“I want you now and always,” he pulled her hips tightly into his hard-on to punctuate his point. “Just checking in first.”

He captured her mouth with his, asserting his desire, and they made love in that clover field, just as Kate had predicted at the beginning of this unexpectedly fraught day.

A comfort-cloaked drive to her mom’s house further eased any remaining anxiety. Tyler played Songs: Ohia, Magnolia Electric Co, (for her, she knew) the windows down and warm air whipping her hair around as they distanced themselves from the morning’s pain.

When they approached the signs for her hometown, she turned down the music, “Tyler?”

Her voice hitched, and she swallowed down tears that threatened a comeback.

“Yeah?”

She summoned all her sincerity, “thank you.”

“Anytime, Sapulpa,” he smiled, “You know that, right? Anytime. Anyplace. Whatever you need. Whenever. I’m all yours.”

She ran her hand lovingly down his arm, shoulder to wrist, “ditto.”

When they pulled up to a stop in the driveway, the sun rested low in the sky. Besides daybreak, this was Kate’s favorite time of day, even as a child. All the work usually done, the day’s heat assuaged, dog-day cicadas quieted, and the sticky air would a call for iced sweet tea in jelly jars and unchallenging conversations on a creaky porch.

Tyler and Kate walked together through the cool grass. As they approached the picnic table flush with their friends, everyone turned towards them like flowerheads to the sun.

“What kept ya?” Boone yelled as they got closer.

Tyler began to answer, but Kate cut him off neatly, “I had some trauma hallucinations, an enormous panic attack, passed out for hours and then seduced Tyler in a clover field.”

Tyler held up the grocery bag in his hand, “and we brought chips.”

She only let the awkward silence, shocked stares and open mouths sit for half a minute, “so, is there any of my mom’s potato salad left?”

Lily recovered quickly, “yeah, totally, Kate hand me one of those plates, and I’ll get you some.”

Kate passed her a plate, and Lily smiled as she scooped a generous glob, “sorry bout your panic attack. I got them for awhile back in the day. They suck. Hard.”

“They do. Thanks Lily,” Kate nodded grateful for the generous normalization Lily offered.

Dexter, adept at all types of navigating, added, “It's a good thing you got here when you did. I was going back in for another helping. Your mom could tempt angels with this potato salad.”

“Right?” Kate laughed, “where is she, anyway?”

“I think she was getting watermelon,” Dani said and jumped up from the table, “I’ll go help her. I gotta pee anyway.”

She quickly squeezed Kate’s arm affectionately as she passed and raised her eyebrows at Tyler when she sauntered passed.

“So tell me, what did this clover field seduction include?” Boone queried.

“It includes you shutting the fuck up,” Tyler’s voice was playful, but he shot Boone a disapproving look, as he pulled a plate from the stack and began piling on ribs, brisket and chicken drumsticks.

Boone raised his hands in surrender, “that’s fine, that’s fine. I’ve got an imagination.”

Lily rolled her eyes, “don’t be gross, Boone.”

“What?” he laughed, and with every passing moment, their usual ease of comradery returned.

While she was conscious that evening, Tyler positioned his hand either upon her shoulder or entwined in her fingers, tethering her to the moments in front of her. At night, he settled in her bed, ready to pull her back should she start to slip into the past.

He was generous, loving, kind, and patient. So, of course, she didn’t believe it could possibly last. She consciously tried not to stew in the terror of its inevitable end (their relationship, not his life, she isn’t thinking about that.)

Instead, she attempted to soak in the (likely evanescent) Tyler minutiae: memorizing his specific expressions and predictable reactions, the dust and detergent smell of his soft flannels, his thin pink lips, his stiff jeans that invited lascivious thoughts, and that devastatingly infectious, nearly ever-present smile.

**AUTHORS NOTES

I saw Twisters a couple weeks ago and came home and wrote this and three other stories. Then I went on AO3 and read EVERYTHING, and saw that others had written goddamned BRILLIANT pieces on the same subject. Discouraged about my own writing quality, I wasn’t going to post it. Since then, I’ve read nearly everything else posted in this fandom and realized that maybe creating and sharing imperfection is part of our fanfic social contract. This is writing potluck. As in, consume < create. In that spirit, here was one of my little fics. Hope it brought you a few minutes of the joy so many others bring me in their writings.

#tyler x kate #twisters #glen powell #tyler owens #twisters fanfic #twisters fanfiction #twisters 2024 #kate carter #daisy edgar jones #tyler owens x kate carter #whump #whump writing #whump twisters

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pizza-firetruck · 11 months ago

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How To Plan A Barbecue Food Truck Floral Park NY Exploration?

Brace yourself for a culinary journey on the way to tantalize your taste buds and leave you yearning for more. Planning a Barbecue Food Truck Floral Park NY exploration is a pleasing way to understand the nearby dining scene and an opportunity to take pleasure in the diverse and mouthwatering services from the first-rate barbeque food trucks in town. Here's your guide on planning an appropriate Barbecue Food Truck Crawl in Floral Park, NY. Read more: https://www.zupyak.com/p/3984163/t/how-to-plan-a-barbecue-food-truck-floral-park-ny-exploration

#barbecue food truck Floral Park NY

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honey-on-your-tongue · 1 year ago

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Dad's best friend Miguel

He'll come around for barbecues with your dad and eye you the entire time, the corner of his lip curling into a smirk every time he catches you already watching him.

He'll accidentally brush up against you all day. Holding onto your hip as he walks past you, his cock, half-hard under his jeans, pressing against your ass.

If you're wearing a skirt—which has become the default for you whenever he's around—he'll accidentally run into you in the kitchen and sneak a hand up the back of your skirt to palm at your ass.

He sits beside you when it's time to eat. He can maintain casual conversation with your parents, laughing and even making jokes even though he's already knuckles-deep in your cunt.

You, meanwhile, struggle to keep quiet. With a hand holding onto his wrist, nails digging into his skin, and the other one hastily pushing your food around your plate, it takes every single ounce of effort to not make a sound.

He makes you come on his fingers, a smirk of victory on his lips as he feels your velvet walls clench around him before your arousal gushes out of you.

Then, he removes his fingers. And when your parents' attention turns to you and they ask if you're alright, Miguel chuckles and says, “Had a beer too many, didn't you, princesa?”

Very conveniently, you've got a party that night, and it just so happens to be on the way of Miguel's place. So he offers to drive you.

Fuck the party, Miguel doesn't even have to try to convince you to go to his place instead.

Fuck his place. He finds an open expanse of field and parks his pickup there, headlights off, and pushes the driver's seat as far back as it can go.

You're quick to climb over the center console and onto his lap, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging at it.

Miguel chuckles, a low, deep rumble. “Look at you, princesa. Needed me so bad, did you?”

You whine quietly. “Yeah. So, so bad.” Your lips find his in a daze of heat. You kiss him eagerly, hungrily, lips parting to allow his tongue to slide into your mouth.

His huge hands hold onto your waist, moving down to your hips to grind you against his cock. You whimper and he groans.

He unzips his jeans, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free. The tip is an angry red from how hard he's been all day with no ounce of release. You're already soaked, ready to take him, but he fucks you with his fingers anyway.

“Come for me, princesa,” he says, voice raspy and demanding. “You have to come on my fingers if you want my cock, hm?”

It takes you almost no time to reach your release. You come with a shuddering gasp, moaning in the small space of his truck, nails digging into his broad, muscular shoulders.

“Good girl,” he says. “My good girl.”

You're still recovering from your orgasm when he gently slides you onto his cock. You mewl, head falling onto his shoulder, body limp.

He doesn't need you to do anything. He lifts you and lowers you on his cock, fucking you rough and deep. Your soaked pussy squelches loudly, overlapping with your whines and moans.

He grunts, eyes fluttering shut, eyebrows furrowing. He bites his lower lip, fingers bruising your hips. Your soft gummy walls have his heart racing, his ears ringing.

“Fuck, princesa,” he gasps. “What would your parents say if they saw you like this? If they knew how much of a slut you are?”

You mewl. It takes just about nothing for you to come, trembling on top of him, thighs squeezing his hips. He keeps you bouncing on his cock,fucking you until he's spilling deep inside you, his load filling your pussy.

