#dbf joel miller smut
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Turtle Dove
Day 2 of Pedromas! | Masterlist
dbf! Joel Miller x Innocent! F! Reader
Synopsis: Being raised in the outbreak there wasn't much room for sexual exploration, until Joel came around.
Genre: smut
Warnings: 18+ smut, loss of virginity, p in v sex, age gap (reader is mid twenties, Joel is 50 something), kissing, oral f! and m! receiving, daddy kink, reader is innocent but also not so innocent, fingering, unprotected sex
Gif credits to owners!
You were young when the outbreak happened, so you missed out on a lot of milestones. No awkward middle school phase. No prom. No normal teenager relationships.
Sure, there were always boys your age, but they never wanted more than just sex. You knew it was a bit clichĂŠ but you wanted your first time to be special. No reason an outbreak should stop your romantic fantasies.
Now you were in your mid twenties and you had yet to even kiss someone. Its not like you were really trying, but it was still a little disappointing. Not to mention your dad was a bit overprotective. You wanted that knight in shining armor to just come in and sweep you off your feet.
Well, that knight did show up. But instead of being in shining armor, he was your dad's best friend, Joel. He was much older than you but that didn't stop you fantasizing about him. Its not like it was ever going to ever happen anyways.
That was until you were pushed into a bathroom by Joel at a party one night. His lips were pushed onto yours. He was like a starving man when he kissed you. It was like he had been waiting for this for a while.
"Can't take the way you look at me anymore. Need to teach you a lesson." He mutters into your mouth, massaging your breast in his hands.
You whimper out his name, as he trails his hands down to your thighs. He hikes your dress up.
"Let me take care of you baby, just need you to be quiet for me. Can you do that?" You nod enthusiastically.
Then he gets down on his knees and eats you out until you are writhing mess under his firm grasp.
That was a week ago and you haven't stopped thinking about it since. And Joel hasn't stopped eye fucking since. One week ago and you hadn't even had your first kiss. Now you were sneaking around stealing glances and kisses with your dad's best friend. He trusted him and now he was all but fucking his little girl.
One night your dad comes to you, telling you that he is leaving for a few days. Without a second thought, he decides to have Joel watch over you in the time being, not suspecting anything to be going. But you smile knowingly. Excited at the prospect of spending alone time with Joel.
The night your dad leaves, you put on your best lingerie, which isn't the best since you are in an apocalypse after all! But it will do, really your main draw will be letting Joel fully have you. Isn't it all guy's fantasy to take a girl's virginity? Well, you're hoping its Joel's fantasy at least.
You find Joel in the living room, reading some book. You silently walk over and grab the book from his hand, closing it you place it onto the table next to you. He cocks his head at you, eyes taking in your half naked form.
"Baby, what are you doing?" He asks in amusement, knowing damn well what you are doing.
"Joel, we are alone. I thought that maybe daddy could help me with something." You had found out one day when the two of you had snuck away into a closet, that Joel enjoyed being called daddy. So, you were now using it to your advantage.
His eyes darken, "What do you need daddy to help with, baby girl?"
"I feel funny down here," you let your fingers tease you swollen clit, "I need daddy to make it feel better."
He grabs your wrist, pulling it away from your panties. He stands, now towering over you, he takes your hand and places it on his crotch so you can feel him already hardening.
"Do you think you can help daddy too?" Letting go of your wrist he now reaches behind your neck. His fingers run up the back of your head, brushing through your hair, before he pushes you down onto your knees.
"I want to help daddy." You confirm after you are sure you are balanced on your knees.
"Good girl, why don't you help daddy out of his pants then?" Fingers start at the buckle of his belt, undoing it quickly and pulling it from his belt loops. Then you start with the button, slowly pulling it and the zipper apart. That's when Joel grabs your head again. He uses his other hand to grab his cock out from his underwear.
"Put it in your mouth before I do it for you." He tugs your head forward, urging you to take his dick. You oblige, running your tongue down the underside of his member before wrapping your lips around it. The hand that is in your hair guides your head into a steady pace. Not too far to choke you but enough that he feels good.
This continues for a few minutes, before he can't take it anymore. Either the pace needed to change or he needed to be inside of you. But he wasn't sure you were ready for that. So he slowly pulled you off of him. You look up at him in confusion. Doe eyes making him almost finish right then and there.
"What exactly do you want daddy to do for you?"
"I want all of you, daddy." Shit, apparently you were ready for that.
"Stand up." He orders, you do. "I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me what you want."
Your eyes lock onto his, "I want you inside of me. I want daddy to take care of me." A flicker of mischief flashes behind your eyes, Joel catches it.
He grabs your waist and throws you over his shoulder. Joel carries you down the hall and into your room. Throwing you onto the bed he hovers over you, smirking at you before going down between your legs.
A finger makes contact lightly with the rapidly soaking material of your underwear. He teases you lightly before slipping his finger into the waistband, pulling them down your legs. Now feeling your full wetness, he lets a finger slip pass your entrance. He pumps in and out of you slowly, causing you to wriggle under his grasp.
He lowers his head down and gives a light lick to your clit before pulling back to gauge your reaction. Eyes closed, back arched, your face is already contorting in extreme pleasure.
Deciding that he can't wait any longer, Joel pulls his finger out of you, gaining a whimper from you. He sits up and pulls his shirt up over his head.
"Baby, I need you to look at me." You do. "I'm gonna put my dick inside you now so I need you to look at me." A nod.
Slowly he presses the tip of his dick to your entrance, easing it in just a bit. He feels you clench in anticipation, pushing him out. Your hand reaches up to grab his hip in shock. He takes your hand in his.
"Relax, baby, let it happen. Let daddy take care of you." At his words, you breathe out trying to relax yourself. It works and he pushes fully inside of you.
Your hand grips his, hard. He waits to let you adjust to the stretch. Your hand starts to loosen, he takes this as a sign to pull slowly out of you. You whine at the movement.
"Are you, okay?" He questions after your sound.
You nod, "Yeah, it was just a bit painful at first."
"Do you want me to stop?" The hand in yours squeezes slightly to keep your attention on his. The other one strokes your hip, the callouses on his fingers send a shiver through your spine.
You shake your head, "No, please, I want this."
He nods, "The pain will fade in a minute." A peck to your lips.
His pace is slow as he thrusts back into you, head tossing back at the feeling of your walls wrapping around him. As he pulls out again, he lets out a groan.
"Fuck, so tight around me." He thrusts fully into you while he speaks. You moan as he bottoms out.
He keeps the rhythm slow and steady, letting you get used to and start to enjoy the new feeling. On instinct your hips buck you to meet his. Then all of a sudden he stops. He drops your hand and grabs your hips tight, keeping you still.
âHold still or I wonât be able to hold back.â He says through gritted teeth, while concentrating on holding back his orgasm.
His breathing slows again before he speaks, ���Sorry baby, but Iâm not as young as I used to be.â His fingers tap your hips as he starts to move again. His thrusts continue to be slow, but now they seem a bit more careful.
"Daddy, please, I want to see you cum because of me." You admit, trying to show that you didn't mind if he couldn't hold it off for much longer. He grunts at your words.
"Fuck, you can't say those things to me. You're too good to me, baby doll." His pace now quickens with the memory of your words swimming around in his head.
He gets sloppier as he gets quicker, now seeming to be chasing that peak. Joel reaches down between your thighs and rubs your clit.
"Want you to cum with me, baby. Do you think you can do that for daddy?" You nod in response.
He works your clit in circles, quickly getting you to your own peak. Just as your orgasm is about to wash over you, his hips stutter a bit. He recovers quickly and works your clit faster. You clench onto his cock.
A few more thrusts before you are to your edge again, your walls clench onto him again. One more circle on your clit and you are thrown over the edge, spasming around his member. You writhe with the intense feeling of your orgasm.
The intensity of your orgasm seems to also throw him over the edge as he quickly pulls out of you. Working his cock in a fast motion, before cumming all over your stomach and tits. He groans while working himself through his high.
Joel slumps onto the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you into him. His warmth radiates around you, letting sleep overcome you quickly. Just as your breaths even out, Joel places a kiss onto the crown of your head.
"Goodnight, my little dove."
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#fanfiction#fanfic#12 days of pedromas#pedromas#pedro pascal#the last of us#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#the last of us joel#joel tlou#last of us joel#joel the last of us#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#dbf joel miller#dbf! joel miller#dbf joel miller smut#dbf! joel miller smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x innocent! reader#joel miller x virgin! reader
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Waiting Game
Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader
Summary: Joel Miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friendâs daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when heâs forced to share a motel room with you.
Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Praise. Overstimulation. Sweet, possessive, slightly obsessive and pussywhipped Joel. Daddy kink. Drug use. Angst. Accidental creampie. Joel fucking you while on the phone with your father.
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
âYou okay, hon? You soundâŚdistracted,â your dad presses. A hint of concern rises from his end of the line.
At length, Joel grips both of your legs and brings them up over his shoulders, and he grins before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.
âYes!â you yelp as you crush the phone to your ear, hoping your father canât hear any of the filthy sounds down below, âJust a little stretchedâI mean stressed out, is all.â
Aside from the fact that he smoked like a chimney and bumped far more Billy Joel than any man ever should, Mr. Miller was an A-OK friendâyour fatherâs best friend.
All you needed was a ride home for the holidays.
From the second youâd set foot in his old Ford Bronco, you sensed this trek wouldnât be an enjoyable oneâthirty-hour road trips rarely ever wereâbut you leaned back in the passenger seat, propped your feet on the dashboard, and bopped along to âYou May Be Rightâ for the fifty-fifth fucking time that morning and smiled.
Joel frowned.
âDogs off the dash,â he muttered, swatting at your bare, polished toes before you kicked his touch away.
âShotgun puts her feet up, driver shuts his cakehole.â
That wasnât even how the saying went. Oh well.
Joel slowed the car to sixty in the right-hand lane and smacked your ankles even harder. You yelped.
âHey! You canât hit a woman!â
âIâm not hitting a woman, Iâm hitting a little gremlin,â Joel tried not to grin as he delivered another tart slap to your foot, and you almost jerked into the passenger door.
He momentarily righted the car before it went veering into the lane beside it, seized one of your feet, and tried to forcibly shove it off the dashboard, to no avail. As soon as he moved one limb, the other would glide right back up to take its place; Joelâs hands were big, but they werenât massive enough to grab hold of both of your legs at once and make you stay the fuck there, Christâs sake.
You liked to see him flustered. Brought a whole new hue to his tough, stubbled cheeks that folks rarely got to see. You squirmed in your seat when he reached for your side.
âWhâNO! No tickling!â you cried, trying your hardest to roll away.
But the man was nothing if not a lover of cheap shots and filthy antics. Heâd never played a clean game in his life and wasnât about to start now.
His gaze darted from the road to your writhing form, pinned against the door and begging him to stop, while he pressed his foot harder on the gas and smirked.
âToo much?â he teased, âSay pretty, pretty please.â
In other words: give up. You would do no such thing. Your elbow jutted out to the side and clipped his fingertips sharply, and right before he could reach for you again, you were heaving yourself up and leaning almost halfway out the open window, trying to shy away from his touch.
âYou fuckinâ nuts?! Get down!â he yelled.
âBut it just may be a luuuunatic youâre lookinâ for!â you sang along to your old friend Billy Joel and pretended not to see, or hear, Joel Miller twisting desperately across the center console to take hold of your belt loops.
âGetâI swear to God, kidâDOWN!â
Joel had just managed to finagle a loose, feeble grip on your denim waistband as he tried to keep the car from soaring across three lanes of traffic, was just about to yank you back inside and give you a red-faced, fatherly lecture of a lifetime, when a sound startled you both.
A siren, and a set of flashing blue lights behind you.
You scrambled back in your seat and swallowed a lump in your throat the size of a peach. You turned off Mr. Long Island.
âGreat! Good fucking going,â Joel griped beside you as he flicked on his blinker and started to pull off the road.
Dogs no longer on the dashâand a very pissed off cop pulling up behind your car on the shoulder of the roadâyou got the feeling this would be a long couple of days.
You hadnât even made it outside the city limits of Boston.
Somewhere between Richmond and Roanoke, the two of you turned off the highway to find a place to sleep.
Joel had sat and stewed and ignored you for the customary duration of about two hours before choosing to re-engage in conversation, but deep down, you knew he was still kind of irked by that reckless driving citation heâd received. You couldnât help but feel responsible.
Though it had been pretty funny when the state trooper had approached the car and pointedly asked, âWhat the hell was your daughter doinâ danglinâ outta this thing?!â Joel was nowhere near as amused as you, but he managed to roll with it and told the cop you were just trying to wave to the cows in the fields passing by.
