#austin country club

[smexydilflover]

Watching 'Pride & Prejudice' rn.

[yellowharrington]

save a horse (ride a cowboy!) -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 3.9k

warnings/notes: smut and porn!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. age gap (joel is at least 10 years older). drinking (both reader and joel), unprotected PIV, oral (f receiving), spanking, dirty talk, car sex. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: recommended listening: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich. honourable mention to austin by dasha bc it's been on repeat. please take the time to leave comments/reblog if you liked it <3 thank u for reading!! divider by @cafekitsune

summary: meeting an older man at the bar and spontaneously fucking him in his truck was not on your list of things to do for your first summer back in austin, but what can you do?

You hate going dancing.

Sweaty clubs with bodies brushing up against one another, sticky with the hot summer heat, confined to the walls of a crowded bar and beer sticking to the bottom of your shoes. Not the way you plan to spend your first Saturday night back in Austin for the summer, but Maddy is so convincing, your hand clasped around yours, a pleading look in her eyes. 

“I promise. It’s so fun. We’ll invite Kaylee and Erin and it’ll be a whole thing.”

You rolled your eyes at her, slipping your hand out from between hers. “Fine. One drink, one dance.”

She squealed with excitement and clapped her hands together, stepping up from the small cafe table. “We can pregame at mine. Wear that black top you have.”

You nod, thinking of the top in question. A corseted black thing that didn’t leave much to the imagination, breasts spilling out of the stop beneath the tight stitching. You think it probably got shoved to the back of your closet somewhere.

~

Joel hates going dancing.

Well, he doesn’t hate dancing. He just isn’t good at it, and hasn’t gone since his very early twenties. And he certainly would not be interested in spending the evening with Tommy at a country bar in downtown Austin, surrounded by women who would grimace at a pair of old men taking up a table.

But Tommy is convincing, hands gesturing around him annoyingly, until Joel gives in. “Fine. One drink. Then I’m leavin’.”

“This city is swarming with beautiful women,” Tommy says, knocking back another sip of his hot coffee. “And you’re too holed up inside to meet any of ‘em.”

“I like my own company,” Joel starts, bringing his own coffee mug to the sink. “Some of us are happy by ourselves.”

Tommy snorts, a hand clapping onto Joel’s shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, big shot. We’ll see when there’s a bunch of hotties in front of ya, then you can tell me that you like being alone.”

Joel gags at his use of the word ‘hotties’, and pulls his work boots on. “I can still change my mind, ya know.”

~ 

Night falls over the suburbs of Austin, taking the sunshine but leaving the humid, sweet heat in the air. You’re surrounded by your friends at Maddy’s apartment, a light pink gloss swiping across your lips. You’ve managed to dig out the top she had mentioned earlier, tied in a tight bow at the back. Your dark jeans hit just below it, letting slivers of smooth skin show, which somehow seemed sluttier than the fact your boobs were practically falling out of the top. Your jeans outlined the plump curve of your ass, a pair of dark cowboy boots adorning your calves. The last time you’d dressed like this was a long time ago, so it felt a little foreign, but not uncomfortable.

The cab ride to the bar is eventful, with 4 girls singing along to the songs on the radio at the top of your lungs. You were already a drink or two deep, having done some brightly coloured shot at Maddy’s house, taking it without thinking. You still weren’t planning on doing anything insane tonight, and bar drinks were expensive, so this was probably the best it was going to get for you.

The car pulls up to the bar and waits for you all to pour out, flashing your IDs to the bouncer, sliding inside past the thrums of people already inside. The bar was almost full, dance floor packed, drinks being poured by every bartender. Neon signs and amber lamps served as the only lighting for the establishment, already making things feel fuzzy around the edges for you.

Joel sits at a rickety wooden table in the corner of the bar with Tommy, scratching the wet label off of his beer bottle. He had fished out a plaid t-shirt from his closet, his usual jeans taught across his thighs and a pair of nicer boots than his work ones on his feet. His hair was pushed back, curls still lapping at the nape of his neck and curves of his ear. He was noticeably older than the other patrons of the bar, painfully aware of that fact, he felt rather uncomfortable. Tommy didn’t seem to mind, feet tapping at the beer-washed hardwood. “Stop lookin’ so mad,” he remarks, close to Joel’s ear. “You’ll scare ‘em all away.”

There are groups of people pouring in from outside, bachelorette parties and frat boys, making Joel feel unbelievably out of place. It was hard to lighten up when he wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing here.

The doors open once more, your group of friends pushing their way through the sea of people, hand in hand. Joel notices, one girl in a cowboy hat, one in denim jean cutoffs, one with a big belt buckle that glints pink against the light. 

Then he notices you.

His face softens as you follow behind your friends, as they push to the front of the line for a drink. He’s got 10 years on you, easy, but that doesn’t stop his cock twitching against the zipper of his suddenly too-tight jeans.

Soft curves, a top that fits you just right, and jeans that accentuate the dips and lines of your body. You’ve got warm energy, a bright smile adorning your glossed lips. 

You barely even notice him, until you turn around and make eye contact, your shining eyes meeting his. He’s too handsome for his own good, biceps and shoulders pressed tight against the sleeves of his shirt. He’s got his thighs spread across the chair he’s sitting in, towards you, almost like he wants you to come and just sit right on his lap.

You offer a small smile across the dim bar, taking your drink and following your friends to the last open table they’d spotted. A high top, back to the stranger now, giving him the opportunity to see your shape. He swears you’re sticking your ass out on purpose, so he can see the soft skin where your jeans meet the bottom of your top. 

“Joel,” Tommy’s voice cuts through the bustle of the bar. “If you’re gonna be so fuckin’ miserable, we can go. There’s another place-“

Joel stops him, teetering his beer towards his brother. “This is fine. We can stay for another round.”

~ 

You pull yourself away from the group after finishing your round of sugary drinks and shots, your head beginning to buzz. “I’ll get the next ones,” you giggle, pushing yourself out of your seat and steadying yourself on the ground. “Green tea shots?” The girls hoot and holler back to you, as you turn on your heels towards the crowded bar. 

Joel gets up, almost looking panicked, when he sees that you’re leaving your group. He downs the rest of his beer and tips his head towards Tommy, as if to ask, “another?”. Tommy nods and sits back in his chair, continuing to observe. Joel makes a beeline, able to slide right beside you in line.

You can smell the cologne and laundry detergent on his clothes while he stands behind you, shuffling on his feet. You can almost feel his nerves, radiating off of his large form. 

He can smell your perfume and shampoo, it’s intoxicating. 

Joel is served first, the bartender leaning forward to listen to his request. “Two Buds, and uh,” you feel a soft hand on your shoulder. If you couldn’t see that it was him, someone would have a black eye.

“What are you drinkin’, darlin’?”

His voice is sweet like honey as he dips down to be so unbelievably close to your ear, his hand now on the side of your arm. Heat spreads up your neck at his proximity. 

“Oh, I’m getting like 4 shots, you don’t have to-“

“What kinda shots?”

“Uh, green tea. Green tea shots.”

“And four green tea shots.”

The bartender nods as Joel slides his cash across the bar, turning, and looking down at you slightly. You feel impossibly small in that moment.

“You really did not have to do that, thank you.” You’re on your tip toes, a hand pressed against his chest now, lips as close to his ear as you can get. 

He shivers. He can’t remember the last time someone was this close to him in this way. 

“No problem,” he waves it off, taking the two beers by the neck of the bottle and moving over slightly for you to grab the shots. 

Your ass brushes across the front of his jeans, and he knows it’s intentional.

“Thanks again for the drinks,” and you’ve disappeared back into the crowd in a second.

Oh. Nevermind.

He can’t help but feel a little dejected, slinking back to his seat with Tommy and passing him his beer. “Struck out, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Joel watches your table still, annoyed, but not entirely surprised. Pretty stupid of him to think you’d want to fraternize with a man such as himself, so much older than you. Maybe he’d come off too strong?

His head is all but hanging in his hands when he watches you get up again, your friends coming along with you. He averts his eyes in embarrassment, not noticing that you’re making your way over to his table.

Tommy notices.

“Ladies!” He draws out, hands thrown up in the air. Joel looks up then, locking in eyes with you immediately.

“Didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did ya cowboy?” A smile tugs at his lips as you extend a hand to him. “After you were so nice?”

He laughs a little, your other friend taking a hold of Tommy and pulling him towards the crowded dance floor. He’s very easily persuaded.

“Come dance with me!”

“Oh, I’m not a dancer,” he laughs, warm and honeyed. It makes heat pool in your core.

“Neither am I. Come anyways.”

All he can do is obey, taking your hand and letting you lead him away from the table. 

~

The music pulses under your feet as you end up in a tight line, shoulder to shoulder. He can’t stop looking at you, leaning down to speak into your ear. 

“I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I didn’t know how to dance,” he explains, and his breath is hot against the curve of your ear.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it when we start goin’. Just follow me.”

And I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

Cause the girls

They are so pretty

Joel’s eyes are parked on your body as you start to move along to the steps of the line dance, feet tapping against the hard wood of the floor beneath you. Your hands are up by your face, clapping along to the beat. He tries to follow along, at least stepping in the right direction, clapping at the right time, but it’s no use.

Your body is insatiable - hips rolling to the pounding music. The curves and lines of your ass, paired with the soft tissue of your breasts nearly busting out of the top you chose to wear. Your skin is supple, shining against the dance floor lights that are favouring him right now as he lets a red blush engulf the skin of his cheeks and neck. 

He wonders what it looks like underneath, peeled off and bunched up around your ankles, or thrown on the floor of his bedroom. He thinks of fingering the ties of your shirt, loosening them and pushing it off, his hand across the front of your throat as he makes you look at yourself. How pretty you are. Goosebumps spread across the exposed skin of his arm.

You grab his hand suddenly, and he’s taken out of his daydream. Your eyes are fiery as you let yourself get even closer to him, feeling bold enough to put his hand across the small of your back.

“Follow me,” you command, as he looks down at the footwork you’re doing along to the song.

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy!

He attempts to follow it again, egged on by the feeling of your hot skin against his thumb. He could honestly maybe cum just from this touch alone if he really tried.

It’s not actually as hard as he thought, if he concentrates. A few steps, repeated over and over again, until it comes naturally. You notice how easily he picks it up, smiling up at him, beaming up while he’s lost in thought. 

The song picks up, and the whole floor is enthralled by the dance. You see Joel’s smile light up the room, and he hasn’t dared to move his hand from your back. You don’t mind.

When your body turns toward his, he halts before almost running into you, still following the steps along to the song.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

Your words take him by surprise, but they are not unwelcome. 

“Yes.” His hand envelops yours as he takes a look at Tommy, seeing that he’s still in the throws of the song with your friends.

Your hand leads him off the dance floor and towards the club bathroom, but he stops you, lips close to your ear again. “My truck is parked out back, if we want, a little more, um,” he clears his throat, “privacy.”

“Show me the way,” you smile, letting him pull you out the doors and into the darkness of the parking lot. 

He fishes for his keys nervously when you get to the side of his truck, an older model with blue paint. He can’t remember the last time he did anything like this, if he ever has, and it’s getting to his head.

“Let’s get in the back seat,” you say, taking him out of his trance. “Wanna feel you.”

He lets you in first, pushing across the bench seating as he slides in beside you. There’s a moment of awkwardness, before your hand reaches out to touch his denim-clad thigh. His breath hitches.

“Relax,” your smile is intoxicating to him, and he’s drinking you in. “We’re just here to have a little fun.”

He lets himself lurch forward, your lips pressed against his fervently. They’re rough and chapped, but cold from the beer he’d been nursing earlier, offering you some reprieve. 

Your hand snakes up his chest to the side of his throat, pulling him in to come closer and delve deeper. His tongue comes out to lick across your teeth and press against the soft wetness of your tongue, as his hand comes up to palm your breasts over your top, grabbing at any flesh he can get his fingers on. 

He quickly and deftly finds the bow Maddy had tied on the back, pulling it loose and letting the fabric relax so you he could pull it off of your form.

His hands began to explore the soft skin of your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you arch into him and let a strained moan come from your lips.

“Fuck,” is all you can think to say, because his large hands are spread across your back, forcing you closer, and into him. Soft moans escape your lips as you let him take what he needs from you.

“Off,” he commands suddenly, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans and yanking them down, after you pop the button and undo the zipper. Your boots have come off at some point in the tussle, and now you’re naked in the back seat of a stranger’s car with not much to say for yourself.

You push his flannel down his shoulders as his weight hovers over you, revealing how strong he really is. Rippling biceps beneath his tight shirt, strong chest, kind eyes. 

You’re lying beneath him, when his hands come up under your thighs to push them apart and expose your pussy to him. He kneels between your soft thighs, thankful for the dark night sky around him, as he delves into your heat with his warm tongue.

You see stars when he makes first contact, a broad stripe of his tongue sending you into space. He’s hungry for it, immediately suckling onto your clit and wrapping his lips around it, strong hands still pushing your thighs apart. He’s taking his time to taste you, wild and intricate, feeling the bulge in his jeans strain against the zipper.

“Oh, fuck,” you manage to get out, in between breathless moans. Your hand came down to tangle in his hair, feeling the soft locks between your fingers, enjoying the way he’s making your hips roll onto his face. You can’t help but rut against him, soaking his wet mouth with your slick, using him to get yourself off.

He’s moaning into your pussy, working his own now-free cock in one of his hands, while the other delves two fingers into your core. Your breath catches in your throat when he fills you, stretching you open and wide for him, hitting the perfect spot to make your stomach start to spasm as you threatened to unravel beneath him.

“Fuck, so good, so so good,” you laugh breathlessly, the ecstasy beginning to take over as he continued to work your pussy, and you felt the familiar white-hot feeling along the back of your thighs.

“I’m gonna, — oh my god,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was tonguing at you harder, eyes flickering up to watch you. “I’m gonna fucking come.”

“Good girl,” he growls into you, only offering you momentary reprieve from his tongue before using the rest of his energy to help you ride out your orgasm on his face. Your hips bucked and spasmed against him, the windows fogging up with your hot breath as you fucked yourself on his fingers. He let you pull on his hair as moans tumbled from your lips, breathless and spent.

When you managed to come down, he took his fingers from inside you and pumped his cock a few times, now bobbing in between the two of you as he slid himself up your body to kiss up your chest and capture your soft lips into a kiss.

“Sit back,” you whispered, pushing on his chest to bring him back sitting upright. His jeans were pooled around his ankles now, and you had pulled his t-shirt over his head to meet the other clothes on the floor of the truck. You positioned yourself across his lap, pumping his cock a few times and feeling the girth around your fingers.

He looked blissed out, head against the headrest, savouring the feeling of your pretty hand around him. If he looked down between your two bodies he might come right then, at the sight. 

“You did so much work, baby,” you coo, sitting down on his thick cock and bottoming out immediately, just to watch his lips fall open and eyes flutter close at how tight you are. “Made me cum so easy.”

Your lips latch onto his neck as you kiss and lap at the rough skin, letting your hips rock back and forth, slowly at first. Getting used to his length inside of you would’ve been tough if he hadn’t opened you up so easily beforehand. 

“Move,” his hands come to your waist, lightly forcing you to grind down on his lap. His cock was hitting inside of you so perfectly as you swallowed him into your body, looking down as his head lulled back against the seat. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he started, letting you set the pace of your hips, hand coming up to paw at your breast once more.

“You like this cock, don’t you?” You nod, letting your hand come to the seat behind his head and steadying yourself before beginning to bounce in his lap. “Yeah, fuck, yeah I do.”

He’s in his element now, any and all shyness from the newness of the situation melting away as he pounded into you mercilessly. The truck was no doubt shaking back and forth a little, a steadying hand print the only window to the outside world. Joel didn’t even care if people could see, they’d just be jealous.

“I’m gonna, fuck-,” he starts, eyes cloudy at the edges, vision fuzzy as he looked up at you. You were fucked out, cock-drunk on him, watching as he was coming undone underneath you as you squeezed around him. “Oh yeah?” You tease, not letting up on the rhythm of your hips, his hand coming down to your ass in a firm slap.

You moaned then, arching your back into him and sitting back. “Where do you want me?”

He’s desperate to cum now. Even the thought of your pretty face beneath him, taking his hot ropes on your soft pink lips is making him jerk forward into you with need.

He pushes you off, and you wince from the loss of contact. He’s fisting his cock above you right away, pink tip ready to explode any second at the sight of you, tits pressed together. Your mouth is open, and he sticks his fingers in between your lips as you moan around them, tasting yourself.

“Cum all over me,” you start, pinching your nipples with your free hand. “Fuck, I want it.”

It’s enough for his knees to buckle and hot cum to shoot all over your stomach and tits, painting you white with his seed. His eyes squeeze shut as you watch him ride his orgasm out, balls emptying onto you as he slows down and regains consciousness, taking a second to drink you in when he can open his eyes again. 

Your breath is heaving as you take a finger to swipe some of his cum onto your finger, dipping the digit into your mouth. His brows furrow together as he pulls you up to kiss your lips, devouring you, hands coming up to each side of your face as if to thank you for such a good time.

“Been a while since I did anything like that,” he laughs, and you follow shyly. “You got like, a napkin?” You giggle, as he grabs something in the front seat for you to clean up with. “Thanks. That was fun.”

He nods in agreement, catching his breath before pulling his t-shirt over his head. “I suppose we should go back in there,” he checks his appearance in the rearview mirror, all blushed and fucked out. 

You put your top back on over your body, turning towards him. “Can you lace me back up, please?”

His hands begin to work at you, tightening a bow at the bottom much like it had been done before.

A thought crossed your mind that made a giggle escape your lips. “What?” Joel asked, amused, pulling his jeans back on over his hips. 

“I don’t think I ever got your name.”

He laughs too, thinking of the events that had transpired given neither of you knew such a basic piece of information. 

“I guess we can stick with cowboy.”

[fragilefable]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ minors DNI) Summary: When you and Joel get separated the night of the outbreak, you spend the next decade searching for him. Just when you've given up— a miracle occurs. Warnings: heavy angst, canon typical violence, character death (sarah), discussions of grief, very brief mention of suicidal ideation, alcohol used to cope, depression, suggestive language, lovers reunited, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Word Count: 6.6k Currently Playing: Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey ♪

A/N: This piece has been months in the making, hours of rereading and rewriting. This is my love child. I'm possibly (definitely) planning a part 2 with smut... ;) I am a full-time college student who unfortunately has other responsibilities, so please be patient with me. My first lengthy piece in a while, so please be kind & enjoy my doves!

Sleep was the most convenient temporary escape available in the post-cordyceps world. Oftentimes, if you were lucky enough, with sleep came dreams—glimpses of a divine, utopian life. One without spores or fungi of any kind. There was, however, always the chance that with it came nightmares—Polaroids of the past, the uprising of the infection. Mothers clutching bloodied children, decaying men ripping open flesh with their savage teeth, and, worst of all— losing Joel Miller. 

Joel was... everything—neighbor, friend, lover. Joel hated that word— laughed every time it managed to escape your lips in a hushed whisper, but that was what you were to each other. It transcended explanation. You'd moved to Austin after college in hopes of starting over, a clean slate. Instead, you'd stumbled upon a single father and his then 11-year-old daughter. You fit into their life like the missing puzzle piece— you completed them. Sarah needed a motherly presence in her life. There was only so much Joel could do for the blossoming young woman. 

And Joel— Joel never knew what he was missing until you came along. Someone to be able to rely on, to love unconditionally, a fixed constant. To say he fell head over heels was an understatement, but it became so much more than physical attraction. It became something far more profound and terrifying— love. The kind of love only poets write about. It was fierce, at times agonizing. That's what made losing him all the more heartbreaking. 

You were with Sarah the night of the outbreak— Joel's birthday. Lounging around in plaid pajamas, waiting for Joel to get home from work. Despite being exhausted, Sarah was beaming with pride over her birthday present for her dad— his broken wristwatch now repaired and refurbished. You smiled mischievously, "And just where did you get the money to fix this, young lady?" Sarah grinned slyly, "Just lyin' around, it's not like he noticed it was missin'!" Hours passed, you and Sarah slumped against the couch: Fast asleep, soft snores escaping mouths, drool dribbling down chins. 

The sight made Joel's heart quaver in his chest. Kicking off his muddied work boots, he carefully plopped down in between the two sleeping figures, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. "Hmm. You're home," you stirred awake, drowsy eyes met with a welcome sight: Weathered tan skin and dark chocolate curls. "Hey, Darlin'. You outta head up to bed. I'll be up soon." You nodded faintly, planting a chaste kiss on Sarah's forehead: "Goodnight, sweet girl." 

You fell fast asleep as soon as your body hit Joel's mattress, his scent engulfing you like a blanket of safety— a shield of sorts. The vague smell of sawdust and pine soap conquered your senses, a heavenly combination. An hour later, you felt the bed dip down, strong arms circling your waist.

Frantic hands shook you awake, calling your name weakly: "I can't find Dad. N' somethin' weird is goin' on outside." You sat up, Sarah's urgency pulling you from your hazy half-asleep state. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll call him. Go back to bed." Sarah ignored your suggestion and sat beside you as you reached for the landline. The call went to voicemail without hesitation: "Huh... That's weird." 

Sarah grew more anxious by the second, "I'm gonna go check the driveway for his truck." Sarah shot up from the bed, feet pattering down the stairs. "Sarah! Wait, I'll come with-" Throwing on your Converse, you hastily ran out after her. Your tired eyes scanned the pavement but found no signs of Sarah or Joel's truck. The Adler's door was wide open; you huffed: "Sarah?" 

The Adler's house was pitch black and eerily quiet, the family's dog nowhere to be seen: "Sarah? This is trespassing!" Tiptoeing through the living room, you halted at the sight of a ruby trail— blood. Grotesque, wet noises filled the previously silent house: "Sarah?" The teen bolted out of the kitchen, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the front door: "Run!" Mrs. Adler scrambled after Sarah, mouth dribbling crimson liquid, no longer bound to her wheelchair. 

"What the fuck–" Sarah's grip on your hand tightened as you passed through the door and stumbled onto the pavement. A pair of familiar brown eyes scanned Sarah's figure and then yours: "Sarah? Darlin'? Are ya'll ok-" Joel's words were cut off when Mrs. Adler dashed through the front door, her figure lunging for you. 

Joel struck the side of her head with a wrench as you made a feeble attempt to crawl away. His strikes were lethal, and yet the elder kept thrashing against the ground. "Joel, stop!" Only then did you notice Tommy, Joel's younger brother, behind you, coaxing Sarah into the truck. 

Joel exhausted Mrs. Adler with one final swing, dropping the bloodied wrench beside him and wiping his shaky hands on his jeans. His gaze softened when he saw your timid frame— shaking and unmoving. "Darlin'... Baby, are you okay?" His hands found your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on a patch of exposed skin. You hesitated; Joel had just killed Mrs. Adler in cold blood— but she tried to kill you and Sarah first. 

Joel hurriedly hoisted you to your feet, "We gotta go, okay baby? It's not safe here." You clambered into the backseat beside Sarah, the girl's arms thrown around you tightly. Kissing the crown of her head, you reassured her: "It's okay, sweetheart, everything's okay." 

Neighbors began to exit their homes, baffled and disturbed by the sight of Mrs. Adler's bloody, lifeless body lying in the yard. Someone called out for Joel. He immediately instructed her to go back inside and lock the doors. Tommy beckoned Joel into the car, exiting the culdesac and taking off towards the highway. After a fleeting moment, you mustered up the courage to ask, "Joel, what's going on?" Tommy replied, "They're sayin' it's a virus- some kinda parasite." Sarah spoke up, tears forming, "Are we sick?" Joel shot the idea down immediately. 

Tommy and Joel continued bickering, your eyes glued to the road ahead: "Joel! Look- It's Jimmy's place." The two-story farmhouse was completely engulfed in flames, unrecognizable. Your hands clung to Sarah, burrowing her head into your neck: "It's okay, sweet girl." Police sirens rang out through the darkness, interrupted by soft pleas for help. A family was stranded on the side of the road, begging for aid. Tommy began to slow the car. "What're you doin'?" Joel firmly questioned. Tommy shot back, "Got a kid, Joel." 

"So do we. Keep drivin'," Joel spat. Tommy sped back up, eyes searching Joel's for an explanation: "Somebody else will come along." As Tommy approached the interstate, the sounds of disgruntled drivers grew louder: "Fuck! Everybody had the same fuckin' idea. I can't get through this." Joel gripped the dashboard, "All right, all right. Let's think it through," he paused for a moment, "All right, take the field! We cut across, and we pick up on the west side." Tommy steered right, the truck jerking on the uneven terrain. As he drove over the hill, helicopters and tanks came into view, "Shit. Fuckin' army." 

Sarah peered out from behind the seat, "Isn't that good?" Your voice was filled with hesitation, "That's the highway we need to get to." Joel and Tommy argued, eventually continuing toward a town just east of the highway. Sarah stilled, "Maybe it's everywhere. Maybe there's nowhere to go." A booming roar erupted, Tommy twisting his body to get a better look at the night sky: "What the fuck?!" Commercial airplanes flew overhead, merely hundreds of feet above the ground. You instinctively covered Sarah's ears with your hands, eyes wrenching shut at the deafening rumble of their engines. Tommy swerved to avoid a police blockade ahead, turning into a nearby alleyway. 

The streets were flooded with screaming civilians, running in every direction— no one sure who exactly they were running from. A hoard of people fled from inside a movie theater, causing Tommy to shift the truck's gear into reverse. "Dad?" Sarah called out, "Dad!" Joel turned; an airplane was rapidly descending— heading straight towards town, "Shit. Move!" As the plane made contact with the ground, a mushroom cloud of fire and smoke bloomed, causing Tommy to lose control of the truck. 

A strong hand shook your leg, "Darlin'? Stay right there, don't move." Your side ached, cool liquid flowing from your head. Beside you, Sarah quickly came to, her eyes shifting to the figure hunched outside of the flipped car, clawing at the corpse of an older man. "Sarah, baby, don't look. C'mere, put your arms around me." As Joel carefully unearthed Sarah from the mangled truck, you climbed out of the shattered window: Hissing as you shifted against your arm. Sarah tried to put weight on her leg, provoking muffled whimpers and cries at the attempt. Tommy, equipped with his shotgun, called out, "We gotta get off the street!" 