He moans lowly, a soft growl escaping his lips. “Fuck. Fuck...”

As the two of you come down from your highs, he glances between your bodies, a smirk growing on his lips at the sight of your arousal smeared all over his hips and lower abdomen.

“Princesa, you look so pretty like that. Full of my cum,” he chuckles, voice still raspy.

You lean your head on his shoulder, body spent, and he holds you close, allowing you to regain your strength. By then, he's already hard once more, and you can feel your own arousal growing again.

“Do you still want to go to that party, princesa?” he asks, kissing your jaw, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “My place isn't far...”

You smile at him, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “I never wanted go to the party anyway.”

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A/N: Hehehe I know I'm super super super late to this, but I watched spiderman just yesterday and omg I just can't with Miguel 😩😩😩

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Blog masterlist

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse

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rickchung · 4 months ago

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Rosie's BBQ & Smokehouse x Rogers Field at Nat Bailey Stadium x Riley Park–Little Mountain.

Vancouver Canadians' 'Nooner at the Nat MiLB baseball game.

"Rosie's Bánh Mì": brisket, pulled pork, and smoked bologna on a baguette.

"Ultimate Texas Trinity" baked potato loaded with pulled pork, brisket, and sausage.

"Junior": 1000-gallon custom Mill Scale Texas smoker.

Food truck parked outside Riley Park Farmers Market on Saturdays from 10am-2pm until Oct. 26.

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yandere-kokeshi · 10 months ago

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What about Yandere! Dad Price 🤔

Warnings: yandere behavior and everything platonic. Nothing romantic.

A/N: ohh boy, you just gave me an ultra writing spree. Enjoy!!

You have him wrapped around your finger. You could ask anything, and Dad! Price would give it to you within seconds. He values everything about you, including your opinions and support. He wants your input of things, or at least when you can.

John is a Mufasa type of dad. Incredibly protective, only wants the best for you, and lets you have some type of independence. In honest aspects, he’s considerably chill regarding his dark behavior, or at least appears to be. Yet, the second something seems off, he’s pulling you behind him with his thick words, urging you to get to the truck.

He has no desire to have another s/o. He’s not risking it with someone else who can easily come into the family and could sabotage the bond between you two. Plus, he prefers raising you on his own.

Your phone is wired with trackers — a green dot, glowing frantically on John’s phone, easily telling him your location. And by chance when you find out, it’s easy to cover it up, reminding you that his job is dangerous, and all he wants is safety for you.

Would’ve homeschooled you, but with the large percentage of depression and antisocial risks, he decided against it. And because of it, you have many perks as being the kid of a famous military Captain, which means everyone respects you; including the school district. Despite his rank, he doesn’t use it unless necessary, wanting people to naturally respect you and him.

With school, Dad! Price participates a lot. He often picks you up from school, taking you out for ice-cream on Friday’s. Makes you delicious home-made lunch when he can (including leaving notes), and does whatever he can to help decrease your worry. Doing homework with him is rather nice, he explains it in multiple ways to ensure you understand it; definitely the type to do flash-cards, and gives you candy if you guess them correctly.

It comes with no surprise that you have a lot of fun uncles, and two awesome aunts. The team equally place themselves as your extended-family, visiting when they can, and adoring you. Laswell frequently visits, not only to see your father, but also to take you out when you need a break.

Undoubtedly the type to have a ‘no cussing jar’ in the house. However, the rules mostly apply to you. However, he does cuss — grumbling out when he gets caught before throwing cash into the clear jar. Either way, he uses the cash to spoil you.

Calls you a few cliché nicknames instead of using your name; only using it when you’re in trouble of sorts. He usually rests on calling you little one, kiddo, scout, and bubs.

Dad! Price never smokes cigars around you, and hides them out of reach. He doesn’t want you to seek them out, because 1) they’re bad for you. And 2) he wants you to be better than he can be. He only smokes out on the porch, and hates when you are present.

Makes the best barbecue and smoked foods that you could imagine.

It’s no surprise that Dad! Price teaches you a lot of self-defense and about your surroundings. Reminding you to take a taser, or pepper-spray when you leave the house. He knows that you’re protected, him and the others are highly trained SAS soldiers ready to pounce on any threat. But, having you know things — especially if he’s training you himself — lets his paranoia rest a bit.

Despite his large leeway with you, he’s pretty strict about school. John wants you to be good, and expects you to follow the rules. If he notices your grades dropping, he asks what’s up and how he can help; giving you the ‘dad-look’ when you don’t do assignments.

However, it’s easily noticed that he hates homework — you’re working at school for 8+ hours, pretty much exhausted when you get home, and they expect you to finish these long pages at your comfort zone? Not on his watch.

Rarely brings you to the base, but when he’s missing his kiddo, he’s fetching you from home and brings you to foot. His office is large, enough space to place a pull-out couch, which is made for you. He lets you sleep whilst he works, having calls with many, and carries you back to the truck when he’s done.

John is strict about rules in the house, and doesn’t listen to any excuses or give you leeway when you break them; it’s easy to follow, and you know the consequences.

One of the rare things he actively allows is potential partners. He rarely threatens them — and he doesn’t need to. He’s a Captain, a man who is unafraid to show his strength. So, in a quick sense, nobody would be stupid enough to try to hurt you, right?

And if they do, we all know what will happen. And it’s certainly not a pretty sight.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking. It helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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macfrog · 1 year ago

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lend me some sugar cowboy like me chapter eight

look. i had an idea, i couldn't rest until i wrote it. enJOY part 8 of cowboy like me - check out my masterlist here!!! ALSO the lovely @wildcat116 created a playlist w some of my fave dbf-inspired songs which you can give a listen right heeerreee love u all sm hope u like this gargantuan chapter

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel throws a homecoming garden party for sarah – and decides to make it one to remember

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) i honestly don't even know where to start with this one UHH age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, slightly jealous! slightly possessive!joel n also jealous!reader, sexting, mutual masturbation, phone sex, teasing, very semi-public ✨ activities ✨ involving a beer bottle

word count: 10.1k (lmfao)

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Well…” he takes a drink from his bottle, and then studies it in his hand. “I thought you could sweeten my beer for me.” Your eyebrows raise on their own, your body on autopilot. “S-sweeten…your…b…” Joel nods. His eyes track over to the rest of the party, and then back to you. “Nobody’s watchin’, darlin’. It’s just you ‘n me. Go on. Do it for me.”

“No, no, no, hey, baby – don’t change the subject. You didn’t answer my question,” Joel says, one hand on the steering wheel, the other waving around like a maniac’s in midair. “What – is – a garden party?”

Your dad is chortling in the passenger seat.

“If you’d stop interruptin’ me!” you yell from the back. You’re leant forward, head and shoulders between the two of them. “It’s, like, well…drinks, and food, sat out on the patio in the nice weather–”

“Sounds like a barbecue to me!” Joel roars, much to your dad’s delight.

He claps his hands together once and snorts with laughter until he’s out of breath. “That Sarah of yours has you wrapped around her little finger, Joel.”

“She says, ‘I’m too old for a barbecue’. I said, ‘Too old for meat on a grill?’ How do you get to be too old to eat steak cooked on a grill?”

You roll your eyes with a sigh, slumping back in your seat and looking out the window at the buildings sailing by. You’re on your way to Costco to pick up supplies for this barb– garden party Sarah’s requested from Joel. He’s not too impressed by the thought of it.

Your dad’s talking about some client of his who threw his daughter a quinceañera on a yacht off the coast of Florida, for some reason you don’t care to listen to. Joel doesn’t, either. You see his eyes watching you from the rear-view mirror, clocking your expression.

When you turn to fully look back, his eyebrows raise, a question: You okay?

You raise yours back. Whatever.

He breathes a laugh, then plays it off to look like he’s laughing at your dad’s story. The truck pulls in to the parking lot.

By all accounts, your dad shouldn’t trust you and Joel alone together half as much as he does. But when the three of you get out of the car – Joel opens your door for you – he takes off to grab a shopping cart.

You and Joel take the opportunity to meander slowly toward the store. You haven’t had much time as of late to hang out, get some much-needed attention from him, jump each other’s bones. Sarah’s return means one more person to run lies around, one more obstacle stopping you from having precious free time with each other.