The police officer hadnât bought it.
He probably would have arrested you both if you hadnât been such a coquettish flirt and somehow managed to persuade the man to let your âdadâ off with just a ticket.
You had hoped that would temper Joelâs anger some, but if anything, the sight only seemed to make him more mad at you. You werenât sure why.
Presently, you pulled up to Balmacedaâs Mountain Lodge and cast a bleak look at the front office before you.
This looked nothing like the snug, homespun mountain retreat youâd been picturing in your mind. Ahead of your car, there stood a single-story concrete slab of a motel, tilted to one side and consumed almost entirely by the dark of night and wide open wilderness. A big block letter neon sign displaying the ownerâs name in red now barely flickered above a muddied, pinkish glow. You groaned.
But before you could complain to your travel companion, Joel was already stepping out of the car and heading toward the main office. Hastily, you followed after.
âNo way, Miller. No fucking way are we staying in Murder Motel,â you hissed.
âBal-ma-cedaâs,â Joel intoned with a maddeningly accurate lilt, ignoring your protests, âI think thatâs a Chilean name.â
He swung the door wide for you to enter and pretended not to see you shoot him a glare as you strolled in.
âNeedinâ a room?â
The lady behind the counter barely graced your entrance with a look.
âYes maâam. Whatever you got,â Joel replied, smiling.
âSmoking or non?â
âSmoking, please.â
Of course he would. You could already feel the fetid stench of American Spirits wafting up to your nostrils.
âKing or two Queens?â
âQueens,â you and Joel answered in unison.
At first, the woman nodded, flicked through a rolodex on her desk and nosed through a couple yellowed pages in front of her. Then, frowning, she looked back up.
âSorry. All the Queens are took up. Rest of the rooms are being fumigated but the oneââ she tapped a manicured nail on the motel map, ââand itâs got a King. That okay?â
No. No, it was not. You opened your mouth to speak but were shortly cut off by the woman before you could.
âOf course, if you donât want dad hogginâ up all the sheets, thereâs a pull-out sofa for him to sleep on.â
The sixty-something desk clerk offered a smile, and you likely wouldâve returned the favor if you hadnât been so deeply nauseated at the thought of everyone around you assuming that Joel was your father. You chanced a look at the man, who seemed equally uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You sighed.
âAlright.â
Defeated, but marginally pleased that you wouldnât have to share a bed with your âold manâ that night.
Joel paid and signed the papers without another word, or look, to you or the woman. By the looks of it, he just wanted to book the room and get the hell out as fast as possible, his brow pinched inward and lips zipped tight.
Heâd turned to leave so quick that he was almost approaching the door when the lady called out,
âMr. Miller! You forgot your keys.â
You hardly needed to steal a glance in Joelâs direction to see that he was flushed. Even blushing a bit.
You strode over to the counter and intercepted the keys she was dangling for someone to take, then politely, finally, were able to manage a smile and a thank-you.
You turned back to Joel.
âHere you go, Daddy.â
In a blink, the small silver set was pelted in his hands, and the man nearly dropped themâand lost his balance. By some miracle, Joel managed to catch them between his big sweaty palms and step aside just in time for you to saunter past him, straight through the door.
âIâm starved,â you announced, then, averting your face to hide your smug expression and lower your voice a bit, âFeed me, Daddy.â
In that moment, Joel thanked every last one of his lucky stars that his pants were made of denim, and that the denim itself was thick. And that the woman at the front desk was swift to turn her attention back to her tabloid magazine, away from you two, and didnât look up again.
If they werenât, and if she hadnât, it wouldâve been plain as day to see that Joel Miller was sporting a hard-on.
A huge, swollen hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to walk and haul luggage and try to keep apace with your steps as you sailed along the gravel drive. So big the man had to will himself not to limp, not to make it known how stiff he was, until he eventually failed at both.
Once youâd grabbed your bags back at the car and made it up to your place, you entered Room 102 with a lightness you hadnât felt all day. Joel slogged behind with all of the baggage and a boner beneath his jeans that probably couldâve cut sheet metal, if needed.
He was fucked. No doubt heâd have to enlist in the Witness Protection Program after your real father found out that his best friend had gotten visibly bricked up for you, his one and only daughter. How awkward holiday dinners were bound to be from that point on; how humiliating it seemed to him to pop a chub at a thing as dumb as saying âdaddyâ; how batshit insane it was that he hadnât gotten laid in almost a year, and you were still, somehow, the only one he wanted to break the dry spell.
Joel was better than this. A fucking pro at self-control and all things dirty old guys didnât do. He could chill out.
He just needed to rub one out in the bathroom, fast.
So, while you flopped down on the bed, Joel dropped every bag and made a beeline for the toilet. Slammed the door so hard he probably couldâve knocked the thing off its hinges, but he didnât care. He was wrestling his belt, button, and zip off in a second. Then haphazardly turning on the sink to mask the sounds of all that was to come. No pun intended.
He yanked his thick, throbbing, rock-hard member out of its confines and had to hiss through his teeth to keep from moaning. The sensitivity he felt was unbearable, the front of his boxers already painted with pre-cum.
Gingerly, Joel wrapped one hand around his cock and raised the other to anchor himself against the sink. He slid his palm, which heâd just barely lubricated with some spit of his, up and down the shaft and groaned. A welt of pleasure formed in his chest, and he rubbed even faster. And, in spite of his legs feeling a bit like jelly, he stood there and fucked his fist and wished with every bit of himself that it was your warm, lush folds opening around him instead. Stifled a groan and wouldâve paid any sum of money to hear your moans spilling out while he thrusted. The act here was more mindless and reflexive than anything elseâjerking himself and soaking in the sharp, fiery sensations that shot up through his body.
To him, at least, it was all purely physical. Mechanical.
Nowhere near as euphoric and otherworldly as it would have been with your hand actually curled around him.
Or your lips. Or your tongue. Or your tight, wet cunt.
Fuck, he needed a shower.
Blindly, Joel moved inside the tub to his left and yanked the curtain shut over a space almost two times too small for his frame. He turned on the water and made it hot. Then he fisted his cock again, pressed his head to the shower wall, and pumped himself as fast as his forearm would allow himâtrying all the while not to think of you.
You, with all your wily, shrewd ways were still the daughter of the man who guzzled down IPAs with him at the local dive bar every Thursday night over jalapeĂąo poppers and buffalo dip. The man who clapped him over the shoulder and shook his frame with the kind of good-natured sneer that only a best friend could make, âA man as suave as you oughta get some tail every now and then. Go find you a gal and fuck her brains out, Joel!â
But the only âgalâ Joel wanted to rail was the one who called that man âdadââand just called him âdaddyâ for the first time that nightâand he hated himself for it.
Sparks of pleasure continued to ignite across his lower half as he jerked himself in the shallowest, short pumps. He flicked his hand back and forth, circled the tip with his palm, and felt a groan start to claw at his throat. He tried to picture any face but yours but failed miserably.
All he could think, see, or breathe was youâimagining your lips enveloping the head of his cock, jerking him softly, taking him down to the back of your throat and bobbing that pretty little face up and down his length.
That sweaty, desperate fist of his just wasnât cutting it.
For the first time, Joel couldnât make himself cum.
Now even more pent-up and pussywhipped than heâd been when he first started, he slammed his palm against the wall and flung the shower handle in the opposite directionâturning the water as cold as it could get.
Five minutes passed, and the icy spray had scarcely left a dent in his raging erection. Joel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stood in front of the mirror to see that he was still very hard.
Fuck this.
He bunched his strewn aside clothing together and held it over his crotch, discreet as he could, and waddled out.
And, either the temperature inside had just jumped fifty degrees or the world outside had just caught fire, but Joelâs face was flooded with heat the second he exited.
You were sprawled across the bed wearing nothing but a thin white tank, shorts, and fuzzy socksâand a scowl.
âSofaâs broke,â you said.
Joel blinked.
âBroke?â
You nodded toward the busted sleeper couch at the far end of the room, torn to pieces and kicked a half-dozen times since youâd tried unfolding it in Joelâs absence.
The jaws of the old steel frame had simply refused to give way, and now the sofa was so out of sorts and misshapen that you had no hope of putting it back the way that it was. You sank further in the bed and pointed to the floor.
âYou can sleep there.â
Joel eyed a flat sheet and a pillow laid across the carpet, visibly coated in dust and grime. He turned back to you.
âYouâre smokinâ crack if you think Iâm doinâ that.â
âBe grateful Iâm not making you sleep in the car, daddy.â
Again with that fucking name. Joel tightened his grip on the clothes he was holding over his dick and tried to fight a thousand dirty thoughts threatening to seep back into his head.
Unfortunately, the dirty thoughts had handsâand were beating his ass to a bloody pulp when he first caught sight of your nipples poking up through your shirt. Just when the man might have started to drool or else begun humping that pile of clothes, you snapped your fingers.
âMiller Lite. Eyes up here.â
Fuck.
âGot aâŚstain on your shirt,â he grumbled in his defense.
âShut up. Now, we can flip for the bed if you want.â
By turns, Joelâs focus was slowly coming back, and the man was trying like hell to find a place on your face that didnât arouse him to no endâto help ease the intrusive thoughts and all. So far his search had yielded nothing.
âLike, uhâŚcoin?â he asked. Endearingly stupid.
âHeads, I win,â you said, nodding, âTailsâŚâ
Joel swallowed.
âTails, what?â
âTails, you tell me what was going on in your head when you were jacking off to the thought of me just now.â
Your words came out in a hurry, almost too quick for Joel to comprehend. He still heard them, though, and nearly choked on his spit when he tried to swallow again.
âI wasnâtââ
âYou were,â you bit back, âI heard you moan my name.â
Joel didnât remember that. Joel didnât remember much of anything that had taken place in that bathroom apart from being implacably horny and unable to bust a nut. You stepped off the bed to stand in front of him.
âWhat? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?â you sneered, âThink Iâm just gonna run off and tell my daââ
âDonât,â Joelâs response was immediate, insistent. Then, setting his jaw in a way you knew too well, contemplating about fifty different thoughts in the span of two seconds, he pressed the clothes pile to his crotch even tighter and sighed, âDonâtâŚdo that, please. Iâll take the floor.â
You raised both brows, mildly amused.
âI said we could flip for it. Câmon,â you said.
âAinât got any coins.â Joel was already retreating to his makeshift sleeping pad on the floor, eyeing the shag carpet for any traces of blood, piss, or rodent droppings. Before he made it too far, you reached for his arm.
Joel tensed under your touch.
âWe can try something else.â Your voice was cloying, almost too sweet to be trusted.
It had just dawned on you then how bare the man standing before you was. Clad in only his towel, every taut, toned inch of Joelâs body was there on displayâcoated with sweat and a fine sheen from the shower, his skin practically shone in the glow of the bedside lamp. You watched him shift in place and saw the towel around his hips stir along with it. He never let those old clothes in his hands move an inch away from his groin, though.
âWhat game?â he asked.
âSomething my roommates showed me,â you began, ââToo Hot.ââ
âToo Hot?â
âYou heard me.â
âWhat, likeâ like Spin the Bottle, or some bullshit?â
Joel could just picture it: a gaggle of your college pals huddled around an old, empty bottle of Bud Light as you watched it turn circles again, and again, and again on the dormâs linoleum floor. You tugging at the sleeve of some oversized man-child from a frat Joel couldnât name, leaning in and beaming like the insatiable flirt he knew you to be, asking that boy if he wanted to sneak off somewhere and let his tongue take a tour of your mouth.
The thought made Joelâs stomach turn.
Presently, you wrinkled your nose up at him.
âSpin the Bottle? Thatâs rookie shit,â you made another face reminding Joel, once more, how little he knew of the life you lived 1,900 miles away from Austin, at college.
He still couldnât shake the thought of those boys.
âNo, Joel,â you shook your head, drawing your syllables out for effect, ââToo Hotâ is justâŚedging your opponent.â
Joelâs throat tightened, and he tried not to let his eyes widen too much, but he was almost certain they had. Before he even knew the words he was saying, the thought of your father taking his fistâor a shotgunâto his face made him blurt out in response, stammering,
âWe canâtâ I canâtâ canât lay one finger on you, darlinâ, you know that. Your dad would murder me.â
To his surprise, the smile on your face only widened.
âBingo,â You stuck one pretty finger in his face like heâd made the worldâs finest discovery, âYou canât touch me.â
âHuh?â
âThatâs the whole fuckinâ game, Miller. We can kiss, but we canât touch each other with our hands. First one to crack and grope the other player loses the game.â
Your expression now was something just shy of sadistic. Watching him with keen, narrowed eyes and a wicked little grin, it seemed you were half-expecting him to fold on the spot. No way was this a game your college friends taught you; you just wanted to play him. Make him lose.