As you approached Joel and Sarah, a flaming police car crashed into the capsized truck, separating the three of you from Tommy. Tommy roared from the other side of the wreck: "Meet at the river! I'll find a way." Joel turned to Sarah, "Can you run?" She shook her head wearily. He scooped her into his arms, "Keep your eyes on me." Joel shifted towards you, "No matter what, you keep runnin'. Alright, darlin'? Promise me." You hesitated, desperate eyes meeting his, "I promise." 

The three of you stumbled through the alley until you came across a cluster of bodies scattered across the pavement, crouched figures grunting over the lifeless figures. The end of the passage was clear. The only problem was getting past the rotted creatures without being noticed. There was no way Joel could outrun them in his condition. One of the creatures shot up at the sound of a remote blast, eyes landing on Joel. His voice was firm, "Go." You grabbed his arm, "Joel!" He repeated his command, louder— frantic: "You can't carry Sarah w'that arm. Go find Tommy. We'll meet you there."  

You pressed a hurried kiss to Sarah's head, the deranged man scrambling to his feet before you could embrace Joel. You took off towards the other end of the alley, Joel and Sarah barricading themselves inside the vacant diner across from the pile of carcasses. Your body throbbed with every step, head burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Your feet carried you across town, weaving in and out of injured civilians and infected until you reached the river. The stream was pitch black, sounds of gunfire and cries rang out in the distance. 

Suddenly, a bright light blinded you: "Put your hands where I can see 'em!" You obeyed, raising them as high as your injured arm would allow. Your voice raw with distress, "M'not sick! Just trying to find my family!" The man stepped closer, seemingly inspecting your physical state. He was clad in military gear, "You hurt?" You shook your head eagerly: "Just a sprained arm." He nodded his head, "Alright. We've got buses that can take you to a decontamination zone." 

Your head scanned the vast field, eyes scouring for any sign of Joel or Tommy: "I- I can't. I'm supposed to meet someone here. At the river." The soldier looked dissatisfied and slowly lifted his gun, "The river goes on for miles. S'not safe out here." Your eyebrows threaded together in confusion, "What- are you- are you gonna shoot me?" The soldier's grasp on his automatic rifle tightened, "I'm sayin' you have two choices. You can either come with me or you can-" 

A guttural scream sounded from behind him. But before he could turn around, a pair of arms seized his neck and began ripping into his military garb. The soldier flailed wildly at his attacker. While he was busy fighting off the deranged beast, you took off into the darkness, wandering aimlessly and calling out for your family. That night was the last time you saw Joel Miller.

16 Years Later

The bitter winter air overwhelmed your senses until you were gasping for air, limbs numb and cold to the touch. You wouldn't make it much longer without shelter, without warmth. You'd spent the better part of the last 16 years searching for him— for Joel. Ever since that night, you'd scoured every independent civilization, every QZ, within mobs of infected. Each night, you silently prayed never to find him like that— skin pallid and overcome with fungus, head split wide open, cordyceps blooming from within. 

You'd trekked across the country with the sole intent of finding him alive and healthy. The journey was brutal— raiders and infected desperate for blood. But by far, the hardest battle was pushing away the nagging thought that, even if Joel and Sarah were somehow alive, you'd never find them. Now, after nearly two decades of searching, you were reaching the end of your journey. You'd officially trekked across the entire nation. If your estimations were correct, you were nearing Wyoming— hence the formidable cold front. 

You'd heard rumors about a small civilization located somewhere on the skirts of Jackson County— your last stop. You knew the chances were slim; that feeling only fortified with each city, each civilian who hadn't heard of or seen anyone by the name of "Joel Miller." But you kept searching— because the day that you stopped would be the day you lost everything, lost yourself. It was as though he held onto you with a leash. If you tugged hard enough, could you finally break free? What else did you have to live for? Maybe one day you'd have some sort of epiphany, something to make sense of all the death and suffering. For now, Joel kept your hope alive— the hope that there was happiness and safety beyond all of the pain. The very thought of him kept you alive. 

You stood in front of thick and rusted iron gates, your posture crooked due to exhaustion— Just one more stop. The sounds of cocking guns drew your attention to the top of the gates. A young man and woman stand there, rifles pointed at you: "Drop your weapon! Let us see your hands!" You obey. This is standard practice amongst civilizations— you'd done it a thousand times by now. Unsheathing and kicking away your pistol, you then throw your backpack towards the gate. Hands raised next to your head. Your voice wavers as you half-shout, "I'm not infected! Just looking for someone!" 

The woman searched your face for a bit, presumably looking for any signs of deceit. She nodded towards her companion, the corroded metal walls unfolding. Two men approached you and picked up your discarded belongings. The younger of the two roughly patted you down and checked for bite marks. When they were satisfied, they led you past the gates into the town square. The village was pleasant, a handful of people milling about in the slushy streets. 

A familiar voice erupts from behind you: "Please excuse the initial hostility. We need to be careful about who we let in... I'm Maria." She extends her hand. You accept it gingerly and introduce yourself. "Welcome to Jackson. You must be freezing. Come on, we'll talk inside." — Maria leads you inside a small building, the exterior reminding you of the Lincoln Logs you used to play with as a child. The inside is... quaint. A lone desk sits near the lit fireplace. Maria leans against the desk and motions for you to take a seat: "So... You're lookin' for someone. And you have reason to believe they're here?" 

You sigh, allowing your aching body to relax against the couch's plush cushions: "No... I am looking for someone, but... Well, this is my last stop." Maria nods sympathetically, tucking a lone braid behind her ear— "I get it. You've been looking for a long time. It's about time to stop. To rest." You can't help the tears that form on your waterline. Your gaze shifts to your lap. Maria continues, "Who are you lookin' for?" 

You swallow the fist-sized lump in your throat, "Joel. Joel Miller." Your attention snaps towards her as a wistful sigh escapes her lips. A tight frown dawns on Maria's face, "I'm sorry. There's no Joel Miller here." You nod; you knew it was a long shot, but hearing it aloud was something different entirely. You rise from the couch, "Thank you. I apologize for takin' up your time." Maria speaks up before you can reach the door: "Now what? You got a place to stay?" 

You honestly hadn't thought that far, about life beyond looking. For years, finding Joel was your only purpose— your rationale for remaining on this infested hellscape. You had no home, no roots. Maria's voice interrupts your thoughts, "There's room here. We've got food and water— shelter. Hell, we're even working on electricity." You turn to face her. Her words dripping with verity, "Jackson could be your home." 

Despite having just met her, Maria's words touched something buried deep within you— hope. Hopeful of a new life, of new beginnings. You forged a small smile, "Okay." Maria smiled, but it was much different from yours: It was toothy, genuine— "Alright. I'll give you the grand tour then." For the next hour or so, Maria marched you around town. She showed you the vast dining hall laden with maple furniture. The stables filled with mare and their young. 

Then she showed you the schoolhouse. It was a small brick building. The walls were filled with colorful crayon drawings. Tiny handprints were pressed onto the wall in various colors of acrylic paint. The dulcet sounds of innocent laughter erupted from every corner of the room. Children from the ages of 5-12 were scattered around: Some doing arts and crafts, some reading, and others playing with worn toys. A tear slipped down your cheek. You brushed it away quickly before Maria could notice. 

You couldn't help but think of Sarah. About the first time she knocked on your door— she was selling chocolate bars for some fundraiser at school. Her bronze complexion dappled with freckles, and her wide smile revealed a missing tooth. She was eleven at the time, eyes bright and full of wonder. Blind to the atrocities that loomed at every turn. Sometimes, you'd think about what she looked like now— did her curls still rest atop her shoulders? Did she still laugh until she was panting for air? She's thirty now... Has she fallen in love? That was considering she is still... 

You didn't entertain the thought. Sarah was fine, alive somewhere with her father to look after her. Maria's touch pulls you from your thoughts, "How about I show you where you'll be living? Get you settled in." As Maria exited the schoolhouse, you stole one last glance at the room. A little girl met your gaze. Her dark curls were pulled into two ponytails. Her burnt mahogany eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, raising her tiny hand and waving it at you. You returned the sentiment, this time allowing the tear to fall down and onto the ground.  

Maria escorted you just outside of town, to a street lined with country-style two-story houses in relatively good condition. "This one here, the green one. It's already furnished. I'll have one of my guys come by later with some essentials from the pantry. Otherwise, you should be all set 'til tomorrow." Your eyes bore into the house. It was nice, but also... "It's big," you retort, "Don't know what I could possibly need all those rooms for." Maria lays the silver key in your hand, "You never know." 

You internally cringe at the connotation. Start over with some man? Have a big family and a white picket fence? You couldn't. It wouldn't be the same. You let out a shaky breath, "Thank you, Maria." She nods, "Come see me tomorrow, and we'll talk about where to go from here. Everyone in Jackson has a job, a role to play. Rest up... You deserve it." She departs, leaving just you and your great, big, empty house. 

3 Years Later

Jackson developed rapidly under Maria's supervision. The population rose from 50 to roughly 300 in just under three years. Jackson now had electricity, thanks to the Jackson County Hydroelectric Dam that Maria's team was able to get up and running. You'd become the head of patrol— in charge of organizing the schedules and determining the routes. You and Maria had become very close, practically family. She's the person who understood you, what you've been through. 

In an attempt to busy yourself and earn your keep, you'd thrown yourself into working alongside her. Not just with patrols but also with community relations and development. You'd completely reconstructed the greenhouse, built a jailhouse— that, luckily, wasn't used much— and helped fortify Jackson's defenses. Maria assigned you the title "community leader," but you much preferred what everyone else called you: "Maria's right hand." 

Your house was still too big, but now it felt homier— lived in. The walls were plastered with botanical paintings you'd found while out on patrol, vases of fresh cut flowers from the community garden placed upon every surface. Cable knit blankets were draped over the shabby leather furniture, the brick fireplace emanating warmth and bringing solace during the cold winter months. You'd even taken up baking in your spare time, frequently bringing baked goods to the schoolhouse. 

Nevertheless, when the sun set and the sounds of bustling downtown Jackson faded, your thoughts always returned to Joel. His bronze skin, tousled brown curls, and perfectly plump lips. Suddenly, it felt as though the house was mocking you, and the right side of the bed always grew colder. Perhaps it's why you worked yourself so hard; taking a day off was seldom. You couldn't escape the persistent feeling that Joel and Sarah weren't alive. That you'd failed to find them time and time again because somewhere, they were six feet under, buried in an unmarked grave. All it takes is one moment— one lapse between heartbeats— and suddenly, everything has changed.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The spring air was crisp with morning dew. A gentle breeze slipped through the cracked bay window. Three heavy thuds woke you— the sharp knocks cutting through serene silence. Your voice was raspy with sleep, "Coming!" You quickly pulled on the worn terrycloth robe that hung from the bedpost and stumbled downstairs. You swung the door open to reveal Stanley, a young man who worked in construction: "I'm so sorry to wake you, but Maria sent me to get you. She said it's urgent."  

You sighed deeply, rubbing the remaining exhaustion from your face: "Urgent like, 'don't get dressed' urgent?" Stanley's eyes roamed across the dark fabric of your robe before snapping back to your face. His cheeks bright pink, "Oh, um... no! Just meet her in her office ASAP." Sending him off with a nod, you traipsed upstairs and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making your way downtown. It was early morning, the streets empty save the early risers milling about, getting ready for work. As you passed a group of older women sipping hot beverages, you overheard whispers of "an outsider." As Maria's righthand, you were expected to greet all incoming arrivals. How on earth that could constitute a crisis, you did not know. 

As you approached Maria's office, the woman in question exited swiftly, shutting the door behind her. You grew closer, taking note of her fidgeting hands. She was... nervous? "Good morning, Mar. What's the emergency?" Maria's face was sullen. You'd never seen her like this, not in the three years you'd known her. Your hands clenched at your sides, "Maria? What is it?"

She took a deep breath, "This may be a false alarm, but... This guy's last name is Miller. Says he's originally from Texas." Her words stole the air from your lungs, a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. She said something else, but all you could hear was buzzing. Your vision blurred, the dark-skinned woman's features coming in and out of focus. Could it be him—had Joel finally found you? 

Maria called your name, pulling you from your trance. As your vision focused, you pushed past her. Your grip on the doorknob was bone-crushing, your knuckles turning white from the tension. You inhaled— don't get your hopes up. It might not be him. You exhaled, pushing the door open with a startling amount of force. You analyzed the man's figure, you recognized him— only it wasn't Joel. It wasn't the Miller whose calloused hands once traveled the expanse of your body, making note of each hidden crevice as though it may hold treasure. Whose lips once seared white hot kisses in the places he knew were the most sensitive— "Tommy?"

He looked dumbstruck, his lips parted in shock. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck. It took him a moment to reciprocate your embrace, but once he did, his arms anchored you in place. He spoke your name quietly against the crown of your head: "I can't... I can't believe it." You pulled away, "I hardly can either." His hands rested atop your shoulders as his eyes searched your face in disbelief. His resemblance to his older brother felt like a gut punch. You were afraid to ask— fearful of the truth: "Joel? Is he..."

Tommy's hand squeezed your shoulder in reassurance, "He's alive. Last I checked, holed up somewhere in the Boston QZ." A warm tear slipped down your face, the salty liquid resting just below your chin. You'd checked Boston QZ, but recent "terrorist" attacks had made it impossible to stay longer than an hour without drawing the attention of every FEDRA soldier in that godforsaken city. Your hands trembled as you clutched your chest, "And Sarah? How's my sweet girl?" 

Tommy's face went cold— No. No. She can't— "She's gone." The taste of bile rose in your throat, "Wh-when?" Tommy removed his hands from your shoulders, "That night. Shot by some military fucker. She..." He hesitated, "Joel held her. It happened s'fast." Your kneels buckled, threatening to send you towards the ground. You fucked up— you let yourself get accustomed to the idea of her being alive. Repeated it over and over again until you believed it to be true. This was all your fault. 

Your shoulders shook silently, as if you were crying— but no tears emerged, "I have to… I have to find Joel." Turning toward the door, Tommy caught you by your wrist: "I can't let you do that, hon. It's a damn death sentence." You tugged at your arm, desperate to break free from the restraint: "Let go of me, Tommy. I'm doin' this." Maria stepped forward, her hand resting at the base of your neck— "No, you're not. Jackson needs you here. I need you here."

Your breathing became labored. Deep down, you knew they were right— you were in no shape to travel across the country again. You'd barely survived it the first time. Chest heaving, your free hand found purchase on your throat, tightly grasping and constricting the airway. Tommy wearily let go of your wrist, his eyes wide and filled with fear. You ran for the door; you could hear Tommy call out for you as you fled homeward. Sarah was gone. Joel was alone.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

Days passed, and despite everything, the sun rose in the morning and the moon at night. You weren't quite sure how long it had been. You'd stopped counting daybreak after the first five came and went. Maria checked in after the first couple of days, worried that you hadn't been seen around town— or leaving your house, for that matter. Your grief was debilitating, all-consuming. You couldn't eat, could barely sleep, only finding relief at the bottom of a liquor bottle. You were tired… The kind of tired that sleep didn't fix.

Tommy came once. Sat and talked while you stared straight ahead at the empty wall. He could sense your anger, your resentment. How could he not? You silently judged him for leaving Joel, leaving his brother after his only daughter died in his arms. Tommy told you that Joel had changed. He wasn't the Joel you fell in love with; he'd done terrible things— But so had you. You'd killed innocent people, people who were just trying to protect themselves. And you did it in the name of finding Joel and Sarah, of surviving for them. You'd convinced yourself it was kill or be killed, and you had to live with that. Come judgment day, you'd pay greatly for your sins. You accepted that, too.

You only dared to look at Tommy's face once. You saw Joel in his eyes— you saw Sarah. Maybe if you hadn't left Joel in that alleyway, she'd still be alive. You could've protected her, taken the bullet for her. You would have, without hesitation. You'd cross the fiery pits of hell for her, reside in Caina, and be tortured for eternity. You may not have given birth to her, but Sarah was your daughter.

If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could faintly picture her smile. The dimples that formed just below her bottom lip. You could smell the faint aroma of her strawberry shampoo. Hear the broken remnants of her grandiose laughter. You swore to keep those memories someplace safe. Take them out and remember when you needed to, as if they were photographs.

A part of you wanted to be happy that she didn't suffer. She was too innocent for this new, heartless world. She was everything good in life. She was sunshine, sugary syrup, and pure, unadulterated love. But you could not accept this bright side. Not when it meant a life without her in it. Innocence is beautiful, but life is for living.

Tommy stood up, slipping a piece of paper on the nightstand. You cautiously turned it over to reveal a creased photo: You, Joel, and Sarah posing after winning one of her soccer games. You stole one last glance at Tommy. This time, he did not see blinding hatred in your gaze. Instead, he saw gratitude. As your glassy eyes bore into him, he nodded knowingly and left.

Maria came a couple of hours later with leftovers from the dining hall. Setting them on the counter next to the empty whiskey bottles displayed like pathetic trophies. You were in the same position as when Tommy left. You held the photo in your hands, thumbs stroking its frayed edges. Maria quietly dragged a chair closer to the bed, sitting just within arm's reach: "I went to a really dark place after I lost Kevin."

Tearing your gaze from the picture, one of her hands finds yours: "He made life worth living… It took me a long time to start to feel human again. To feel something other than pain and sorrow. The grief never goes away. But slowly, it starts to feel less like loss, and more like love." She inhaled shakily, "I know what you're feeling right now. I know why you're drowning your sorrows in that shit, trying to drink yourself to death." A tear slips down your face, her hand squeezing yours gently: "But you have to understand… What you're feeling right now, that's love. You're not a bad person for how you try to kill your sadness. But it's not gonna work."

You're unable to contain the choked sob that escapes your throat. The tears come harshly, scorching saline against your skin. Maria shifts her weight from the chair onto the bed, holding your shaking frame: "It's okay… Let it out." Her hands cradle your head, smoothing over your disheveled hair. "It's all my fault," you gasp between sobs, "I never should've left them. It's all my fault." Maria shushes you, "No, honey. You don't really believe that. You want someone to blame, but you're not that person."

Eventually, the tears cease. Your breathing evened out as Maria held you, "I miss Joel, so fucking much." You could feel Maria nod tenderly, "I know Honey." A lone tear slipped down your cheek, "Do you think— do you think he'll find me?" Maria pulled away, her chestnut eyes meeting yours, "Truthfully, I don't know." With a deep sigh, she squeezed your hand— "But I know he wouldn't want you to live like this. Isolating yourself from everyone else. You're allowed to grieve, but please don't shut me out. You're my person." You clutch her hands, squeezing firmly: "Even at my worst?" Her arms curled around your torso once again, "Even at your worst."

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The warmer seasons passed with haste. A wintertide blanket of white gradually covered Jackson. Day by day, Maria and Tommy were able to pull you out of your depressive stupor. You had to admit, they made quite the team. Maria was ultimately right, Joel wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life a bedridden drunkard. But still, life without him was arduous. There wasn't a day that passed that you didn't think of Joel Miller. About where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, and whether he missed you as terribly as you did him. 

As much as you wished to focus on these melancholic thoughts, new developments began to bloom in Jackson. Tommy and Maria's blossoming love was hard to ignore and impossible to disapprove of. Watching two people whom you adored fall in love, it felt as though nothing had changed: No cordyceps, no raiders, just Jackson and all of its inhabitants. Perhaps you could find peace in that. When Maria told you that they were expecting, you were over the moon. Maria and Tommy deserved it, Jackson deserved it. Proof that the world is not over— that no matter the circumstances, mankind will prevail. 

You threw together a small wedding ceremony with the help of the florist and local bakery, the couple wanting to tie the knot before the baby's arrival. Joking about how "shotgun weddings" withstood the test of time. Something arose in you, a pang of jealousy— Envious that you and Joel never got the perfect white wedding. It disgusted you, so you buried it deep within the recesses of your heart. 

The winter was hard, the Wyoming chill threatening every crop that dared to sprout from the Earth. This resulted in you spending extra time in the greenhouse. You found gardening to be a rather soothing task, being able to nurture new life in a world marked by death and decay. It also provided plenty of time to think: Something that you did not relish. No matter how many times you pushed the thought of Joel away, it always returned. Whether it was at dawn or late at night plaguing your dreams. 

When you weren't at Tommy and Maria's house or at the Tipsy Bison, you were in the greenhouse. The small shack sat right on the outskirts of town, situated with the perfect view of downtown Jackson. The glass panes shut out the cold, trapping any warmth inside. You bathed in the basking glow of the sun, gravitating towards it as a Sunflower would. You weren't sure when thoughts of Sarah became joyous, memories no longer met with choked cries but instead with soft chuckles. Nonetheless, you welcomed the growth. It's how she would want you to remember her. 

You watched the clock that hung just above the door, a mere estimation of the time: 12:15 p.m. You carefully removed your dirt-caked gloves, setting them on the wooden bench beside you. Your stomach growled impatiently as you began the journey downtown. The air was frigid despite the sun's rays, the cold slowly numbing your fingers. As you ambled towards town, Stanley came jogging towards you: "Hey! Just got word from the gates that Maria's back. Brought some stragglers, two, I think." 

You nodded in his direction, "Alright. Thanks, Stan." The soft crunch of snow beneath your feet accompanied you as you approached downtown Jackson, an air of excitement and uncertainty radiating off of the townsfolk. It wasn't every day that Jackson came across people who weren't just blood-thirsty raiders looking for valuables. As you rounded a corner, you overheard a commotion, the sound of yelling. Strangely, it didn't sound angry or fearful. It sounded... happy. 

Midtown came into view; the construction that was being worked on was now abandoned. Immediately, your gaze fixed on two figures in the middle of the street embracing. That was... not typical. You could make one man out to be Tommy; his black curls contrasted starkly against his warm taupe skin. The other was taller and broader, his hair disheveled and graying. Behind them you could make out Maria on horseback, next to her was a young girl, who couldn't be older than thirteen. 

Maria's expression was borderline unreadable, a mixture of trepidation and relief. Until her eyes met yours, then her face softened. A look of tenderness emerged. Everything about this situation puzzled you— Until the two figures broke apart. The man stood inches from Tommy, his hands gripping Tommy's shoulders firmly. His face was sunken with exhaustion and hunger; a vast smile overtook his face. A smile you would recognize anywhere. 

He looked just as he had twenty years ago, only now his hair was significantly longer and his beard gray. His face was now littered with wrinkles, just as yours was. A telltale sign that time had, in fact, passed, that the world fell apart right in front of your eyes. Your fingers dug into your thigh. You surely would've drawn blood if not for the layer of denim protecting your skin. You knew you were grieving, but hallucinations seemed extreme. You took a hesitant step forward, still on the opposite end of the street. 

Maria beckoned for you. Your name seemingly catching Tommy's attention as he turned towards you. As the men stood side-by-side, it was impossible to deny. Their likeness evoked something in you— realization. You weren't dreaming, you weren't hallucinating. He was there, just a yard away: Joel Miller. His gaze found yours, eyes searching your face in disbelief. Your name left his mouth like a question, but it sounded like a prayer. 

He stepped forward as if he was testing the waters. You repeated his action, "Joel?" A smile broke across his face once again, causing you to break into a sprint. He jogged forward, careful not to slip on the icy gravel. Tears began streaming down your face, their warmth countering the icy chill. Before you could slow down, your body collided with his. His arms were tense, his hold fastening around you. You'd only dreamt of this moment for two decades. 

You weren't sure how long you stood like that. Head nestled firmly against his chest, tears staining his leather coat. His gloved fingers gently grasped your chin, pulling your face from its sanctuary: "Baby... Fuck, I can't believe it." His eyes searched your face for any sign of unease. He could find nothing but pure joy: "You found me. I searched for you, Joel Miller, for 16 years. And you found me." 

Joel let out a breathy chuckle, cut off as you captured his lips in a velvety kiss. At first, it was chaste.— A silent admission of consolation, twenty years in the making. You ran your tongue across his bottom lip, prompting him to groan as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. After a moment, a loud cough erupted from behind you. You reluctantly pull away, your forehead resting against his. Your hands cupped his cheeks, eyes glassy with relief and adoration: "After all this time?" Joel leans forward to place a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, "Would wait forever f'you, Darlin'." 

© 2023 fragilefable do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

divider by @saradika

[astrologydayz]

ASTRO SEXOLOGY NOTES🔞 - NATAL CHART3

Venus in 12th house, or 5th/8th house ruler in 12th house can get into "love" affairs while being on vacations/retreats/In foreign countries/while they're in a hospital/psych ward, and even in prison

Mars square/quincunx MC makes u so damn fine! U can carry yourself a bit "rougher" tho/look unapproachable = "people being intimidated by u", & u being a little "what the fuck u staring at", and we love it💋🤣. People with Venus conjunct/trine/quintile Eros asteroid - 433) r really sexual individuals. But they most of the time need a "personal connection" of some kind, before jumping in2 bed with someone. They ooze sexual confidence tho, because they know what they want&need sexually🤤🫦. Casanova asteroid - 7328) in Libra/7th house/aspecting Jupiter can “stray" away from their partner, quite easily. They can quickly find somebody else, that they find more "fascinating". They get bored fast! But this mostly applies 2men tho💻📓.

Inner planets in earth signs = very sexual beings, so idk what the fuck people r on about. We just don't fuck the 1st John we c on the street🤷‍♀️. Really picky when choosing a sexual/romantic partner, and we also need 2 know that you're trustworthy 1st. But when you finally pull through, we'll show u what freaky means😘.

Scorpio Mars in/8th/12 house in a MAN'S chart can go 4 hourssss 😵‍💫😵‍💫🫠🫠. Unless Mars is afflicted by other planets, like Saturn, or Jupiter. Saturn ruled people got piercings almost always - body/head/genitals🫦👅). Saturn rules piercings, (restriction, and Steel). Add a little pain 2 the mix, &😍.

Pluto conjunct Mars in a MAN'S chart = some serious sex appeal. They're so fucking smooth2, and have no problem with showing their dominant side. They can easily steal yo girl⚠🍆🔮. Everyone wants a piece💦🙄🤣👄.

Venus/Mars/Pluto in 3rd house likes 2 talk during sex. "U like that baby?" "tell me how much u want it", "yeah I like it, when u got your mouth full🍆🍑". They also get off on how much u can "out smart them" - Book smart or Street smart, either way🧏🤭🤓.

Sun opposite Black Moon Lilith can look for sexual partners that looks, or reminds them of their dad🤷‍♀️(Daddy issues).