More than all of that, you just miss him. Miss the way he talks to you when no one else can hear, the way he reads your mind and gets it right – annoyingly – every damn time.

He loosens his elbow, offering you it, and you snake your arm through it.

“Garden party,” he scoffs. “I sure am glad I have you to keep me right.”

“We’ll make it nice for her,” you reply. “She liked the banner and balloons, right?”

He laughs. “She sure did. Facetimed her roommates to show ‘em off.”

You take a few more paces in silence, the gentle breeze sifting through your hair. It’s nice, just wandering with Joel. His warm arm hooked around yours, safe, steady. You feel you could lean into him and let him guide you along like the wind, all trust in his capable hands.

Then your dad rattles over toward you guys with a squeaky-wheeled cart and fucks it all up.

Joel, ever the casual one, slowly unlinks your arms. He ain’t got nothing to hide. Just being chivalrous to his buddy’s daughter.

“Where to first?” your dad asks.

“Wish I knew.” Joel strolls inside, and you follow, heading into the chilly store.

Joel decides the easiest – and quickest – way to get this shopping trip over with is to split up. He takes decorations, your dad offers to grab some of the food, and you’re left with drinks.

You mosey down the aisles with your janky cart squealing every time you turn. Under fluorescent lights, you spot shelves of soda and make for them, dodging a half-empty cage of stock someone’s emptying.

There are so many brands and flavors it’s actually kinda intimidating, and you wish you had Joel here to tell you which ones he wants. That, and also to reach them for you. The Dr Pepper is on the top shelf, and even though he’d probably tease you for not being able to reach first, his tall form would pull down a crate in one swoop without you even having to ask.

“Oh, let me get those for you!” a voice calls from behind, and you swivel around to see a kid– sorry, a guy in a Costco uniform rushing over from the other side of the aisle. The sides of his strawberry blonde hair are shaven, longer on top, gelled back. Round cheeks, flushed bright pink.

His equally pink arms reach up and grip a crate, pulling it from the shelf.

“Could you please…grab me one of the lemonade, too?”

“Sure thing,” he says.

“Thanks.” You smile as he lays the second carefully in your cart.

“No problem. You new around here? I recognize a lot of folks, never seen you before.”

His name badge reads Zack. It suits him, you think.

Your hands are locked tight around the cart handle. He’s not doing anything wrong, but you still feel awkward. You rock softly from side to side, answering, “Nope, lived here my whole life. Well, that’s not entirely true. I lived in New York City for a few years for college.”

“New York, huh? What’s that like?”

“It’s…good. Kinda place you gotta experience to really…experience, I guess.” You nervously scratch your arm.

“I’ve love to hear more about it. I went to college for, I think, two semesters? And dropped right back out. Wasn’t for me. Are you…Sorry, I’m not tryna be forward. Are you…with anybody?”

“Oh, I, uh…”

Right then you feel the air stop short at your side and notice Joel out of your peripheral vision.

“Hey, you found ‘em,” you say, barely above a whisper, looking at the packs of paper plates locked inside his tight knuckles.

He tosses them into the cart on top of your soda, looking down at you over your shoulder.

“You found drinks.”

“Yep.” If the ground could swallow me up right about now, that’d be great.

Zack shuffles on his feet, looking from you to Joel. He looks panicked. You bite back a laugh.

“Thanks, son.” Joel’s voice is muted, toneless, and he takes the cart straight out of your grasp in one sweep, a quick nod in Zack’s direction.

You don’t move, instead hang back to give the assistant a grateful smile and tell him, “We’re in a bit of a rush. Party’s tomorrow.”

“Wow, well, have fun!” he replies. As you swing off to follow Joel, Zack hops along after you, tapping your shoulder.

“I didn’t catch your name?”

“Naw, but she caught yours, Zack!” Joel yells. Emphasis on the K.

“See ya,” you whisper.

“Makin’ friends, are we?” Joel mutters as you catch up to him.

You lightly hit his bicep. “I couldn’t reach the soda.”

“Poor baby.” He pets his lip. You smack him again, but your stomach floods with heat. Joel doesn’t make note of it. “Need your help pickin’ out a tablecloth,” he says.

“A tablecloth? What’s so hard about a tablecl–”

You round the corner and Joel nods ahead, to where an entire wall of party supplies sits. On the shelves, piles of paper plates, cups, and napkins, and on the pegs above, bags, tablecloths, confetti, cutlery, banners, and bunting.

“Oh…”

“I was thinkin’ that pink one with the stars on it.” Joel nods to the left, finger scratching his nose, where a baby pink sheet lies, white stars all over. You try to mask your frown.

“No?” he asks, looking over at you tensely.

You tilt your head back in his direction. “It’s just…she made such a big deal about bein’ too old for a barbecue. If she’s too old for a barbecue, ain’t she too old for…”

“Pink?”

You flash him a gentle smile. “I reckon she’d like that one.”

You point to a white tablecloth, decorated with metallic gold dots.

“So, no pink, no stars. Gold polka dots are fine?”

“Sure,” you reply.

“Keep me right,” Joel whispers, leaning over to take the packet from its hook.

“Got some nibbles,” your dad’s voice yaps as he joins you two, dumping a dozen bags of candy, chips, and what looks like half the snack section into the cart. He sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “We all done?”

“Just gotta get some platters,” Joel replies, pulling a handwritten list and pen from his back pocket and glancing down it.

You lean over to check it out, smiling at his haphazard handwriting.

Cups

Soda

Plates

Tablecloth?

Balloons

Food

Cake

He draws a line through soda, plates, and the tablecloth.

“You gettin’ a cake?” you ask him.

He replies without lifting his eyes from the list. “Next door neighbor’s doin’ it. She has a bakery in town.”

Your dad’s over by the bunting, studying it all with his hands clasped behind his back.

You lower your tone, leaning in closer. “Neighbor, huh? She cute? She single?”

Joel tuts and gives you a dead-eyed stare. “Might be. Not sure.” He tilts his head. “Why don’t we give her Zack’s number?”

You raise an eyebrow and take the cart from his hands.

“We’re done, Dad. Deli’s on the way out,” you tell Joel, and he follows at your heels.

You didn’t take Joel for a man who spends ten minutes deciding which food platters to buy, but when it hits two-thirty and he’s still standing with his chin between his fingers, you sigh.

“Is it this big a deal?”

“I imagine it is; it’s Sarah we’re talkin’ about here.”

You can’t help the smile that grows on your lips, seeing how determined he is to make it perfect for her. It’s cute, alright? Who would’ve thought Joel Miller would concern himself so much with deli platters?

“Quit that,” he tells you, not even looking in your direction.

“Quit what?”

“Your starin’. Give us away.”

Your hand comes up to shove him and he grabs it, looking over your shoulder to check your dad’s not looking when he pulls you close to him.

“Don’t make me tell you twice, baby.”

You raise your eyebrows, smug grin on your lips, and his eyes dance down your body.

He suddenly lets go of you and you realize why seconds later when your dad’s heavy arm smacks down over your shoulders.

“We done, Joel? There’s this show on National Geographic about sharks I’m tryna catch.”

You roll your eyes at Joel who hands you an amused grin, then places a couple of platters into the cart and leads y’all to the checkouts.

“I’ll take the cart back, get you both at the truck.” Your dad makes off, janky wheel squeaking off to the front doors.

Joel shakes his head in his wake, as bemused by him as you are. You smile Hello to the cashier.

“How are y’all today?” he asks.

“Good, thanks,” you reply, watching Joel’s thick arms hold the crates of soda up to be scanned. He’s tensing, veins lining his tan skin. You could bite into him, you’re so needy. It’s only been a fucking week.

The red light flashes across the barcode with a beep and he settles the drinks down to grab his wallet.

You glance around as he pays. From over Joel’s right shoulder, a familiar set of buck teeth approaches. You avert your gaze, swerving to hide between Joel and the counter.

“I’m goin’ on my break, Tom!” Zack’s voice rings out, and you feel Joel’s chest shift around your shoulder.

“You got the bags?” he asks, casually. Unbothered.

“Mhm,” you reply, not achieving the same level of coolness as he did. Your voice quivers as your eyes scan for Zack, hoping he won’t catch you.