And Joel was a man who couldnât stand to lose, no matter the stakes.
You watched that failure-averse glint eclipse every shade of lust in his eyes, at least momentarily. Suddenly, Joel didnât look so fearful of your fatherâs wrath or what lurid implications this night might bringâhe just had to win.
âYou suck, you know that?â he said, at last, dropping his makeshift shield from the front of his towel and knocking you flat on the bed with a single push.
âYou wish I would,â you grumbled, heart still jumping up in your ribcage all the same. You scooted back.
âI bet you will.â
The man was a menace when he had the will to be.
At length, Joel crawled over your body and made room for himself snug between your legs. The bulge that heâd been trying to hide all this time was now heavy on your center, pressed tight to your stupid-thin shorts and the panties youâd conveniently forgotten to wear. He grinned.
âAre tongues allowed?â he hummed.
âEverything but hands,â you shrugged.
Try as you might to play it cool with him, though, every fibre of your being was alight with desire for the man on top of you. You flitted a look between his soft brown eyes and slightly parted lips and couldâve melted in that bed had Joel not lowered his head and dove right in for it.
His mouth was far gentler than expected. Reverent, even. He slotted his lips between your own and made a fine, delicate showing of just how tender and adept he could be while imparting his slow, sweet kisses. Skirted his tongue across your bottom lip before driving it inside, coaxed your mouth open to him in a matter of seconds. He was graceful. And patient. And lithe with that tongue.
Joel Miller was showing off for youâthe bastard.
âSweet little thing,â he groaned against your mouth, âAinât felt a tongue this shy on mine in a long time.â
Of course heâd try taunting you, too. Same old Joel.
âWhatâs it been? Two years since a woman let you touch her?â
âTwenty since I felt one this good.â
You wouldâve liked to reach around the back of his head and seize a clump of that thick, dark, grey-speckled hair. But you couldnât. Your hands remained plastered to the duvet beneath you, and then, just slightly, your fingers started to curl inward. Joelâs palms laid flat on either side of your head.
It felt weird; mashing lips, teeth, and tongue with a man whoâd been alive about twenty years longer than you and went further back with your father than you could even remember. What felt even stranger was the fact that you couldnât touch him, or take him between your two hands.
Joelâs tongue continued roaming every contour and crevice of your mouth like he had an ache for this taste that he just couldnât quench. Your tongue tried keeping up, too, but frankly, you were too preoccupied by a pulse between your legsâyour parts and Joelâs practically throbbing in time with one anotherâto work just as hard.
Even through the towel, he felt huge.
You whined when Joel started to grind up against you, and shortly, those fingers of yours that had just been grazing the sheets before were gripping them. Tight.
âEarlierâŚâ Joel murmured between kisses, hips working a vicious pace against you, âYou said you were hungry.â
âYeah?â
âSorryâstarved,â he corrected himself, and you almost couldâve smacked him for being so smug about it.
âWhatâs your point, Miller?â You were fisting the sheets beneath your palms and gyrating your whole body to meet the motions of the man currently dry-humping you.
All of a sudden, Joelâs movements stopped.
He peered down at you with a curious look.
âI could go for something to eat, too,â he declared.
You blinked. Stared. And just when youâd opened your mouth to say, well, maybe you shouldâve grabbed us a bite to eat when we passed that Burger King on the way in, dipshit, Joelâs torso started to move down your own. Slow and painstaking as ever as he made sure not to graze one inch of your skin with his hands while he did.
You leapt back against the headboard, almost cracking your skull on the wood.
âJoelâ Joel,â you hissed as the heels of your feet dug into the mattress below, and Joel just sank even further.
Then he was slowly, scrupulously pinching the fabric of your shorts between each index finger and thumb, gaze trained close on your lower half to make sure he never touched you, and he started pulling it down.
âThis isnâtââ you started again, only to be offered a soft shush and an even quieter rustle of the cotton material sliding down both your legs.
You dropped your head on a pillow and probably couldâve burned a hole in the ceiling with the wide-eyed look you fixed on one spot, in utter disbelief of what he was doing.
âNo panties, huh?â Joel observed. Gentle puffs of his breath were now fanning across the whole bare expanse of your lower half, and your pyjama bottoms were shortly discarded. His face was just hovering there, and you could tell that he knew you knew by the way he lowered his voice and brought his head to have only the tips of his chin stubble grazing your abdomen, âYou needed this.â
Some lone remnant of ire flashed in your eyes.
âI donât need shit from you, Miller. You need me. And youâre gonna lose this.â
Even though your gaze was still trained to the ceiling, you could feel him grin against your delicate skin.
âHey,â he mumbled, âYou said tongues are fair game.â
Fuck me, you wanted to keen the second his lips made contact with yourâŚlower ones, and Joel swiftly got to kissing you there just as heâd done to you above. Hot, soft, and tender as the first rays of morning sun heralding a new day, he sponged his lips across the seam of your heat and made as if to massage the place, gently.
You could hear as well as you could feel that effusion of desire leaking out of your cunt and pooling around the manâs mouth. How eager he was to lap it up with his tongue, to grace your ears with those delectable squelching sounds, he caressed every inch between your folds and only sank deeper when you whined above him.
âJoel.â
Right now you couldnât look down. Not with the way your legs were already trembling around his head, your chest heaving with the fastest, most frenzied breaths. Youâd sooner die before you watched him unravel you like this.
âDarlinâ, youâve got a man soaked.â Some sound almost resembling a chuckle reverberated between your thighs and sent a brand new shockwave of pleasure in its wake, âYou like it when daddy uses his mouth on this needy, wet cunt, donât you?â
Yes, yes, you did. But your answer was nonverbal: a sharp curl of your toes and a grip between your fingers so tight across the sheets that he saw you veritably couldâve torn the linens in two.
Neither of you had laid a hand on the other.
Joel was perfectly content to make do with his mouth for now.
âGot those sheets all balled up, youâre fixinâ to rip âem.â
âMy tongue make ya feel that good, honey?â
âPoor thing canât even breathe it feels so nice, right?â
So heâd seen you hiccup, try to steady your breaths, and fail before succumbing to a string of lewd moans. Joel saw you, and knew how you felt, as if heâd had his own secret gauge for how good his mouth was doing you in.
Surely, he couldâve sensed the words before they ever came out of your mouth.
âTouch me, Joel, please.â
His tongue was just then making a lazy circuit around your clit, mouth saturated in your juices, when he smiled.
âNah.â
Curt and cruel as ever. Then:
âNo matter how fuckinâ perfect this pussy is, I ainât losinâ.â
He completed the arc with his tongue and took your bud between his lips, sucking in. You almost screamed.
âMotherfucker.â
âMiller, baby, Miller. Close, though.â
And just when you thought heâd had his fill of cheeky games, Joel sucked your clit even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves until you were writhing, crying on the bed above him,
âJoelbabypleasebabyfuckmefuckohfuckitfeelsoGOOD.â
It was a bit tough to decipher through your strangled, desperate moans, but Joel got the picture. Heeding your requests, he kept at that pace above your clit and slid his tongue back and forth, over and over, lapping up your honeyed glaze like it was the finest thing heâd tasted. Scruff harsh against your thighs, lips soft in a perfect suction, Joel Miller had your head swimming in desire and your better judgment dissipating before your eyes.
At the first sign of bliss, your muscles clenched, and the last linchpin of your resolve crumbled right along with it.
You carded your hands through Joelâs hair and grabbed hold of those locks with a full-throated moan, using his head for shameless leverage to buck and rut your hips into his face as you rode out the peaks of your high.
And, ever the gentleman, Joel fought like hell to keep his lips and tongue connected to your core while you writhed above himâthis time at liberty to work his arms under your thighs and hold them since youâd given up the game. He wouldâve smiled if he werenât so narrowly preoccupied, seeing you thrash about and moan out loud and fuck his face like it was the last thing tethering you to earth. He liked seeing you come undone beneath him.
A bit too much, if he were being completely honest.
While you made the languid descent from ecstasy and your breaths were still slowing in your chest on the bed, Joel was back on his feet. Padding toward the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him as he had before. When he returned in a minute or two, he was clothed. He fished for his keys in the pockets of his snug, stonewash Wranglers and made a face. He didnât look at you.
âIâll be back,â he said, starting toward the door.
âBack?â You sat up, perplexed, âThe hell ya goinâ?â
âOut.â
This motherfucker.
âDid I miss something? Were we not just seconds away from getting down to some howâs-your-father?â
Joel visibly grimaced at your choice of sex slang. Under the circumstances, you would concede it wasnât ideal.
âO-kay, sorry,â you returned, crossing your legs out in front of you, âI meanâŚdonât you want me to get you off?â
Again, Joelâs expression twisted into something just shy of overwrought, weary, and repulsedâa look that you couldnât begin to understand, for the life of youâand you watched him flit his eyes from the bed to the door, again and again, seeming to be pining for the sweet release of leaving your shared motel room as soon as possible.
Youâd been with your fair share of emotionally avoidant fucksticks, but most of them didnât ghost until after theyâd gotten their nut and felt no reason to stick around. Joelâs exit seemed premature. Strange.
âSo you donât want to fuck?â you asked, deadpan. Youâd never been one for beating around the bush.
âCanât,â Joel shook his head, bringing one hand to rest on his hip while the other fiddled uncomfortably with his car keys, âYour dadâŚthatâs justâ thatâs crossing a line.â
âAnd being nose-deep in my cunt isnât?â
You stared him down, incredulous.
So now he decides to claim the moral high ground, after coaxing you to soak every inch of his beard and cum all over his tongue? How very fucking charitable of him.
âThatâs different,â Joel retorted, rubbing his knuckles in a nervous tic, âThat was a game. I won. Weâre done.â
You set your jaw just tight enough to keep your tongue in check and refrained from firing off a brash, unsavory remark. It wouldnât do either of you a lick of good.
You let him leave. Joel had told you that you could keep the bed, he didnât mind, and then he slipped out the door without another word. Leaving you cold and alone on the soiled, tawdry floral bedspread of Room 102, wondering what the hell had gone so wrong in the span of the last five minutes. From the center of the bed, you could see Joelâs Bronco pull off into the silent, frigid night.
You were still hungry as shit.
Rolling onto your side and rummaging through the bags at the end of the bed, you found nothing even remotely edibleâsave for, literally, one of Joelâs brownie ediblesâand you groaned out loud. You threw your shorts back on, stepped into your old Luccheses, and did a quick circuit around the room to find your jacket before you left. As it turned out, youâd forgotten it back in Joelâs car.
You dropped to your knees and went back to tearing through luggage, searching for some suitable outerwear.
By the end of that second suitcase foray, though, you found you had nothing of your own that was hefty enough to brave the below-freezing temperatures outside, so you had to settle on a dark brown, fleece-lined coat from Joelâs bag. It was durable enough but about four sizes too bigâand reeked of cigarette smoke.
You trudged outside, not really knowing where you were going or what you were hoping to find. Your stomach growled, and a few cool gusts of wind came to lap at the bare skin of your thighs where Joelâs spit was still drying.
You stepped a few feet out and turned toward the road.
Bal-ma-cedaâs, you read the seedy neon sign and heard Joelâs enunciation of the name ring between your ears.
What you wouldnât give for the greasiest, girthiest, barely-FDA-approved 7-Eleven corndog to kill your thoughts about that sleazy little fucker right now.
You started toward the convenience store across the street but quickly found that it was closedâalong with every other establishment on that stretch of road. You glanced toward the front office and caught a glimpse of your old friend dozing behind the counter. The speakers outside were playing a tinny rendition of âPiano Man.â
Just as you tried not to barf in your mouth at the sound and silently primed yourself for a long, long trek through the boonies to the nearest gas station, you stopped.
In a compact little breezeway that cleaved the motel in two, you saw light pool around an old vending machine.
You almost fell over yourself trying to get to it.
Never mind the fact that there were about half a dozen ragtag teens decked out in camouflage and comically tattered denim cutoffs crowding the area. All absently smoking and blowing oâs, or else sipping on cans of beer in the cramped, concrete passage, they looked bored. A couple lazy smiles broke out upon seeing your approach.
You nodded back and sidled up to the snack dispenser.
Then you zeroed in on the first sugar-packed products you could find: a pack of sour gummy worms and a bottle of Spriteâno, Mountain Dewâand a chocolate bar. Maybe a bag of Cheetos or Fritos thrown in for good measure. All of the snacks were probably stale as shit and hadnât seen a replacement since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but you didnât care. You were prying singles out of your wallet and salivating before you could think.