Funny how people say that Mars/Venus in 8th/8th house in Scorpio people gets more interested, if u make us jealous??? I will literally erase u🫠🧐. If we wanted to share a person, we would have gone 2 a strip club instead.

Venus square Jupiter does not mean that the individual is "addicted 2 sex", unless anything else shows so.

Jupiter in 9th house/Jupiter aspecting 9th house can show that u have big hips/big thighs/long legs💛👅.

Asteroid Varuna (20000) conjunct/trine your 7th house means that your sexual partners makes u famous, "worldwide attention" because of who u date/have close relationships with✨. If it's in Gemini (example), then u could date famous singers, actors, motivational speakers, things like that.

POF conjunct 5th house can cause the individual 2 be very experienced in the department of love, by the end of their lives. They've dated a lot of different people most of the time, and have had all kinds of relationships - polyamorous with some, monogamous with others - examples.

Records asteroid - 30718) conjunct/opposite Mars in a MAN'S chart, can show that he "enchants" people (usually worldwide) with his sex appeal🤤🫠. The opposition shows a "complication", when it comes 2 this = wanting 2 break records for your talent/s/work, & not only4sex appeal👽.

U don't have 2 have Venus/Mars aspecting each other 2 be fine af/gain a lot of attraction from others bc of your looks/sex appeal. Look at Zac Efron - when he was young, Jungkook - BTS, Tupac🤤, Jackson Wang, Hyunjin from Skz, Rihanna, Marilyn, Austin Butler, Justin Bieber - I don't think he's hot, but some people do - I could keep going.

Women with Mars/Venus conjunct/in 8th house = typically sexually attracted2 "misunderstood individuals" - "someone who's bad, &only good4her" kind of thing. She needs an EVERYTHING BUDDY! A loyal lover/best friend/partner in crime! someone who will never doubt her, but challenge her/someone who brings a healthy amount of “competition"/sexy bantering. She also want someone who's REALLY ready2dominate the fuck out of her, bc she's so used2 dominating people on a daily basis💁‍♀️.

Eros - (433) conjunct 11th house = being sexually attracted 2friends/finding fwb relationships 2be the perfect "arrangement"🎉💃.

Mars conjunct/trine "Dominiona" asteroid - 24899) in a MAN'S chart = a VERY sexually dominant man😤👅. "Big daddy takes little daddy energy" - they can command 10 men like that🤌. Won't let anyone try2run up on em, at any time🫠🤤. Masters at dominating "brats"2, they'll put yo ass in place babe💋.

Venus quincunx Eros asteroid - 433) shows us that an individual typically feels like they're not as sexually "appealing" as people say they r/they won't believe others words. They won't "realise" that they're sexy as hell! They let their insecurities speak4them a lot. But once they start getting that “self assurance/self confidence” = they'll quickly realise that they're the shit, when it comes 2 "seducing" - "enticing" others❤️🍒.

THANKS4READING!!!

APPRECIATE U, ALWAYS💋

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Toni Braxton - You're Makin' Me High 1996

Toni Michele Braxton is an American R&B singer, songwriter, actress and television personality. She has sold over 70 million records worldwide and is one of the best-selling female artists in history. Braxton has won seven Grammy Awards, nine Billboard Music Awards, seven American Music Awards, and numerous other accolades. In 2011, Braxton was inducted into the Georgia Music Hall of Fame. In 2017 she was honored with the Legend Award at the Soul Train Music Awards.

"You're Makin' Me High" is the lead single from her second studio album, Secrets (1996). The mid-tempo song represents a joint collaboration between the Grammy Award-winning producer Babyface and Bryce Wilson. The beat of the song was originally for singer-songwriter Brandy, with Dallas Austin pegged to write a lyric to override; however, Braxton had Babyface write lyrics for the song. It was ultimately issued in the US as a double A-side with "Let It Flow", the airplay hit from the 1995 film Waiting to Exhale.

"You're Makin' Me High" became Braxton's first number-one single on both the US Billboard Hot 100 and Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs charts; it remained on top for one week on the former and for two weeks on the latter, eventually going Platinum. A remix by David Morales with re-recorded vocals allowed the single to also top the Dance Club Songs chart for two weeks in August 1996.

The song earned Braxton her third Grammy Award for Best Female R&B Vocal Performance in 1997. The success of "You're Makin' Me High" would later be continued with the release of the smash hit "Un-Break My Heart", which peaked at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 for 11 consecutive weeks, while topping the charts in several other countries.

"You're Makin' Me High" was sampled for Method Man & Redman's 2001 song "Part II", from the How High soundtrack. In 2014, Anglo-American producer/DJ Secondcity sampled a part of the song's bridge for the main hook of his UK number-one single "I Wanna Feel".

The accompanying music video for "You're Makin' Me High", directed by Bille Woodruff, features Braxton and a group of friends consisting of actresses Erika Alexander, Vivica A. Fox, and Tisha Campbell-Martin.

"You're Makin' Me High" received a total of 60,2% yes votes!

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me 🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - age gap,, i think thats all

all of the songs and celebrities mentioned in here are from the time periods this was written if you are confused🩷

Chapter 1

It was 1956. I was living with my family at the Bergstrom Air Force Base in Austin, Texas, where my father, then Captain, Joseph Paul y/ln, a career officer, was stationed. He came home late for dinner one evening and handed me a record album.

“I don’t know what this Matt guy is all about,” he said, “but he must be something special. I stood in line with half the Air Force at the PX to get this for you; everybody wants it.”

I put the record on the hi-fi and heard the rocking music of “Blue Suede Shoes.” The album was titled Matt Sturniolo. It was his first.

Like almost every other kid in America, I liked Matt but not as fanatically as many of my girl friends at Del Valley Junior High. They all had Matt T-shirts and Matt hats and Matt socks and even lipstick in colors with names like Hound Dog Orange and Heartbreak Pink referencing names of his songs. Matt was everywhere, on bubblegum cards and Bermuda shorts, on diaries and wallets and pictures that glowed in the dark. The boys at school began trying to look like him, with their fluffy hair and turned up collars.

One girl was so crazy about him that she was running his local fan club. She said I could join for twenty-five cents, the price of a book she’d ordered for me by mail. When I received it, I was shocked to see a picture of Matt signing the bare chests of a couple of girls, at that time an unheard-of act.

Then I saw him on television on Jimmy and Tommy Dorsey’s Stage Show. He was sexy and handsome, with his deep brooding eyes, pouty lips, and crooked smile. He strutted out to the microphone, spread his legs, leaned back, and strummed his guitar. Then he began singing with such confidence, moving his body with unbridled sexuality. Despite myself, I was attracted.

Some members of his adult audience were less enthusiastic. Soon his performances were labeled obscene. My mother stated emphatically that he was “a bad influence for teenage girls. He arouses things in them that shouldn’t be aroused. If there’s ever a mothers’ march against Matt Sturniolo, I’ll be the first in line.”

But I’d heard that despite all of his stage antics and lustful, tough-guy looks, Matt came from a strict Southern Christian background. He was a country boy who didn’t smoke or drink, who loved and honored his parents, and who addressed all adults as “sir” or “ma’am.”

I was an Air Force child, a shy, pretty little girl, unhappily accustomed to moving from base to base every two or three years. By the time I was eleven, I had lived in six different cities and, fearful of not being accepted, I either kept to myself or waited for someone to befriend me. I found it especially difficult entering a new school in the middle of the year, when cliques had already been established and newcomers were considered outsiders.

Small and petite, with long y/hc hair, y/ec eyes, and an upturned nose, I was always stared at by the other students. At first girls would see me as a rival, afraid I’d take their boyfriends away. I seemed to feel more comfortable with boys—and they were usually friendlier.

People always said I was the prettiest girl in school, but I never felt that way. I was skinny, practically scrawny, and even if I was as cute, as people said, I wanted to have more than just good looks. Only with my family did I really feel totally protected and loved. Close and supportive, they provided my stability.

A photographer’s model before her marriage, my mother was totally devoted to her family. As the oldest, it was my responsibility to help her with the kids. After me, there were Don, four years younger, and Michelle, my only sister, who was five years younger than Don. Jeff and the twins, Tim and Tom, hadn’t yet been born.

My mother was too shy to talk about the facts of life, so my sex education came in school, when I was in the sixth grade. Some kids were passing around a book that looked like the Bible from the outside, but when you opened it, there were pictures of men making love to women, and women making love to each other.

My body was changing and stirring with new feelings. I’d gotten looks from boys at school, and once a picture of me in a tight turtleneck sweater was stolen from the school bulletin board. Yet I was still a child, embarrassed about my own sexuality. I fantasized endlessly about French-kissing, but when my friends who hung around our house played spin the bottle, it would take me half an hour to let a boy kiss my pursed lips.

My strong, handsome father was the center of our world. He was a hard worker who had earned his degree in Business Administration at University of Texas. At home he ran a tight ship. He was a firm believer in discipline and responsibility, and he and I frequently knocked heads. When I became a cheerleader at thirteen, it was all I could do to convince him to let me go to out-of-town games. Other times no amount of crying, pleading, or appealing to my mother would change his mind. When he laid down the law, that was that.

I managed to get around him occasionally. When he refused to let me wear a tight skirt, I joined the Girl Scouts specifically so I could wear their tight uniform.

My parents were survivors. Although they often had to struggle financially, we children were the last to feel it. When I was a little girl my mother sewed pretty tablecloths to cover the orange crates that we used as end tables. Rather than do without, we made the best of what we had.

Dinner was strictly group participation: Mother cooked, one of us set the table, and the rest cleaned up. Nobody got away with anything, but we were very supportive of one another. I felt fortunate to have a close-knit family.

Going through old albums of family photographs showing my parents when they were young fascinated me. I was curious about the past. World War II intrigued me, especially since my father had fought with the Marines on Okinawa. He looked handsome in his uniform—you could tell he was posing for my mother—but somehow his smile looked out of place, especially when you realized where he was. When I read the note on the back of the picture about how much he missed my mother, my eyes filled with tears.

While rummaging through the family keepsakes I came upon a small wooden box. Inside was a carefully folded American flag, the kind that I knew was given to servicemen’s widows. Also inside the box was a picture of my mother with her arm around a strange man and, sitting on her lap, an infant. On the back of the photo was inscribed “Mommy, Daddy, y/n.” I had discovered a family secret.

Feeling betrayed, I ran to phone my mother, who was at a party nearby. Within minutes I was in her arms, crying as she calmed me and explained that when I was six months old, my real father, Lieutenant James Wagner, a handsome Navy pilot, had been killed in a plane crash while returning home on leave. Two and a half years later, she married Paul y/ln, who adopted me and had always loved me as his own.

Mother suggested I keep my discovery from the other children. She felt it would endanger our family closeness, though when it did become known, it had no effect on our feelings for one another. She gave me a gold locket that my father had given her. I cherished that locket and wore it for years and fantasized that my father died a great hero. In times of emotional pain and loneliness he would become my guardian angel.

By the end of the year, I’d been nominated to run for Queen of Del Valley Junior High. This was my first taste of politics and competition and it was especially trying because I was running against Millie Collins, my best friend.

We each had a campaign manager introducing us as we went from house to house knocking on doors. My manager tried to talk each person into voting for me and donating a penny or more per vote to a school fund. The nominee who collected the most money won. I was sure that this competition would jeopardize my friendship with Millie, which was more important to me than winning. I considered quitting but felt I couldn’t let my parents or my supporters down. While my mother was out looking for a dress for me to wear to the coronation, my dad kept reminding me to memorize an acceptance speech. I kept putting it off, certain I was going to lose.

It was the last day of the campaign, and a rumor began circulating that Millie’s grandparents had put in a hundred-dollar bill for their vote. My parents were disappointed; there was no way that they could afford to match that much money and even if they could, they objected on principle.

The night they announced the winner, I was all dressed up in a new turquoise blue, strapless tulle net formal that itched so badly I couldn’t wait to take it off. I sat beside Millie on the dais in the large school auditorium. I could see my parents with happy, confident looks on their faces though I was sure they were going to be disheartened. Then the principal walked up to the podium.

“And now,” she said, hesitating to heighten the suspense, “is the moment you’ve all been waiting for  . . . the culmination of a month of campaigning by our two lovely contestants: y/n y/ln  . . .” All eyes turned toward me. I blushed and glanced at Millie. “ . . . and Millie Collins.” Our eyes locked for a brief, tense moment.

“The new Queen of Del Valley Junior High is  . . .” A drum roll sounded. “ . . . y/n y/ln.”

The audience applauded wildly. I was in shock. Called up to the stage to give my speech, I had none. Sure that I was going to lose, I’d never even bothered to write one. I walked, trembling, to the podium, then looked out at the crowded auditorium. All I could see was my father’s face, growing more disappointed as he realized I had nothing to say. When I finally spoke, it was to apologize.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m not prepared to give a speech, as I did not expect to win. But thank you very much for voting for me. I’ll do my very best.” And then, looking at my father, I added, “I’m sorry, Dad.”

I was surprised as the audience graciously applauded, but I still had to face my father and hear him say, “I told you so.”

Being elected Queen was a bittersweet victory, because the closeness that Millie and I once shared was restrained. Still, to me that crown symbolized a wonderful, unfamiliar feeling: acceptance.

My newfound tranquility ended abruptly when my father announced that he was being transferred to Wiesbaden, West Germany.

I was crushed. Germany was the other side of the world. All my fears returned. My first thought was, What am I going to do about my friends? I turned to my mother, who was sympathetic and reminded me that we were in the Air Force and moving was an unavoidable part of our lives.

I finished junior high school, my mother gave birth to baby Jeff, and we said our goodbyes to neighbors and good friends. Everyone promised to write or call, but remembering past promises I knew better. My friend Stephanie jokingly told me that Matt Sturniolo was stationed in Bad Neuheim, West Germany. “Do you believe it? You’re going to be in the same country as Matt Sturniolo,” she said. We looked at a map and found that Bad Neuheim was close to Wiesbaden. I said back, “I’m going over there to meet Matt.” We both laughed, hugged each other, and said goodbye.

West Germany

The fifteen-hour flight to West Germany seemed interminable, but finally we arrived in the beautiful old city of Wiesbaden, headquarters of the U.S. Air Force in Europe. There we checked into the Helene Hotel, a massive and venerable building on the main thoroughfare. After three months, hotel living became too expensive and we began looking for a place to rent.

We felt lucky to find a large apartment in a vintage building constructed long before World War I. Soon after we moved in, we noticed that all the other apartments were rented to single girls. These Fräuleins walked around all day long in robes and negligees, and at night they were dressed to kill. Once we learned a little German, we realized that, although the pension was very discreet, we were living in a brothel.

Moving was out of the question—housing was too scarce—but the location did little to help me to adjust. Not only was I isolated from other American families, but there was the language barrier. I was accustomed to changing schools frequently, but a foreign country posed altogether new problems, principally that I couldn’t share my thoughts. I began to feel that my life had stopped dead in its tracks.

September came and with it, school. Once again I was the new girl. I was no longer popular and secure as I’d been at Del.

There was a place called the Eagles Club, where American service families went for dinner and entertainment. It was within walking distance of the pension and soon proved an important discovery for me. Every day after school, I’d go to the snack bar there and listen to the jukebox and write letters to my friends back home in Austin, telling them how much I missed them. Drowning in tears, I’d spend my weekly allowance playing the songs that were very popular back in the States—Frankie Avalon’s “Venus” and the Everly Brothers’ “All I Have to Do Is Dream.”

One warm summer afternoon, I was sitting with my brother Don when I noticed a handsome man in his twenties staring at me. I’d seen him watching me before, but I’d never paid any attention to him. This time, he stood up and walked toward me. He introduced himself as Steven Wright and asked my name.

“y/n y/ln,” I said, immediately suspicious; he was much older than me.

He asked where in the States I came from, how I liked Germany, and if I liked Matt Sturniolo.

“Of course,” I said, laughing. “Who doesn’t?”

“I’m a good friend of his. My wife and I go to his house quite often. How would you like to join us one evening?”

Unprepared for such an extraordinary invitation, I grew even more skeptical and guarded. I told him I’d have to ask my parents. Over the course of the next two weeks, Steven met my parents and my father checked out his credentials. Steven was also in the Air Force and it turned out that my father knew his commanding officer. That seemed to break the ice between them. Steven assured Dad that I’d be well chaperoned when we visited Matt, who lived off base in a house in Bad Nauheim.

On the appointed night I tore through my closet, trying to find an appropriate outfit. Nothing seemed dressy enough for meeting Matt Sturniolo. I settled on a navy and white sailor dress and white socks and shoes. Surveying myself in the mirror, I thought I looked cute, but being only fourteen, I didn’t think I’d make any kind of impression on Matt.

Eight o’clock finally arrived, and so did Steven Wright and his attractive wife, Carole. Anxious, I hardly spoke to either of them during the forty-five-minute drive. We entered the small town of Bad Nauheim, with its narrow cobblestone streets and plain, old-fashioned houses, and I kept looking around for what I assumed would be Matt’s huge mansion. Instead Steven pulled up to an ordinary-looking three-story house surrounded by a white picket fence.

There was a sign on the gate in German, which translated as: autographs between 7:00 and 8:00 p.m. only. Even though it was after eight o’clock, a large group of friendly German girls waited around expectantly. When I asked Steven about them, he explained that there were always large groups of fans outside the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Matt.

I followed Steven through the gate and up the short pathway to the door. We were welcomed by James Sturniolo, Matt’s father, a tall, gray-haired, attractive man, who led us down a long hallway to the living room, from which I could hear Brenda Lee on the record player, singing “Sweet Nothin’s.”

The plain, almost drab living room was filled with people, but I spotted Matt immediately. He was handsomer than he appeared in films, younger and more vulnerable-looking with his haircut. He was in civilian clothes, a bright red sweater and tan slacks, and he was sitting with one leg swung over the arm of a large overstuffed chair, with a cigar dangling from his lips.

As Steven led me over to him, Matt stood up and smiled. “Well,” he said. “What have we here?”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I just kept staring at him.

“Matt,” Steven said, “this is y/n y/ln. The girl I told you about.”

We shook hands and he said, “Hi, I’m Matt Sturniolo,” but then there was a silence between us until Matt asked me to sit down beside him, and Steven drifted off.

“So,” Matt said. “Do you go to school?”

“Yes.”

“What are you, about a junior or senior in high school?”

I blushed and said nothing, not willing to reveal that I was only in the ninth grade.

“Well,” he persisted.

“Ninth.”

Matt looked confused. “Ninth what?”

“Grade,” I whispered.

“Ninth grade,” he said and started laughing. “Why, you’re just a baby.”

“Thanks,” I said curtly. Not even Matt Sturniolo had the right to say that to me.

“Well. Seems the little girl has spunk,” he said, laughing again, amused by my response. He gave me that charming smile of his, and all my resentment just melted away.

We made small talk for a while longer. Then Matt got up and walked over to the piano and sat down. The room suddenly grew silent. Everyone’s eyes were focused on him as he began to entertain us.

He sang “Rags to Riches” and “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” and then with his friends singing harmony, “End of the Rainbow.” He also did a Jerry Lee Lewis impersonation, pounding the keys so hard that a glass of water he’d set on the piano began sliding off. When Matt caught it without missing a beat of the song, everyone laughed and applauded except me. I was nervous. I glanced around the room and saw an intimidating life-size poster of a half-nude model on the wall. She was the last person I wanted to see, with her fulsome body, pouting lips, and wild mane of tousled hair. Imagining Matt’s taste in women, I felt very young and out of place.

I glanced up and saw Matt trying to get my attention. I noticed that the less response I showed, the more he began singing just for me. I couldn’t believe that Matt Sturniolo was trying to impress me.

Later, he asked me to come into the kitchen, where he introduced me to his grandmother, Minnie Mae Sturniolo, who stood by the stove, frying a huge pan of bacon. As we sat down at the table, I told Matt I wasn’t hungry. Actually I was too nervous to eat.

“You’re the first girl I’ve met from the States in a long time,” Matt said, as he began devouring the first of five gigantic bacon sandwiches, each one smothered with mustard. “Who are the kids listening to?”

I laughed. “Are you kidding?” I said. “Everyone listens to you.”

Matt seemed unconvinced. He asked me a lot of questions about Fabian and Ricky Nelson. He told me he was worried about how his fans would accept him when he returned to the States. Since he’d been away, he hadn’t made any public appearances or movies, although he’d had five hit singles, all recorded before he’d left.

It felt like we’d just begun talking when Steven came in and pointed to his watch. I had dreaded that moment; the evening had gone so fast. It seemed I had just arrived and now I was being hurried away. Matt and I had just started to get to know each other. I felt like Cinderella, knowing that when my curfew came, all this magic would end. I was surprised when Matt asked Steven if I could possibly stay longer. When Steven explained the agreement with my father, Matt casually suggested that maybe I could come by again. Though I wanted to more than anything in the world, I didn’t really believe it would happen.

a/n - thoughts on this story so far? all the fashion and technology and things is still based in the time period its set in but i promise it gets better as the story goes on! i know the age gap is crazy but back in the day it was normal and its the age gap in Priscilla’s book so i just stuck with it. I in no way support this at all🎀

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

[coimbrabertone]

A History of Formula One Grand Prix in the United States

After a near month long hiatus following the Singapore Grand Prix, Formula One returns this weekend with the United States Grand Prix at the Circuit of the Americas in Austin, Texas. This is the second of three races in the United States this season, and a lot of people attribute the increase of American GPs to Drive to Survive and the peak in popularity that caused over here.

That may be true, however, two things complicate this fact:

One is that this is not the first time there have been three American F1 races in a season.

Two is that Grand Prix racing in the United States goes back further than in any country other than France.

So, today...let's talk about the history of the United States Grand Prix, and Formula One races in the United States more broadly.

The first race that could be considered a Grand Prix in the US was the Vanderbilt Cup, held on Long Island in the early 1900s. The initial 1904, 1905, and 1906 races were held on dirt roads, however, in response to the success of the 1906 French Grand Prix, William Kissam Vanderbult II financed the construction of the Long Island Motor Parkway.

This would not just provide a paved, modern road to Long Island, but it would also serve as the setting for the 1908 Vanderbilt Cup, won by American George Robertson in an American-made car called the Locomobile. An American victory in an American race governed by the American AAA.

But this is open wheel racing in America, so of fucking course there was a governing dispute already.

The AAA raised their membership dues in 1908, that was strike one, and then strike two was when they refused to adopt the Grand Prix regulations drafted by the AIACR - the FIA under its initial name - which paved the way for the Automobile Club of America to emerge as a competitor to the AAA.

And their showpiece event? the American Grand Prize.

Yup, the ACA went down to Georgia, found a stock car race run by the Savannah Automobile Club, and decided to turn that into the very first proper Grand Prix in America. The state of Georgia authorized the use of convict labor to lengthen the stock car track to 25.1 miles for the Grand Prize.

It was held in 1909 and won by Frenchman Louis Wagner...who in 1926 would go on to win the first British Grand Prix as well. An impressive resume.

The tea drinkers can write their own blog though, more on the US now!

Come 1911, and both the Vanderbilt Cup - aimed at American talent - and the American Grand Prize - aimed at international drivers - would both be held together in Savannah, Georgia. They would once again be hosted together in Milwaukee in 1912, in Santa Monica in 1914 and 1916, and in San Francisco in 1915.

World War I would kill off European participation however, and after 1916, the American Grand Prize went away.

The Vanderbilt Cup would briefly return in 1936 and 1937, back at Long Island, this time at the Roosevelt Raceway. However, with Tazio Nuvolari winning in an Enzo Ferrari-run Alfa Romeo winning in 1936 and then Bernd Rosemeyer winning in an Auto Union next year, the American audiences weren't convinced.

The 1930s version of the Vanderbilt Cup just served as a big money race for the Europeans to win.

So the American Grand Prize and the Vanderbilt Cup didn't work out, but what was working in America at that time was oval racing on board tracks.

The Astor Cup, held on the two-mile Sheepshead Bay Speedway in Brooklyn won over the Long Island audience instead.

If the names of these trophies sound familiar, it's because in 1996, during the CART-IRL split, CART revived the name Vanderbilt Cup and built a replica trophy as the prize for the US 500. Yup, the history of the Vanderbilt Cup was used to go up against the Borg-Warner Trophy of the Indianapolis 500.

Well, after four years of the US 500, in 2000, the Vanderbilt Cup became the trophy for the CART championship instead. The Champ Car World Series continued this tradition.

When Champ Car and the IRL Indycar Series merged, the Astor Cup name was revived instead. From 2011 onwards, the Indycar series champion receives the Astor Cup.

Anyway, back to the F1 in the US.

Initially the World Championship for Drivers, in 1950, gave the US date to the Indianapolis 500, seeing it as the biggest and most important race in the United States.

This was in spite of the fact that the Indianapolis 500 was governed by the AAA - and later USAC - and once the World Championship went to F2 regulations in 1952, Indy and the rest of the championship weren't even run under the same regulations.

In fact, the only time a World Championship driver came over to Indy was in 1952 (the first year of those F2 regulations) when Ferrari took Alberto Ascari and a 4.5L V12 Ferrari 375 to Indy in an attempt to win the biggest race in America. Alberto would retire, and Indy would be the only stain on an otherwise perfect 1952 season for Ascari.

Meanwhile, road racing was returning to prominence in the United States as permanent venues like Riverside and Sebring began to emerge.

In 1958, Riverside hosted a United States Grand Prix as part of the USAC championship.

In 1959, the II United States Grand Prix was held at Sebring, and this time, it was part of the Formula One World Championship. This race was won by Bruce McLaren in a Cooper.

In 1960, the race moved to Riverside, where it was won by Stirling Moss in a Lotus. This was also the last year in which the Indianapolis 500 counted for the World Championship.

And in 1961, the United States Grand Prix finally settled on its first permanent home, when Watkins Glen was chosen as the venue. From 1961 to 1980, Watkins Glen was the home of the USGP, a stint that lasted so long that the first winner was Innes Ireland in a Lotus and the last was Alan Jones in a Williams.

It was not the only USGP though.

I'd like to welcome everybody to the wild wild west.

Yup, from 1976 to 1983, F1 came to the LBC, the Long Beach Grand Prix joining the calendar under the title of United States Grand Prix West. The 1976 race was won by Clay Regazzoni in a Ferrari, while the last four races were won by Cosworth DFV powered cars, giving Long Beach a reputation as the race that the turbo powered cars couldn't win.