Poor guy. He was friendly enough. Just, you happen to think Joel’s friendlier.

Even if he notices you, you’re already being swept out of the store by Joel, both crates of soda and the platters on top in his arms; a feat that might’ve killed Zack in the soft drinks section. You wander off together back out into the burning heat, eyes squinting in the sun.

Your dad is stood in deep conversation with someone by the cart return, a man with a balding head and blue jeans that you don’t recognize. “I’ll be over in a minute,” he tells you both as you pass, “work stuff.”

Joel loads the truck and you jump in the back.

“You not gonna sit up front with me?” he asks, turning back to you.

“And make my dad sit in the back?”

“Punishment for holdin’ us up.”

You raise your eyebrows and climb over the front seat, sitting in place next to Joel. His hand reaches over and cups your thigh. You like it, feeling like this is your spot. Right next to him. Co-pilot. Captain of the radio.

You probably don’t like the same music Joel does, though.

You bring a hand down to lace through his, fingers intertwining between your legs.

“So, Zack?”

You lean your skull against the headrest and glare up at the roof of the car. “I have no idea. He was just talkin’ to me.”

“He seemed to like you.”

“I’m very likeable.”

“Did you like him?”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately? He look my type?”

Joel gives half a shrug.

“Don’t get all jealous,” you mutter, turning to check on your dad.

“Jealous,” Joel repeats, with a scoff.

“Uh, ‘She caught your name, Zack!’” You echo Joel’s rough inflection, emphasizing his Texas twang, stressing the K the way he did.

“That wasn’t jealousy, baby,” he says softly.

You huff, looking away and crossing your arms.

“You want me to be jealous?”

“No.”

Yeah, you do. It was kinda hot.

Joel’s smirking, you can see it from the corner of your eye.

“I…want you to be…It was hot when you…Well, I…It’s more that…In a word, I’d say–”

Joel’s hand squeezes yours, letting go and sliding slowly up your thigh. Your ears are throbbing with blood rushing when he finally stops just shy of your underwear.

“Got it,” he whispers.

Your eyes drift from his hand up to his expression. If it weren’t for the sweet smile he was giving you, you’d call him arrogant. But his warm expression, the way his head is tilted against his seat to look at you, really take you in, the upturned corners of his mouth…

It’s just as well your dad hauls the truck door open when he does, before you can throw yourself at his best friend.

“I’m in the damn back then, am I? Assholes,” he murmurs as he – struggles to – climb up into his seat.

“Blame your daughter,” Joel chuckles, hand reaching around the back of your headrest to reverse, “huh, Trouble?”

You open your mouth to clap a reply back, but your dad interrupts.

“Trouble?” he asks, brow cocked.

You spin around to watch his face contort in confusion.

“Who the heck is Trouble?”

“Your kid. Always causin’ it,” Joel says.

“Is she, now?”

You cast a look at Joel, out of sight of your dad. Are you fuckin’ serious?

He grins in return, driving off out of the parking lot.

----------

Joel had dropped you guys off on the way home from Costco. You’d wanted to stick around for a few minutes after your dad had hopped out of the truck, but he was relentless.

“Let Joel head off, he’s got a busy evenin’ ahead,” he’d insisted.

Joel had given you an apologetic glance as you unbuckled your seatbelt and followed suit.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He’d quickly kissed the back of your hand as you bid him farewell.

When Sunday rolls around, you spend the morning checking in with him, asking how the party’s looking and receiving photos to judge his decorating skills.

You: Not quite as good without my input, but it’ll do

Joel: Nothing’s quite as good without your input.

When it’s almost time to go, you’re still in the mirror making sure your outfit is perfect for Joel.

Perfect for the party, you mean.

You adjust the strap of your green dress, pulling the floral fabric over your bra. Totally innocent. Just a nice summer dress.

With slutty lingerie hidden underneath.

You’re only wearing it to fuck with him. You know that. Nothing is gonna happen at a fucking garden party. But your eyes flit across your body, trying to get into the mind of a forty-eight-year-old, watching the tops of your thighs as the wind lifts your skirt…

You unlock your phone and your thumb dances over the text thread with Joel. You’d taken some pictures before you’d slipped the dress over yourself, honestly just ‘cause you thought you looked hot, but now that the idea’s in your head…you might as well.

You: Does this lingerie say ‘garden party’?

You hit send and shut your eyes tight until you see stars, blindly throwing your phone to the floor and pacing back and forth. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck was that that was so stupid he’s totally gonna laugh at you you loser he’s–

It doesn’t take long for your phone to vibrate with Joel’s reply. You dive for it, grabbing it with a swoop of your arm.

Joel: Slutty garden party, sure.

You snort. Dick.

You: Like it?

The typing indicator pops up, then disappears, then returns. Three dots blinking at the speed your pulse is racing. Type quicker, old man.

Joel: I prefer what’s underneath it.

Your chest shudders with a sudden inhale. Your face begins to heat. A terrible idea has crossed your mind.

You’ve never been one for sexting. Not much, anyway. Certainly not on an actual message thread. Snapchat, sure, where the messages disappear from both your screen and your mind as soon as you’re done. But never somewhere there’s recorded proof.

It’s kinda hot. Having evidence of you and Joel. Pictures and messages to look back on.

So, you lay back on your bed and spread your legs. Hook a finger around the elastic of your panties, pulling them to the side to expose your – already glistening wet – folds.

You lower your phone, snap a couple pics. Play around, spread your lips, take more.

Then you send one.

Fuck it, right?

You: Sounded like you were missing it…

Your phone’s ringing within ten seconds of hitting send. You pick up and Joel’s calling out to someone.

“–right back, ‘m just goin’ to change.”

Sarah replies something you can’t make out, and Joel sighs.

“Naw, it’s just not very…I wanna look right for it. You look great. Just– I’ll be right back.”

You giggle quietly into the phone. “Excuses, excuses, Miller…”

“The hell are you doin’,” he hisses, bedroom door closing in the background, “sendin’ me that without a warnin’?”

“I did send warnin’,” you protest. “You must’a guessed when I sent the first one what the second was gonna be?”

Joel sighs and you giggle, laying back on your bed. Your hand returns between your legs and you whisper a moan, fingers sifting through soaking folds.

He goes quiet for a second.

“You playin’ with yourself, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“Feel good?”

“Yup,” you reply.

“You want me to make you cum over the phone?”

Your breath shudders and your chest heaves. Every damn time, he blows your cool every damn time.

“Uhuh,” you whimper. “’m so fucking wet.”

“Yeah? So needy, baby. Got yourself all riled up, haven’t you? Need me to fix it for you, take it away.”

You moan.

“You still wearin’ those little panties?”

You hum in response. He knows it’s a yes.

“Take ‘em off.”

“Joel, I’m leavin’ in–”

“Off.”

You obey him, dropping the phone onto your bed beside your ear and raising your hips, elastic of your underwear sliding over your pelvis and down your legs. You drop them to the floor and your hands resume position.

“Good girl,” he says, hearing you moan when your fingertips meet your clit again. “That better?”

“Mhm,” you croon.

He hisses, says, “Yeah. Gonna fuck yourself for me, pretty girl?”

You whine a Yes, and hear the clink of his belt buckle, the zip of his jeans. His voice echoes, bouncing off what you assume are his bathroom walls, when he tells you to slide a finger inside yourself. He lets a breathy sigh pass his lips, and you know he has a fist around his cock.

Your fingers dip inside your opening, collecting your slick and rubbing it up and down, soaking your clit before they return to your cunt and slip inside. You gasp, the stretch too good to keep quiet.

Joel murmurs another Good fuckin’ girl, and you can hear his soft panting. It drives you insane.

“Joel,” you whisper, “want you here.”

“I know, darlin’, I know.”

“Want you to f-fuck me.” Your swollen clit ruts against the base of your palm, the bone rubbing it so fucking good, and you squeeze your eyes tight shut.

“Soon, baby, promise,” he tells you, his hand pumping his cock, the sound of his precum coating his shaft floating through your cell into your ear. “Keep goin’, pretty girl. Bein’ so dirty for me, so fuckin’ good.”

Your back begins to arch, his praises and the sound of him jacking himself off pushing you closer and closer, warmth and pleasure flooding through your body from your core.