âGotta kick it a couple times âfore itâll spit anything out,â one of the boys lounging around you piped up.
Youâd just inserted a couple bills and were waiting for the machine to dispense your gummy worms, when the thing appeared to stall. Stuck in its tracks, like heâd said.
You raised a brow and tapped the toe of your boot to the appliance, turning toward the one whoâd addressed you,
âLike this?â
âNope. Nuh-uh.â The redhead got up and strode over, where his much bigger, square-toed boot delivered a kick to the vending machine that almost toppled it.
A bag of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers dropped out.
The kidâwho actually happened to be nineteen years old and a student at some college a few states away, along with his whole group of friendsâwas kind enough to repeat the same ritual for all of your treats. Youâd just gathered your stuff together and were about to thank him for his services, when the guy presently stuck a hand in your direction and introduced himself as Connor.
Then Blake. Then Micah. Then Wyatt. Then Trent. All traveling with their team for a tournament that weekend.
Then a beer was held out to you. You declined. A little homemade deer jerky? No, thanks. How âbout some Oreos? Iâm good on snacks, really. Well, shit, you seem a little high-strung, why donât you take a hit right here? And Connor pulled his dab pen out from his pocket.
Well.
You hadnât smoked in a minute. You mightâve decided to take a bite out of Joelâs brownie back in the room, but you hadnât known how strong it wasâor where the fuck heâd gotten it. The pen this stranger was offering you was one that looked similar enough to the kinds youâd seen passed among your friends a hundred times before that you felt comfortable taking one hit, maybe. Two max.
You felt stupid as soon as youâd sucked in every breath, but you ended up taking four hits in total.
You hacked and sputtered and blinked up at Connor, who was grinning big.
âAlright, hardass,â he chuckled, taking back the device.
âDaddy know you smoke?â Wyatt cut in with a sneer.
Daddy?
There was no fucking way Joel looked that old for everyone to think he was your father. You inwardly cringed.
âYâall been spying on us?â
âAinât shit else to do around here.â That was Blake.
You tried to swallow but found your throat much drier than it had been before. And not just from the weed.
âHe doesnât care,â you said, managing a shrug.
It wasnât entirely false. Joel did give no fucks about you.
âDude looks like aâ a fuckinâ DEA agent or something,â Micah said, amused.
âLike that guy from Narcos,â Trent snickered.
Youâd never seen the show and didnât particularly care to know what law enforcement archetype Joel appeared to embodyâin fact, you didnât want to discuss him at all.
Just as the first fuzzy beads of warmth began to roll into your head, you were already planning your exit strategy. Thank Connor for his selfless assistance and cannabis, bid the group a good night and the best of luck in their upcoming lax tournament, and be done with this shit, ASAP. You were still trying to steady your tongue in the bone-dry cavern that had become your mouth when one of them kicked at a near-empty case of beer at their feet.
âWeâre about out.â Micah announced.
Seconds later, Connor was turning to you.
âWannaâŚrestock in our room?â he asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile as he looked down at you.
You crinkled your nose and shook your head. Connor leaned his whole weight against the vending machine between you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.
âI donât believe you,â he said, âI think you wanna come.â
âDo I?â
You only entertained the backtalk because your brain was currently swimming in a far-off, pleasant void of contentment and indifference. Every sharp edge dulled in your mind, to an extent, and your body at ease. You didnât have to be home to anyone, anytime, and Joel was probably halfway plastered at a dive bar down the road. You didnât move back when Connor stepped forward.
He wasnât even that close. You could leave whenever you pleased.
âFor sure. I think youâd enjoy our shitty beer and even shittier company. We can smoke some more, too.â
The man certainly had a way with words. He muscled in a bit closer.
âYou think so?â you hummed.
âI do. I really do.â
âAnd youâre willing to risk the wrath of my dad if he finds out where I am?â You made it sound like a challenge.
âWyatt can fight.â
Connor motioned toward his friend, who was mindlessly chomping on deer jerky in his lawn chair off to the side, glossy-eyed and hammered. You couldnât help but laugh.
âOkay, but make sure heâs ready. I can only stay for five.â
Connor seemed wounded as he put a hand over his heart in mock dismay.
âOnly five minutes?â he griped, âWhy not ten? Or twenty?â
âSix.â
âFifteen at least.â
You folded your arms over your chest and felt an opaque haze beginning to settle over your brain. It wasnât quite a high, just a lightness of being that drove tender little streaks up your spine. Like Joel, tickling at your sides while you writhed around in the front seat of his car.
This time you took the beer Connor offered and cracked it open. He seemed pleasedâand taken by surpriseâto see you down the drink in spite of the overflowing foam.
âTen,â you returned once youâd swallowed it all.
âTwenty.â
âHoney?â
The last voice didnât belong to anyone in the group. You turned on your heels and almost coughed up your beer.
It was Joel, of course.
Standing at the threshold of the breezeway like a surly, disconcerted parent, of all things, watching you like heâd just caught you red-handed in the most horrific of acts.
Clutched in one hand was a Burger King takeout bag.
âDaddy. Hi,â you breathed.
Apparently your attempt at casual came across more slurred than anything else, because Joel stepped closer.
âLetâs goâ was all he said. No accusations, no threats, no outward displays of emotion found anywhere on his face. Just a gruff âLetâs go,â and a free hand reaching for yours.
Instinctively, you recoiled.
âWeâre just talking,â you said, gesturing behind you. If you could have seen the uniform looks of discomfort and agita, damn near treading on fear, among them all, you probably wouldnât have bothered.
âGood. Now youâre leaving,â Joel supplied in a moment.
He was blissfully indifferent. Asserting his will in a space where, less than one hour ago, he couldnât bear to share a room with you, much less impart a shred of dignity or care to your condition. He had nerve, that was for sure.
âIâm not leaving,â you said, a touch more venom in your voice than you intended.
Joel raised both eyebrows.
âNo?â
His expression, directed to you, was infuriating.
âFuck no,â you answered.
A few of the guys behind you sucked in a breath as if to say, âOkaaaaay, time to go!â but then Joel pressed,
âFor someone who wants to be treated like an adultââ
âAdult?â you scoffed, âYou treat me plenty like an adult, Joel. Just whenever the designation suits your needs, huh?â
No one moved.
Well, Joel flinched a bit. Then he squeezed your wrist.
Truly, you never failed to underestimate the manâs brute strength when it came to carrying you off at willâbut there you were, being yanked behind the big, bad Joel Miller as he hauled you off to who-knows-where. You scowled but didnât bother to steal a glance behind you at the beer, boys, or vending machine treats you were being forced to abandon. All you could do was stare a hole through Joelâs skull and tug backâlargely ineffectually.
âYouâre an ass,â you spat, digging your heels into the gravel terrain as he pulled you along.
âYouâre a brat,â he fired back.
In a minute, the exterior of Room 102 was coming into view; Joel was practically toting your ass like a knapsack.
âYou just abandoned me back here, Miller. Youâ you donât get to pretend like you give a fuck now.â
âI was getting you Burger King, for Christâs sake.â
Joel was fiddling with the lock now. Simultaneously juggling your hand, the paper bag, and a set of keys that didnât seem keen on cooperating, he huffed, disgruntled.
âEven got you thoseââ Joel grunted, thrusting his shoulder into the door, ââfuckinâ curly fries you wanted.â
Your jaw slackened. That was supposed to make it okay?
âJoel, FUCK your curly fries!â you cried, âAre you seriously still trying to play good guy right now?â
âIf thatâs what youââ
âNo. You donât get to tonguefuck your friendâs daughter and buy her a goddamn Double Whopper and act like itâs all good. Sure as hell donât get to dictate who I talk to.â
Like he had before, Joel cringed to hear your crude languageâparticularly as it related to what he had done to you but didnât seem capable of owning up to just yet. You couldnât bear another second of that look.
âFuck this. Iâm sleeping in the car,â you grumbled.
You thrashed your arm out of Joelâs hold and started off in the other direction. Picked up your pace when you heard the bag of fast food drop to the ground and Joel trotting after you. Calling your name.
Even at your most brisk, you knew you couldnât outstrip those big, beefy legs of his. He gained on you in seconds.
So you took off running.
Joel gripped his side, thinking, âAw, hellâ before breaking out in a sprint just as fast.
You were pissed at how far heâd parked this time around. You caught sight of the old Bronco perched a ways away from your room and almost opted to change course on the spot, to the front officeâmaybe dive behind the counter and beg that poor old woman to give you another place to stayâbut you kept at it, anyway. For once, you were glad to have had Joel beat by so many years, because the manâs endurance was, evidently, shit.
âHey, sâ stop!â Joel shouted after you.
Fat chance, Miller.
You closed in on the car. Joel rarely ever locked it.
Your hand secured a grip on the door and jerked it back. It swung right open.
Just as Joel was pulling up the rear, you had the driverâs side slammed shut and your palm laid flat on the door lock knobâshoving the little black lever down each time Joel tried to unlock the car.
It was a fruitless endeavor, you knew; you couldnât keep the man out all night so long as he had the car keys in his hands. You could piss him off some more, though.
âYou won the fucking game, just take the bed!â you said, straining against the door with your weight pressed hard on that knob. Joel was furiously working to get it open.
âI mean it, Joel, I-I donât wanna sleep in there wiâ shit.â
You leapt back in your seat as Joel flung the door wide open. You scrambled across the center console, made a desperate grasp at the passenger door to climb out the other side, but your ankle was taken between two hands. Just as you tried to slink out on the opposite end of the vehicle, Joel pulled you right back in. Flipped the center console up so you were sprawled flat across the bucket seat at the front of his car and pinned underneath him.
Then he pulled you over his lap.
Not into itânestled on top of his crotch, with your ass pointing up in the air. Joelâs big ass Carhartt jacket was bunching up around your torso, collar crowding you up to the chin. Your twisted just far enough to meet his gaze.
âWhat do you want from me?â Joel demanded, âWhat?â
You stared up at him, poring over your options in the span of what seemed like two milliseconds. Wondering, silently, why he wasnât touching you anywhere.
âI want you to fuck me, Joel,â you replied at length.
Seated between driverâs side and shotgun, Joel looked perfectly unperturbed, raking a hand through his silver-flecked hair and letting his gaze trail up to the ceiling, as if considering something of grave importance.
âAnd what after that?â he asked, still staring at the roof.
Before you could reply, though, he was forging ahead,
âWhat happens when I canât even look your dad in the eye knowinâ Iâve been balls deep in his little girl, and every fuckinâ time Iâm over at your house or youâre over at mine, Iâll be thinkinââ no, dreaminâ of what it was like to have you wrapped around my cock, screaminâ my name and takinâ it so deep inside you like I know ya want it?â
You paused a beat. Had to bat your eyes a couple times to rid your head of those filthy thoughts heâd planted.
âWe could, uhâ fuckâŚthenâŚtoo,â you ventured quietly.
Joel grinned at the spot he was watching, humorless.
âThat easy, huh?â he mumbled.
Again, before you could speak, Joel continued,
âI canât even cum with you on my mind,â he said, and for a split second you thought that might mean he wasnât attracted to you in that way, when he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, âIâve tried beating off twice todayâin the bathroom and as soon as I left earlierâand I canâtâŚeven get close with you here. You fuck with my head.â
You fuck with my head.
Without meaning to, your hips stirred over his, and Joel audibly groaned. At last, he dropped a palm to your ass and gave it a taut smack, and your whole lower half reverberated with the sensationâand a welt of pleasure.
âYou think I want it to be like this?â Joel said, voice strained, fingers kneading over the flesh heâd just struck, âThink I enjoy havinâ the biggest setâa fuckinâ blue balls known to man whenever Iâm around ya, honey?â
You winced when you were spanked again, letting out a whimper into the seatâs charcoal-colored upholstery.
âI can help with that,â you hissed, feeling him massage the spot once more. You arched your back into his touch.
âNo. Youâd make it worse,â Joel shook his head, âOnce I get a feel inside this sweet cunt Iâll never wanna stop.â
At the soft rumble of his words, you felt yourself growing aroused. Noticeably so. Your skin broke out in broad swaths of gooseflesh every place he touched, and in the wake of those hands grew a pool of dull warmth. Sticky, slick, soak-straight-through-your-shorts sort of warmth.
Joelâs hand hovered about an inch from the source.
âWeâd get bored eventually. Itâd be fine,â you said, words crawling off of your parched tongue with some difficulty now. That faint, heady feeling from before had become a high, finally, and it seemed every sense you possessed was ablaze with desire. You were barely able to breathe, much less speak, but there you went, rambling anyway,
âSoon enough, youâll get over the thrill of screwing me, and Iâll find a nice, polite, age-appropriate boy to spend the rest of my life having nice, polite sex with, and we can both pretend like this never happened. Deal?â
It was quite possibly the dumbest offer youâd ever made.