Indeed, the first win for a turbo car at Long Beach was 1984, when it was a CART race. The winner? Mario Andretti.

The next race on our list came in 1981, to replace Watkins Glen.

It was the Caesar's Palace Grand Prix, held in the parking lot of the casino for two years before it too was shifted off to the CART series - which itself only lasted two years before going away entirely.

The 1981 race went to Alan Jones in a Williams, picking up where he left off at Watkins Glen.

1982, meanwhile, went to Michele Alboreto in a Tyrrell.

1982 had a third US F1 round - like I said, the current era isn't the first time this has happened - being the Detroit Grand Prix in the downtown of the motor city.

A tight, twisty track swerving through the heart of the Motor City, the first Detroit Grand Prix was won by John Watson in a McLaren, while the last three were all won by Ayrton Senna. 1986 in a Lotus-Renault, 1987 in a Lotus-Honda, and 1988 in the all-conquering McLaren-Honda.

In 1989, Detroit too became a CART race, but unlike Caesar's Palace, it was actually successful.

In 2023, the Indycar Detroit GP returned to the streets of downtown, racing around the Renaissance Center in a layout best described as "bleh."

In any case, 1982 marked three American F1 rounds, but funnily enough...none of them were actually called the United States Grand Prix.

Long Beach was the USGP West, which was a rather clunky title given that there was no USGP to be west of.

Detroit was Detroit and Caesar's Palace was just Caesar's Palace.

Is Caesar's Palace the smallest geographic unit to get a Grand Prix named after it? It's gotta be up there, right?

1984 was a similar story, as there were two American F1 races back-to-back: the Detroit Grand Prix won by Nelson Piquet, and the one and only Dallas Grand Prix, won by Keke Rosberg.

Dallas was a mid-summer race held in the high heat of central Texas and that was only the start of the problems. The track surface was crumbling, the fans were in constant fear of the event being cancelled from out from under them, and the drivers felt the track was narrow and lacking in runoff areas.

CART passed on this one, instead, it was briefly brought back as a Trans Am race before fading into obscurity.

Dallas didn't work out, Detroit and Long Beach went to Indycar, and the less said about Caesar's Palace, the better.

Was Formula One in the US dead after 1988?

Not if anything to say about it, Phoenix has.

Yup, Phoenix of all places stepped in to host the USGP - returning to that name - in 1989. This event actually lasted three years despite triple digit summer heat, a disintegrating track surface, and an uninspired layout threatening to confine the track to the same fate as Dallas.

Alain Prost won in 1989, Senna won in 1990 and 1991.

Ecclestone initially promised the promoters the Phoenix Grand Prix would be held again on March 15th, 1992, but instead, the race was cancelled.

Formula One would not return to the US until 2000.

Tony George, in his quest to make the Indianapolis Motor Speedway the top racing venue in the country, brought NASCAR to IMS in 1994, and in 2000, he created an infield road course. This infield road course has become the home of sports car racing at Indianapolis, hosts an Indycar race ahead of the 500, and has in the past hosted MotoGP, NASCAR, and F1.

This was great, right? Formula One was back in the US and it was at the same place which hosted all those world championship rounds in the 1950s. F1 had finally reconciled Indianapolis with its road racing nature. Could this finally be how the USGP finds a stable home in the United States?

Well, it was going pretty good...up until 2005.

The oval had been diamond ground when it was repaved ahead of 2005. Bridgestone - the tyre supplier of Ferrari, Jordan, and Minardi - knew this, as they owned Firestone, which supplied the IRL Indycar Series with tyres, as it does with Indycar now.

Michelin, who supplied the rest of the grid...did not.

And Ralf Schumacher crashed in practice for the second time in two years. On a Michelin-clad Toyota.

Then Ricardo Zonta stepped in to replace Ralf...and he crashed as well.

The Michelin tyres couldn't take the oval corners, which formed the big final corner of the IMS Road Course. The Michelin teams tried to find a solution - whether that be a chicane, allowing pitstops, or using a different specification of tyre.

In the end, the FIA and Michelin could not come up with a compromise.

And in Indiana State Law, if Michelin let its teams race and something happened, they could be held criminally liable.

Thus, the Michelin teams pulled out of the race.

A six-car farce of a race then occurred between the Bridgestone teams as the fans booed and jeered.

All of IMS's good will in F1 evaporated.

After 2006 and 2007, the USGP disappeared.

An attempt was made to create an American Grand Prix in Port Imperial, New Jersey with the cars racing under the shadow of the New York skyline, but after years of trying this never got off the ground.

Instead, in 2012, the USGP found its modern home in COTA. Circuit of the Americas weathered the storm of some truly awful attendances in the mid-2010s - including a soggy and awful 2015 where the teams hardly got any running ahead of the race - to rebound and become one of the most highly attended races in history by the 2020s.

In 2022, the USGP at Austin was joined by the Miami Grand Prix in Miami Gardens, Florida. A flashy, exclusive race around the Hard Rock Stadium where the Dolphins play. This race saw Lando Norris take his maiden Grand Prix victory in 2024, kicking off a return to form for McLaren.

2023 added the Las Vegas Grand Prix, taking the idea of the Caesar's Palace Grand Prix to the next level. Rather than racing around a parking lot in the day, they raced down the strip at night under the lights of fabulous Las Vegas.

Miami and Las Vegas are considered grossly expensive and exclusive races meant to milk the US market, and maybe they are, but as an F1 fan in the United States, I used to dream of times like this.

We have three races, all hundreds of miles apart to give some decent coverage throughout the country, and I'd argue each one brings a different vibe.

Miami is all pastel colors and white awnings.

Las Vegas is the neon lights with the cars ripping down the Strip.

Austin is the larger than life red, white, and blue Americana that suits the main race.

I have many, many, many, many, many problems with the state of Formula One nowadays. I have many weeks of negative blogposts to prove that, but I'll never say that Formula One has too many races in the United States.

Las Vegas is as far from Miami as Madrid is from Moscow.

I know Europe is the home of Grand Prix racing, but as this has shown...the US has plenty of history too.

So onto Austin for the 2024 United States Grand Prix, with Formula One looking to be in a more competitive place than it was at this time a year ago.

[liminalmemories21]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @paperstorm, @carlos-in-glasses, @orchidscript, @whatsintheboxmh, @lemonlyman-dotcom

@strandnreyes, @iboatedhere, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @theghostofashton, @chicgeekgirl89,

@reyesstrand, and everyone who tagged me on Sunday when I did not have the brain space to play. Thank you!

Have two snippets in recompense - one Lonestar, one OG 911.

Knave-verse Paris Caper (actually someone throw prompts at me, because I'm stuck on what the con is, and I work better when someone eggs me on)

It is, he supposes, a step up from your run of the mill cocktail party.  Then again, anything being hosted in a 17th C maison particulière where he’s been handed a crystal flute of champagne, and everything he can see has been dusted in gilt, is going to be a step up from your average Austin country club fundraiser. “You take me to the nicest places,” he murmurs to TK, and is really only being a little facetious.  “Are we allowed to walk around?” TK eyes their reflection in the large mirror over the fireplace. “ They encourage it.”  Tucks a hand through Carlos’s arm.  “Come on, let’s mingle and admire.” They wander slowly through the ground floor of the townhouse (mansion?) and then out into the private gardens, hung with paper lanterns.  “So, you’re sure that Drosselmeyer will take the bait?” TK hmms, attention focused on a statue. “I think that’s a Rodin.”  Then gives Carlos his attention when Carlos doesn’t say anything.  “Drosselmeyer?  Oh, yes.  He’s already taken the bait.” Carlos swings around.  “He has? Is he here?” TK gestures towards the house.  “In the salon.  Right now he’s asking what name you gave at the door, and who invited you, and calling a couple of people to ask why you’re slumming it with me.” He sounds smug. The plan is to let TK’s reputation do the work for them.  They don’t really have time to set Carlos up with an entire false identity and let Drosselmeyer find him on his own, so they’re shortcutting the process.  Drosselmeyer sees Carlos with TK, assumes that TK is there for a con, and then tries to con Carlos out from under TK’s nose. TK and Caffrey had both sniffed in disdain, and he’d traded a look with Sara in amusement.  “It’s tacky,” TK had pronounced. “But so is Drosselmeyer, so it’s definitely what he’ll do.”

Buck/Tommy with @cecilyv- working title - no, really the Buckley's are actually shitty people - because @cecilyv just rewatched the Daniel arc and asked nicely - has approximately 8,000 words in it, we have not yet met the Buckleys ... so you know, that's going.

Tommy pulls off into a little park overlooking the city, backs into a spot, parks and jumps out of the truck, Buck trailing behind him. Pops down the tailgate and spreads the blanket he pulls from the cargo hold out. Climbs in and holds his hand out for Buck to follow.  The lights of the city are spread out all around them, blanketing the ground.  He hesitates for a moment, staring at Tommy’s hand. It feels like a moment.  A line.  Which is ridiculous, because he’s not going to be more queer if he climbs up into the bed of the truck and lies down next to Tommy.  Won’t make him less queer if he doesn’t.   It isn’t even really anything new.  It’s a little secluded, but they’re still in public, and Tommy is a gentleman - isn’t going to take this further than Buck is comfortable with.  Buck wishes maybe that Tommy would push - not a lot, just a little, enough to get him over his nerves.  Because he’s not nervous when Tommy is touching him, kissing him.  It’s just that moment before, the inbetween, that makes him nervous. He looks up and can see the patience, and the concern in Tommy’s eyes.  Suddenly doesn’t know what he’s hesitating for.  Takes Tommy’s hand and lets him pull him up, settles down next to Tommy on the truck bed, close enough that he can feel the heat of Tommy’s body bleeding through his jeans.

not sure who's left, but - @alchemistc, @freneticfloetry, @fifthrideroftheapocalypse, @heartstringsduet, and @djdangerlove

[burntheedges-updates]

over again, chapter 4: first date

Joel Miller x f!reader summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming. or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it) 18+ minors DNI

chapter tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, banter, angst, panic attack, dancing, pining, kissing, the smut has arrived, pet names (darlin’, baby, honey, pretty girl), Joel calls reader a good girl, neck grabbing (no breath play), light manhandling, grinding, spit kink, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), p in v sex (w/ condom), mention of breasts/nipples, praise kink, if I missed anything please let me know! If you'd like to skip the smut, check on ao3 - I've got notes there about what to skip a/n: Welcome to chapter 4! A day early!! It’s time for these two to go on a first date… and another first date, 20 years before. And oh yeah, the smut is here. The country night club in this chapter is based on one I frequented in the south in the early 2000s (lol). music note: More songs are mentioned in this chapter! All songs mentioned in this fic are on the playlist, which is linked below. word count: 13.3k

series main post | series playlist | ao3 | ch 3 || ch 5

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges

Chapter 4: First Date

Jackson, Spring 2024

You have dinner with Joel and Ellie a few more times over the next few weeks. Sometimes just the three of you, and sometimes with Tommy and Maria as well. 

(Maria has warmed up a bit to Joel, following his return with Ellie in tow. She’s blunt and opens up more easily to people that have the Joel stamp of approval, which is just Tommy, sort of Maria, and you – all of the adults in her would-be family that don’t know how to talk to each other quite yet.)

Joel manages to join you for lunch a few times as well, and he listens to your tales of the gardens and the stables with the same slightly incredulous air that Tommy still does – you, an indoor girl, enjoying working outdoors. Anyone who knew you Before would never believe it, but no one here except the Miller brothers knows enough about you to find it at all odd. He laughs almost as loud at your story about getting stuck in the manure as Tommy did witnessing it. Right in the middle of the dining hall.

You and Joel also spend a couple of afternoons listening to the songs on the CD with Ellie and telling her a bit about each one. She likes the faster songs, like “Arrasando” and “Fruta Fresca”, and the ones that make her laugh, like “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” and “Pickup Man.”

(You tell her the story of how a woman hit on Joel in the grocery store parking lot, leaning suggestively on his pickup truck, and how she quoted the song (you know, there’s something women like about a pickup man), and how you and Sarah never let him live it down, singing the song to him every chance you got, playing up different parts (I never knew you were a pickup man!). You even got him to sing along eventually. She laughs so hard at your reenactment of it all that she falls off the couch. She and Sarah would have gotten along like a house on fire, you think.)

She scoffs a little at the romantic songs like the teenager she is. 

Listening to the songs is hard, and you notice that Joel skips a couple of them (you don’t blame him, and both of you avoid the other’s eyes when he does). But Ellie brings a brightness to every room she’s in. Even as she’s cursing up a storm about missing her favorite food in the dining hall one night because of family dinner - right up until Tommy walks in the door with a plate, just for her. You can feel something in yourself start to bloom again as you tell stories about Sarah and Joel from Before to this child who asks questions about unexpected things, like strobe lights in clubs and menus at fancy restaurants and piñatas at family parties. It lets you take a step back and try to see it all through her eyes, unfamiliar and new. It’s refreshing even when it hurts. 

You think it’s having the same effect on Joel, but you haven’t talked about it. You can only see what he’s showing on his face and you think it mirrors what’s on yours. You haven’t talked more about your 20 years apart, other than some small details here and there. Ellie hasn’t asked again. You see him looking at you sometimes like he wants to ask, wants to reach out, but he always hesitates. Slow. 

After a few weeks (almost a month since they’ve been back in Jackson) of getting more comfortable around each other, Tommy ramps up his campaign to get the two of you to join him at the bar one night. You’ve been there with Tommy a few times, of course, but you haven’t been one for lingering there since you’ve been in Jackson. You were on your own for so long that at first it was odd to be around so many people. You know Joel has been with Tommy a few times, but he didn’t stay long, either. Always wanting to be home for Ellie. 

Eventually Tommy pesters you into agreeing by getting Maria to hang with Ellie for the night – as much as they haven’t quite bonded yet, Ellie is still curious and a bit excited at the prospect of a baby, and the plan is for her to help decorate the nursery. You saw the look on her face when Joel referred to the baby as her cousin, and you think Ellie herself can’t look straight on at the emotion that came over her in that moment. She’s still getting used to the whole family thing. You and Joel are too, but you’re easing back into something you had once and lost, which is different than discovering something you’ve never had at all. 

The night of your outing you don’t let yourself dither by your closet. You allow yourself two options and once you decide you head downstairs to meet Joel and Tommy by the road. For a moment you marvel, again, at the novelty of doing something that used to be mundane – choosing your outfit for a night out. 

Tommy looks like he used to at Christmas, so excited to drag you both out of the house. Joel looks just as handsome as always — shoulders broad in his flannel shirt — but he’s also side-eyeing his brother like he might want to put him in a headlock if he doesn’t stop spilling good cheer everywhere. 

“Alright, Millers, let’s get this show on the road.” You tuck an arm through both of theirs, one on each side like you used to do when you went out dancing. For a moment the once-familiar feeling of being surrounded by your family like this takes your breath away. But the three of you easily fall into step as you head towards the only bar in town. 

“You should bring your CD out sometime, get everyone to dance.” Tommy looks hopeful as he makes his request, glancing between you and Joel as you walk. 

“Maybe. I don’t want to lose it, or break it.”

“I know, sunshine – we can be careful.”

You shrug, and ask what kind of music is going on tonight. Sometimes there’s live music, a few people in town who can play various instruments, but often it’s this old-as-dirt jukebox that sometimes needs coaxing to play more than a few chosen songs without going rogue and disregarding whatever you picked next. Sounds like tonight is a jukebox night. 

The three of you arrive at the bar, and as Tommy moves to enter ahead of you, Joel lets his hand slide down to twine his fingers through yours. He squeezes your hand as the two of you step inside, reminding you of all the times he did that to reassure you Before, when you were still learning how to dance. It makes you smile. 

Tommy waves you over to a table in the corner and heads to the bar to get drinks. You slide in beside Joel, feeling a bit awkward as you turn to him while you wait for Tommy to come back. “He’s just as smug as he was that first time you and I went line dancing with him.”

Joel huffs a laugh, looking uncomfortable in public in a way you’d never seen him Before. He keeps checking on the people in the bar, eyes never staying in one spot for long as he sweeps them over the room. As he turns back to you, he replies, “Tommy loves to make me uncomfortable.”

You tilt your head at him, considering. “I get now, I’m not totally comfortable here either, but then? You always seemed so confident when we went out dancing. Helped me shake off my nerves.”

“That was because of you, darlin’.” He leans closer. “It was impossible for me to feel uncomfortable with you on my arm. All I could see was you, anyway.” You duck your head a little to hide your reaction from the room, and he gives you that half smile that raises goosebumps down your arms, like it always did. “Before I met you he used to drag me out and I probably stuck out like a sore thumb, anxious and frowning in a corner by the bar.”

You laugh at the image, just as Tommy returns with your drinks. “What are you two laughing about over here, hmm?”

Your eyes meet Joel’s again, and he’s giving you a warning glance against Tommy’s teasing. “We’re just reminiscing about going out dancing.”

Tommy grins widely. “I’m telling you, we can have a dance night here. Just need the right music for it. The jukebox does alright, though there’s a lot of slower songs. It doesn't have the widest selection.”

“Neither do I, with just the one CD.” 

Tommy shakes his head at your response. “Ah, but what a CD it is! I remember that mix. Sarah always had a way with a playlist.” You notice Joel shifting his weight at the mention of Sarah, but you decide not to draw attention to it.

“You just want me to embarrass myself with how little I remember.”

“Nope, not going to fall for a tall tale like that, sunshine. I heard from Ellie that you two still got it.” Tommy winks at you. You forgot what having a brother was like, with all the teasing, and you can’t help the swell of emotion in you as Tommy grins at you. You take a sip of your drink to cover it, and cough. 

“What the hell is this?”

“What, you don’t like it? It’s the strongest thing we got.”

“Did someone make this in their bathtub? I thought we had whiskey in this town.” You hold up your glass to the light, eyeing the light brown liquid distrustfully.

Tommy smirks at you. “Sure we do, sunshine, but tonight’s for having fun.” You roll your eyes at him. Joel is hiding his face in his hand, but you know he’s just trying to hide how much he’s laughing at your back and forth.

“You, Tommy Miller, are trouble. Just as much now as you ever were then.” You point at him and go for a stern expression, but you miss by a mile when you start to laugh. He laughs, too, and Joel just shakes his head at the both of you.

“Aw come on, I’m an upstanding member of the community these days, you know? No one’s dragged me out of the drunk tank in Jackson.”

“Jackson doesn’t have a drunk tank, Tommy.”

“Semantics, sunshine.”

You and Tommy keep the show going through your first drink with only a little bit of input from Joel, but you can see him smiling and starting to enjoy himself. With the second drink comes the return of Tommy’s campaign for dancing.

“Look, I’ll go pick out a song from the jukebox, and I swear it’ll be a good one. See, there’s already a few people dancing.”

You look over, and sure enough, there are a few pairs sort of swaying in place by the jukebox. You turn back to Tommy with an unimpressed look on your face, but he grins unrepentantly. “You’ll just have to show them how it’s done, won’t you?”

He heads over to the jukebox anyway, so you turn to Joel. “What do you think? You up for it?” He looks around the room before his eyes return to yours.

“I’ve never turned down a chance to dance with you, darlin’, and I’m not about to start, even here.”

His words send heat rushing towards your face and you bite your lip to hide your reaction. He sees it anyway. “Smooth moves, Miller, as always.”

He shrugs. “With you, it’s always just been a matter of letting myself say what I want to say or what I’m feeling and somehow it works. I was never this smooth before you, so you should blame yourself, you know, you bring it out in me.” You shove his shoulder, laughing a little. “Or maybe it’s only meant to work on you.” He smiles a little when you roll your eyes, trying to hide the effect his words have on you. You wonder if the drink has opened him up a bit tonight, after your weeks of progress so slow you’ve almost been standing still. The thought makes you hesitate. 

“Really, though, this is ok?”

He regards you for a moment, and his expression turns intent. He leans in to whisper in your ear, “it’s more than ok, darlin’. Let me show you.” You shiver all the way down your spine. You nod.

Tommy returns triumphant from the jukebox – he’s set the next two songs, but then can’t make any promises about what comes after. The first is playing now, a slow song that won’t really do, but it’s already almost over. Joel stands and extends his hand to you to guide you out of the booth and towards the small dance floor on the other side of the room near the jukebox.

Right as you get there the track changes, and you hear the familiar opening notes of “The Fireman.” You have to give it to Tommy – this is a good choice. Good for dancing, but not one that either you or Joel associate too many memories with. You take Joel’s right hand with your left as he places his left on your back. 

“You ready?”

“Get on with it, cowboy.” 

He smirks, and does just that. He doesn’t hesitate, just starts two-stepping across the small dance floor. It becomes clear pretty quickly that not only do the two of you remember the steps, you’re almost, if not just as good together now as you were then. He starts to get a little fancy with it and throws in some spins that lead you from one end of the dance floor to the other, followed by a pretzel. You find yourself laughing, exhilarated, and you see a similar expression on Joel’s face. He looks lighter, his shoulders a little taller. He brings you back to face him, doing some simple steps for a moment, and then gets a glint in his eye that you remember well. 

“Joel–” is all you manage before he spins you out, pulls you back in, and you fall into his arms as he dips you, tipping you over his knee and off your feet, just for a moment. It’s not the fanciest move you’ve ever done with him, but it leaves you breathless, faces close together as he holds you there for a moment, smirking. 

He sets you back upright, and slows it down a bit. You can’t drag your eyes away from his but neither of you say anything. It feels like you’ve created a bubble where it’s still 2002, and you and Joel are tearing across the dance floor in one of the clubs in Austin, like no time has passed. You even heard Tommy whistle over the music when Joel spun you off your feet. Just like old times.

As you let your body take over, you start to feel a tingling sensation that travels from the base of your spine all the way to the top of your head. You’re getting overwhelmed, and your body knows what to do, but your mind is checking out. It’s like you're experiencing two things at once – your memories, and what’s happening now. You realize that you and Joel are still moving, but both of your expressions have gone still and unreadable. When the music stops, so do you, and for a moment, neither of you move from your embrace. 

Suddenly you notice that your heart is racing. You’re sweating and you’re out of breath. When did that happen? Joel’s chest is heaving, too. Distantly you remember Tommy saying he had no idea what song would come next and you wonder if you should move aside.

Before you can move even a finger, you hear the jukebox switching tracks, and you see the next song slam into Joel like a freight train. The first notes are barely over and he’s already pulled away from you, turning sharply and heading for the door so fast you realize your hands are still hanging in the air where he left them as the door to the bar closes behind him. You let them drop and start to move, you’re not sure where to, when you feel Tommy come up next to you. 

“Hey, sunshine, you alright?” HIs hand comes up to support your elbow as he moves in front of you and blocks the room’s view. You want to respond, but all you can hear is Lonestar singing about being in love, and all you can see is the Millers’ backyard in 2002. You feel the ghost of Joel’s hands on you and you swear you can hear him singing “Amazed” to you as you sway in place. You remember choosing this song for your first dance at your wedding. You blink your eyes, dazed.

You fist your hand in Tommy’s shirt, shaking him a little. “I need… outside. I need to go outside. Tommy, take me outside.” He’s already leading you to the door before you finish speaking.

Outside, you turn sharply to the right, planning to prop yourself up against the outside wall of the bar and remember how to breathe, but you find that apparently Joel had the same thought. He’s got one hand on his chest and the other in a death grip on the frame of one of the windows. He’s gasping for breath. You and Tommy call out at the same time, but you don’t think he hears you. 

Tommy starts to move towards him, but you elbow him away and slide between Joel and the wall, putting your right hand to his chest and moving his right hand from his chest to yours. “Joel, look at me.” He sucks in a breath and does, clutching at your shirt where you put his hand. “Breathe with me, ok, baby?” He doesn’t respond, but the two of you lock eyes and you start to breathe together. You can see Tommy out of the corner of your eye – he’s turned his back to the two of you, ushering people on as they pass by. 

You breathe together for a little while and eventually, Joel’s breaths come more easily, as do yours. You feel his hand relax and yours does the same where you’re clutching his right arm, holding him in place. Both of you are shaking. He tries to speak, clears his throat, and tries again.

“I can’t…” You shake your head sharply, afraid to let him finish that sentence. He moves his hand from the window frame to your cheek in response and smooths his thumb across your cheekbone. It settles you.

“Let me try that again. I’m sorry, darlin’, I don’t know if I can be that man anymore.” 

You’re confused. “Joel, what man?”

“I’m not…” he takes a deep breath. “I’m a mess. I know I said slow, and we are moving slow, but I can’t see my way to our destination. I’m not the man I was Before and I don’t know if I can be him again.” He looks at you, eyes wide and afraid, and suddenly you’re angry. The words that have been caught in your throat for a month finally spill out.

“Joel, I’m not who I was Before, either. We’ve talked about it a little, but there’s a lot you don’t know about me yet. Who I became and what I did. You don’t have a monopoly on the pain of the last 20 years, alright?” He opens his mouth, but you shake your head and tighten your grip on his right arm. “No. We need to talk, and we need to learn about each other. But the truth of you is still there.” You flatten your hand over his heart. “I can see you in there, Joel Miller. I can see you in how you parent Ellie and how you talk to Tommy and how you look at me. I can see the way you take care of us and the way you’ve started to step up to help the people here.” You grip his shirt and shake him a little, doing everything you can to keep eye contact. “It’s scary, sure, I’m terrified. But I’m not giving this up before it even starts because it’s hard, or because sometimes the memories will overwhelm us. I already lived 20 hard years without you and I’m not doing it again. Not when that’s not what either of us really want.”

Joel looks like you cracked open his chest, actually gripping his heart in your hand instead of his flannel shirt, his expression wild. 

“All I’m asking, baby, is that you try. I can do one step forward, two steps back. As long as we keep going forward, it doesn’t matter how much we backtrack on our way.” He doesn’t respond right away – he looks over your face, and down to his hand on your chest and back up to meet your eyes. You can see tears glistening on his eyelashes.

“Alright, darlin’. You don’t have to convince me to go after what I want. I’ve just been afraid to let myself have it. I don’t… I don’t want you to discover I’ve become someone you can’t abide.”

You bring both hands up to cup his face. “Joel, I’m afraid of the same thing. But I want to figure it out together, not apart.” He nods, and turns his face into your right hand, taking a deep breath. You feel him kiss your palm, lightly, and you shiver. “We can still take the long way. I just want you to walk it with me.”