Joel speaks again through a strained voice.

“Wanted to fuck you yesterday,” he says, “so fuckin’ bad, baby.”

Your breath halts, cutting short in your throat.

“Wanted to,” groan, “sh-show that fuckin’ kid who you belonged to.”

You breathe a laugh laced thick with arousal. “Who I b…belonged to?”

You’re enjoying the thought as much as he is. Joel fucking you senseless in front of anyone who looks twice at you. Showing them that only he can make you feel good, only he can make you cum the way you do. The thought causes a whimper to escape your throat.

“That’s it, baby. You like that?”

“Yeah,” you whine.

“Tell me, pretty girl. Tell me.”

“’m yours, Joel. Fuck. Fuckin’ – yours.”

You’re whispering his name over and over, adding a third finger, imagining it’s his cock fucking in and out of you.

“So – close – baby,” he’s grunting, and you sigh in agreement. You’re writhing around on your mattress, legs wide open, hands pumping in and out and rubbing circles all over your sensitive cunt, wishing it was Joel all over you.

He’s moaning now, quietly humming down the phone to you, and it starts to undo the knot in your stomach. Your walls clamp around your fingers, hand begins to slow on your clit, and you utter his name before you fall silent, throat closing up as you climax.

The sound of your orgasm sends him over the edge right behind you. He groans, your name on his lips as he climaxes, repeating it over and over. You’re still coming to when he quietens, moans staggered, breathing heavy.

“Good?” you ask, fingers massaging yourself after your high.

“So good, darlin’,” he whispers, “did so good for me.��

You smile at his praise. Did so good for him, like you always do. It sends your head spiraling.

You dip your soaked fingers in and out of your soft cunt, lying in the bliss a little while longer, listening to Joel do his jeans back up and fix his belt.

He must figure what you’re up to, because he lifts the phone back to his mouth and says, “Tell me how you taste, baby.”

You don’t even think twice. You slip your fingers from your dripping cunt and suckle on them, moaning into the phone for Joel’s benefit. He lets out a low growl.

“Sweet as sugar,” you tell him, and he hums.

“Hey, hon?” your dad’s voice snaps you back to reality.

You’re not on some different plain with Joel’s voice purring in your ear. You’re not in private. You’re laying on your bed with your legs spread, Joel on speakerphone.

Your legs slam closed and you sit up straight, shushing Joel, who’s chuckling quietly into your phone.

“Yep?” you reply, voice shaky. “Shut the fuck up,” you hiss down the line.

Your dad pushes your door open as you stand, straightening your dress.

“Ready to go? I don’t wanna be late for Joel.”

“I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“He will. C’mon.”

He closes the door over when he leaves. You tug your panties back on and bring the phone up to your ear, speakerphone now safely off.

“Do you? Mind?”

“’s long as I get to see your pretty little face, I don’t care, baby.”

You smile. Then you think it over.

“…but you’d prefer I was there on time, right? Y’know, so you can spend more time with me?”

“Uhuh. Sure. More time with your ass, too.”

“Alright. That’s nice. See, you just ruined what could’ve been a really sweet moment. How romantic, Miller. Once again, your dick gets the better of you.”

Joel laughs. “Ain’t that what this whole thing is? My dick getting the better of me?”

You gasp, offended. “And here I was thinking you liked me for my personality.”

He scoffs. “Will you just get in the damn car and get your ass over here?”

You’re fixing yourself once more in the mirror; there can be no signs of what just happened.

“I’m cominggg…” you drawl.

“Good girl. Bring that personality of yours, too.”

You snort and hang up without saying goodbye.

Your dad is stood at the bottom of the stairs as you march down them, legs still a little weak.

“Sorry, kiddo, I just don’t wanna be late. Joel’s wantin’ us there first, and Rita will be waitin’.”

Your brows furrow in response. He elaborates.

“She’s comin’, too, I’ve to give her a ride.”

“Sooo…we’ll arrive at Joel’s around midnight? Just checkin’, so I can let him know. Y’know, she likes to take it slow in the car.”

“Ha-ha. Funny. Get your things.”

“Can I take my own car? We can race, see who gets there first.”

Your dad sighs. “How am I s’posed to explain that to her?”

“Just say Sarah wanted me over early.” You cock your head like a begging puppy. “Please?”

He nods, exasperated, and waves a hand toward you. “Go on, get. Take that salad, will you?”

You sit the ceramic bowl on your hip and skip to the front door, belting it into the passenger seat before heading for Joel’s.

He’s out back when you arrive, platter of food in his hand. He looks casual, like he wasn’t cooing you through an orgasm, like, twenty minutes ago.

“Hey, cowboy,” you call from the patio door.

He sets the platter down on the tablecloth you picked out and strolls back toward the house, hands taking your waist as soon as he’s close enough.

“Your dad here?”

“Nope,” you whisper, “he’s bringing Rita.”

Joel dips his head and presses his lips to yours, rocking you back and forth. You giggle against his mouth.

“Dress is nice,” he murmurs when he pulls away, your foreheads together.

“Oh, you should see what I have on under it.”

“Already did,” he whispers in a cocky song, and you laugh again into his kiss.

His tongue sneaks past yours, and you squeal when his hand drops to squeeze your ass under your short skirt.

“You’re gonna make me drop this salad!” You bat his smirking ass off of you to set your dad’s handiwork safely on the table.

The moment is broken by the sound of Sarah’s voice from the hallway. You both split apart, Joel heads back outside while you walk over to the fridge to grab a soda.

“Welcome home banner’s slipped, Dad,” she yells out the window, and Joel gives her a thumbs up. Sarah rolls her eyes and turns to you. “Hi, you!”

“Hey,” you reply, giving her a toothy grin. “Soda?”

She reaches a hand out and you pass her a Coke.

“I have never seen my dad so stressed,” she snickers, can to her lips.

“Me either. You don’t wanna know how long he took to decide what to get from the deli.”

Sarah silently wanders through to the living room, beckoning you to follow. You glance up at the streamers still hanging from the ceiling, the slanted banner above the TV.

You throw yourselves down on the couch and she rounds on you.

“So…?”

“So?” you say, taking a sip of your soda.

“What’s been goin’ on? We haven’t properly caught up yet.”

You shrug. “Not much. Workin’ at Sal’s, loving life. What’s been going on with you?”

“Oh, come on. You really got no news for me?”

“What news do you want?” You snort, lifting the can to cover your flushed cheeks.

Sarah shrugs. “I dunno, boys? Gossip? Drama?”

“What are you, thirteen? Thought you were a big Cali girl now.”

She tuts.

You sigh, conceding. “No boys, no drama happenin’, and the most gossip I know is Anna called in sick last week and then Sal’s niece saw a picture of her on Instagram at some house party. ‘s all I got.”

Sarah looks unconvinced. She smirks. Her eyes thin, only for a second, but you catch it.

“How’s your dad?” she asks after a tense stare-off.

“Fine,” you reply. “He’s bringing Rita.”

“Aw. I’ll miss ‘im, then. Won’t be here ‘til sundown.”

You giggle into your can, “That’s what I said, dude.”

Joel shuffles into the room then, making for the banner. Your eyes track him as he leans over the TV, strong arms reaching up to fix it into place. He grunts as he pushes the pin back in.

“Need a hand, Dad?”

“Nope,” he replies, “’m good.”

Your chest tightens as the memory of the last time that banner was pinned into place floods your memory. Sat atop Joel’s shoulders, pulling him into you when he set you back down. Then, him fucking you on the couch, right where your legs currently lie, Sarah’s draped over them.

And here he is, able to reach it all by himself all along.

You clear your throat, suddenly feeling flushed.

“You good?” Sarah asks when you sit up straight, fanning yourself with your hand.

“Is it hot in here?”

Joel turns, eyebrows raising.

“Crack a window, Dad.” Sarah’s fanning you now, too, wafting a magazine in your face.

He moves for the window and slides it open, pulling the shades back in attempt to get some airflow.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, hand on Sarah’s wrist. “I’m fine.”

She lowers the magazine and stares you down. “Are you pregnant, or something?”

Joel chokes, clearing his throat over by the window, and you bat Sarah’s leg.

“No, idiot! It’s just hot. You’re not hot?”