Joel slotted his hand between your legs to rub against that dampened patch of fabric. You almost jumped.
âYeah? Just fuck around and forget about it?â Joel spoke, and you truly couldnât tell if it was a sneer or real sincerity, as your eyes were squeezing shut, âIs that all you want from me, sugar?â
His fingers slipped beneath your shorts and made swift, easy contact with your heat. You buried your face in the seat and tried to muffle the sounds that were clawing their way out of your chest, while your hips tilted up.
âPlease, Joel,â you whimpered.
By now, your head was spinning, in a daze, that you almost didnât notice him tug your shorts down your legs. Or take them off at your ankles. You did get a sense of when he was breaching your foldsâtaking two, meaty fingers and trailing them up the slick glaze of your cunt.
âDoesnât seem like this pussy wants ânice and politeâ to me,â Joel murmured, eyes gradually fastening to that lovely, exposed spot pointed up to him. He wet his lips, âNeeds somethinâ else, doesnât she, darlinâ?â
Speaking of your pussy in third-person wasnât something you ever thought could be hot, but coming from Joel? While his fingers traced up and down the seal of your entrance, tips circling your tight, hot, throbbing hole? Arousing didnât even begin to cover it.
You pushed your ass back, and Joel chuckled above you.
âWanna fuck daddyâs fingers? Is that it?â he taunted.
No, no, noâyou wanted his cock buried inside you. But now you just needed reprieve from that ache, and your senses were practically on the fritz trying to get it.
Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingersâsliding the two digits in and out of your cunt with each motionâand, as much as Joel wouldâve liked to make you beg and wait a little, your desperate pleas as you fucked his hand were more than enough to satiate him. He worked his free arm under your body and pinched hard on one nipple, eliciting a soft moan of âJoelâ underneath him.
âOh, baby,â he breathed, watching you rut your hips for more friction, âThatâs it, baby, fuck daddyâs fingers. Use my hand to make yourself feel goodâ thatâs my girl.â
At the last, you probably couldâve cum on the spot, and Joel could tell by the way you clenched around him. He nudged a third finger between your plush, sensitive walls and heard your moans take on an even higher pitch.
âHurts,â you whimpered, with no real indication of pain. You just felt stretched out, stuffed, and aching again. The only âhurtâ was not having even more of him in you, âNeed more of you daddy, please. It hurts.â
Joel wanted to see you cum on his fingers. He really did. But when you got down to begging and pleading for his cock like that, the manâs whole heartbeat throbbed in his jeans, and he simply didnât possess the resolve to refuse.
He hoisted you upright in his lap so you were straddling his hips. The fabric of his jacket hung loose off your frame and both of your arms as you latched around him.
âAre you high?â Joel asked, voice evening out all of a sudden to pin you with a serious look.
âYeah.â
âHow high?â
âI can consent, Joel.â Your thighs tightened around his sides, and your hips had already begun to stir.
âNot just can consentâdo consent. Do you want this?â Joelâs hands moved from the small of your back to cup your face. You gave him a squished-together pout.
âYes, I want this,â you managed through pinched cheeks. When Joel released you, you lowered your own hands to the buckle of his belt.
It felt foreign and familiar at onceâthis age-old ritual of fumbling for each otherâs clothes and wrestling to get them off, like your bodies might catch fire if you didnât act fast enough. Joel was a tad more graceful as he shrugged his jacket off of you, peeled your tank top off, and helped you maneuver your bare limbs around him. You, on the other hand, felt half-feral and every bit the wide-eyed novice while you stripped his body garment by garment and wordlessly told him just leave the jeans, I canât wait another fucking second. Joel bit back a grin and had to steady you above him, feeling his cock twitch against his tummy but still slowing down enough to remind you, shhh, shhh, honey, it ainât goinâ nowhere.
You had a tough time remembering that as you rubbed your wet centre over his shaft. Feeling so good you feared the feeling might escape any second, you whined.
âI know, baby, I know,â Joel cooed as your head fell in the crook of his neck, âStill hurtinâ somethinâ awful, hm?â
The tip of his cock just barely grazed over your clit and you buried your face even deeper, nodding furiously; Joel leaned forward to grab some item out of the glove compartment behind you and braced your body to him.
He tore something with his teeth. You craned your neck just slightly.
âDonât laugh,â Joel muttered, voice momentarily stifled by bright, metallic wrapping.
âIs thatâŚâ You straightened up enough to cock a brow at him. Joelâs tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek.
âCobwebs and all.â
Beneath your gaze was the flimsiest, dust-ridden, damn-near vintage condomâa decade old, at least.
âYou buy that before or after the Great Depression?â you teased.
âShut up.â Joel was already working it onto his dick.
âSo Prohibition-coded.â
âI can find something to shove in that mouth, yâknow.â
You were having too much fun at the old manâs expense, blissfully unaware that Joel was about one Gen X joke away from making you suck three of his arousal-soaked fingers. When you opened your mouth to speakâto try another wisecrack or else question the integrity of this ancient relic of a rubberâJoel crashed his lips against yours and made you mute with his tongue instead.
At the same time, he slowly eased himself inside you.
Your mouth fell open when you sank down on his length, fully, but no sound came out. You just gripped Joelâs shoulders and peered into his face as if to say, âShit.â
No way any man was ever meant to feel this good.
No shot your walls were fitting his cock like a glove.
Joel soaked in your gaping, wordless stare with a nod.
âGood?â
âGreat.â
Youâd give all eight inches of the man a goddamn standing ovation if your legs werenât feeling like jelly. Joel let out a small grunt when you clenched around him.
âNice andâŚeasy,â he said, as much to himself as to you. He pinched your hip in one gigantic hand and held you there, âLet ya take a second and adjust, alright, darlinâ?â
âBut Joelââ you whined, already trying to slide back up.
His grip kept you impaled on his dick, anchored in place. With the other hand, he brought a thumb to your clit.
âJust feel me, sweet pea,â Joel said, slow and languid as molasses while he touched you, âAinât gonna hurt ya.â
You couldnât be sure if the man was a sadist or the worldâs biggest fan of cockwarmingâor just polite.
The bare, slightly-less-sexy truth was that Joel hadnât done this in a very, very long time. Even the sex heâd had, close to a year ago, was something more of a flashbang than a bona fide carnal experience; heâd just bent a perfect stranger over the bathroom sink and drilled her. This was a fever dream, a first to end all firsts, and at present, Joel felt himself toeing a razor-thin line between self-restraint and bliss by just your presence alone.
In short, he didnât want to fuck it up by busting too soon.
When you rolled your hips and squeezed your eyes shut above him, well, Joel almost fell into a panic.
Think of golf. Differential equations. The weather in Kuwait. Anything to get his mind off of how tight your pussy was holding him in, how lithe your body worked to grind above him while he sat there, so helpless andâ
âBig,â you whined, stretched to the fullest youâd ever been. Unable to bounce up and down like you wanted but still squirming for more friction, âSo big, daddy.â
Hockey. Geometry. Wind patterns around the Maldives. He held you even tighter, but your motions were growing desperate. You had to start moving.
âJoel, please,â you begged him.
âBaby, Iâmââ
About to cum. I am two seconds away from cumming.
âNeed you now, need you soââ your voice broke off in a moan as you sank your nails into his muscly shoulders, âSo bad, daddy, please, please, pleaseââ
On the seat beside you both, your phone lit up, buzzing:
Dad đ
Fuck.
FUCK.
Your eyes locked on Joelâs in a shared look of panic and horror, and for once, your bodies stopped, perfectly still.
You knew your dad too well. Just as much as Joel did.
Your father wasnât the type to call late at night unless something was up. And he wouldnât stop calling until someone picked up.
âShould weâŚ?â That whisper came from you.
Joel was frozen in fear, eyes now glued to the screen.
âJustâŚgive it a sec,â he breathed, âMight be nothing.â
But his tone couldnât mask the dread behind his words. He gritted his teeth and watched the phone ring.
It stopped.
Then started again.
The pair of you clung to one other in the old Fordâs bucket seat like your dad might veritably hear the two of you having sex from 1,300 miles away if you moved.
It stopped once more.
The screen stayed black.
You let out a small sigh and felt your eyes start to close.
Then the trill of a ringtone under Joelâs ass started up the second theyâd fluttered shut, and suddenly your gaze was wide, and frightened, and freaking the fuck out when you realized that your dad was trying to reach Joel.
âAnswer,â you hissed.
âWhat?!â The whites of Joelâs eyes were bigger now than youâd ever seen them.
âHeâll know somethingâs up! Justââ you slipped your hand under Joelâs rear, completely devoid of any sexual insinuation this time, and yanked his old iPhone 6 out of his pants, âAnswer it. Now. Be cool.â
Joelâs expression was still paralyzed with terror, but he brought the ringing phone to his ear anyway. Gingerly tapped âanswerâ once youâd smacked him on the bicep.
âHe-e-y man.â
You were so fucking dead.
Your face hovered mere inches away, and you could almost hear the warble of your fatherâs voice on the line.
âGreat,â Joel answered, stilted as a puppet with someoneâs hand up its ass, âSo good. How are you?â
A beat.
âSheâs good, sheâs good.â
For a moment, Joelâs gaze flitted to the spot where your bodies were still connected and you saw a flash of desire, followed by guilt, then his head tip back to close his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.
âIn the bathroomâŚUh-huhâŚPhone must be deadâŚâ
âNo, sheâs been a trooperâjust fineâŚâ
âSomewhere just shyâa Bedford, I thinkâŚâ
You listened to Joel drone on and clench his jaw, and every now and then youâd feel a squelch in that tiny space between you two when one of you moved, and it occurred to you then that it probably was not in your best interest to stay seated on his dick while he talked. You shifted your legs underneath yourself to get up.
When you started to slide up Joelâs shaftâthe first time youâd ever really moved, mind youâyou felt a knot in your tummy start to tighten. The friction was to die for.
You sank back down and heard a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it.
At the same time, Joel groaned. Then stopped himself. Then coughedâprofusely.
âSorry, just got a littleââ Suddenly, a fiery set of eyes were searing holes in your head, angry as they were desperate, ââtickle in my throat is all.â
You ignored the strained Southern drawl and the eyes that looked ready to put a bullet between your own, and you rocked your hips again. The sensation was just too good. Your body practically acted of its own accord, and suddenly you were bouncing up and down in Joelâs lap.
The man beneath you looked enraged. Aroused.
Ready to wring your neck and maybe spit in your mouth.
âWorldâs movinâ too. damn. fast,â Joel seethed, trying to communicate to you semi-covertly while you rode his cock, âSheâs one hell of aâ firecracker, man, Iâll tell ya.â
You heard your dadâs laughter on the other end. While the sound subsided to chuckles, Joel grabbed your neck. He covered the mouthpiece for a second, then, in a murmur,
âThis is not a fucking game.â
He squeezed your throat so tight you probably couldâve lost all circulation going to your head, but you smiled.
In spite of the hot, glowing embers of pleasure taking shape at the pit of your stomach and the coil that kept twisting and swelling inside, you grinned down at him. Then you mouthed, softly, âYes, it is,â and you rocked your hips against him even harder.
Joel drew in a breath through his teeth and watched you ride him with bleary, half-hooded eyesâkeeping one hand on your carotid as the other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The man was transfixed.
By the pinch of just one set of fingers, you knew you were done for. A dwindling supply of oxygen, combined with your high and the hundreds of nerve-endings being brushed by Joelâs cock every other moment, you were spiraling toward release and didnât know how to stop it.
When Joel pursed his lips and lifted his hips to start fucking up into you, you had to let go. Couldnât hold on. You grabbed hold of his forearm, still hovering across your throat, and you moaned as the bliss washed over you. You slid your needy lower half back and forth, squeezed that tanned, tough arm practically bulging with veins above you, and you came around Joelâs cock. You whimpered his name, again and again, feeling him stroke your walls and fuck you through a euphoric high.
The next thing you felt was the seat cushion behind youâand the shift of Joelâs body weight pinning you down.
His cock hadnât slipped an inch when he flipped you over; his grip was still secure on the phone.
The only thing that had changed was that look: malicious and vindictive with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Joel felt you pulse around him, starting to come down from your high, and he just decided to fuck you even harder.
âShouldnât be much longer nowâŚâ Joel hummed aloud, lowering a hand to your throbbing clit and muttering a soft âUh-huhâ to your father while you clawed at his wrist.
âJoel,â you choked.
Now the feeling was too much. You were still so wet, raw, and sensitive that the pad of his thumb almost drew a shriek from your chest when he moved his finger in circles. You heard them chat about football. Joel shared a short, strained laugh with the man on the other end and pretended not to hear your whines as he continued to rail you senseless in the front seat of his car.