You feel the adrenalin of the last fifteen minutes start to leave you and suddenly you’re a bit unsteady on your feet. He holds you up, moving his hands to your waist. 

“Are you alright, darlin’? Let’s sit down.” You shake your head.

“I think I’d like to head home.”

“Let me take you home, then.”

You both turn to find Tommy has moved a bit further away, but he’s still guarding you both from the foot traffic at the door. He looks over when you look at him, and smiles a little ruefully. “I’m sorry about that, y’all.”

“Nothing to apologize for, Tommy.”

“I can get that song off the jukebox–” 

Joel interrupts him, firmly. “No, leave it. I might…” he sighs. “We might want to hear it. Later.” You smile at him a little as he tucks your right arm through his left.

You say goodnight to Tommy and start to head home. The streets of Jackson are dark and quiet. You’re both quiet, too, letting the intense moment you just had settle as you lean on each other for support. Soon enough your houses come into view, and Joel walks all the way to your front door before he stops and turns to you and says your name softly.

“I have to thank you. You always know what to say to get me out of my head.”

“You always did the same thing for me, you know? We were good together for a reason.”

He smiles, and nods. “I know it.”

You reach out to pull him in for a hug, and you both squeeze a bit tighter than you have so far, since your reunion. You feel his left hand cup the back of your neck as the right slides down your back and pulls you closer. You’ve been through an emotional wringer in the last half hour, but you still feel your body start to respond to this man. Like it always has. 

You turn your head so you can speak quietly into his left ear. “I enjoyed our dance, you know? Before all that.” His hand takes a firm grip on the back of your neck and you shiver. 

“Oh, I know you did. I could tell.” 

You laugh, and smack him lightly on the shoulder. “Oh yeah? Well you were enjoying it too, I could see it.”

“Never said I wasn’t. Never could take my eyes off you on the dance floor.” He pulls back a bit, and you meet his eyes. Gone, for the moment, is the worry from before – what you see in his gaze makes your breath catch in your throat. He smirks at you and runs his thumb up the side of your neck. 

“Can I kiss you goodnight, pretty girl?” As he says it he tilts your head up towards his. Joel has always called you darlin’, from the very first time you met, and you love it. But there were some pet names he only used at certain times and, well. Pretty girl has the same effect on you now as it did then. Between that and his hand on your neck you swear your feet float off the ground.

You’re breathless, but you manage an actual response. “I thought you’d never ask, cowboy.” He huffs a laugh at that, and then pulls you in close.

You’ve kissed Joel Miller countless times. He kissed you for the first time in his backyard in Austin in 2001 and after that you can’t even recall every time or place you kissed this man, there were so many. You wouldn’t say you got used to it, but you did come to expect it – Joel Miller, available and ready to be kissed by you, whenever you’d like. You knew him inside and out and you’d kissed him everywhere and every way you could imagine, back then.

But everything about this kiss is new. 

Joel softly presses his lips to yours, tilting your head with his grip on your neck, strong and confident. You circle your arms around his waist, moving even closer as you press into the kiss. He moves with you, pulling back a little, but returning almost immediately and kissing you a little deeper, a little firmer. You part your lips and you feel him inhale sharply before he slides his hand down from your waist to brazenly grab your ass, deepening the kiss just a bit, running his tongue along your bottom lip and groaning slightly as you bite softly as his lip in response. 

You’ve touched him where you’re touching him before and he’s touched you like this. But it doesn’t feel the same. It feels new, and heady. It feels like a first kiss and a millionth kiss all at once. He’s kissing you like he knows you, and he clearly remembers what you like, but it’s also like kissing a stranger. One who’s picked up new moves that just echo the ones you remember from Before. One whose body is familiar but also different, changed and aged in ways you haven’t had a chance to explore just yet.  

Joel shifts his weight in a way that turns you slightly, allowing him to slide his hand down further and grip the back of your thigh before pressing you against your own front door. He uses his grip to pull your leg up, stepping closer and pinning you in place with his hips. 

He tilts your chin up again with the hand on your neck and uses his thumb to open your mouth wide. You’re pressed tight between him and the door, sinking into your growing arousal, sinking into him. He looks down at you, mouth held open and waiting for him. You feel hot and dazed, watching as he runs his tongue across his own bottom lip slowly. He meets your eyes, gaze heavy, before lowering his head and devouring your mouth. You sneak your hands inside his shirt to run your nails up his back as your tongues tangle. Joel moans, so quietly you almost don’t hear it, and thrusts his hips into yours. Your breath catches as you feel his arousal meet your own. You feel desire pooling in your lower abdomen and your legs start to shake.

You might have gone on like that all night – you might have let him fuck you against the door, unashamed, outside where anyone can see you – but a door a few houses down suddenly slams shut, startling you both. 

Joel almost jumps away from you at the sudden interruption. Not far, he’s still got his hands on your hip and your neck. Your hands rest on his belt. He’s breathing hard and you suddenly realize you are, too. You shake your head, blinking, and start to claw your way back to awareness – your connection was so familiar, so easy, so much like Before. You’d sunk into those depths like slipping into a dream.

You blink at each other before you both let go at the same moment, standing up straight and stepping away. He lets his eyes dance over you, taking in your mussed clothes and swollen lips, before closing his own and pressing his palms to his eyes. He takes a deep breath. You can see the familiar outline of his cock in his jeans, and you force yourself to look away.

“I need to… I’m sorry, darlin’, but we shouldn’t. Not yet.” You nod. You try to convince yourself it’s the smart thing to do, even as you feel the pull of him like a magnet. Even if all you want in this moment is to pull him inside and make him finish what he started, just on the inside of the door this time. For some privacy.

“We still need to talk,” you manage. Your voice sounds unfamiliar to your own ears, but Joel nods in response. “But we agreed, right? This, us, together – that’s the destination. Even if we take it slow.”

“Slow,” he repeats, eyes lingering on your lips. He blinks, and meets your eyes. “Slow, yes.”

“We should walk away before we jump each other where the whole town can see.” You smile as you say it. It doesn’t sit right on your face. You take a deep breath and move to open your door without taking your eyes off Joel.

He smiles back, and nods. His attempt looks just as uncomfortable as yours. “Alright, darlin’, I’ll see you tomorrow? Or soon?” 

“Of course. Tomorrow.” Your feet feel rooted in place until he finally manages a step off of your porch. Your face feels like a mask as you try to present something pleasant, agreeable, fine with watching your heart walk away from you. The connection you just reawakened pulls taut between you and tugs at something deep in your chest. You keep your eyes on each other, and once he reaches his own porch you finally open your door. You take one last look, chest tight, before entering your houses at the same time. 

Inside, you close your door and immediately slide down against it to sit on the floor, head in your hands.

...

Austin, Spring 2001

You and Joel talked a few times between Sunday and Friday – standing in your front yard, once, and over the phone twice, finalizing your plans and flirting so much you found yourself not paying attention and getting wound up in the cord of the old phone that came with the house. He told you not to waste your limited texts on him, the dinosaur, but you texted him a couple of times anyway. Sarah must have taught him a few things because he actually sent you a winky face back once. It made you laugh and clutch your phone to your chest like some kind of swooning maiden. You told Emily, your friend at work, and she laughed at you so hard she snorted soda up her nose at lunch. Served her right. 

Friday arrived just in time to save you from working yourself up too much into a state of anticipation and nerves. You made yourself stick with the outfit you had picked out on Wednesday night when you talked to Joel on the phone and tried to figure out what was appropriate to wear dancing. He told you you’d be beautiful no matter what, but you wanted to look good on his arm for your first – and long awaited – date. You ran the outfit by Emily, too, and she gave it her official born-and-bred-in-Texas stamp of approval. (She also told you it was a good idea to wear jeans, because everyone else would likely do the same.) It wasn’t going to get much better than that.

Joel was going to pick you up at 7:30 after he dropped Sarah off for her sleepover. At 7:15 you were standing in your entryway with nothing left to do, feeling a little foolish. You looked around for something to occupy you and had just decided you’d put some dishes in the dishwasher, maybe, when there was a knock at the door. You glanced at the clock –7:17 – and raised one eyebrow while opening the door to find Joel on the other side. He was wearing cowboy boots, black jeans that were so tight in the hips it should have been illegal, and a button up green shirt that made your mouth water at how it showed off every line of his torso.

“A bit early, aren’t we?” you teased, leaning your shoulder against your door frame and crossing your arms.

“Well hello there, beautiful. I couldn’t wait any longer to see you. And you answered that door pretty quick, you know, to be teasing me like that. Were you waiting for me?” He grinned at you and winked. What a flirt.

“Maybe I was. You’re looking pretty sharp yourself, cowboy.” 

Joel offered his hand to you and you took it, stepping outside to join him before locking your front door. “Ready to go?”

“Lead the way.”

He handed you into his truck and set off for the taco place he’d been on you to try for months. 

(He’d learned earlier in the week while you were talking in your front yard that you still hadn’t gone, and the incredulous way he said your name had made you laugh.

“How? Darlin’, we told you about it months ago!”

“I’m busy, ok! And maybe I was waiting for an invitation.” You smiled and raised one eyebrow at him. 

He grinned, but shook his head. 

“Well, this can’t stand, darlin’. Seems like I’ll just have to take over from here, hmm? Make sure my girl is getting the best Austin has to offer.” He definitely caught your reaction to my girl, stepping closer and cupping your face with his right hand. You smiled at him, a little dazzled. 

“Pretty sure of yourself, huh, cowboy?” You smoothed your hands around his waist and linked your fingers at the small of his back. 

“Nah. Pretty damn sure of how much you deserve to be taken care of, more like.” You felt like you were going to swoon again, and really, twice in one week? This man.)

So you headed towards the taco place in the truck. Joel asked you about your week at work, how your students were doing, and he smiled a little when you told him that Emily approved your outfit for a night of dancing. 

“You tell her thank you from me, darlin’, I sure do approve, too.” He reached over and set his right hand on your thigh, squeezing gently. You laughed and rolled your eyes a little, moving to hold his hand.

The taco place turned out to be pretty crowded, but there were plenty of tables outside and soon you were settled with tacos and drinks. Your table was cozy, a two-person set-up right towards the end of their outdoor deck, which was strung with fairy lights. 

“Well? What do you think?”

“It’s lovely, Joel.” You felt his boot slide forward and settle against your foot. You smiled at him, resting your chin in your hand. “I’m glad you asked me out.”

Joel reached over and ran his thumb across your bottom lip, fingers cupping your jaw. “You got no idea how glad I am that you said yes, darlin’.” You opened your mouth to respond, but he left his thumb there, right in the middle of your bottom lip. He pressed down gently and you couldn’t help but dart your tongue forward to meet it. You watched as he inhaled sharply, staring at your mouth. You opened a little wider.

Joel shook himself and cleared his throat, pulling his hand away. “We should eat, baby. We got some dancing to do later.” He picks up a taco.

You smiled, enjoying the effect you clearly had on him, as strong as the effect he had on you. “Right. Dancing.” He shot you a look, picking up what you were implying.

“Eat your tacos, troublemaker.”

“Yes sir!” He coughed at your response, and you laughed, finally relenting. You picked up your own taco and took a bite.

You moaned.

“Joel! This is amazing!” You looked up from your food to find him watching you, dark eyes intent. “What?”

He just grinned, slow and smooth. “Nothing, darlin’.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but didn’t press.

Over dinner you talked more about your week, about the family party the Millers had coming up, about your worries for your students as you hit the midpoint in the semester. Joel asked you about your coworkers and some of your students by name, and your heart warmed just knowing he remembered them from the stories you’d told him. That he listened and cared.

He told you about the projects he and Tommy were working on now, and some of his frustrations with his crew and the clients. You realized, as you listened, that Joel had never really held back from sharing himself like this, not with you. You knew all of his crew by name and reputation, at this point. You could ask after their partners and you knew their roles on the team. He’d been opening himself up to you the whole time, just like you had with him. You’d barely noticed at first because you hadn’t had anything to compare it to, no idea he could be so careful and distant with people he didn’t know. Knowing him the way you did now, well. You smiled, still listening.

The fairy lights were setting everything off in a warm glow, but you felt like that glow was inside of you, too. Like the connection between the two of you was lighting you up from the inside. Your fingertips were tingling.

You wrapped your ankles around one of his under the table and squeezed. He winked at you in response. 

Around 9 you got back in Joel’s truck to head to the club he and Tommy had told you about. Apparently they sometimes played Latin music, but tonight was going to be all country, which meant two-stepping and line dancing. You felt your nerves, which had faded during dinner, start to return.

“Joel, you sure I know enough to go dancing? We barely got started last week.”

He reached over and set his right hand on your thigh again. “You’re ready, darlin’. Just follow my lead – I won’t throw anything too fancy at you.” 

You sent him a look. “Something tells me I shouldn’t believe you.”

He grinned, tapping his fingers against your thigh, sending tingles down your spine. “I did say nothing too fancy.” 

You soon arrived and Joel opened the car door for you in front of a large wooden building with neon figures in cowboy hats dancing across the facade. He took your hand again, lacing your fingers together, and started walking towards the entrance where there was a small line. It moved quickly and way too soon you were moving inside. Joel squeezed your hand as you entered the club.

The first thing that hit you was the sound – “Ain't Goin' Down ('til the Sun Comes Up)” was blasting through the dark space. You looked around, noticing the tiered side areas with tables and couches surrounding a huge dance floor sunk into the middle of the club. It was absolutely teeming with people line dancing on one side and two-stepping on the other. You looked at Joel and grinned. “Where to first, cowboy?” He smiled back and tugged you towards the dance floor. As you approached you noticed the bar nearby on the first level.

He leaned close so you could hear him, his lips brushing your ear. “Let’s get a drink and then we can watch for a minute, let you get comfortable.” You nodded, smiling at how well he anticipated what would put you at ease.

He got you drinks and somehow snagged a high bar table close to the dance floor. You stepped up to it and he stepped up close to you, to your side and behind you, curving his left arm around your waist. He put his mouth next to your ear again. “What do you think, darlin’?”

You leaned back a little, letting your back touch his chest as you turned towards him to reply. “They’re dancing pretty fast out there, Joel. I don’t think I can keep up.” He raised his right hand to touch your chin lightly, turning your head to the left a bit.

“Look over there, do you see the split?” As soon as he pointed it out you saw it. Yes, there were some dancers going so fast it made your head spin, but there was an area off to the left where pairs were dancing slower, and some looked like they were still learning, like you. “Everyone here is real polite, real aware of each other. No one’ll make you go fast before you’re ready.”

It reassured you, and you leaned back a little more into his chest. He tightened his arm around your waist. “Thanks, cowboy. That does make me feel better.” He grinned at you and winked again.

As you finished your drinks he pointed out people doing the steps he’d taught you, showing you the different ways they could fit together with other things you hadn’t learned yet. You realized the song was changing, and “My Maria” started up. It was a bit slower than the songs had been so far, which seemed like a sign.

You turned to look at Joel. “Should we give it a go?”

He looked surprised, and then pleased that you suggested it. “Let’s get out there, darlin’.” Before he moved away he leaned in for a quick kiss, stealing your breath and then grabbing your hand to lead you to the dance floor. As you reached it, he turned backwards, leading you with both hands into an open spot. He moved you into the stance he’d taught you on Sunday.

“Just follow me, baby. I’ll guide you right.” You nodded and took a deep breath, and then he started moving.

It amazed you how quick you shook off your nerves in Joel’s arms. He was right, you did have a good handle on the basic steps, and he smoothly led you around your little area of the dance floor, deftly steering you around other dancers. He even threw in a spin that left you a little dizzy. “Joel!” 

“Sorry, darlin’.” He grinned, not looking sorry at all. “Just wanted to give it a try.”

You smiled back, charmed by his easy confidence on the dance floor. “Just warn me next time.”

A couple songs on the slower side followed “My Maria.” After three, you felt like you were letting the dance happen more naturally instead of staring at your own feet so much. Joel was smiling at you softly, and soon he sent you into another spin and caught you close. You stumbled a little and smiled at him. You realized neither of you were moving. You’d frozen in the middle of the dance floor, when his gaze darted down to your lips. 

You'd moved a little closer, breathless, when the crowd suddenly cheered, startling you into stepping back and looking around. You looked at Joel, who was grinning. 

“What’s going on?” you asked, but then you heard it. Most of the men were leaving the dance floor – the women in the room took over as “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” started up. You laughed, but then stopped when you realized Joel was moving away, too.

“Wait, I don’t know what to do!” You were about to get corralled into one of the lines of dancers that was forming around you.

“Just follow along!” he called, grinning. You looked around and saw a woman you didn’t know beckon you closer.

“I’ll show you! Come on!” She broke it down for you slowly, and soon you were moving with the rest of the crowd. It wasn’t that difficult, you realized, just showy. You noticed some were throwing in spins and kicks, but you focused on the basic steps. Once you had a handle on it you looked up, looking for Joel.

When you found him, you almost froze in place. He was looking right at you, and by the look on his face, you knew he hadn’t looked away from you once. He was watching you with dark eyes, intent. It sent a shiver down your spine and you wanted to run to him, or for him to come back and dance with you again. He had a hand on his chin and he slowly rubbed his thumb along his lower lip as you met his eyes. You stumbled a little over the next step and he smirked, not meanly, more knowingly. You smiled back.

For the rest of the song you felt his eyes on you, and you felt like you were dancing only for him. It made you a little bolder – you swayed your hips more and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze was angled low. It spurred you on.

By the end of the song you were breathless, and you’d worked yourself up so much you needed a break before you hauled off and dragged him into the bathroom. When you met his eye you knew he was feeling the same way.

The crowd surged a bit as you approached, and you tipped forward into his arms at the edge of the dance floor. “How did I do?” you asked, grinning. He studied you, looking slowly down your body and back up. Your face heated in response.

He leaned forward, arms around your waist, lips brushing your ear again, and said, lowly, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You tore up that dance floor, baby. Let me take you for another spin.” You closed your eyes and leaned your head against his, overwhelmed.

“Be My Baby Tonight” was playing then, and it was fast and a little intimidating. You turned your head towards him. “Get me a water, first, and then you can spin me all around the dance floor, cowboy.”

He ducked his head into your neck, leaving a kiss behind your ear, and then nodded. He turned and headed straight to the bar as you leaned against the high table next to you for support. You steadied yourself, taking several deep breaths. Dancing now. More of… that later. The thought made you chuckle, but you closed your eyes briefly against the heady anticipation it sparked in you at the same time. 

Joel reappeared back in front of you quickly, drinking his own water and watching you intently as you finished yours. “Daddy’s Money” faded into “Shut Up and Kiss Me” as he grabbed your hand to lead you back onto the dance floor without saying a word. Your heart was racing as you followed, eyes locked on his.

The practice and the line dancing had flipped a switch in you, and you found yourself adding little things that made the dance your own. Swinging your hips a bit slower, throwing in an extra twist, spinning faster. Joel met you step for step and encouraged you with every addition. The rest of the club fell away as the two of you moved in sync. You barely noticed when he threw in a new move – a backwards spin of some kind. He smoothly guided you in and out of it, grinning smugly when it worked. 

You danced straight through two more songs (“Fast as You” and “God Blessed Texas”, which the crowd loved). When “What About Now” started you found yourselves pressed even closer together, after the crowd that had formed for “God Blessed Texas”. You kept moving, but Joel caught your eyes right as the chorus started and your breath caught. He pulled you close and, to your surprise, sang softly into your ear, “How ‘bout tonight? Baby for once let’s don’t think twice.” You knew he could play guitar, and he’d mentioned before that he’d wanted to be a singer when he was a kid, but he’d never sung for you. You felt his voice, soft like velvet, sink deep into you and you squeezed your thighs together.

You pulled away and caught his eye, coming to a stop on the dance floor. He looked uncertain for a moment before he saw the look on your face. 

“Let’s get out of here, cowboy.”

He smiled wide and immediately turned and led you through the crowd towards the door. It took longer than you wanted but eventually you emerged into the cool night air outside of the club.

At his truck he stopped and slipped his arm around your waist. He whispered in your ear, “where to, baby?”

“Take me home, Joel.”

“Just home?”

You smirked at him. “Why don’t you get me there and find out?” 

He laughed, opening the door for you and jogging around to throw himself into the driver seat. As soon as he had the truck in drive his right hand was back on your thigh. Higher this time, and with his thumb rubbing a small circle into the outside while his fingers gripped the inside firmly. You sighed and sank a little lower in your seat. He glanced at you, and stood a little harder on the gas pedal.

Joel must have set a record between the club and your house, but soon enough you were pulling up in the driveway and he was opening the car door for you once again. You walked to your front door with him hovering right behind you, hands lightly brushing over your hips as he moved in step with you. 

You unlocked the door, but before you could open it he grabbed your hips and spun you around. You found yourself sandwiched between him and the door, left hand firm on your hip, right hand against the door to the side of your head. The echo of your dance positions made your heart race. 

He leaned in close, brushing his lips across your cheek before murmuring in your ear, “you got plans tonight, pretty girl?” You heard yourself gasp, lightly, and reached out to loop your fingers through his belt buckles. 

“Met some cowboy at the club. He followed me home, trying to get in my pants.”

Joel laughed, and moved a little closer. His left hand moved from your hip to your neck, thumb in front along your collarbone. “Well, are you going to let him?”

You hummed and pretended to think about it. “I dunno. You think he’s any good?”

Joel met your eyes, sliding his left hand to the back of your neck and squeezing. You inhaled sharply and you knew he could see the effect he had, written all over your face. He leaned in and his lips brushed against yours as he replied, “well, baby, you can be the judge of that, alright? After I make you come on my hand,” he kissed you, “and my mouth,” he kissed you again, “and my cock,” he kissed you one last time. 

Your head was spinning at his words and you could feel your arousal pooling in your underwear. You thrust your hips against his right thigh, firm between your legs. He squeezed his hand around the back of your neck again and you gasped as he moved back a little. 

“Well then, cowboy. Take me to bed.”

He reached behind you and opened the door, pulling you in by the waist as he deftly maneuvered you around it and into your dark hallway. He pulled the door closed and locked it with one hand behind him, never even moving away from you, before backing you into the wall to your living room.

“I’ll take you to bed, pretty girl, but I think I’ll take you right here first.”

Your back hit the wall but he didn’t stop, moving forward until his front pressed all along yours. He caught your lips with his, moving his hand back to its new spot around the back of your neck in a strong grip. With his other hand he undid your jeans, then used both hands to start to pull them down. You reached down to help, but stopped when you realized Joel’s eyes had caught on your underwear. Particularly the lace.

“This for me, darlin’?” As he asked he slipped his fingers into the slide of your underwear before moving his hands around to the back and reaching inside to grab your ass cheeks, one in each hand. You thrust your hips towards his, brushing lightly against his jeans.

“You see any other cowboys here?” 

He grinned. “I think I like the idea of you picking these out, thinking about what I might like.”

“Wait until you see what else I’ve got up there.” 

“Oh, I plan to.” He stepped back in to press you against the wall, moving his left hand back to your neck and his right hand around to the front to slip inside your underwear. “Mouth or fingers first, baby? What do you think?” 

You let your head fall back and rest against the wall, breathless at his question.

“Come on, baby. Good girls ask for what they want.” As soon as the words left his mouth you whined, surprising yourself, a tiny noise in the back of your throat, barely there at all. But he heard it. “Oh, do you want to be my good girl?” The effect his words had on you was obvious – chest heaving, eyes closed, heat rushing to your face. “That’s good, baby, that’s real good. Now tell me what you want.”

You took a few deep breaths, trying to focus as his fingers moved lower in your underwear. “Your mouth.” You opened your eyes to see him grinning at you, eyes dark. 

“That’s my good girl.” He leaned forward, voice low in your ear. “Now, let me hear you moan for me like you did back in the restaurant, got it? I want to hear it, baby. Don’t hold back.” And without another word, he sank to his knees in front of you. You steadied yourself on the wall behind you, unable to tear your eyes away from him as he pulled off your shoes, and then your jeans, and then your underwear. You stepped out of them as he ran his hands back up your legs to your hips. He placed a light kiss on each of your hips, sending sparks straight to your pussy. Your legs started to shake. His right hand moved back down to reach behind your thigh and he lifted it over his shoulder. Any self consciousness you might have felt at opening yourself to him like that was immediately quashed by the hungry look on his face.

“Oh, pretty girl. I can’t believe I waited this long to get a look at this pretty pussy.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss just above your clit. You took a breath that sounded like a sob. “I’m going to treat you right.” He was looking straight at your pussy as he said it.

He leaned in and started with a slow lick, from your hole all the way up to your clit. You felt it like a tremor that ran from your toes to the base of your spine, almost taking you out at the knees. 

“Fuck.” Your hands flew to his head, tangling in his hair, but not pushing. He glanced up to meet your eyes before doing it again, this time maintaining eye contact. You felt like you were about to hyperventilate.

“Breathe, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

You whined again, softly, and he grinned. As he moved back to press his lips lightly to your clit, he brought up his right hand to tease his fingers at your entrance. He pressed his tongue down on your clit slowly, softly, before tracing the tip of it towards your hole. He pressed there, hinting at pushing his tongue past your entrance. You tightened your hands in his hair and he smiled, kissing you, right there, and then slowly pushed his tongue inside while his fingers moved up to brush against your clit. 

You felt like you were floating, like last week when you danced, and again tonight when you were so in sync on the dance floor. It was like he could read you and knew what you wanted before you knew you wanted it. He thrust his tongue inside, curling it a way that made you gasp, pushing your hips towards his face involuntarily. You moaned, low. He caught you with his left hand on your hip and pushed you back into the wall. 

“Good girl. Let me hear it.” He teased you again with the tip of his tongue. "You taste so good, baby. I could stay right here for hours.” You shuddered and he moved his fingers down to circle your entrance again. He pushed one slowly inside you. At the same time, he placed an open mouth kiss directly on your clit, lightly tonguing it as he found the spot inside of you that made you shiver. 

He kept it up as you moaned again, mercilessly thrusting his finger inside while lavishing your clit with attention from his lips and tongue. 

You felt your orgasm start to build slowly, from the base of your spine. It radiated up your back and tingled over your scalp, overwhelming you entirely as you pushed down with your hands in his hair and thrust into his mouth. His hand and shoulder held you up as your knees shook. “Joel, I–”

“I know, baby. I can feel you squeezing my finger. That’s it, pretty girl, let me see you come.” The wash of fire over you made you arch your back, and you called out his name as it took you. He worked you through it until you gently pushed his mouth away. 