Sarah flicks her hair over her shoulder, chin lifting. “I’m very hot, actually.” She stifles a laugh at your expression. When she leans over to set her soda on the table, you shoot Joel a look.

He raises his hands in surrender silently and heads out of the room, reminding you guys that the party starts in twenty minutes.

“You like your decorations?” you ask once Joel’s gone.

Sarah’s eyes widen and she nods. “I heard you had a thing or two to do with ‘em.”

“I was creative director.”

“He’s so cheesy, ain’t he?”

“He just loves you. I think it’s cute.”

“I’ll bet you two got into, like, six arguments while you were puttin’ them all up. Right?”

You blink rapidly, trying to clear the memory from your eyes in case she reads it. “Nope. None. No arguments.”

You’re thankful when Joel’s front door pushes open and you hear Rita calling down the hall for Sarah, who jumps up and skips to meet her. When you follow, Joel’s in the kitchen doorway, watching you carefully. You know he heard every damn word, from no arguments to you thinking he was being cute.

You ignore him as you brush past, smug smirk on his face.

The backyard slowly starts to fill with more and more people as the afternoon goes on, sun rising higher and higher into the sky. Sarah is swept off by a small wave of school friends, all nineteen, none of whom you really know. One of them asked if you were her sister, and you choked on your drink before Sarah snorted and said, “No, dumbass, she’s my dad’s best friend’s daughter.”

They’re standing like a flock of seagulls over by the pool, shrill giggles piercing the air every ten seconds. Taking selfies, updating Instagram stories. Oh, to be nineteen again.

Being a senior citizen of twenty-three means, unfortunately for you, that you spend most of the afternoon tailing your dad and his buddies. At the food table, slowly depleting of the snacks your dad had practically raided from Costco, you’re witness to a conversation between him and Bill about the housing market.

“…I mean, if she wanted to get a place of her own,” your dad waves a hand in your direction, “how’s she meant to do it? What are they doin’ to help the younger generations get their foot in the door, hm?”

Bill’s shaking his head. Looks like vexation, like he’s agreeing with your dad, but you’ve a sneaking suspicion he’s just pacifying him.

“Maybe you’re better headin’ back to New York, after all, hon,” your dad says, and you raise your eyebrows, biting down on your bottom lip.

“Missin’ it yet?” Bill asks.

You shrug. “Sometimes. Was nice being around people who were into the same stuff as me. But I like being home.”

He nods, looking back down at the pool, sunlight gleaming off the water in ripples.

“She’s got plenty to keep her occupied,” your dad snorts. “Me ‘n Joel keep her right.”

You bite back a laugh. If you only fucking knew.

Bill chortles. “Joel Miller, keepin’ someone right? Now that’s a sight I’d like to see.”

You look over to him, pretending to laugh along, but your brows drop in confusion.

“Ah, they’re close, y’know?” your dad says. “He looks out for her. Think he keeps her on the straight and narrow better ‘n I do, these days, doesn’t he?”

“He, uh…Yeah, sure.” You can barely look him in the eye.

“Tell you what,” Bill twists around to grab another fistful of nuts from the table, “there ain’t nothin’ the good Southern air won’t fix. I notice a difference in you, this time around, kid.”

“Yeah?”

He nods enthusiastically, cheeks full. Still chewing, he says, “Oh, yeah. Hell, you used to come home for Christmas or whatever, ‘n it was like you were bored. Miserable. No offense, don’t take that the wrong way.”

You scoff. “Which way should I take it?”

“Now that you’re back here for good,” he continues, not hearing you, “‘s like someone switched a light on. Doesn’t she seem brighter?”

Your dad turns to survey you and eventually nods. “You happier here, kiddo?”

You shrug, mumble an, “I dunno.”

The men laugh. Bill gives you a clap to the back and strolls off back inside, leaving you and your dad alone.

“Why didn’t you ask that– that boy along?”

“Who? Sam?”

He nods. “Remember you had that date scheduled– I mean, not-date?”

You narrow your eyes. “I don’t think this is his scene.”

“Garden party not macho enough?”

You shake your head in bewilderment. “Macho?”

“Who’s macho?” Joel’s gruff voice sounds from behind.

You swing around to tell him, “Nobody,” and he shrugs, cheeks full with the sandwich he’s just thrown in his mouth.

“Nice,” you muse. “Very garden party of you.”

“Right?”

You smirk, peeling back the wrapper of the cupcake on your plate.

“Those,” Joel leans in, smirk on his lips, voice low, “were made by Nat.” He nods over toward the patio doors, where a blonde woman in a long purple dress stands, chatting to another of Joel’s neighbors. “Remember I told you she was makin’ a cake?”

You turn back to face him, narrow eyes set on his. He smiles innocently, and you can’t help but return it, butterflies tickling your stomach.

“Damn good cake it is, too,” your dad mumbles from your side. “Try some, hon.”

You lift the cupcake to your mouth, never letting go of Joel’s gaze, and run your tongue along the pink icing, collecting it all on the tip. Joel doesn’t move. He’s watching your lips.

Your teeth sink into the soft cake – it is fucking good, though you’d never admit it to Joel. He’s having far too much fun watching you; any more inflation to his ego and he might explode.

“Hm,” you run your tongue over your top lip, “tastes alright. But it’s pink. Sarah’s too old for pink.”

You throw the cupcake back onto your plate and roll your eyes.

Joel scoffs. Entertained. Nice job, kid. “Here,” he says, “you got some icin’ on your–”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead, licks his thumb and wipes it along the edge of your lip, collects the icing, then slots it back between his own, and sucks it clean.

Right in front of your fucking dad.

You’re honestly about to mutter a sincere thanks when you remember he’s standing right at your elbow, watching the whole thing. Watching his best friend run his wet thumb across his daughter’s mouth and then taste her on his tongue. Like it’s nothing.

Joel realizes halfway through what he’s doing and yanks his thumb out of his mouth a little too abruptly, nodding at you as if he’s just been courteous. He clears his throat when his arms are back by his side. “Uh…”

Your feet are heavy against the patio. You feel like your limbs are stuck in place, save for your hands, which cause the paper plate locked between your fingers to tremble.

“Th…Thanks.”

It’s all you can muster up the courage to say. You can feel your dad’s eyes on your shoulder like the sun burning your skin.

“Yeah. No problem.”

You stare between the two of them, unsure who’ll break first. Unsure if either of them will, or if you’ll have to cave and say something.

A swish of fabric against the back of your calves jolts life back into you and you hear a soft voice in your left ear.

“See you’re enjoyin’ the cupcakes, then?” she hums to Joel. Your stomach tightens.

“Uh, yeah, they’re, uh…real good, Nat. Thanks again. We were just sayin’ how good they are, weren’t we?” He holds a hand out, past you, to your dad, who nods along. You start to back away.

Joel can tease you all he wants about his next-door neighbor and her pink cupcakes, but you’ve truly never felt more grateful to have another woman approach him and take some of the heat off of you. In a blur of embarrassment and the tiniest sliver of thrill, you take off into the house.

Bill’s in the living room with a couple other men, watching something on TV. You flash by the door and straight upstairs, where it’s quiet, empty. You lock yourself in the bathroom, head immediately falling into your hands.

“Fuck,” you whisper into your palms.

Your pulse is racing, face flushed with color and heat, embarrassment seeping all over you. What the fuck was he thinking? Was he even thinking?

It’s not unlike Joel to do stupid stuff like this just to mess with you when you’re alone. But you know, from the look on his face, from how speechless he suddenly got, you know he didn’t mean it. You know that, right now, he’s probably outside, still being pestered by that lady Nat, feeling the exact same as you are on the inside.

You steady your breathing and crack the window, peering through the sliver of light. Your dad’s still by the snacks. You can hear Nat resuming conversation just below you, out of sight by the patio doors. Where is Joel?

You pull the window open a little more, and crane your neck to scope the entire yard. There, by the pool, Sarah’s friend is stuffing as many marshmallows into his mouth as he can, while the rest video him, hysterically laughing.

You notice a flash of flannel by the work shed and spot him; making his way down a stone path between some bushes. Rita’s on his arm. Good. Means he escaped your dad without much damage done.

You rinse your face over with splashes of cold water, check yourself in the mirror, and head back out. A roar sounds from the living room as you round the bottom of the stairs.