With the diversion of the phone call keeping his own climax at bay, Joel was free to fuck you as rough as he pleasedâand couldnât be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again.
âPlease, daddy, please,â you beseeched him, tears springing to your eyes as Joelâs thrusts kept shaking you.
He just shook his head and smiled as if to say, âHold still.â
âItâll be fine,â he said, âMahomes is next-level. Best they can do is keep their heads down and take it, yâknow?â
Your own soft, aching hole was taking the beating of a lifetime, and somehow, you managed to meet Joelâs gaze with a look that almost struck him as loving. That blissed-out, cockdrunk look of pure debauchery crossing your eyes in a way he hadnât come to find in ages, if ever, was intoxicating. He felt the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him again, and suddenly he was pumping you faster, drilling you harder, gripping your throat and starting to sense his own climax draw near.
He couldnât finish off like this.
Not talking shop and Super Bowl to your fatherâno.
Joel had to do something you might rightly hate him for for the rest of your life, and never forget, or forgive.
He lowered the phone, and right before he did, said,
âShe just stepped outta the bathroom, actually. No, yeah, sheâs right here. Wanna say hello?â
Your heart skipped a beat and nearly jumped into your throat. You tried to shake your headâfastâand even went so far as to try and dodge the phone when Joel brought it down to your ear, but that motherfucker had a grip like you couldnât believe and wouldnât stop stroking inside you or holding you down. You hated that you found Joelâs total dominance and controlâŚkind of hot.
You flashed him the most nasty, bratty, âIâll get you for this, Joelâ look you could muster anyway, and when he pressed the phone to your cheek, you mouthed a few more silent expletives before changing your air entirely:
âHey, dad!â
Joel knew he was cooked from the second you said hello. Something objectively malevolent inside him got a rush to hear you speak to your dad in such a contrived, high-pitched tone of voice, knowing the unspeakable things he was doing to your body the whole fucking time. He could focus, now, with no need for any strained civilities of his own, but deep down, he knew it wouldnât last long. He would not last long.
Might as well make it fun while it lasts.
âHeâŚdid,â you hummed, flitting your eyes up to Joel when he brushed your lower lip with his thumbâstill holding the phone up for you while he rutted into you, âNo, nuh-uhâŚMrâŚMr. Miller didnât mind, no sir.â
Shit, the sound of you saying âsirâ was something that made Joelâs whole body lurch with pleasure. He made a mental note to have you call him that later and stroked your lip once more.
You tried to turn your face awayâtelling Joel, wordlessly, that you couldnât keep up this conversation with your father if you had a thumb in your fucking mouth, but Joel didnât care. He watched you pause for a moment, let just the tip of his finger press into your tongue, then, battling your better judgment, wrap your lips around the digit almost cautiously and suck. He knew you liked it, too.
He knew it by the way you bobbed your head, hummed, and nodded every time he thrust inside your aching walls and dragged his cock back out. The way your teeth clamped hard on his thumb whenever he grazed a particularly sensitive spot and how your lips held him in like a gag, or some other thing to keep you quiet amidst the moans and the whimpers bubbling up in your chest.
Suddenly, Joel was at your other ear, lips grazing skin and tongue praising your every move.
âMy sweet girl.â
âDoinâ such a good job stayinâ quiet.â
âTakinâ daddyâs cock so well, arenât ya, darlinâ?â
From that point on, every single one of your fatherâs words over the phone fell on deaf earsâall you could hear was Joel. All you could feel was Joel. Your lips parted as if starting to speak, but all that would come out were small puffs of air, perfectly in sync with each one of Joelâs thrusts.
âYou okay, hon? You soundâŚdistracted,â your dad pressed. A hint of concern rose from his end of the line.
At length, Joel gripped both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders, and he grinned before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.
âYes!â you yelped as you crushed the phone to your ear, hoping your father couldnât hear any of the filthy sounds down below, âJust a little stretchedâI mean stressed out, is all.â
The sick, smug fuck currently wedged eight inches deep inside you almost burst out laughing. If you werenât so perilously close to your fourth orgasm of the night, you wouldâve told Joel to take a long walk off a short bridge.
âJust worried about grades a-a-and all,â you stammered.
Joel leaned forward and almost tore a scream out of your chestâhis tip was kissing the edge of your cervix now.
âYes, sir. I will.â You tried your hardest not to whine and almost let out a sigh, âIâllâŚask him about it, for sure.â
As bone-crushingly fun as this all was, Joel was close.
He could feel it in the furthest recesses of his stomach; he was about to blow his load.
So, leveraging his weight to strike just the right angle and pushing his thumb in to stifle your moans, Joel sped up and drew even closer, face-to-face, so he could see your every expression from a hairâs breadth away.
He was so near he could hear your dadâs droning voice. See you struggle to take cock the closer you got to your release. You hadnât cum in such quick successionâŚever, really. All but one of the guys youâd let between your legs before seemed like amateurs compared to Joel, and to be honest, you werenât sure if you could make it to four.
You popped his thumb out of your mouth and mumbled some âSure, okayâ or other to your dad before casting a pleading look up at Joel. His hips were working up to a ruthless pace.
You covered the mouthpiece.
âI canât, Joel.â
âSure you can, sugar.â
âJoel,â you hissed, and tried to grab his wrist, when you felt your stomach start to cave. Every exposed inch of skin gave way to waves of heat, and your toes curled in. Worst of all, Joel was letting out sounds you hadnât ever heardâshort, ragged breaths that broke off in low groansâand it felt as though he were cradling your head. Holding you to him. Your eyes were locked on one another, your mouths practically panting in time, and what parts of you had not yet become commingled with him were practically coated with sweat. And shaking.
Then, in tones that rang like music to your ears:
âAlright, Iâll let ya head to bed, then. Gânight, pumpkin.â
Your dad hadnât even fully hung up the phone before you flung it across the car. Heels dug deep in Joelâs back.
âCum for daddy,â Joel coaxed, âCum all over this cock.â
You didnât need much more instigation than that.
You came. He followed.
And it probably split his eardrum in two having his name screamed so fucking loud, but frankly, Joel hadnât seen a reason for going deaf that he couldâve enjoyed so much.
Then, he didnât sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adored his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car.
Until it was in you.
Sticky, sweet dripping inside you.
You pushed Joel hard in the shoulder.
âDid itâŚâ
âWhat?â
âJoel!â
You flipped your legs down and tapped his abdomen furiously, telling him, pull out, pull out right fucking now, and Joel gently obliged. Dragged his cock three-fourths of the way out when a frail, tattered condom came loose around the head of his cock and almost fell off entirely. That damn prehistoric rubber had broken inside you.
âJOEL!â
âIâm sorry! Fuck, Iâ fuck.â
Joel scrambled to get his cum-drenched cock and what remained of the condom away from your body, but the damage was done. You started throwing on clothes.
âIâm ovulating this week, I am so fucking fucked!â
Joel swallowed, shimmying his boxers and jeans back into place and scoping the front seat for his shirt.
âWhatâsâŚovulating?â
You wanted to tear your hair out at the root.
There was no way this man had survived half a century on earth and didnât understand the menstrual cycle.
âIt means I can get pregnant if we donât get a Plan B up in this bitch immediately. Letâs GO!â
That part seemed to click. Joel almost fell over himself trying to find his keys, while you slid out of the Bronco.
âWhere are you going?!â
âToâ to try and get some of this shit out of me first!â
Joel bounded after you, and within the first steps, you were sprinting across the parking lot. Your sweaty, half-naked companion triedâand failedâto slow you down.
âAre you not on birth control?â Joel huffed.
âAre you not capable of buying condoms more than once every fucking decadeâor three?â you snapped.
Your strides were growing wider and more frantic by the second. Joel clutched his side and struggled to keep up.
âIâmâŚsorry,â he grunted, more embarrassed and worn-out than anything at the moment, âIâm sorry, darlinâ.â
ââSorryâ doesnât get your cum out of me, daddy.â
Your words couldnât have gotten any more caustic or mercilessâor inopportuneâif you tried.
As it was, you were passing by the breezeway where all the bored lacrosse players were still lounging around, cracking cold ones, and craning their necks to see what the fuss outside was all about. The sounds of your feet racing fast on gravel and you and Joelâs raucous, bickering back-and-forth had caught their attention, and shortly, Connor was sticking his head around the corner. His expressionâalong with all the faces behind himâhad twisted with horror. Confusion. A visible look of disgust.
Joel had just slowed down to catch his breath. He doubled over and braced both hands on his knees.
âIâll fuckinââŚduct tape my dick next time I hit it, honey!â he wheezed, barely loud enough for you to hear but perfectly audible to all the terrified guys around him.
Joel turned his head and almost groaned.
Then he was straightening himself back up, starting to retreat from the group who had him pinned with genuinely frightenedâand nauseatedâlooks.
Joel normally wouldnât care. This time, though, he threw his hands up and thought, fuck it, Iâll clear the air.
Over his shoulder, he grinned, yelling back to the guys:
âIâm not actually her dad!â
All of them stared back. Half-jealous, half-awestruck, Connor stood up, raised his beer, and called after him:
âI SURE FUCKINâ HOPE YOUâRE NOT!â
#NO ONE SPEAK TO ME FOR AT LEAST A WEEK#THIS IS DISGUSTING#I AM DISGUSTING#DO NOT PERCEIVE ME PLEASEJE HAHAHAHAH#brain rot â¤ď¸#joel miller#joel miller tlou#joel miller smut#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us fic#joel miller x you#dbf!joel
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Our Little Secret
Summary - Joel Miller deals with disgusting, intrusive thoughts about the girl next door who smells like vanilla and uses cherry chapstick.
Pairing - dbf!Joel Miller/Reader
Warnings - explicit sexual content MDNI, kinda perv!Joel, age gap, no cordyceps outbreak AU, reader's in high school but is eighteen, dom/sub undertones, seduction, underage drinking, body worship, unprotected sex, reader is called 'jailbaitâ by Tommy, oral sex, breeding kink if you squint, praise & degradation
WC: 11k
[crossposted to AO3]
Joel Miller told himself he wasnât a pervert. He just wasnât. Double glancing at a pretty, young girl didnât make him one of those guys â it just made him a man, right?
Never mind the fact that your father was one of his closest friends or the fact that you lived just next door, embodying half of the very typical scandalous, small-town affair. Never mind your eighteen year age difference. Never mind those obscene images that sometimes invaded his brain. Joel had heard the term once. He thinks Sarah might have told him about it from that science documentary she watchedâthose sordid images were called intrusive thoughts, right? Involuntary, unavoidable, unwanted.
It wasnât only him who stared in your direction a little longer than necessary, anyway. The very first time heâd seen you, Joel and Tommy had been in the driveway doing an oil change on the truck. You and your dad had just moved in, Joel had introduced himself the day prior and helped haul a bed frame through the front room. Your dad had mentioned he had a daughter, but Joel had expected to see a girl closer to Sarahâs age.Â
He hadnât expected to see you, wearing those tight blue jeans and that tiny tank top that left very little to the imagination. The straps were thin and the fabric billowy, and when you shifted the box beneath your arm from one hand to the other, the pretty pink fabric of your bra was out in the open for all eyes to see. Your hair had been pulled into a ponytail at the crown of your head, swishing back and forth with each step. It made Joel wonder about how soft the long strands were, how they would feel between his fingers, how they would look splayed out atop a pillowcase â intrusive thoughts.
Tommy was quick to abandon his tools and cross the front yard to greet your father, offering you what seemed like an innocent helping hand. Joel thinks his younger brother has no self control, but he leaves the truck too. Only to introduce himself, though. Definitely not to get a closer look.Â
Your voice is sweet, he thinks. It slides through him like a hot knife through butter. And when you laugh at Tommyâs awkward attempt at conversation, that sound stabs him in the chest because itâs so girlish. So young and youthful and airy. That pink lace is still poking out of the side of your shirt, even though Tommy now carries the box, and Joel strains himself trying to keep his eyes above your chin.Â
âAnd you must be Mr. Miller,â you say, sticking your tiny hand out to him.