You heaved a breath and looked down at him, finding him just as wrecked as you, his entire face wet from being buried in your pussy. You watched as he used your hip to pull himself up, standing over you as he pulled his middle finger from inside you and slipped it into his mouth. His eyes slipped shut and he made a noise like he couldn’t get enough. Your mouth went dry. 

Joel opened his eyes and reached for you, pulling you into his chest. “That’s one, baby. Ready for two?” You shuddered but fell forward, into his arms. 

“I think I need to lie down first.” 

He grinned, and wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing you close to lean on him and walking backwards while holding you up. “Let me take care of that for you.” 

“Joel, I can walk!” You laughed as you said it. 

“Nonsense, darlin’. Happy to have you in my arms, now that it’s my job to make your legs shake.” He winked at you and tightened his hold around your waist, drawing you into a kiss at the bottom of the stairs. You couldn’t help but notice how good his arms looked, supporting you like that. You tucked your head into one side of his neck and kissed lightly behind his ear and along his hairline. He tilted his head to give you better access, humming. Then he lightly swatted your ass cheek.

“Let’s get upstairs, pretty girl.” He encouraged you to go up in front of him, and you grinned over your shoulder at him, knowing exactly why. He stared directly at your naked ass, unrepentant. 

Once you reached your bedroom you started to pull your shirt off, but he suddenly grabbed you by the hips and turned you towards him. He reached around behind you to grab your ass in both hands, pulling you into a searing kiss. Before you knew it he was walking you towards the bed, letting you fall onto it backwards. You bounced slightly and your legs splayed open as he stripped off his shirt, grinning at the sight of you. 

“Look at you, pretty girl. Why don’t you take off that top for me.” You did, and watched him remove his boots and jeans, too. 

Soon he was crawling on the bed, leaning over you on his left elbow while he slid his right hand up your leg, over your torso and finally to your cheek, where he pressed gently to turn you towards him and into a kiss. 

“I dreamed about you like this, you know. For a while now.” As he said it he moved his hand back down, teasing your nipple lightly. “You, spread out on a bed, just for me.” 

You kissed his cheek as he turned to look down your body, which squirmed a little under his gaze. “I did too, Joel.”

“What did you dream about, baby?”

You bit your lip to hide a smile. “Everything.”

He hummed, and moved his lips to your ear. He murmured your name. “I thought you wanted to be a good girl for me, hmm? Now, what did you dream about?” As he said it he tweaked your nipple slightly, making you gasp. 

“Your mouth,” you breathed it so quietly he nudged you with his nose to spur you on. You cleared your throat. “Your mouth, and your fingers. Can’t keep my eyes off your shoulders, never could, even that first day. Couldn’t stop imagining them moving over me as you fucked me.” Your voice was steady, but Joel took the opportunity to drop kisses down your neck, moving towards your chest. You started talking faster. “Your arms, holding me up as you fucked me against a wall. Your lips… everywhere. Your thick fingers, sneaking inside my underwear. Being full of you. Being good for you. Using my mouth on you, sucking you off. Riding you in the backyard. Sneaking into the bathroom together on a night out. Sneaking over in the middle of the night to wake you up by sucking your cock. Waking up to your mouth…” You sucked in a breath as he lightly took your left nipple between his teeth. Your mind blanked. You couldn’t remember anything more. “Everything, baby.”

He twisted his tongue around your nipple before sucking a kiss into the side of your breast. You sank your fingers into his hair as you arched towards him. 

“That’s my good girl, yeah? Where should we start?”

“What?”

He looked up at you. “Pick one, baby. Let’s cross something off your list.”

You smiled at him, a little shy. “What about your list?”

“Well, we have plenty of time. And don’t you worry about that.” He crawled over you, legs on either side of your hips, bulge obvious in his underwear. “You’re my list, baby. Everything you said, and everything else we can do, anywhere we can do it.”

You thought about calling him on the lack of specifics, like he did to you, but you knew you’d rather let him follow through on that promise.

“I want your fingers, Joel. Mouth, fingers, then cock, right?” You looked him straight in the eye as you said it. “How many do you think I can take?” He blinked, and then grinned wickedly.

“A good girl like you? I think you’ll take as many as I want to give you, don’t you?” Before you could respond, he leaned down and captured your mouth with his. This time he skipped past any build up and tangled your tongues together as he pressed down on top of you. Your legs were still trapped between his as he ground his cock, still hidden inside his briefs, against your hip. You ran your nails up his back and into his hair.

He shifted his weight to the side, freeing your left leg, which he grabbed at your thigh to push it to the side, opening your pussy to him again. He traced his fingers lightly from your knee to your hip, still kissing you deeply. Once he reached your pussy he traced through the remnants of your first orgasm.

He pulled back slightly, still close enough that his lips touched yours. “Is this pretty pussy always this wet?” You moaned as he slid one finger between your folds, teasing at your entrance. 

“It is for you.”

“Even when you touch yourself, thinking about me?” Your face heated a little, and you turned your head. “Don’t be shy, pretty girl. Nothing gets me going faster than thinking about you – how you look when you’re concentrating, when you’re dancing in your kitchen, when you’re relaxing on the couch in those little shorts you wear around the house.” As he spoke he kissed along your jaw and pressed gently with his finger at your entrance. Almost inside. “I think about your hair on my pillow, your thighs around my head, your mouth on my cock, your pussy on my face, your legs around my waist in my shower, and I can barely keep myself from coming in my pants like a teenager.” He slid his finger inside you, and you moaned again, clutching at his shoulders. “That’s it, baby. Now tell me. Do you get this wet when you touch yourself and think of me?” His voice was stern and his finger curled inside you, making you push your hips towards his hand. 

“Yes,” you breathed, turning your lips to his. “I’m always wet for you, Joel.” He took your mouth again, thrusting his tongue as he thrust his finger inside you. 

“Good girl.” His voice rumbled, low, deeper than you’d ever heard it. He slipped another finger inside you. “That’s two fingers, baby.” He thrust his fingers in and out of you as he devoured your mouth. He slid his left forearm along the bed until his hand was behind your head and he gripped the back of your neck again. “Let’s try a third, hmm?”

You curved your hips into his hand as he added a third finger, stretching you wide and filling you up. You could feel a buzzing in your ears and a tingle at the back of your neck where he held you in his strong grip. 

“That’s so good, baby. Taking my fingers so well. How does it feel?” He squeezed the back of your neck with his left hand as he curled his fingers upwards inside of you. You heard yourself whine before you realized you were doing it.

“Tell me, pretty girl. How does it feel?”

You sucked in a breath, and replied, “it’s so good, Joel.” You clenched around his fingers. “I – I need–”

He sucked a kiss into your neck, and then under your ear. “Tell me.”

“My clit—” you trailed off again as he moved his thumb right where you wanted it. You closed your eyes. He started drawing circles with his thumb as he thrust his fingers into you. You clenched your fists in his hair and in the sheets. You could feel it coming.

“Joel, I’m close,” you arched your back into him as he held your neck down in his hand. 

“I can see that, baby. Don’t you want to be good for me? Let go, and let me see you come. I want to see it up close this time, see your pretty face.”

As soon as he told you to, you did. Blood rushed in your ears as you arched your chest off the bed, thrusting your hips toward his hand. The orgasm took you hard – you saw stars, felt it radiating out from your core to the tips of your fingers and toes. You might have called his name, but you couldn’t be sure. When you came down you heard yourself breathing hard and realized Joel was murmuring your name in your ear. “That was beautiful, darlin’, I’ve never seen anything so pretty. I knew you’d come so nice, you had to, so fucking gorgeous. Prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen, and all for me. You were such a good girl for me, honey.”

You caught your breath, and then caught his face between your hands, pulling him into a searing kiss. He smiled at you after. You slid your right hand down, trailing over his chest and into his underwear. You gripped his cock in your hand. “I believe you promised another on this cock, cowboy.” It was his turn to moan and thrust his hips forward as you ran your thumb across the tip.

“You know I’m good for it.” You helped when he reached to push his underwear down, then kicked it somewhere on the floor. You took his cock in your hand again, marveling a little at the girth. 

“I knew you were big, Joel, but damn.” He straightened his shoulders a little, looking smug. He caught your eye and winked. 

“You knew it, huh?”

“You weren’t the only one looking, baby. I’ve seen you in your swim trunks. And that day your pants slipped down a little, on the ladder? Well, you should have worn a belt, is all I’m saying.” He laughed.

He raised his right hand to trail his fingertips down your face and neck, and traced the shape of your right breast lightly. “Maybe I wanted you to look.” You tightened your grip on his cock and he pinched your nipple in response before moving his hand lower and cupping your pussy. 

He pressed his forehead to yours. “Are you ready for me, pretty girl?” he shifted his hand to your thigh, pushing slowly to make you bend your knee up to your chest. You nodded. “Hmm, I want to hear you say it.”

“Fuck me, Joel. I’m not waiting any longer.” He lifted his head and grinned at you. You grinned back. He reached over and grabbed a condom from your nightstand and made quick work of opening it and slipping it on. 

“Well I know better than to keep a pretty girl like you waiting.” He shifted his weight, hovering over you. You moved your hands to his hips, but he picked up your right hand with his left and laced his fingers through yours before pinning your hand to the bed above your head. You shifted into it, loving the feeling of being held in place. You traced his shoulders with your eyes, watching as his muscles moved to hold you there. He tucked your left leg around his waist, your right rising immediately to meet it. 

Then he reached down to take his cock in hand and tease along your pussy from your clit down to your hole. 

“You’re so wet, baby. Ready for me, hmm?”

You curved your hips towards him, catching the tip of his cock between your folds. “Always, Joel.”

He thrust his hips forward in response, notching the tip right at your entrance. “Christ, darlin’, this is already so fucking good.” He was watching, looking at his cock just kissing your pussy. You felt heat rushing through you, watching him look.

“Now, cowboy. Give it to me.” He met your eyes again and did exactly as you said, pushing inside, studying your face. Your mouth fell open as you felt first the head and then the rest, stretching you wider than his fingers. You watched him lick across his bottom lip as he filled you up. He was staring at your open mouth. You were panting, tongue lax, surrendering to the stretch. You watched as he let spit gather on his tongue and then slip out, falling directly from the tip of his tongue into your open mouth. You caught it on your tongue and held it there. Your eyes snapped back to meet each other’s gaze as you moaned, loud. He thrust his hips forward, filling you the rest of the way in one swift motion.

He leaned down and licked inside your mouth, running his tongue along yours as he pulled back and slammed into you again, pushing you up the bed. For a moment you were both in a frenzy, your hips crashing together as you opened your mouths wide, tongues tangling, breaths coming hot and fast.

You twisted your hips, squeezing your legs around him, and he pulled his mouth away from yours. “You are so fucking hot, you know that? I ain’t never seen anything like you, never felt anything like this.” He was breathing heavily as he sped up his thrusts, reaching around your left hip and squeezing your ass cheek in his right hand. Pulling your pussy closer with his grip. “You’re taking me so well, such a fucking good girl for me.” You gasped, tossing your head back. “Feels like this pussy was fucking made for me. Christ.”

You could barely breathe, but you managed, “It was, Joel. All yours. No– nobody else.”

“Fucking right, all mine.” He pulled almost all the way out before slamming his cock back in. He tilted his head down and nipped at your neck where it met your shoulder. “All for me.”

“Yes, baby. Give it to me.”

He growled, speeding up his thrusts. He slipped his right hand from your ass back around your hip, sliding his fingers down to your pussy again. He tapped your clit once, sharply, and you let out a sound you’d never heard yourself make before. It sent a piercing arousal through you that made you tighten your legs around his waist. He grinned, and did it again, before starting to work at your clit in time with the strokes of his hips. 

He licked from your collarbone to your ear, whispering, “You ready to give me that third one, baby? I want you to come on my cock.” You whimpered and nodded. “Let me have it then.” He was filling you so perfectly, you could feel your orgasm building again. “Let me see it again. Prettiest sight I’ve ever seen. Show it to me, baby. Please.” He bit down on the hinge of your jaw and you felt it hit you again. You squeezed his cock, tight, clenching your pussy as you came. This time it didn’t stop, the movement of his hips and fingers just kept it going, longer than you’d ever felt before. You fell into it. “Good girl,” he grunted as you felt his hips speed up, losing his steady pace. You felt like your orgasm shifted into a new gear as you clutched at his hair and cried out. He thrust hard into you one last time and your eyes flew open, yanking his face from your neck to watch his face as he came. 

You locked eyes as you both tumbled over and came down the other side of the most intense orgasm you’d ever had in your life. You were breathing hard, breath mixing together as you stared at each other. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a ghost of your favorite half smile. “Holy shit, Joel.”

He brushed his nose slowly along yours and moved his hips forward one more time. You gasped. “I knew it’d be this good,” he murmured. “Had to be. Fucking made for me, I knew it.” You smiled softly and pressed your lips to his cheek and the corner of his mouth. He caught your lips in a gentle kiss. “Such a good girl, all for me.” Despite how you’d spent the last hour with this man, you felt your face heat a little. He kissed your cheek. 

You both took a deep breath and he pulled out slowly, catching the condom with his right hand. He moved away to dispose of it and you stretched languidly, twisting your hips. You’d never felt so content, so satisfied. 

He came back quickly, cloth in hand to clean you both up before slipping under the covers with you. He pulled you close, tucking your head onto his chest and gripping your waist firmly with his arm down your back. With the other hand he traced designs on the arm you had flung across his chest.

“I’m mighty glad I asked you out tonight, darlin’.”

You smiled into his chest. “I’m mighty glad I said yes, cowboy.” He laughed at your imitation of his accent.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“You sure do.” He reached down and tapped your ass lightly in retaliation. 

“Don’t you want to be nice to me, after I was so nice to you?” 

You lifted your head to look at him, and he was grinning. You shifted your weight so your left hip rested on top of his, bringing your left hand to support your chin on his chest as you looked at him. “You and I both know you like it when I tease you.” He shook his head, but couldn’t hide his smile. 

“Well, you got me. But it just means you fit right in.” You were a little dazzled at the idea of fitting in so well with his family – you knew he meant Sarah and Tommy.

For a moment you just looked at each other. His eyes swept over you, catching on where his now soft cock rested against your hip. You felt your heartbeat begin to slow and enjoyed the feeling of Joel pressed against you everywhere. You let your eyes start to fall shut. He reached over and tapped your chin lightly. 

“I know it’s early, darlin’, but I can’t help but imagine sharing a bed with you like this all the time.” He met your eyes, a little hesitant, as he said it. 

You tilted your head into his hand and twisted your knee between his, trying to sooth him by getting closer. “It might be early in terms of how long we’ve been doing this, Joel, but we’ve been heading this way for a long time. Since we met.”

He nodded. “I know it. But I still don’t want to rush it – I want to savor every moment that gets us there.” You smiled at the acknowledgement that you were both in this with the same goal, same dream. “And it’s not just about this, you know, even though you blew my fucking mind tonight. I love watching you get to know Sarah too, and seeing how we fit together. Everywhere.”

“Me too, Joel. She’s important to me, and I want this to last.” You looked at him for a moment, and then smirked. “We can take the long way, get lost in it a little bit. Do some exploring.”

He eyed you, and you could see that he was trying not to smile. “Exploring, huh?” He moved his right hand to your lower back and pushed down firmly, moving your hips to meet his as he thrust upwards. You felt his cock stir against your hip. “Well, you just let me know what you have in mind. I’ll be ready.”

...

a/n: chapter 5 coming Sunday, 8/27 :)

a/n: ch 5 now posted!

Tag list: @morgaussy  @jay-zzle @bluetattoos @dins-riduur-anthe

Club playlist (all songs are on the series playlist) Ain't Goin' Down ('til the Sun Comes Up) John Deere Green My Maria I’m in a Hurry (And Don’t Know Why) (This Ain’t) No Thinkin’ Thing Man! I Feel Like a Woman! Be My Baby Tonight Daddy’s Money Shut Up and Kiss Me Fast as You God Blessed Texas What About Now Boot Scootin’ Boogie

[aimeedaisies]

The Princess Royal’s Official Engagements in May 2024

01/05 On behalf of The King, held an Investiture at Buckingham Palace. 🎖️

As President of the City and Guilds of London Institute, attended The Princess Royal Training Awards Alumni Skills Summit at Guildhall. 🏆

With Sir Tim As Patron of the Whitley Fund for Nature, attended the Annual Whitley Awards Ceremony at the Royal Geographical Society. 🦋

02/05 With Sir Tim Named a Great Western Railway Intercity Express Train ‘HRH The Princess Royal’ at Paddington Railway Station. 🚉

Unofficial With Sir Tim Attended day two of the Royal Windsor Horse Show. 🐎

03/05 With Sir Tim Departed the UK from Stansted Airport for Canada and arrived at Vancouver International Airport

HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Vancouver;

Attended the Commissioning Ceremony for HMCS MAX BERNAYS at North Vancouver Burrard Drydock, before attending a Reception onboard. ⛴️ 🇨🇦

Attended a Dinner onboard HMCS MAX BERNAYS at sea. 🍽️

04/05 HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Victoria;

Toured HMCS Max Bernays at sea. 🌊

Visited Esquimalt Military Family Resource Centre at the Canadian Forces Base Esquimalt. 👪🪖

As President of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, visited God’s Acre Cemetery and laid a wreath at the Memorial. 🌹

Visited the Maritime Museum of British Columbia Archive. 📜⚓️

Her Royal Highness afterwards visited Fed Urban Agriculture Society Urban Farm, 395 Harbour Road. 🌾

Attended a Reception given by the Lieutenant Governor of British Columbia (the Hon Janet Austin) at Government House. 🥂

Attended a Dinner given by the Lieutenant Governor of British Columbia at Government House. 🍽️

05/05 HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Victoria;

Visited Government House Gardens. 🪴⛲️

Attended the Battle of the Atlantic Memorial Parade at the Parliament Building and laid a wreath at the Cenotaph before taking the salute at the march past of Canadian Armed Forces Veterans, Serving Personnel and Cadets. 🫡

Attended a Royal Victoria Yacht Club Youth Dinghy Regatta. 🛥️

As Patron of the Canadian Therapeutic Riding Association, visited Victoria Therapeutic Riding Association. 🐎

Departed Vancouver International Airport for the United Kingdom. 🇨🇦✈️🇬🇧

06/05 Arrived at Heathrow Airport from Canada 🇨🇦✈️🇬🇧

08/05 Hosted a garden party at Buckingham Palace alongside The King and Queen, The Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh and The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester. 🍃☀️🪴

As Patron of the Woolf Institute, attended a Reception, followed by a Dinner, to launch the Randeree End of Life Programme. 🥂🍽️

09/05 As Patron of the Royal Navy and Royal Marines Charity, visited the Headquarters at HMS Excellent in Portsmouth. ⚓️

As Patron of the Women’s Royal Naval Service Benevolent Trust, attended the Annual Presentation and Reception at the National Museum of the Royal Navy. 🏛️

As Patron of the Association of Wrens, opened the new Headquarters Building at Lanyard House, HM Naval Base. 🫡

With Sir Tim As Patron of the National Museum of the Royal Navy, visited the HMS Victory Conservation Project at HM Naval Base ⚓️

With Sir Tim As Patron of the National Museum of the Royal Navy, attended the HMS Victory Conservation Project Dinner onboard HMS Victory at HM Naval Base. ⚓️🍽️

10/05 As Patron of Catch22, visited Greater Manchester Victims’ Services at Greater Manchester Police Headquarters. 👮

Visited the East Manchester Community Boat Project at Portland Basin Museum Marina in Ashton-Under-Lyne to mark its 30th Anniversary. 🛥️🎂

11/05 unofficial With Sir Tim Went to Badminton Horse Trials to cheer on Zara Tindall in her Cross Country stage of the three day event. 🏇🏼

13/05 Visited Stonehaven Open Air Swimming Pool to mark its 90th Anniversary. 🏊‍♀️🍾🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

As Admiral of the Sea Cadet Corps and Marine Society and Sea Cadets, opened Stonehaven and District New Headquarters. ⚓️🫡 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

14/05 With Sir Tim As Patron of the United Kingdom Sailing Academy held a Founders’ Club Luncheon at St James’s Palace. ⛵️

As Chancellor of the University of London, attended the King’s Centre for Military Health Research Conference. 👩‍⚕️

With Sir Tim As Patron of the Wellington Trust, attended a Dinner onboard HMS WELLINGTON (mto mark the Ship’s Ninetieth Anniversary. ⚓️🥂

15/05 As Court Member of the Fishmongers’ Company, visited Glenarm Organic Salmon Fish Farm, off Glenarm Harbour in Ballymena. 🍣🚤

As Court Member of the Fishmongers’ Company, attended a Luncheon at Glenarm Castle. 🐟🍽️🏰

16/05 As Royal Patron of the National Coastwatch Institution, visited Bembridge Station, followed by a Reception at Brading Haven Yacht Club in Ryde, Isle of Wight. 🔍🌊

As President, Royal Yachting Association, opened the Sea View Yacht Club's Training Centre in Seaview, Isle of Wight. 🛥️

17/05 With Sir Tim Hosted the annual Not Forgotten Association garden party at Buckingham Palace. 🫖🍰☀️

20/05 unofficial Departed from RAF Brize Norton for Norway and landed at Oslo Gardermoen Airport. 🇬🇧✈️🇳🇴

21/05 As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Norwegian Industrial Workers Museum in Vemork, Norway. 🔨⚙️🇳🇴

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, received a briefing on the sinking of DF Hydro at Mael Station in Telemark, Norway. 🏭🇳🇴

Attended a Reception given by His Majesty’s Ambassador to the Kingdom of Norway at the Residence in Oslo. 🥂🇳🇴🇬🇧

22/05 As President of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, visited Vestre Gravlund Cemetery and laid a wreath on the memorial. 🪦

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Linge Club and attended a Reception at Akershus Fortress, Oslo. 🇳🇴🇬🇧

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Norwegian Shipowners’ Mutual War Risks Insurance Association. 🪖🇳🇴

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, with The Crown Prince of Norway, visited the Norwegian Resistance Museum, Akershus Fortress. 🏰 🇳🇴

unofficial Departed from Oslo Gardermoen Airport and landed at RAF Brize Norton . 🇬🇧✈️🇳🇴

23/05 As Patron of the Hornet Services Sailing Club, visited the club for their 60th anniversary. ⛵️🎂

Opened the Army Sailing Association Offshore Centre in Gosport. ⛵️

With Sir Tim & Duke of Kent Held a Garden Party at Buckingham Palace to celebrate the Royal National Lifeboat Institution's 200th anniversary. 🛟☕️

With Sir Tim Visited the Royal Horticultural Society Chelsea Flower Show at the Royal Hospital Chelsea. 🌸🌺🌼💐

24/05 Opened the Admiral Lord Cochrane Room at the Royal United Services Institute in Whitehall, London. 🔐

Sometime in May unofficial Sir Tim, as Chair of Trustees, attended the Science Museum Groups annual dinner

Total official engagements for Anne in May: 53

2024 total so far: 224

Total official engagements accompanied by Tim in May: 23

2024 total so far: 55

FYI - due to certain royal family members being off ill/in recovery I won't be posting everyone's engagement counts out of respect, I am continuing to count them and release the totals at the end of the year.

[rafecameronsslxt]

Not so Secret

Warnings: Regular smut and over protective Rafe

Synopsis: You suddenly take an interest in your brother's best friend, Topper Thorton which leads to not so secret sex.

Topper Thorton x Reader

Minors DNI, you will be BLOCKED.

Masterlist

A/N: No because I love Austin North in general.

Words: 1,376

Topper and Rafe are playing golf while I watch. I’d left the game thirty minutes ago because of boredom. “Do you guys like to plan to match each other or?” Topper randomly throws the question in the air and hits the golf ball. Considering Rafe is my older brother by a month, and since he decides to act tough, I make him match me. He sometimes hides from me because I like to correspond with his outfits. 

   I see Rafe roll his eyes out of the corner of my eye. Topper lingers his eyes on my body for too long. Rafe’s shirt was a bright peach, and mine had been pinker because why would I own something as colourful as his shirt was? I also had a white pleated skirt on that was shorter than expected. Which was also a hassle even to wear because Rafe decided to have a fit about me wearing it. Unlike Rafe and Sarah’s sister and brother relationship, mine was good with Rafe, most likely because I wasn’t the favorite. 

   “Yes, and Rafe loves it. Don’t you?” I throw back my head laughing, and he mumbles something incoherently, hitting the golf ball hard into the air. I walk towards Topper, throwing my hands around his neck and locking them together. “He is such a brat.” My voice is a whispered hush as Rafe looks at Topper and me too close for his liking. Topper furrows his eyebrows at me for a second. 

   I press my soft lips to Topper’s cheek after smiling at Rafe, knowing he can’t stand you seducing his friends. Not that I’ve slept with any of them, you just have to play the game right. All the while, Topper keeps his hands to himself like the gentleman he is and is a suck-up to Rafe. My voice comes out gravelly. “Why don’t you kiss my brother while you’re at it.” I pat Toppers broad shoulders and walk away to the golf cart, getting bored.

Sometimes Topper needed to learn to be his own person and not trying to be twinning with Rafe. Despite me actually looking like a duplicate of my brother.

   After what feels like an hour, they come, finally ready to leave. 

   Their both quiet. 

   I smack Rafe’s leg, knowing he “talked”  with Topper. Top is eighteen, and he doesn’t need a “friendly” conversation, especially from someone like Rafe, who has a girl every other week. I hear Rafe grumble when I switch seats to the back with Topper. Finally, Rafe begins to drive. 

   I subtly slide my hand on Topper's thigh, analyzing his features. He doesn’t acknowledge my touch, Top’s eyes staying on the back of Rafe’s head. His silence confirms it. 

   For a man like Topper, he has a good poker face, so whatever Rafe had said set him straight. My hands glide over his dick and then into Topper's pants. He shifts his body, adjusting to my hand touching his cock. Topper is hard, which I hadn’t anticipated. 

   I run my hand and fingers all over Topper’s dick, feeling every inch of him with just my hand. “Hey, top, I think we should go to the country club tomorrow,” Rafe says nonchalantly, not knowing his little sister is giving his best friend a hand job in the back seat of a very open golf cart at night time. 