“I didn’t know bowling was so fuckin’ excitin’!” Bill yells.

You slip through the kitchen, drowned in golden sunlight, and back outside. Nat shifts to let you by her and you smile gratefully, her purple dress sweeping across your legs again.

You follow the path behind Joel’s shed, up some steps and dip your head beneath the greenery. It’s obvious what he’s been up to since you and Sarah left; he’s good with his hands. He’s landscaped most of his yard; starting behind the work shed is a small, private pathway which leads to a secluded patio, decorated with potted plants, shrubs, and two wooden chairs. It’s out of view from where the rest of the party are, but you can look down on pretty much everyone from here.

Rita and Joel are in conversation when you round the corner and his eyes lock onto yours.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greets you, so casual you almost forget what just happened. The man is so fucking cool, it almost riles you.

“Thought I saw you guys wander off.”

“Oh, honey, here, take my seat.”

“No, Rita, really. I’ll sit on the arm of Joel’s.”

You lean back onto the wooden arm, thighs dangerously close to Joel’s hands. He flinches as you settle, like he wanted to put a protective hand over your leg, and then remembered your company.

“Nice garden party, huh, Rita?” you chirp, eyes flashing across Joel’s face.

He shakes his head, knocking your leg with the back of his hand to tell you off.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous. Fine day for it, too.” Rita looks up to the clear sky. “Only the best for our Sarah. I’m just keepin’ Mr. Grump company over here.”

“Mr. Grump?” you snort, looking from her to Joel.

He sighs. “I am not bein’ a grump.”

“Are too,” she replies flatly, and Joel turns to stare at her.

“It’s hard work hostin’ so many people, alright?”

Rita chuckles, giving his arm a light slap. “He’s all the way over here to escape the party,” she tells you, sweet smile on her face.

You return it, saying, “That doesn’t sound like Joel at all. He loves people, don’t you?”

Joel grumbles, taking a sip of his beer.

The three of you sit quietly for a few minutes, Rita relaxing in the warm summer air, shade from the trees keeping her cool. You, too close for comfort to Joel, breaking out in a sweat with the need to talk to him about the cupcake incident. And Joel, almost looking bored, right arm on his armrest drawing shapes at the small of your back.

You could fucking scream.

“Well, honey,” Rita eventually says, “since you’re here, I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. You help me up?”

You carefully pull Rita to her feet, and she shakily wanders off back toward the rest of the party, waving a hand and telling you not to let Joel out of your sight. You take her seat in her absence.

“Arm not comfortable?” Joel asks, eyes on the party.

“Huh?”

“I said, arm not comfortable?”

“Not as comfortable as a whole chair.”

“Hm.”

You mock hum in response. “You want me back on the arm? You that needy, baby?”

He looks at you. His tongue in his cheek. “Nah, want you on my lap. But arm is less obvious.”

His words knock the wind out of you, but only for a few seconds. You’re getting good at not swooning at every sexual reference this man makes. You’re also getting shamelessly good at responding to him, matching his energy.

So, you stand, and, while checking nobody’s watching, shuffle over. Back to Joel, you lower yourself down onto his thigh. Swing your head around to look him in the eye.

“Better?”

In reply, he takes your waist in one hand and shifts you so you’re at a ninety-degree angle to him. His knees facing north, yours west.

“Better,” he confirms.

Your brows furrow. “What are you–”

“I thought it over. You ‘n that Zack boy.”

“Wouldn’t say he was a boy, was probably my age–”

“That Zack boy,” Joel repeats. “Him chattin’ to you, asking you about New York. Wantin’ to know if you’re single.”

How much of that conversation did Joel hear?

“He was just–”

“Makin’ conversation? Nah. He was into ya.”

“Well, if you say so. So, you thought it over?”

“Uhuh. I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“About what?”

“About walkin’ up to find you bein’ chatted up by some loser.”

“Oh, ouch, Joel. Zack’s feelings are hurt.”

The corner of his mouth trembles, holding back a laugh. Then he leans in.

“I don’t like to see anyone with their eyes on my girl.”

His girl.

Something inside you stirs. Something between your legs…tenses.

“Your…”

“You think that was nice? The way he was lookin’ at you? You think he wanted to be your friend?”

You stare at him, mouth agape. No words bubble to the surface.

“Nah, baby. He wanted you the way I want you. The way I have you.”

“You…have…And how is it you have me?”

“Sat on my lap, pretty little mouth wide open, wet enough that I can feel you through my jeans.”

He leans back in his chair, and you watch him wordlessly.

Your breath stammering, brain struggling to compute, you mumble, “What are you gonna do with me, then?”

“Hm?” he tilts his head.

“I said, what are you gonna do? With me?”

“Well…” he takes a drink from his bottle, and then studies it in his hand. “I thought you could sweeten my beer for me.”

Your eyebrows raise on their own, your body on autopilot.

“S-sweeten…your…b…”

Joel nods. His eyes track over to the rest of the party, and then back to you.

“Nobody’s watchin’, darlin’. It’s just you ‘n me. Go on. Do it for me.”

He takes the bottle and uses it to part your legs, before sliding it under your dress. You watch like you’re not even inside your body, just a passenger to Joel and his movements. All you know is you want him to do whatever the fuck he’s about to do.

The lip of the bottle pushes your panties aside, and you feel it line up at your lips. Joel looks up at you then with a question in his gaze.

You stare at him a few moments longer, and he lets you. He knows you’re taking this all in, even if it feels like it’s all in slow motion. He lets you take your time with your answer.

You nod, breathless. Do it. And he pushes up.

Your fingers immediately lock around his wrist, the beginnings of a moan escaping your lips. Joel tuts softly, wrist never stopping, just slowly inserting the bottle, neck gliding through your wet folds to your center.

You’re gasping, still holding onto him to steady yourself, coming back to earth only momentarily to check nobody’s nearby.

“Ain’t no one comin’, sweetheart,” Joel coos in your ear, “I’m watchin’. Just you enjoy.”

When the bottleneck fills you up, he pulls it back again. Your eyes begin to roll at the feeling of it dragging out of you. Your head cocks, body going limp. Lips seal shut, trapping a whine.

You rationalize it with three things. First off: nobody can see you here, not from down on the patio. Second: even if they could, Joel’s watching. And thirdly: you don’t give the slightest of fucks.

Joel and his ideas, Joel and his fucking ideas, forever pushing any other thought out of your head and replacing it with a want to please him, a need to do the things he asks of you. Forever washing away all your good instinct, leaving behind only the ache between your legs and the lust behind your eyes.

Joel starts fucking you – really fucking you – pumping the neck of his bottle in and out of your cunt. You’re doing everything not to scream out. Your hand grips tighter on his wrist and he smiles, looking down to the sight of the pair of you working together, fucking you together, chasing your high together.

“Liked it when I touched you, didn’t you,” he breathes, wrist jacking, “liked when I put my hand on you in front of everyone.”

“Did you like it?” you ask, head lulling, eyes folding shut. Legs opening wider just a fraction. Back beginning to arch.

He laughs. “Yeah, I liked it, baby.”

“Then I liked it, too.”

You like it when he talks to you. Like picturing the things he’s saying. The shock of Joel’s thumb on your lips. The desire you felt to part them and suck on it, right there and then.

Then, a twisted thought crosses your mind.

“Did you��did you like…oh…did you like N-Nat comin’ up…to you?” you whisper as Joel pushes the bottle deeper.

He growls, teeth locking together in some weird grimace of a smile. “Who’s jealous now, baby?”

You smile, head falling back. The sky is bright and blue and it burns your eyes to look, but then, your whole body is aflame.

You know he doesn’t care about anyone else. Know you’re the only one he wants to be doing this stuff with. But you’re there now, so might as well follow it through.

“You don’t– Fuck, Joel, fuck…You don’t think she’s…h-hot?”

He hums. Considers it. “Who’s sitting on my lap gettin’ fucked right now, pretty girl?”

“M-me,” you wobble, grinning.

“You,” he agrees, and pushes the bottle further.

You start to feel dizzy, the blood pumping through your ears deafening you. You place your hand on Joel’s knee to steady yourself as your legs give, cunt dripping everywhere. You can hear it, can feel it.