He knows itâs a bad idea, but he doesnât want to be rude, so he takes your hand in his and shakes it gently. Your skin is soft, nails painted red and manicured and he wonders what other parts of you are this soft, wonders if red has always been his favorite color, wonders what it would look like wrapped around â âJust Joel,â he tells you, clearing those damn intrusive thoughts as quickly as they appear.Â
âJoel,â you repeat, tasting his name on your pink tongue and giving him a sweet smile. âThere's two more boxes. Wanna help me grab them?â
Heâs careful not to answer too fast, afraid of sounding too eager. But he agrees, and you lead him to the open truck bed, and as you bend over to grab the smaller box his hands flex at his sides. He thinks you must be doing this on purpose. Right? Torturing him, sticking your ass out, silently begging him to look. But he doesn't. Instead, Joel picks up the larger box and notices the scent of vanilla radiating off your skin. This is almost worse because his mouth begins to water.Â
âMy dad said you have a daughter,â you say.Â
âYeah. Sarah. Sheâs younger than you, though.â
âThatâs okay. Does she like cake? I have to bake one for my home ec final and could use a taste tester if sheâs not busy.â
It really puts things into perspective, and heâs glad for it. Finals. School. High school. âIâll ask her,â Joel says.Â
You lead everyone inside and direct all three men to take the boxes to the living room where you begin unpacking. You sit on the floor as you sift through the boxes, legs tucked underneath you, and Joel has to force a smile when you look up at him through your lashes. You say thank you, Joel from your knees and he feels something very, very wrong stir inside him.Â
Tommy follows him back outside, and on the way back to their truck his voice is high pitched in mockery as he says, âThank you, Joel! Youâre so handsome , Joel! Let me repay you with my body, Joel!â
He just laughs it off, but as he continues with the oil change beneath the hood an uncomfortable silence settles between him.Â
Eventually, Tommy shakes his head and snorts. âThat girl is nothing but fucking jailbait, man.â
He sees you quite a few times after that, because your dad works in construction, too. Joel drinks the same kind of beer, and your dad has a pool table in your garageâŚso, naturally, they become the best of friends and very quickly at that. Tommy joins the party too, and within months they become an inseparable trio.
Itâs during one of these nights when the three of them were standing in the garage with the door wide open, music playing from the speakers in your dadâs truck when those intrusive thoughts plague him again. Tommyâs losing at pool, drunk before the sunâs fully set, and your dad is laughing at something heâs saying.
Youâre walking home from practice and stop suddenly at the end of the driveway. Joel can see you, but he doesnât think Tommy or your dad can. The truck is in the way, but heâs in the perfect position. He stares a little too long, but he canât help it. Youâre wearing your cheer uniform, and your midriff is exposed, and your long legs are so fucking appetizing that his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. Your skirt is rolled up at the waist, making the fabric shorter than itâs supposed to be, making it sluttier than itâs supposed to be.
When you notice him staring, you shoot him a sinful little smile and raise your finger to your lips. A secret, Joel realizes. You want him to keep something a secret, and somehow it feels intimate, having something between the two of you. He watches you unroll the hem of your skirt and pull at the ends so it covers more of your legs. You turn in a semicircle, and he licks his lips, and when you look at him again you raise your hands in question.Â
He gives you a discreet thumbs up, and when you make your way up the driveway you give him the prettiest smile and say, âHey, Joel! Nice to see you!â
Tommy gives him shit for it later, but heâs too distracted at the sight of you in that uniform to even remember Joel exists.Â
âYouâre late,â your dad chastises. âPractice was over at five today. Itâs almost six.â
âTook the scenic route,â you reply easily, and Joel can hear the playful tone in your voice that lets everyone in the room know of your insincerity.Â
You walk past them, backpack slung over one arm, but before you disappear inside you wink at him over your shoulder.Â
âGet ready, Joel,â your dad tells him with an exasperated sigh. âTeenage girls are hell.â
And Joel is inclined to agree. Even more so when heâs laying in bed that night, wondering about all the things you couldâve been getting up to in that hour it took you to get home. The school was a short, ten minute walk from your house. And even if you truly did take the scenic route home, it wouldnât have taken you an entire hour to arrive.Â
So, what were you getting up to? Joel didnât think you had a boyfriend. At least, not one you ever brought home. But not having a boyfriend didnât mean anything. Not in this day and age. And Joel knew the mind of a teenage boy. He had been one, once upon a time, and knew without a doubt the lengths a boy your age would go to spend an hour alone with you. He thought about all of the things he was doing at eighteen, and his brain ran wild with those ideas.
After hours of laying there, unable to find sleep, Joel Miller took out his phone and opened a private search tab. It had been a long time since heâd done this, and heâd tried not to â truly, he had spent every minute since heâd closed his bedroom door trying to get the images out of his head. But it was like an itch he needed to scratch, becoming more and more irritating the longer he put it off. So, he typed cheerleader into the black and orange search bar and promised himself it was the one and only time heâd ever do this.Â
He just needed to get it out of his system. That was all.
(If he was honest, Joel knew as soon as the thought crossed his mind that it wasnât true. Even when he scrolled through the videos to find a girl who looked strikingly similar to you. Even when he turned his volume all the way down, and reached into his sweatpants with his free hand. Even when he squeezed his eyes shut and thought of that rolled up skirt and that pretty pink lace, pornographic images long forgotten in favor of the ones youâd supplied. Even when a few quick tugs was all it took to shoot thick ropes of cum across his belly. Even when he cleared his search history, cleaned himself up, and rolled over to sleepâŚeven then, he knew it would not be enough to get you out of his head.)
The next day, Joel saw you leaving for school and couldnât bear to look in your eyes. He couldnât stop thinking about what heâd done and feeling shameful, feeling like the very sordid man he knew himself not to be. He wasnât a pervert, but heâd certainly felt like one that day.
You waved your hand and beamed like you did every morning. But Joel didnât wave back. Oblivious to his atrocities, you played your hand at concern. âYou okay?â
âFine.â
âYou donâtâŚÂ seem fine. Is there anything I can do to help?â
Godâyour voice, full of kindness and sweet summery grace, was better than the audio in any porno heâd ever seen. âI said Iâm fine.â
Thankfully, you took the hint and scurried off, not dissimilar to a wounded animal. Guilt immediately choked him. But, pushing you away is what heâs supposed to do. So he doesnât change his mind.Â
At least, not at first.
He spends the entire summer going out of his way to avoid you. He offered to host guys nights at his house on the weekends instead of your dad's garage. He left for work five minutes earlier than normal to avoid having to hear you say good morning, Joel! and wave at him with those pretty red nails and smile at him with your pretty white teeth.
But once summer starts, you and Sarah begin spending way too much time together. And at first, it makes him nervous. You make him nervous. He doesnât want to make small talk. He doesn't want to see you in your uniform. He doesnât want to look at you at all, actually.
It works out in his favor though, Joel thinks, because you and Sarah have the same taste in movies, and she thinks you're the coolest thing thatâs ever existed, and so whenever Joel and Tommy are in your garage, youâre at Joelâs house with Sarah. So he doesnât have to be on edge, wondering if heâd turn the corner and youâd be standing there smelling like vanilla and wearing pink lace.Â
But then youâre hosting a high school graduation party a few short months after you move in. And your dad invites Joel and Tommy to the party in your backyard. In fact, he practically begs them to come and keep him company. And Joel canât say no, because what excuse would he have? Sarah would never let him skip it, anyway. And so his avoidance comes to an end, and he finds himself standing in your backyard with a glass bottle in his hands, watching people congratulate you and your accomplishments all day long. Straight Aâs in all those AP classes you took, your dad tells him proudly, clicking his tongs together over the grill. Joel knows youâre a smart girl, he doesnât need to know your grades to see that you have your head on straight, but he also knows youâre a far cry from the timid little girl your father believes you to be. Joel can see it in you.Â
Still, youâre far smarter than he is, because while Tommy drones on and on about a project heâs got going on at home, all Joel can notice is the pretty sundress youâre wearing. Itâs pink, like the lace that sometimes still haunts him. It clings to you at the top, molding sinfully against your chest, and flows out at the bottom, cutting off at your midthigh.
Itâs too short, Joel thinks. Way too short to be wearing around so many male classmates. Around your dadâs friends. Tommy likes younger girls, you know. And JoelâŚJoelâs turning away from you and swallowing whatâs left of his beer. He clinks the empty glass against Tommyâs and asks, âYou need another?â
Your dad is the one who answers. âHow about a shot of whiskey? The cabinet above the sink.â
Joel thinks it's a fantastic idea. He gets stopped by Mr. Adler on the way inside, who asks what the celebration is. He talks for far longer than heâd like, and by the time he gets to the kitchen, Joel really needs something stronger than beer.Â
Except, when he steps into the room, he freezes the moment he sees you standing there. Your head whips in his direction, eyes wide as if youâve been caught. Itâs only as he tears his attention away from you and notices the two red solo cups on the counter and the bottle of tequila in your hands, perched over them, that he realizes what heâd just walked in on.Â
Your cheeks are pink, the same hue as your dress, and you quickly try to explain it away. âJoel! Hey! This isnâtâŚIâm not likeâyou know, itâs just a celebration andâŚIâll be nineteen soon andâI mean, itâs just a little .â
He raises his eyebrows, unsure of how to navigate this terrain. On the one hand, he feels the need to discipline you somehow. To turn this into a lesson of sorts, to let you know how the age of legal alcohol consumption is twenty one for a reason, that being drunk in a social setting like this is dangerous, especially for a girl like you.
But on the other hand, Joel knows heâs not responsible for you. Heâs not your father, and heâs not going to be the one to give you the speech about underage drinking. Heâd been far younger than eighteen-almost-nineteen the first time heâd gotten drunk. And you were rightâŚthis was a celebration.Â
The war in his brain seemed to dim what little common sense he had because Joel found himself standing behind you with almost no room to spare. The sweet scent of vanilla filled the space. Youâd curled your hair, and the ends tickled the inside of his arm. Soft. So, so soft he could die. He puts his big hand on your bare shoulder, and reaches above you into the cabinet, finding the half empty bottle of whiskey. His fingers twitch with the urge to squeeze your supple flesh. Christ. Itâs just a fucking shoulder, Joel, he tells himself. âItâs your party,â he says. âI wonât tell.â
It feels wrong just to say it to you. I wonât tell. Perverted thing to say, Joel thinks. You spin around to face him, and suddenly your breasts are brushing his chest, and Joel canât breathe. âThank you,â you whisper, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and sending him into his fucking grave.Â
Itâs then, as he stares down at you and you stare up at him all sweet and innocent-like, that Joel finally admits to himself that avoidance has done absolutely fucking nothing to put out the fire you started. He clears his throat. âYeah, yeahâitâs, uhmâŚitâs no problem. Have fun.â
He turns to leave, but then your arms are around his neck and he canât smell anything but vanilla and he can feel your tits pressing into him, can feel you everywhere. But Joel isnât a mean man, so what can he do but hug you back? If someone walked in, theyâd think it was a fatherly embrace. Proud. Protective, even.Â
But they wouldnât know that all Joel could think about is the way your skin felt under his calloused hands. Or the way your soft hair tickled his cheek as he laid it against the top of your head. Or the way your hips were nestled right between his thighsâand you were so warm andâ
Intrusive thoughts.