   The thrill drags people into messes, which is the fun part, but if Rafe had caught us, this pleasure would diminish, ending in Topper getting a beating from Rafe. Topper concurs with Rafe, but it becomes more of a mumble mixed with a moan slipping through. 

   Rafe turns his head back towards us. My hand quickly leaves Toppers pants, and my body starts palpitating with anxiety. “Are you good?” My brother was exasperated but eyed me specifically. “Yeah, man. I’m good.”

   “Exactly, Rafe, so look at the path to our house. Don’t wreck us.” I mutter and hit the back of Rafe’s head with the hand that didn’t touch Topper's dick. “Bitch.” He rubs the back of his head, leaving me alone for the rest of the ride.

   I look to Topper with a wide grin etched on my face. But, unfortunately, I don’t get the same reaction; he seems agitated. 

   We make it safely to my house, and I watch Rafe walk inside. I press my lips to Toppers. The desire to feel him so close has been edging me all day. He pulls away. “What the fuck was that?” His face is serious like I’d done something wrong. “What? Topper, are you seriously mad at me? Never mind, I’m leaving.” I run my hands through my soft hair and get out of the golf cart. Topper's big hands wrap around my waist, pulling me back in. 

   “I’m sorry. Rafe was just being an asshole.” He whispers and starts nibbling my ear. “I can sneak you into my room.” I turn my head to look into Topper’s pretty blue eyes. He kisses me slowly, such a chaste kiss.

   I open the front door hearing the house's stillness, meaning everyone had gone to bed or was just in their rooms. I interlace Topper’s hand with mine and tiptoe up the stairs and into the hallway. 

   Topper locks my door and throws me on the bed. I laugh and put my finger over my lips. Shhh. Topper hovers his body over mine. His knee goes between my thighs, spreading my legs apart, and his plump lips come down on mine. His hands push down my skirt, throwing it onto the wooden floor somewhere. His fingers pull my silk panties to the side. Two fingers, without hesitation, instantly slip in quickly because of my cum. 

   An unwarranted pornographic moan falls from my lips. Topper's free hand flies to my mouth. “Honey, you can’t be loud.” Topper kisses me softly, his lips drifting down to my neck. He sucks on my flesh while I take my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to keep quiet as he fingers me roughly, his pace quickening by the second. 

   Topper starts making marks on my boobs, leaving rather quickly and slides his tongue down my stomach and then to my pussy. He looks up at me, his breath fanning on me. His lips wrap around my clit, and his stubble rubs against me. “Fuck- Topper.” My hips press into his face, and he chuckles, sending shivers deep into my body. His fingers curl into me, hitting my sweet spot. I cover my mouth while he flicks his tongue on my clit, and his stubble tickles me. I grab hold of his hair gently.

   “Top- fuck. I’m going to-” Moans fall like a song from my red lips. I convulse around Topper's fingers, and a euphoric feeling crosses my mind. Topper gives my pussy one last lick and comes back to face level with me. He kisses me, still remnants of myself in his mouth. 

   I feel his tip rub up and down my slit a few times. Topper must’ve taken his pants off when he was fingering me. His pre cum and mine mixed, creating lubrication in itself. Finally, he pushes halfway in and pulls out. I whine from the loss of contact. I give him a pouty face, and he slides back in, bottoming out. His balls hit against my butt with each profound thrust.

   I wrap my legs around his back. My nails scratched, making cuts into his back, but his speed didn’t slow down. At this point, my nails dug into his back, making crescent moon marks. My fingers find their way through his hair, tugging at his blonde tips. “Good?” He questions with a grunt. “Fuck yes.” I moan loudly, and his thrusts start getting sloppy. 

   My vagina tightens around Topper's cock. “God, you’re such a slut for me.” I nod yes, feeling pure bliss. My vision goes white for a second, and I see Topper smiling down at me while still pounding into me. “You squirted.” He whispers in my ear and then kisses me gently, and I feel his cum paint my insides.

   A banging starts on my door, and the knob rattles. “Did you seriously just fuck Topper!” Rafe screams pounding his fists against my door. Topper ends with a sigh of relief still inside of me. “Can you just fucking chill out, Rafe!? Yes, Topper did that thing you mentioned too.”

[texasobserver]

From “‘Drag is so Healing’: Austin’s Queens Won’t Back Down” by Digital Editor Kit O'Connell, originally published in the September/October issue of Texas Observer magazine. Photography by Cindy Elizabeth:

In an orange prison jumpsuit and chains, a tall, lean drag queen writhed to a cover of “War Pigs” by Brass Against, which sounds like someone swapped Black Sabbath’s lead singer for a woman and added a highly caffeinated marching band. As she lip-synced, Hermajestie the Hung completed a dramatic strip tease down to an army fatigue jacket and fishnets, all to riotous cheers and a rain of dollar bills. 

It’s April at the Swan Dive on Red River in Austin’s club district, where “Tuesgayz” night LGBTQ+ gatherings—which include “Queereoke” sing-along sessions—are a tradition. For over a year, the Black-led drag troupe Vanguard, with an informal membership of about a dozen performers that includes both drag kings and queens, has opened each show with the same invocation:

“On our stage we proudly proclaim that Black lives matter, trans rights are human rights, no human is illegal, all bodies are beautiful, and my body, my choice.” 

Hermajestie—who described herself as a “postbinary, polyamorous, pansexual pot-smoking parent” and goes by “any pronouns but he/him”—explained later that she started each night the same way because she “realized that once I mention these things, the trash usually takes itself out.” 

(We are using performers’ stage names in this article to protect their privacy.)

Vanguard, she explained, serves as a “declaration and celebration of queer freedom, queer love, queer existence and queer solidarity.” The space she has created is often politically charged. Each night, she recounts the latest legislative attacks on queer rights, urging her audience to get involved. Tuesday’s routine culminated in her holding aloft the severed head of former President Donald Trump and hurling it into the audience (a similar stunt that earned comedian Kathy Griffin public censure shortly after Trump’s election). 

The members of Vanguard represent an evolution in drag. While elder performers were often cisgender, gay men, many of today’s queens are transgender or nonbinary and explore their identity through the art form.

Austin’s drag scene is thriving: From the heart of downtown to the Hill Country, patrons can attend events every day of the week, including late-night revues and brunches on weekends. One monthly show highlights new, amateur queens, another the elders of the community. Drag has made inroads in non-LGBTQ+ spaces as well—queens frequently perform at birthday parties, fundraisers, and, last year, at a new student orientation at the University of Texas at Austin. 

At the same time, drag is under attack. Senate Bill 12, scheduled to go into effect September 1, will levy fines against venues that host performances appealing to an ill-defined “prurient interest in sex” where minors are present; performers could also face up to a year in jail. The legislative affront goes hand-in-hand with protests and harassment from right-wing activists outside of nightclubs and on social media, where drag performers are frequently doxxed. While most performers remain defiant in the face of oppression, the growing pressure leaves them concerned for their future. 

(Editor’s Note: As of September 18, 2023, SB 12 is under a temporary restraining order while a judge rules on a lawsuit led by the ACLU of Texas.)

Read more at the Texas Observer.

[caroform]

Songs for Heroes of Olympus pairings

Feel free to leave more suggestions in the comments :) honorable mentions below the cut

Percy and Annabeth - You and I by One Direction

“Not even the gods above / Can separate the two of us”

Jason and Piper - Chemtrails Over The Country Club by Lana Del Rey

“You’re in the wind, I’m in the water / Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter”

Nico and Will - Sun to Me by Zach Bryan

“And you spoke to me so sweetly on the days I couldn’t talk / And now I’m seein’ clearly, and I’m growin’ up so free / Sweetest of the sunflower, yeah, you’re the sun to me”

Frank and Hazel - The Great War by Taylor Swift

“All that bloodshed, crimson clover / Uh-huh, sweet dream was over / My hand was the one you reached for / All throughout the Great War”

Leo and Calypso - From Austin by Zach Bryan

“Everyone I’ve ever loved has either left or died / Wish I was born with concrete shoes but I’m leavin’ tonight”

“Love was just an ocean, I would drown before I float”

This took way too long :)

honorable mentions:

Percy and Annabeth

- Little Soldiers by The Cranewives

- Work Song by Hozier

- Power Over Me by Dermont Kennedy

Jason and Piper

- Oklahoma Smokeshow by Zach Bryan

- Landslide by Fleetwood Mac

Nico and Will

- The Moon Will Sing by The Cranewives

Frank and Hazel

- Daylight by David Kushner

- So American by Olivia Rodrigo

- Curses by The Cranewives

Leo and Calypso

- Coal by Dylan Gossett

- Elsa’s Song by The Amazing Devil

- Zephyrus by The Oh Hellos

[billthedrake]

GOALS (PART ONE)

Story idea by and collaboration with top son Turner (bimgm36@gmail.com).

[SCOTT]

"So what are your goals, Mr. D?"

We were sitting in a side area of a large cinderblock-construction room that was part of a gym the next town over. It was more of a lifter's gym for serious dudes, and a change of pace from the corporate health club I normally went to downtown. And certainly a change from the country club where I golfed on the weekends or on days off.

But when I hit 50 and decided to get a personal trainer, I'd scoured the online listings and read reviews and came across a familiar face: Austin White, a baseball player who'd dated my daughter back in high school. Well, he wasn't playing baseball these days but had graduated from college and was now working back in a nearby suburb as a personal trainer.

"You don't have to call me Mr. D," I reminded him. "You're no longer dating Shannon."

The trainer flashed a pearly white smile. He definitely had Lady Killer written all over him. Strikingly handsome-cute, laidback, and no small amount of easy charm. "Sorry, Scott," he laughed softly. "Old habits..."

I smiled back. "Yeah.... hope you didn't mind me looking you up." It had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now that I was face to face with Shannon's ex boyfriend, I realized there was something a little awkward about it all.

Austin put me at ease. "Glad you did, Scott," he said. "But you didn't answer my question."

"My goals?" I prompted, recalling what he'd asked me. "Well, I turned 50 last week..."

"50's a number," he said, challenging me some. "Not a goal."

I nodded. "I guess I've let myself go some, to be honest. I'd like to get back in shape... healthier. And I guess there are some personal reasons, too," I admitted shyly.

He flashed that Lady Killer smile again. "I'm a professional Scott... you can tell me."

I chuckled. "Well, I'm hoping to rekindle things in the bedroom, you know?"

I felt dumb saying it, particularly to a dude as young and jacked as Austin. But he didn't miss a beat. "That's a pretty good motivation, Scott," he grinned. "And common, too. It's good to be honest with yourself about what drives you." He picked up his clipboard to take notes. "OK, so we know a big goal... any others?"

I filled him in on some lingering back and hip issues. They didn't keep me from being active, but they affected my golf game sometimes. "I'm afraid I haven't always prioritized being active," I said, no longer embarrassed but feeling proud I was taking the first step to being a better Scott Delahunt. "You know, long hours, lots of sitting at a desk..."

"Still doing the executive thing?" Austin asked.

"Yes. CFO," I clarified. "Though at a different company than when I last saw you."

"That's cool," he said. "And we'll work on your back and hip and see if we can improve your overall mobility... training's not a substitute for physical therapy of course but it can complement it," the guy added thoughtfully. "I work with all types of clients, but I specialize in men over 40.... you know more functional training and flexibility."

"Sounds great," I said.

"I just want to make sure my clients are on the same page with expectations."

"I'm putty in your hands, good sir," I half joked.

He laughed. "All right, Scott," he said, standing up from his chair. "Let's do some measurements and a few diagnostics." Austin had put on some muscle since high school for sure, and the form-fitting zip-up and joggers showed off a body that was big but that somehow didn't look overly musclebound. This young dude was definitely gonna be some inspiration for my own fitness journey.

I stepped on the scale. "198," Austin read out. "And 6-foot-even?" he asked.

"Maybe a hair shy, but yeah, 6 foot." I stepped off. "I really would love to lose the spare tire," I said, patting my midsection. I didn't have an outright beer belly, but I had some major love handles and midlife spread there.

Austin's easy smile was gone and he was in full business mode. "We'll work on it," he assured me, gesturing me over to a mat to do a timed plank. "There's no quick fix," he explained as he started the stopwatch. "No crash diets, either... I believe in strength training first as a foundation and then we'll work on the rest, OK?"

"Yeah," I grunted. I was holding my own I guess, but my lack of regular exercise was biting me in the ass, hard.

I did better on some of the diagnostics and not as hot on the other.

"I told you, Austin," I said. "You're getting a real project." Pulling out the self deprecating humor.

He was still in business mode. "I'm not one of those hardass trainers, but I have only one rule, Mr. D," he said, his old nickname slipping back. "No comparing yourself to anyone else. If you're on social media, I want you off it. In here, for 60 minutes twice a week, it's going to be about you... what you're doing and what you can do better and how we can get you there. Not any of the other guys. OK? "

"Got it," I said. It felt weird being bossed around by a man half my age, but Austin was the one with the Instagram body. I'd follow his lead.

We walked on toward the locker area. "And one other thing you'll learn about me, Scott," he added with a wink. "I have more than one rule."

****

[AUSTIN]

"Beast!" I grunted in encouragement as Scott pumped out a personal record on the bench press. He even did two reps without my spot, before I helped him on the third. As I helped guide the bar back into pace I saw his exertion-red face and concerted look break into a wide smile.

Psychology is a big part of my job. Every client is different and has different things that motivate them as well as different reasons they weren't motivated before they came to me. Being a trainer doesn't mean being a miracle worker, but you try to figure out what's going to work for a man or woman in the gym.

But I'd never seen a man respond so well to encouragement as Scott. I honestly didn't know what to expect when Shannon's dad first contacted me. But I always liked the guy, and he'd always made me feel welcome when I was over at the Delahunt house. He'd always take the time to say hello or chat and ask me how the baseball season was going or what colleges I was considering. When anyone else had grilled me about college, it felt like pressure - like "are you good enough for my daughter" BS - but with Mr. D, it felt like genuine interest.

Now that I'd been training the man for over a year, I'd gotten to see another side of him. He was guarded at first, but after a few months he'd started being more open. Something about the extra time to chat in the gym does wonders for getting the conversation flowing. He didn't talk ill about Mrs. Delahunt, but the man was clearly frustrated in his marriage. I was getting the picture of a man who'd thrown himself into a high-powered career and who liked to show off the spoils of financial success. And he wasn't happy.

"Give it a couple minutes rest," I said as Scott sat up, stretching his arms a little and rubbing out the burn in his triceps. "And maybe we can try for 10 more?"

"Oh yeah," the executive said enthusiastically. "Let's do it."

As he cooled down for a bit, he asked. "You doing anything this weekend, Austin?"

I was putting two fives on the barbell. "My Dad's coming to visit."

Scott looked into my face. "You're not excited are you?" he said, observant as hell.

I sighed. "I don't know, Scott... a dumb part of me looks forward to it every time.... but when he's here, it's like we don't have anything to talk about. He'll spend a couple hours with me, then go meet up with one of his buddies instead."

Scott didn't try to tell me it was OK. Or make excuses for my Dad. He just listened. "That's tough, guy," he finally said. "I guess some parents aren't good with the emotional stuff."

He got into place and went for another set. I had to spot him for a good deal of that one rep. I could read the disappointment in his face.

"Give it a longer rest," I urged. "Refocus. You got this, Scott."

The next attempt wasn't pretty, but it was all Scott. And the beaming look of pride in his face after was one of those moments that makes my job worth it.

[SCOTT]

"You hear from Shannon lately?" Austin asked between squats. He'd been pushing me more on leg days lately, and I was starting to see progress.

I never knew for sure why Austin and Shannon broke up, but Austin was a grade ahead of Shannon and gone off to college before her. A part of me wondered if Austin still had a thing for my daughter, but I figured this was just something to talk about, the connection that first brought us together in the gym.

"Not lately. I only hear from her when she needs money," I said wryly.

"Oof," my trainer gave a "that hurts" wince. "For real?"

"I exaggerate some," I explained. "But not a lot. Sometimes it feels like she sees her Daddy as a living, walking credit card."

Austin gave me a reassuring, empathetic look. "Well, at least she's probably having a blast in college, right?"

It was the perfectly timed joke, and it made me crack up. "That she is, buddy," I said.

I got in place and knocked out another set of squats. It was a struggle, but I got to eight.

"Nice," I heard Austin say. Then he added some weights.

"Sorry if I'm out of line, Scott, but Shannon is a spoiled B. She kind of always was."

I grimaced. He was right, but I didn't appreciate him talking about my daughter like that. "Maybe she is, but I take some responsibility in that. Kelly too... we both spoiled her growing up. We just wanted her to have the finer things, you know."

Austin gave me a look that said he felt contrite, even if he wasn't saying his apology out loud. "Better than the opposite, Scott," he said. "You're there for her, that's what matters."

"Things been rocky with your Old Man lately?" I asked.

Austin shrugged. He had a jock's bluster, but I could tell he hid how much things bothered him. Even discussing his relationship with his father, he tried to pass it off in an even, unaffected tone. "Worse. I haven't heard from him in two months. I left a couple of voice mails, but felt like some desperate chick wanting a second date."

"I take it you speak from experience in brushing off desperate chicks," I teased, trying to change the subject.

Austin grinned. God, he really was a strikingly handsome young man. "Ah, I talk a big game, Scott. Truth is, I guess I'm just waiting for the right one, you know."

It was adorable to see this muscled up ex-jock act shy, and endearing too. "I'm sure she'll come, Austin," I assured him. "Probably sooner than you think."

He looked at me as if he was trying to decide whether he could share a secret. He did. "It'd be a 'he,' Scott."

"Oh," I muttered dumbly. It didn't even occur to me that Austin would be gay. In fairness, I knew him first as Shannon's boyfriend.

The guy went into reassuring mode. "I don't generally share my personal business," he said. "With any of my clients..."

There was the Mr. Business side of my trainer coming out. Serious, professional.

"I'm glad you did, Austin," I said. "Um, is that why things didn't work out with you and Shannon?" Maybe none of my business, but I was curious as hell.

He didn't seem fazed by my question. "Yes and no. I mean I didn't decide I really preferred men until college. But even in high school I felt I wasn't 100% into dating the girls I was with. No disrespect to your daughter..."

"None taken," I assured him.

I did another set. It was getting really fucking hard now. "Let's stretch some," Austin said, a signal we were done with squats for the day.

On the mat, Austin guided me through some gentle stretches.

My curiosity was still getting the best of me.

"So... you have any boyfriends in college?" I asked. Before stopping myself. "Sorry... that's none of my business."

He didn't admonish me but just said softly. "Yeah, like I say I don't advertise my personal business."

[AUSTIN]

Like with a lot of clients, I told Scott not to weigh himself at home constantly. We'd step on the locker room scale once a month. That way, he'd be focused on strength and diet and not on the ups and downs.

I could tell he was nervous that day as he stepped on, wearing only his compression. I tried to act normal around Scott Delahunt, but the man was my type to a T. Older, just the right amount of muscle, clean cut daddy. A year and a half of training had done wonders for an already good looking man. His back had a nice curve and definition and his shoulders and arms were swells of rounded muscle. He still had a little padding on his middle but his gut was solid muscle behind it. He'd definitely lost some extra weight.

"190!" he beamed. "I haven't weighed 190 since my 30s," he said as he stepped off the scale and turned toward me. Scott wasn't overly hairy but he had a nice pelt of light brown hair on his now defined chest and torso.

"And some of that is extra muscle," I reminded him. "So... you told me your goal when we started... any luck in the bedroom?" I tried to make it sound professional, or maybe buddy-to-buddy. But lately I'd been thinking way too much of Scott Delahunt having sex.

He shook his head. "Not really," he said. I expected a sad sack expression but instead he just replied, "But I've decided I'm doing this for me, actually."

"Yeah?" I asked. I wasn't sure if he was just parroting what he thought I wanted to hear.

"It's about time I focused on what makes me happy, you know?"

"You should," I said. "You deserve that."

He gave me a grateful look. But he didn't respond. Instead, it was like he was displaying his body for me. Not lecherous exactly, and I think I did a damn good job of hiding my attraction to him. But it was like he wanted a gay dude's approval of his improved physique. Some straight dudes have hang ups about gay men checking them out, but I've met a couple of buds who feel they can trust me with my assessment of them physically.

I ventured a compliment. "You're looking really good, Scott. Muscle, definition, and the slimmer midsection are really coming together," I said. "Incredible progress, really."

He ate it up. "I couldn't be doing it without you, buddy. For real."

I forced myself to stop ogling his half naked body, as I told him I'd see him for our session Friday.

When I got home, though, I jerked off. A nice heavy load just imagining mounting Scott doggy style and pounding him hard and fast. As I cleaned up, I had to laugh at how turned on I was by this 51 year old corporate exec. Like, I always had to pine for the unavailable ones.

I just hoped for his sake that Scott Delahunt was getting laid that night.

[SCOTT]

It was tough getting back into the gym after two weeks. Austin kind of laughed as I showed my frustration at not being able to bench nearly as much as before.

"Been there, Scott," he patted my shoulder as I sat up. He'd been doing that more lately, touching me. Nothing too weird or invasive, kind of like one close buddy might do for another. But knowing Austin was a gay dude made me read something into it, I suppose. Not that he'd be into a middle-aged man like me. But I did find myself wondering a lot about the kind of men Austin was into. I chalked it up to idle curiosity. Austin had opened up a lot to me as we trained and talked, but he kept one part of himself private.

"How was Italy?" he asked.

"Incredible," I replied. "Villa in Tuscany, good weather, amazing food... what's not to like?" I started.

"That's awesome," Austin said. He seemed to enjoy living vicariously through his clients' vacations, and I knew that as a trainer he probably didn't have the time or money to do any big travel.

I nodded. "Yeah, but this sounds spoiled as hell to say... but I would have been as happy on one of your Smokies camping weekends." Austin grew up in the east part of the state and still enjoyed getting up into the mountains from time to time.

He gave me a sympathetic look. "Yeah, why's that?"

I shrugged. I felt like sometimes I unloaded a lot onto my trainer, but it was like he was the one guy who'd understand. "I dunno... With Kelly, it sometimes feels like things have to be perfect... you know, THE best winery and THE best private tour... and she spends half the vacation posting the pictures on Facebook so her friends all know how she's having THE best fucking vacation.... sorry, man, I know I'm being a jaded asshole."

Austin patted my shoulder again. That touch against my warm shoulder through my workout shirt. "Not at all, man. You just have a better perspective on life is all." He gave me another pat. "Ready for another set?"

I nodded and got back into place. We finished up at the bench and went to do a superset of dumbbell exercises.

I was a little out of breath when we finally paused.

"Tough, huh?" Austin said, reading my face.

I nodded, not quite formulating a word. "Yah. Sorry."

"Take a sec," he assured me. He had me drink some water.

As we went to do some stretches and core work, our conversation resumed.

"So... I didn't know you were into camping," Austin said.

"I'm not," I replied. "At least I haven't done it since I was a boy scout. But the idea of getting away from Brentwood seems real appealing sometimes."

Austin squatted down next to me and reached over to pull my hip to correct my form. "No offense, Scott, but you're Brentwood through and through."

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess," I said. Austin was originally from a small town in east Tennessee and had moved to the Nashville suburbs when he was 12. He seemed to have mixed feelings about the tony suburbs we lived in, and I had a hard time figuring them out. "Guilty as charged."

"I'm just razzing ya, Scott," Austin said, that easy going charm coming back.

[AUSTIN]

I'd taken a break from the apps. I told myself it was healthy to do so, but maybe it was healthier to get laid. In case, Scott's break from the gym somehow made me miss the guy. I was becoming crushed out on my client. I told myself that was because I wasn't getting any daddy ass.

My profile was clear. 24yo total top clean cut jock into masculine 40+ daddies. Inexperienced OK. Married or DL OK. Just be willing and ready to take care of my 7.5 inch cock. No-strings fun only.

I had a great set of pictures that got a lot of bites. That first weekend of Scott's vacation I got messaged by five men. Two just weren't my thing, two were smoking hot, and one was OK. I messaged the smoking hot daddies back and clicked with a businessman staying downtown. He wasn't Scott Delahunt hot but he was my type. 48, balding, strong barrel chested build, trimmed goatee. He was married but played when he was out of town. I assured him I was totally discreet.

It had actually been six months since I'd hooked up with a guy. I remembered now how fun it could be. Even dealing with the traffic heading into downtown. When I got to his hotel room, he'd just gotten out of the shower, freshly cleaned for me, and had a towel wrapped around his waist. He had a soft belly, not big but more along the lines of what Scott had when he started with me. His front was incredibly furry and I found the swirls of hair incredibly hot.

"Hey," he grinned as he led me in. He could barely take his eyes off me. I'm not an egotist... well, I am a little. But it's great to have that silent appreciation of my looks. His words made it explicit. "Man," he said in a deeper-South accent. "I thought you wouldn't live up to your pictures, but you're incredible."

My eyes swept his body too. He wasn't the hottest man I'd ever slept with but I loved his real dad-ness... married-with-kids Southern daddy, deep voice, ex-jock vibe. "I'm liking what I see, too," I growled, pulling my shorts up to let my boner ride up. I had been looking forward to some release real bad.

He seemed like he'd won the lottery ticket. "Dang! You really do go for older guys don't ya?"

"Exclusively," I said. I loved the chance to be direct with men about my sexual preferences. I stepped up to him and ran my hands along the soft furred belly before slipping my hands around his waist to pull him toward me for a kiss.

Some married guys aren't into kissing. I forgot to ask if Business Daddy was OK with it. He was. Or made an exception for me. He was used to soft kissing from a woman and was surprised by my approach. But he got into it and was soon pawing at my T-shirt, feeling up my muscle.

I was getting worked up, fast. My fingers undid his towel and felt up the bare buns. Some men like Scott Delahunt had to work to develop a thick round ass. This guy had the genetics for it. I could be satisfied with a nice slow BJ from a hot daddy, but knowing from our DMs that this guy wasn't virgin made me really want to tap his hole.

"What are your thoughts on the D word?" I growled. Business Daddy seemed real into me, and I felt I had the cards, at least enough to push this.

"Daddy?" he asked, to clarify.

"'Dad' is even hotter to me," I said, taking his wrist and guiding it to the hard ridge in my mesh shorts. Instantly his thick fingers curled greedily around it.

He gulped. "Never done that scene," he admitted. "But if it turns you on, buddy..."