“Joel,” you pine, “’m close.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Joel’s purring, lips pressed against your ear. “You can cum, baby, I got you.”

Your hand comes up to grip the collar of his shirt – you’d worry about it looking suspicious, but your mind is somewhere else entirely as the pressure between your legs starts to unravel at rapid pace. It all becomes too much too quickly, and you can’t stifle the sounds from your lips any longer.

Your legs clamp shut, knuckles whiten, pussy throbs around the neck of Joel’s beer bottle. You cum for him for the second time today, quietly whimpering as his free hand rubs your hip, coaxing you back to earth.

“That’s my girl,” he breathes, “good girl. All over it, darlin’, that’s it.”

“Joel…” you’re panting, orgasm bearing down on your body.

He’s still lulling you through it, whispering words you can’t make out into your ear, lips pressed against your hair. He slowly slips the bottle from between your legs and sets it on the armrest, replacing his hand on your bare thigh.

It’s fucking covered in you. Your wet runs down into the beer, slick coating the outside of the neck. You can’t take your eyes off it, can’t fucking believe what’s just happened.

You take a deep breath of the sweet breeze, Joel’s arms around your waist, rubbing you gently. You lean down and nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck.

A few minutes pass, couple songs on the stereo go by. Your hands toying with one of his, your breathing steadying against his chest. Joel mumbles into your hair.

“Your dad’s lookin’ for us.”

“How d’you know?” you mutter into his shirt, eyes closing over.

“That’s the third time he’s gone in ‘n out of the kitchen.”

“Maybe he’s just hungry.”

His chest jumps once with a laugh and he sits you both up. You stand wearily and Joel holds onto your hand as you slink back into the chair by his side. As you heave one leg over the other, core still throbbing, your dad emerges from around the shed. Joel lets your hand drop.

“Rita’s wantin’ home,” your dad murmurs, rolling his eyes.

“She ain’t much of a partier,” Joel says, lifting the beer to his lips. You stare at the lip of the bottle as his mouth kisses it, drink mixed with…well, you, spilling out onto his tongue. The neck is pearlescent with your cum. You feel lightheaded.

“You alright, honey?” your dad asks, and his hand comes down on your shoulder. Gently, but it still makes you jump.

“Y-yeah,” you reply, dragging your gaze from Joel’s lips. “Just…the sun, I think.”

Your dad looks worried, rubs the top of your back. “You need to go home?”

You shake your head, panting a little. “No, I’m good.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Joel says. The bottle’s between his thighs now, he’s twirling it. It’s like it’s a trophy to him. He props his elbow on his armrest and gives your shoulder a squeeze.

Your dad gives Joel an appreciative nod, then glares back at you. “You call me if you need me, alright? I’ll be ten minutes, tops.”

You muster up the energy to make some joke about going too fast in the car with Rita. Your dad chuckles, then nods again to Joel, and disappears around the corner.

“You okay?” Joel asks when he’s gone.

You return his glance, energy coming back. “Sweeten your beer? Where the fuck did you come up with that one?”

He’s grinning. Do you want to slap him, or mount him?

“Can’t let you in on all my secrets, can I, darlin’?”

You roll your head back, resting softly against the wooden chair.

“Alright. Just keep doin’ that.”

“Doin’ what?”

“Surprising me. See where it gets you.”

Joel laughs through his nose; you hear the quiet rumble of his chest.

“We better get,” he says, tapping your knee as he stands. “Before everyone goes home.”

“Thought that’s what you wanted?” you reply, taking his outstretched hand and pulling yourself up.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Joel mutters as you walk off in front of him, “did I say before everyone goes home? I meant to make everyone go home.”

Joel gets his wish soon enough. It’s almost four o’clock when you return to the party; Sarah and her friends are up in her room, Bill’s roped about three others in to join his new bowling watch party, and most of the guests are either gone, or getting ready to head. The garden is empty when you throw yourself back on a lounge chair, enjoying the quiet.

You feel yourself dipping in and out of sleep, sun keeping you warm, breeze lightly kissing your cheek. The music from the stereo has been turned down, so you listen contently to the quiet hum of country, making a mental note to tease Joel about it later.

You’re filled with a peaceful content, a little tired from your ridiculous antics, but happy. You’re starting to understand what Bill was talking about; that bright cheeriness always makes an appearance when you’ve been around one person in particular, doesn’t it?

“Dad?” Sarah’s voice sings through the open door from the kitchen. She peers through the shades, spotting you by the pool. “You seen my dad?”

You shake your head. “Not a clue.” Lifting the bottom of your bottle to drain the last of your beer on your tongue, you haul yourself up – with a huge effort – to sit up straight.

“Will you tell him I’m goin’ out? We’re gonna catch a movie.”

“I’m not invited?”

She snorts. “You can come if you want. Thought you might still be feelin’ funny, is all.”

“I’m good. Enjoy. I’ll tell ‘im when he makes a reappearance.”

“Bye, babe!” she disappears back into the house.

You give her a wave as her silhouette heads down the hall. Joel’s back gate squeals open and your dad’s voice calls in from your left.

“That Rita can chat, huh?”

He latches the gate closed, then drags a deckchair over beside you.

“You were quicker than I thought you’d be.”

“She wanted to show me some cross-stitch thing she’s been workin’ on. Told her you weren’t feelin’ great ‘n I should probably head back.”

You furrow your brows. “Poor Rita, she means well.”

“I know, I know. Just, next time you see her, keep the story up.”

You scoff. “You seen Joel?”

Your question is answered by the grumble which sounds from the kitchen. He appears seconds later, stretches his arms high above his head, then stalks over.

You did try to avert your gaze from the trail of hair under his belly button. You swear. But it was right fucking there.

He hoists a second chair over to your right. “Too much effort,” he mutters, throwing himself into it. “I’m glad they’re all gone.”

You laugh lazily and rest back. “Sarah’s gone to the movies.”

Joel nods in response, the sun hitting off of him and lighting him like some kind of Adonis. You struggle to pull your eyes away from him, mesmerized by the way the light hits his worn skin, reflects out of his deep-set brown eyes, ignites strands of his graying hair.

You fucking hate what he does to you, the aftermath of him making you cum. As if there’s some drug running through your veins, making you want him, need him. Need his arms around you, his skin on yours. Need more of his attention, as if phone sex and whatever the fuck that was with the bottle weren’t enough for the day.

Your eyes travel down his strong, thick arms, hair covering them just the perfect amount, down to his hands; rough, worked, but gentle, kind. They grip the armrests of his chair, and you imagine the same grip around your neck as he…

“Y’know, actually, this was a lot less stress than I thought it’d be,” your dad yaps, bursting your bubble. “Why so last minute, Joel?”

“Sarah only decided she wanted somethin’ a few days ago, and she’s out of town next weekend, so had to be this week.”

“Oh? Me ‘n her both. Where’s she off to?”

Your head darts around to look at your dad. Then, when he speaks, back to Joel.

“Nashville. Just for a few days. Goin’ with some friends from school, I think. They’re flyin’ out on Friday, be back Monday night. Girls’ trip, I guess.”

You shoot back to your dad, like you’re watching a damn tennis match.

“Funny that. Don’t you have a girls’ night on Saturday, hon?”

Staring at him dumbfounded for a few seconds, you nod slowly. “Mhm.”

“I’m headin’ up to Fort Worth for work,” he tells Joel.

Joel looks at you from the corner of his eyes. You slowly draw your gaze to meet his, mouth falling open a little.

“Yeah? This that big fancy client of yours?” he asks your dad, shifting in his seat.

“Sure is. He’s askin’ too much of me, these days. All these late nights, now workin’ the weekends?” He lets out a little chuckle, shaking his head.

You tear your glance from your Adonis to the pool ahead of you. You finally find your voice, knowing that, with this final piece of information, the fate of your weekend is sealed.

“You there long?”

“Just Saturday through Sunday.”

Well, fuck.

You and Joel exchange a knowing glance, his eyes darkening already.

“I’m sure you’ll be alright without me for one night, hon,” the voice from your left chuckles, but you’re both already elsewhere.

You will be fine without him, of course you will. You’re twenty-three. You’re a grown-up.

And you’ve got Joel to keep you company.

----------

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