"It turns me the fuck on," I assured him. I kissed him again then kissed and licked along his ear lobe. "Why don't you get down and suck my dick, Dad?" I whispered.

He had a naughty look on his face as he crouched down. The man wasn't all that hung and his shorter dick stood out like a spike from his hairy crotch as he got down. He peeled down my shorts, like he was unwrapping a Christmas present.

"Dang... fucking big piece ya got, buddy," he hissed, taking it in his hand and licking it. "Go easy on me, will ya?"

"Yeah, Dad," I hissed, not wanting to get out of this scene now that I had the green light. Then I felt his warm mouth descend on me. Business Daddy wasn't experienced but I wasn't his first cock either. It was a nice sweet spot. I imagined my father doing this to me. Sucking me, learning how to suck me.

"That's it, Dad," I grunted. "Suck your boy. Love your hot fucking mouth on my dick, sir." Some guys were turned off by my verbal approach, and others were way turned off by the incest scene. That's one reason I sometimes found hookups not to be satisfying. It was hard to develop a rapport to go deep with a one-off guy.

But Business Daddy was getting into it, sucking me more fully now, with a bit more of a slow suction that was getting me worked up. I watched his balding head bob up and down on my crotch. My own father had more hair, though it too was thinning. Like Scott Delahunt's.

"If you keep sucking, Dad, I'm gonna cum," I warned. "But I really wanna fuck you, sir."

Business daddy pulled off and took one admiring look at my spit wet dong. "Damn you are a pervy fucker," he laughed.

I kicked off my shorts and peeled off my T-shirt. "Yeah I'm a perv," I replied. In the past I might have felt embarrassed but now I was unapologetic. I fisted my cock and looked him in the eye. "When was the last time you got fucked?"

He seemed to be on the defensive now, and I worried I let my horns get the worst of me. If I fucked this up....

"Two years," he said softly. "I don’t usually...."

"You enjoy it?" I questioned him.

He nodded, blushing some. "A little too much."

"You got ready for me, right?" I just wanted to remind him of the reason I was there and not hooking up with one of the other guys.

He nodded. "You're intense, you know that right?" he said. Like his physical attraction to me was countered by a vibe that just wasn't working for him.

"I'm just horny, man," I explained. "I haven't fucked a guy in six months. I fucking miss it."

"A dude like you... I would have thought..." he started and didn't have to finish.

"Let me eat you for a bit," I said. "I want you to want this, man."

He nodded and got on the bed, pulling his legs back. Fuck, that hole was beautiful. Furry dad trench with a nice tight hole. I got in place and examined it, taking my time before leaning in and licking. Business Daddy was squeaky clean and I took the opportunity to go to town, really feasting on that ass like it was my last meal.

It was a nice cool down from the BJ and the Dad-talk earlier but also worked me up in a way.

"Lube?" I asked when I finally pulled back. He gestured to the small table on the other side of the bed. I went around and Business Daddy scooted to reposition himself on the bed.

I took my time fingering him, talking with him about men and cocks and fucking. I avoided the Dad-Son stuff since I wanted to build the vibe rather than kill it.

"So..." I said as I now slid three slick fingers in and out of his stretched tightness. I had the conquerer gene in me, I suppose, because I LOVED the idea of getting a hole that had barely been fucked. "We talked a little earlier... I'm on PREP and get tested regularly... I'd love to get in you raw, sir."

"I've never done that," he whispered, but I could see his shorter, fatter dick throb as I worked the first inches of his insides.

"Is that a NO?" I challenged him. I was going to respect his wishes, but I was gonna do my damnedest to get the fuck I wanted then.

"Go ahead, man," he said. "I trust ya."

I scooted up and lined my bare cock against his ring. It took some work, alternating fingering with some teasing with my cock. But I finally breached him in a way that was comfortable for him.

"Easy," I hissed as I rubbed his soft belly and pushed deeper. "Just going slow here.... you got this."

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Feels good actually," he said. His eyes had been on mine but now he looked all over my body. "You're so fricking hot."

I grinned. "You like the jocks, huh?"

"I do," he replied. Not embarrassed, but forthright.

"You wanna tell me about any of them?" I was pushing the envelope for sure, but my cock was almost bottomed out in his hole.

He gave me a grin. "I don't play around at home... but there's the neighbor kid. Got a football scholarship at Ole Miss... hot fucker."

I plowed in. Business Daddy accepted me, his dick thwapping excitedly at the full penetration. "You wish he was here fucking you now?"

"God, man," Business Daddy was the one getting into the pervy headspace now. He reached up and clenched at my sides. Hungry. I gave him the kiss he craved. Then I started thrusting into him.

"I'd love both of you guys at once," he admitted. "Tag teaming me."

"That'd be hot," I leered, really getting into this. I rarely got to do this level of verbal with a guy, and it was really working me up. "Two jocks... taking turns.... opening up that Daddy hole."

"Yes," he hissed... "fuck me, stud!"

I was getting more athletic with my pumps. "Been too long hasn't it, Daddy... since you had a young cock in ya?"

Maybe the D word was pushing it, but Business Daddy picked it right up. "God yeah, son. Fuck your Dad!"

Oh jesus. The surprise of those words, and the deep Southern accent of them had my balls pumping. Not a pre-orgasmic warning, but the real deal. I was ejaculating hard into this older business man.

"That's it, son. Get your nut. Show Dad what ya got." For a man who didn't seem into pervy role play, he sure knew what to say now.

I growled my way through my deep orgasm and then kind of fell on him, reclaiming a kiss as my dick pumped out its dribbles into his conquered hole.

I gathered my senses and got back into the original position, squirting some lube on his spike and slowly pumping him as I urged him off. I even had him describe that Ole Miss tight end in detail. His whole body went beet red as he came, and I knew it was a major orgasm for him too.

We made small talk afterwards. He even said he'd hit me up next time he was in Nashville. "You're a wild one, buddy... but I sure as hell enjoyed the ride."

[SCOTT]

"You got anything going on this weekend?" I asked Austin as he had me do some shoulder raises. I'd been trying to find a nonchalant time to bring it up.

He examined my form and counted my reps silently. "Good," he said as I finished the set and set the dumbbells down on a bench. "Nothing really going on. What about you, man?"

I stood squarely to face him. He was the young jacked stud, but I was getting more proud of my body after a year and a half of working out with him, and more confident in my skin, so to speak. "Well, the Titans have a home game Sunday. I was wondering if you wanted to go see them with me," I ventured.

There came that pearly white smile again, and an excited kid-like look. "What, you got tickets?"

"Two of them," I boasted. "I got 'em through work. A buddy of mine was going to go but had to back out." That second part was a lie.

Austin showed some concern. "Man, I'd love to. Hell, I'd really love to. But I can't afford that." I got the feeling he was an independent-spirited man who didn't like to be beholden to others.

"The ticket's just gonna go to waste,” I said, “and I'll enjoy having someone to go with." I saw his resolve start to melt, so figured I could lay out the rest of my plan. "It's an afternoon game, we can get a hotel downtown for the night and live it up a little. Come on... Kelly's doing some girls trip to Napa, and I have a real bachelor's weekend I want to enjoy."

Austin smiled. "Well, when you put it that way.... jesus, I can't believe you have fucking Titans tickets. You go often?"

I could sense a real envy in his tone. "Yeah, from time to time," I admitted. "I did season tickets a couple years ago, but Kelly griped that my Sundays were all taken up."

He smiled. "I bet these tickets are great seats, too, aren't they?" Teasing me.

"Pretty damn good," I smirked. "We're gonna have a blast, buddy."

[AUSTIN]

I was in a good mood. Strike that, I was in a great mood. The Titans had beaten the Texans but even if they hadn't I just enjoyed being in Nissan Stadium and shouting my lungs out. Scott seemed bemused how into it I was but didn't say anything. The man struck me as something more than a fair weather fan and less than a diehard fan.

But I was grateful for the ticket and that he'd had me tag along. He insisted on covering the hotel room. "Trust me I got a million hotel points to burn through," he countered. So I got the tab as we grabbed beers in one of the downtown bars.

It was a lot of regular guy talk. About the game and the upcoming Titans season. About how September can be the best month in Nashville. About his wife's wine trip and their fall plans. About the cheat day Scott was having and how my metabolism let me get away with stadium concession food and day drinking on occasion.

God, he looked good. Great even, in his snug pale blue Titans T-shirt that clung to his arms and pecs and the hint of dad gut he was still chipping away at. I never saw him outside of the gym, at least not since I'd dated his daughter. He was so focused working out, like that was a second job to him. But this was Scott Delahunt in the mood to let down his hair. Smiling, happy, joking.

Maybe that's what led me to let my hair down too.

"It was my professor," I blurted.

"What?" he asked.

Maybe I enjoyed catching him off guard. But I clarified. "You once asked me who I dated in college. It was my Chemistry professor."

Scott looked at me like I was kidding him. "Are you teasing me?"

I shook my head. "Nah. You're the first guy I've ever told actually. Buy yeah for two years... I don't know if dating was the right word, but it wasn't casual either. He was my first boyfriend."

I kind of wondered if Scott would be put off by the admission. Or even the gay talk. But he seemed laidback about it, and he'd been the one to ask. He took a sip of beer and eyed me up, like he was still trying to decide if I was on the level. "Was this while you were his student or after?"

"While," I replied. "Though we kept hooking up after. That's when I decided maybe I wasn't so bisexual after all."

Scott seemed nervous with that comment but didn't object. Instead, he shook his head. "I would have guessed you would have gone for another college dude."

I shook my head. "Not my thing." Here goes. "I'm only into older guys, actually."

"Really?" Scott was moving from incredulous to amused. "What are we talking about?"

I shrugged. It was kind of a relief to have this open dialogue with the man. "95% of the time, men in their 40s or 50s."

"I knew a buddy in college who was into cougars," he laughed. "The guys gave him a lot of guff, but Taylor got laid so fucking much..." Scott was laughing as he recalled old times then seemed like he had something on his mind.

"What?" I asked.

He paused and looked at me. "Nothing, buddy." He held up his now empty pint glass. "Can I get the next round?"

"No doing, Scott," I said, standing up. "I'm buying."

[SCOTT]

Bringing Austin along to the game was the right call, I realized. I'd never seen a guy so thrilled. He'd been to a couple of games before, but it was a rare treat for him. I was happy to have given him that.

I didn't have any ulterior plans. Then again, maybe I did and just didn't admit them to myself. I told myself I was just having a good time, too. Hanging out with Austin felt freeing, like my college days. Before my career and family, and before the country club set I socialized with. I liked my golf buddies just fine, but there was always that one-up-manship. I could play that game, too, but with Austin, I didn't have to.

We got a little tipsy but didn't go wild. I told Austin he should just enjoy the downtown nightlife on his own. He clapped a hand on my shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "No offense to you heteros, Scott, but drunken hos aren't my idea of fun," he laughed.

I loved that he was freer with me. Not guarded, able to talk about being a gay man. I think stupidly I assumed gay guys didn't have the same problem with sex, of finding regular and compatible partners. But I could tell with Austin, he had some dissatisfactions of his own. I almost asked him about it in the bar, but figured I'd mind my own business. I hoped he'd feel free to share with me some time.

It had been in the back of my mind. What sex with a guy would be like. Yeah. I'd fooled around some in college, but that was just that, fooling around. Naughty fun I'd have with some buds when we didn't have girlfriends or weren't getting enough. After I met Kelly, I'd fantasize about other women, sometimes a lot. I figured most guys do. But I never gave much thought to men.

But as Austin and I got ready for bed in the hotel room, I was thinking of it. His eyes were on me. Quiet lust in his eyes that made me feel sexually attractive in a way I hadn't felt in years. This wasn't some cougar in some downtown hotel bar giving me the heavy eye, this was a young hot stud with an Instagram fitness body. Just a dusting of hair but also lots of pale, smooth muscle.

And, as he strutted out of the bathroom in his boxer briefs, I could see the definition in his round ass and the thick bulge of his crotch. It wasn't fair a young man this perfect should be hung, but I had a good idea he was. I tried not to let him catch me looking at his package, but he gave a soft smirk as I darted my glance away. He ran his thumbs along the waist band to adjust the underwear, but his eyes had a question in them. Maybe a plea.

"Good night, bud," I said. Forcing myself to slip into the covers of one of the two beds, as if my heart weren't racing a million miles an hour.

"Good night, Scott," came his reply. Almost soft, not cocky. I'd been nervous until that point, but that voice gave me a boner beneath the sheets. And the very fact I was responding to his gentle masculinity added to the thrill. A feeling I hadn't felt before but maybe wanted to for a while.

He turned out the light.

[AUSTIN]

I was so hard, I couldn't sleep. Scott Delahunt had starred in my JO fantasies a lot lately, and I knew after this weekend he was gonna be in them a lot more. I tossed and turned and tried to think of other stuff. I tried to think of the Titans season but then I'd remember one of the coaches I wanted to bone.

I hoped the beer would catch up and help me sleep. It didn't. I don't know how long I lay awake. Maybe an hour. I decided to go to the bathroom, where I could jerk off in privacy. It wouldn't take long to get my nut and take the edge off.

"Can't sleep either?" I heard Scott say as I scooted to get off the bed. His voice wasn't quiet but wide awake.

"No," I gulped.

"Anything I can do to help?" came his voice in the dark.

My heart pounded. "God, Scott." I was SO close to just saying, "come over and suck me off Daddy." Instead, Scott could tell the frustration in my voice.

"I'm serious, Austin. If you wanna ask me, I won't judge." he said. Then, "I actually kind of want you to ask me."

My heart melted. Here was my dream man, vulnerable as hell. Maybe I'd made him feel that way. Maybe it was just fate.

"Would you join me in my bed?" I asked. Into the darkness of the room. I thought of turning on the lamp but didn't want to break the spell that was set between us.

Scott didn't answer, and I first I though I'd fucked it up big time. Misread what he was suggesting. But then I heard his mattress squeak and then felt his warm body bump against mine beneath the sheets. I scooted over to give him room.

The man was shaking some, but his hands were not wasting time eagerly touching my body. I knew from his touch he'd been thinking about this, wondering what my muscle would feel like. I let him feel and reached down to take off my briefs in case he wanted to feel more.

"Fuck!" he hissed.

"We can take this slow, Scott," I assured him as my own hands were pawing at his older muscle. I'd never get sick of the feel and rougher skin of a middle aged man. And the idea of what he represented to me. Power, authority, experience. I kept my urges in check and slowly caressed his warm back.

The man pulled his hands back some and like that he was peeling his own underwear off. Baring himself for me.

I don't know what I felt first, his hard dick against mine or his lips pressing into a kiss. It wasn't until that kiss that I realized how much I'd pent up. And how much Scott had pent up himself. He was married, maybe nominally straight or whatever. But this man wanted me.

In my past times with older guys, I insisted on getting serviced. It was part of my thing, I guess, my power trip. But I'd heard enough of Scott's marital woes, that I knew I had to give him a real blow job. I kissed my way down his hairy chest and still padded middle and started licking his cock.

His dick was on the smaller side, between 4.5 and 5 inches and was the hardest dick I'd ever encountered. I was grateful for his size as I opened my mouth and took that cock in.

"Yes," he hissed excitedly.

I rarely suck cock and if I do, it's as a teaser for foreplay. So I'm not an expert, but I must have been better than Mrs. Delahunt.

"Suck me buddy!" Scott gasped. His fingers were in my hair, on my scalp. Not possessively, but more appreciative. Like he'd forgotten what pleasure like this was like. I was reminding him with steady and faster mouth strokes.

I backed off a few seconds before he came. I needed this daddy's mouth on my cock before orgasm removed his willingness to suck me. I climbed up and met Scott in another kiss before I pulled back and scooted up to line up my arching, hard prick to his face.

"Take your time," I urged. Not "please suck me" or "would you blow me too?"

I didn't need the pleasantries. I felt his warm wet tongue lick at my head. Tentative as hell, but it was the kind of tentative fear of not doing it right than not wanting to do it.

"Feels great," I assured him. Now running my fingers through his hair. Appreciative, but definitely possessive. I pushed into his mouth. About three inches. Enough to fill him but not trip any gag reflex. "Just take me, man. Nice shallow strokes... there." I was doing most of the work. Maybe I'd train Scott how to be my cocksucker. The very idea got my balls boiling with my load.

Even if he wasn't doing the work he was doing his best. Sucking at me, trying to keep his saliva contained while forming a ring around my softly pistoning cock. I was thick as well as long, and I knew I was a lot. But the man was acting like a champ.

"I'm gonna cum in your mouth, Scott," I warned him. Giving him an out. He had three seconds to do something about the situation. He didn't, so like that I was firing off big. A heavy load right into his mouth. I pulled back so he'd get it mostly on his tongue. I thought he'd feel more comfortable swallowing it that way, but mostly I wanted him to taste me. To know what my cum was like.

I pulled out and felt my prick twitch in the aftershocks.

The man deserved any release I could give him. I scooted back down to suck him to completion but as I approached his crotch, I smelt that familiar bleachy-floral scent. And felt his hands grip my head to stop me.

"I... just came," he admitted.

[talesfrommedinastation]

My Neighbor Doug on different locations in 'The Bad Batch'

So I did as was requested by my poll, and asked Doug what he called (and thought of) the various different places in which 'The Bad Batch' took place.

Need refreshers? Doug's interpretations of The Bad Batch: Main Characters

Doug's interpretations of The Bad Batch: Side Characters

Here we go:

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Tipoca City: The Mall on the Ocean. You know it either smells really nice, clean and like fresh perfume, or it smells like ass and balls. It’s duty free, of course. Daddy Warcrimes totally plows the liquor section when Ryan-from-Accounting won’t stop annoying him and Daddy Rambo sprays on the sample Sauvage cologne to get the ladies. 

("I thought he was married?"

"He need the reassurance. Y'all know guys like him.")

Onderon: Damn-It-Jared’s Trailer Park. It’s where he and his goofy-assed hippie friends fire weapons and drop acid and scare the wildlife. It’s like Oregon, but stupid. Just like Damn-It-Jared. And Daddy Warcrimes comes down and murders civilians, because the man craves police brutality the way I crave a drink after watching the Saints lose. 

Saleucami: Tremor-Land. Look at this place and tell me you ain’t expecting giant worms and Kevin Bacon to pop out of nowhere. Also, Not-Wolverine’s wife gives me Reba McEntire vibes, trust me. They seem like a fun couple, I’d love to drink beer and shoot guns with them on a Sunday. 

(Cut and Suu = Not Wolverine and Not Wolverine's wife)

Pantora: Not-Quite-Austin. Its where young hot people go to get drunk, get into street fights and then leave. You know, where That Chick That’s in Everything gets into a motorcycle race with Daddy Rambo and then they look for the Gun Safety Muppet and Little Orphan Blondie is lost and I guess they sell Toaster Strudel at one point to the three eyed goat for cash?*

Meat Muffin, what in the hell did I just write? 

Corellia: Where-Anakin-Lost-His-Legs and Jorge’s Unemployed Sisters are collecting scrap metal for cash.

(“This is not where Anakin lost his legs!” 

“How do you know?”

“ I watched Episode III?! Did you?”

“Eh, they’ll update it, just watch.”)

(FYI, I wish Trace Martez and Tech had more scenes together. They would have been a cute nerdy couple)

Bracca: Planet Dump. Seriously, there’s a planet devoted to garbage. Is it New Jersey? It’s just creepy people floating around trash? Man, it’s like Thor Ragnorok, but sad. Think Valkyrie would show up at some point? Julio had a headache here and strangled someone, I get it, migraines ain’t fun. 

Ord Mantell: Great Value Cyberpunk. Do humans even live here? Well, Houma BBQ bitch and her ugly clutch of mutant boyfriends do. Her bar totally looks like someone practices eye surgery in the back like in Minority Report. 

Raxus: Space Country Club. Oh, this place nice and clean. I mean, dang, it looks like a gated community where everyone plays golf and is mean to their neighbors. I bet they have an amazing Christmas lights display but don’t allow ‘riff-raff’ to come in and bully anyone who doesn’t join their HOA. My sister’s in one outside of Miami, and it turned her into a bitch, trust me. 

Daro: Not-Quite-Fort-Bliss. I don’t get this place. It’s where Manny’s hanging out with other army guys but they don’t like him, even though he’s a good soldier? What the hell, the Empire is run by mid-level corporate dumbasses who think their online MBA makes them a god. 

::proceeds to go on a rant about MBA Rob, his nephew, and the clowns like them::

Safa Toma: Tank Girl’s Home. It’s like Tatooine but fun and crazy. It’s where the Rhino that Sells Used Buicks and his pet iguana live and force people to race in used car parts.**. 

Pabu: Space Daytona. It’s nice, it’s pretty, but I kept thinking the Empire was going to nuke it at some point. Hey, Church Lady says it’s her home away from home…where’s her other home? New Orleans? Shit, that’s a thought.

Eriadu: Space New Hampshire. It’s foggy, got mountains, and filled with angry old white people who can’t seem to retire. You know Tarkin totally screams at waiters and lives to make the poor check out girls at Publix cry. Just like his bitchy daughter, Stepsister Beth. 

(Doug now headcanons that Tarkin is Emerie’s dad…which makes zero sense, but whatever.)

Ryloth: Space Arizona. Everything seems rich and nice and the women are vaguely hot, cool canyons and mountains and whatnot. But then dig a little bit and everyone’s rat-in-a-shithouse insane and there’s guns everywhere. I like Hera and her daddy, he’s cool. Like him riding his space motorcycle and flinging that spear at folks, more of him please. 

Weyland: Spooky Lab Land. It’s where Stepsister Beth and Ryan-from-Accounting have family reunions with her asshole dad, his bitch wife Laura, and the gang. They’re into science and not making eye contact with anyone because there’s shit in the lava lamps that might be humans. 

Serrano: Space Coeur d’Alene. It’s got pine trees and mountains, real pretty, but it’s easy to fling trash and bodies everywhere and every other person is Doomsday prepping. You ever been to Idaho? Real pretty, but real off, ya know? 

*= I was struggling to breath after this. What in 'The Witch' was he thinking?!

**= Millegi and his racer. I had to stop texting Doug for a bit at this point, I was cry-laughing so hard I couldn’t see. 

[jules-has-notes]

2018 VoicePlay fall activities — maintenance, music, and merriment

Heading into the end of the year, VoicePlay gradually ramped up their schedule until they were running at a decent clip for the holiday season.

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Say cheese!

It had been nearly two years since they'd taken their previous set of promo photos, and enough had changed — Earl's lush beard, Geoff's longer hair — that the boys decided it was time for some new ones.

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On the following Saturday, J.None and his Paradigm pals teamed up with the Push Love Productions folks (including a future familiar face) for a "Come Out with Pride" event at Lake Eola Park. They performed both before and after the parade.

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The next week the SoJam A Cappella Festival released a promo video for their upcoming event featuring VoicePlay.

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Over the weekend, J.None performed at a "night of spoken word and comedy" for the Pipol Angels Foundation, which provides funding for arts and education both locally and overseas. (Previous projects had provided new backpacks and school uniforms to students in the Orlando area, and helped a school in Trinidad build an additional classroom for its growing student population.)

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J.None rehearsing "No Role Modelz" by J. Cole with the band a few days before the fundraiser

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Ready for their close-ups

A few days after that, VoicePlay convened at a local studio to film their laid back video for "Thinkin Bout You".

When you show up for book club, but a slow jam breaks out.

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As the end of the month approached, Layne and Tony gathered a cadre of lovely ladies for the first episode of their new Princess Academy series.

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Sing for me!

The first weekend of November took VoicePlay to North Carolina for the SoJam A Cappella Festival. The attendees consisted of high school and collegiate groups, including two young groups from Winter Park, and three groups from the University of Central Florida (Layne and Eli's alma mater) who swept the top spots in the competition portion.

The guys spent Saturday afternoon leading a workshop on the business of singing for a living, and a masterclass for some of the competitors. Then they headlined the evening concert, with local openers Transit Vocal Band.

In addition to performing and doing educational outreach, VoicePlay also got to see some old friends. Alfredo Austin from The Exchange was doing coaching sessions. Max Herskovitz, who had subbed for Layne several times, was leading workshops for the kids. Singer and sound engineer Tony Huerta was running the show in his role as CASA president.

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When they got back home, the boys headed to the studio for their next music video, a dramatic medley of Queen songs.

Then they spent a couple weeks finishing off projects in progress, working on upcoming ones, and polishing their setlist for their Warm Up holiday tour.

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Holiday ro-o-o-o-oad

Since the Disney World residency for Mickey's Very Merry Christmas Party had passed to their pals in The Edge Effect, VoicePlay was free to embark on a slightly more relaxed holiday tour for the final month of the year. They traded a location close to home and four sets per night for just nine longer shows at a variety of venues across the country.

The first leg of their travels was a jaunt out west to Alto, New Mexico (via El Paso, Texas). As the name of the town suggests, it's quite high in the mountains, which can present a challenge when your job involves moving lots of air in and out of your lungs. Earl noted on Twitter that "7200ft above sea level was a real thing!"

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When they got home, they continued the holiday spirit by filming their video for "This Christmas". It was the last remaining track on the "Warm Up" EP to get the visual treatment.

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The next weekend the tour continued with a loop through the Midwest. The boys started in Findlay, Ohio, scooted up to Traverse City, Michigan, then hopped over to Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

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Back at home, they got into a bit of a pickle for a festive Mission Impossible tie-in video. (Luckily, they didn't get blown up this time.)

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The following week's tour dates were slightly more spread out. Saturday took the guys to Kilmarnock, Virginia. The next day, they scooted down to Newnan, Georgia, where they got to see their artist pal Leon King, who had drawn their adorable avatars for the pre-show spiel.

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meet and greet in Newnan, GA — photos by Dawn Ortiz

Then they took a leisurely drive up to Waleska, Georgia before heading home. (Eli made some similarly hatted friends on the flight.)

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Once they were back in Florida, they headed over to Kissimmee for a show at the Gaylord Palms resort. Because they were so close to home, some of their families came along.

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They capped off their travels with a quick trip to a suburb of Chicago.

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And to all a good night

Once they were finished spreading holiday cheer to others, the guys took some time at home with their own loved ones.

Then Earl got a head start on his New Year's resolutions by hitting the gym for a leg day workout.

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With a couple weeks to rest, the guys prepared to hit the ground running in the new year. But that's a tale for another post.