âYouâre the best, Joel,â you say, eyes bright and cheery. Heâs relieved when you pull away, but also a little bit empty. He watches you pour a shot into each red solo cup. âYou know, Iâve never tried whiskey. It seems so, likeâŚÂ manly .â You giggle, and itâs music to his ears but Joel begins to wonder if maybe this isnât your first time stealing from the tequila bottle tonight.Â
âItâs definitely not the best tasting thing in the world,â he says. âGets the job done, though.â
To put the tequila away, you have to stand on the tips of your toes. It elongates your entire body as you stretch upwards, and he canât bring himself to stop staring at the curve of your hips. âYou have to be drunk to hang out with me or something?â
The question surprises him. Yes, he thinks. Yes, he does need to be inebriated to hang out with you because otherwise his sober mind never lets him forget the way you look all dolled up. But he doesnât say that. Instead, Joel laughs quietly and says, âIâm here for your old man. You think he wants to be the lone adult in this sea of kids?â
He says it as a joke and is thankful you find humor in it. âIâm not a kid, Joel,â you remind him. âIâm a woman now. Is my company really so bad?â You tilt your head, pushing your bottom lip into the tiniest little pout.Â
Joel needs to stop staring at your mouth. He knows it, because the urge rises in him to bite that lip, to surge forward and taste your tongue for remnants of tequila. The idea alone sends a bolt of white-hot desire straight to his dick. âNo, noâŚsânot like that,â he says. Heâs too focused on your face and the gleam in your pretty eyes to notice youâve unscrewed the top of the whiskey bottle.Â
You pour a shot into an empty solo cup and hold it up between the two of you. âIâm scared,â you admit sheepishly. âIs it gross?â
The wrinkle in your nose is the cutest thing heâs ever seen, and the sight forces his lips into a small smile. âI donât think so,â he says. âBut you might.â
âBecause Iâm a kid ?â You scoff, but shake your head and smile at him all the same. âWomen mature faster than men, you know. Which means when I make my decisions, I know what Iâm signing myself up for.âÂ
âOh, is that so?â He remembers being this cocky as a teenager. He thinks maybe youâve been spending too much time around Tommy and his defiant attitude is rubbing off on you. Joel offers a challengeâif youâre just so mature. âDrink up, then.â
He watches every microscopic movement as you lick your lips and lift the cup to your mouth. Itâs a beautiful sight, watching you tilt your head back and swallow the tiniest bit. And when you pass the remaining liquid to him, your expression is fashioned from steel. Nonchalant, blank.Â
But he sees it, sees the way your hands twitch at your sides, sees the way your jaw feathers as you clench your teeth. He canât help but chuckle at your persistence. Joel turns the cup in his hands and puts his mouth right where you did.Â
Itâs almost like kissing, he thinks. Having his mouth where yours was seconds ago feels good. Better than he thought it would. And he can taste cherry-flavored chapstick before he can taste the whiskey, and he wonders when the last time was when heâd had a shot because it goes straight to his head and makes him feel drunk. Or maybe itâs just the wide smile that stretches across your face.Â
âThatâs awful,â you confess. âIâll stick to tequila, I think.â
âTequilaâs worse,â he says with a shake of his head. Tequila makes Joel feel your age, makes him forget the word consequences, makes him buzz with energy.Â
âNo way,â you say. âThe taste isnât nearly as strong.â
While that may be true, it wasnât about the taste at all and he doesnât really know how to explain it. âTequila encourages people to make bad decisions.â
Your eyes widen in surprise. âBad decisions,â you echo contemplatively. âSounds like a great time.â You take both of your tequila filled cups in hand and press a kiss to his cheek. âThanks for always keeping my secrets,â you whisper.Â
Joel has to stand in the kitchen an extra few minutes after you leave because he still feels the ghost of your lips on his skin and doesnât know how to act. Eventually, though, he finds the courage to face his brother and your father. He stays for the remainder of the party and helps your dad clean up the yard after everyone filters out.Â
Itâs a relief when heâs finally in his own bed that night. He tries to resist thinking of you. Truly, he does â but itâs no use, and heâs alone in his bed, and this time he doesnât even reach for his phone when he touches himself.Â
And itâs good. So good that he tries to draw it out. He tries his damndest to make it last. But his efforts become futile in just minutes, because he can feel your soft lips, can taste cherry chapstick, and heâs right thereâright fucking thereâwhen his bedroom door creaks open.Â
âJoel?â
For a second, heâs convinced himself heâs gone crazy. Heâs well and truly lost it now, and his fantasies have grown into hallucinations at this point. Youâve driven him batshit insane. But his eyes focus in the dark, and he realizes his mind isnât playing tricks on him at all. âWhat are you doing here?â
You take it as an invitation, and he desperately wishes you wouldnât. He can still feel the buzz from the beer and whiskey, and his cock is hard beneath the sheets, and his brain is filled with images of you, and youâre in nothing but spandex shorts and a loose tank top, and when you sit on the side of his bed you lay your hand on his knee for balance and Joelâs hands shake.Â
âHow did you even get in?â
âI used the key under the mat,â you confess. âI need your help.â Your voice is so mousy and soft, and it pulls him back to his senses.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â
âYou were right,â you tell him. âI made a bad tequila decision and now Iâm sad.âÂ
Joel doesnât know what to say. You couldnât possibly still be tipsy, he thinks. Itâs been hours since he saw you in the kitchen, but he supposes you very well couldâve gone back after everyone left. Either way, youâd come to him to fix it, and even knowing the right thing would be to call your dad, he was still high on the second secret you two shared. So, Joel sighs and puts his hand on yours. âWhat did you do?â
âI snuck a boy into my room,â you say.
Joelâs jaw clenches. Anger rises in his chest, crawls up his throat, and chokes him. A million things cross his mindâfirst, what the hell did he do to you? Did he hurt you? Joel would find the boy and break his fucking jaw. Did he touch you? Maybe heâd break the boy's hands instead. Or, worse, did he touch you when you didnât want him to? The thought alone has his heart beating so fast he thinks he might die. Slowly, quietly, he asks, âWhat happened?â
âNothing,â you sigh. And it isnât one of those teenage girl nothings, itâs sincere. You climb over him to the other side of the mattress, and Joel thinks he should stop you but the sight of you in his bed is so fucking pretty that he canât bring himself to. âThatâs the problem. I wanted him to fuck me.â
The words give him pause. Everything freezes.Â
âBut he didnât want to,â you say. âEven though we were flirting all day.â You turn on your side, hands beneath your head. âI donât get it. Is it because Iâm not pretty?â
He canât stop the snort that leaves him at that. Joel canât believe youâd wonder about it for even a second.
âDo you think Iâm pretty, Joel?â
If thereâs anything in the world he hates, itâs this. He wonders a little if maybe youâre antagonizing him. Itâs a yes or no question, isnât it? So why does saying yes feel soâŚÂ heavy? Weighted? He decides it best to keep the conversation directed away from his personal opinion on the matter. âOf course youâre pretty, baby.â
Baby? God. Maybe he has lost his fucking mind.
But it seems to bring you so much joy he doesnât have it in him to regret it. You wrap your small hands around his bicep, and he can feel the heat in your touch, and itâs like heâs burning from the inside out. And when you turn a little more and bring your leg across his hips, Joel canât breathe.Â
He wonders if you can tell how hard he is, wonders how heâs supposed to push you away when you just keep withering away his resolve. If he hasnât lost his mind yet, heâs about to. âIs it okay if I sleep with you tonight?â
The words hit him like a freight train. But after a second, he realizes that you actually mean sleep âand he knows itâs a bad idea still because heâs having those intrusive thoughts once more. But he canât say no. So instead he says, âI donât think your dad would be comfortable with that.â
âIâll tell him I had a sleepover with Sarah,â you quickly supplied. âI donât want to be alone.â
He doesnât either. But Joel knows he should be. And if not alone, certainly not with you. And yet, he says nothing. Not yes or no, just nothing.Â
âCan I tell you a secret?â
âSure.â
âI think about you all the time,â you say. âI thought you were mad at me for a while. That made me sad, too.â
It made his chest ache to think he had caused you any harm. But it was for the best, wasnât it? You probably just saw him as someone to seek comfort in, and he saw you as something entirely different. He was no good. Definitely not for you.Â
A few minutes pass, and he thinks youâve fallen asleep, but then you kiss his cheek again in the same spot as this afternoon and say, âThank you, Joel.â And he feels so wrong. He feels awful, and selfish, and greedy, and desperate, and perverted.
He thinks thatâs the end of it. But then you kiss his jaw, and this time itâs an open mouthed kiss that leaves wetness on his skin. Joel shivers.Â
You kiss his neck, and his cock throbs inches from your thigh. He should stop this. He knows that. Joel isnât a stupid manâheâs just a bad man. He doesnât stop you when you climb into his lap. He doesnât stop you when your tongue darts out between your lips as you kiss his collarbone. He doesnât stop you when your kisses grow heated and heavy.
And when you kiss his lips, he doesnât stop himself from kissing you back. He doesnât stop himself from threading his fingers through your silky hair to pull you in deeper. He doesnât stop himself from biting that bottom lip and sucking off the cherry flavor. He doesnât stop himself from slipping his tongue into your mouth, or from lifting his hips just a little bit, pushing himself against you. The friction pulls a low groan from somewhere in the back of his throat, and Joel knows he won't be able to ever stop himself now.Â
You take the small movement as your cue to unleash yourself and roll your hips against his even harder. He can feel the wet heat radiating from you even through the spandex shorts, can feel his benevolence fading into the ether. You let out a breathless moan when you roll your hips again, and again, and again. And he curses, muscles tight, and feels a confession on the tip of his tongue. Joel wants you to say it, just once â wants to hear his name in your mouth shrouded in lust. Heâs imagined it so many times, but he wants to hear it.Â
But then you pull away abruptly. âJoel?â
You sound mousy again, and he feels suddenly ice cold. âYeah?â
âI think Iâm gonna be sick.â
He holds your hair away from your face for the remainder of the night as you vomit up the rest of the tequila in your stomach. You apologize over and over again and greedily drink up the water he brings you.Â
Normally, Joel would hate this. But itâs you, and something feels good about taking care of you. About making sure youâre safe, making sure you feel pretty even with sweat coating your pallid skin.
You fall asleep sometime in the middle of the night, and Joel carries you to his bed. He doesnât climb in next to you. He canât because he already feels bad enough for allowing a drunk eighteen year old girl into his bed. Itâs his turn to feel nauseous. Shame smothers him, and guilt, and mortificationâŚJoel knows he should feel regret, too. But he doesnât.Â
Sometime before sunrise, he nods off with his head resting against the bedside table. He doesnât hear you leave, but when he wakes an hour later youâve vacated the room.Â
He wonders if you remember how you ended up in his bed, if you remember how eager he was to taste your mouth, if you remember anything at all. He hopes not, because that would mean a conversation he was not equipped to handle.Â
When he trudges down to the kitchen, Joel stops upon the sight before him. Sarah sits at the kitchen table beside Tommy, whoâs sitting across from your dad. And then thereâs youâstanding in the kitchen with a spatula in your hand and two still-wet braids in your hair.
It isnât the fact that youâre in his kitchen, making pancakes for everyone, padding barefoot on the tile that makes him anxious. No one in the room can read his thoughts. They wouldnât know how much it pleases him to see it. They wouldnât know how he thinks he could get used to this, but knows he canât.
NoâŚno, itâs the fact that youâre wearing his flannel that makes him anxious. Your father wears flannels on occasionâŚbut this one is so plainly Joelâs that he wonders why your dad is sitting there laughing at something Sarah said instead of killing Joel with his bare hands. He swallows thickly and pours himself a cup of coffee.Â
âGood morning,â you say cheerily, as if last night hadnât happened. He thinks youâve forgotten, or maybe just decided not to ever mention it again.
It was only a lapse in judgment, after all, wasnât it? Just a split second where you and Joel both lost all sense. It didnât mean anything. It couldnât. âMorning,â he responds.Â
You ask him to help carry one of the heaping plates of fluffy pancakes to the table. When he reaches for the taller one, your hand brushes against his and Joel nearly jumps out of his skin at the contact. But then youâre holding your pinky out to him expectantly, and whisper, âOur little secret.âÂ
The vanilla scent is gone, Joel notices. You smell like irish spring instead. Realization dawns on him that you must have showered while he was asleepâ and used his body wash. Thereâs something about that little tidbit of information that sits with him. He likes it, he thinks. He likes smelling himself all over you, likes that something possessed you to use his things without asking. Something inside of him shifts, somethingâŚÂ intense.Â
He knows he shouldnât, but Joel winds his pinky finger around yours anyway. It feels so good to have yet another thing between the two of you. Something of yours that belongs only to him. It makes him feel giddy as if he wasnât running on a single sip of coffee and an hour of sleep.
The remainder of the summer goes on without incident. You donât end up in Joelâs bed again, though you never once leave his intrusive thoughts. He sees you sometimes, tanning in the backyard. He has a perfect view from his bedroom window, and he wonders if maybe you wear those tiny bikini tops for his benefit. But he never asks, even during the few moments you have alone, and is content to pine after you but not touch for the rest of his painfully sorry life.Â
He works. You taunt him. He plays pool in your garage. You come home late in too little clothes and smelling of vanilla scented tequila. Joel says nothing, though. He listens and agrees with your dad that since graduating youâve become a little wild . A littleâŚÂ defiant. They dance around the word bad, but Joel knows the truth. Knows that more than anything, you need a little bit of discipline.Â
Youâre not his to correct, though. So he doesnât. He certainly enjoys watching you, however. He watches you sneak out through your window one night when heâs sitting on the porch. You press your finger to your lips, creating another secret between the two of you. He walks into the kitchen one night to find you filling a vodka bottle with water. Joel says nothingâbut after grabbing another beer heâs got a smile on his lips he canât seem to shake.Â
Heâs mowing the grass in the backyard one sunny afternoon, and he catches a glimpse of something he shouldnât. Joel holds a lot of your secrets close these days, but this one isâŚdifferent.Â
Through your bedroom window, he can see you changing. The curtain is wide open, and youâre wearing nothing but that same pink bra he first saw you in, matching panties, and those knee high socks you used to wear with your cheer uniform. Heâs not sure if youâre getting out of your clothes or into ones more comfortable, but he knows he canât look away. His mouth is dry, and all the blood in his head rushes south. He thinks youâre beautiful. He wants to touch you so badly itâs overwhelming. The supple curves of your hips, the soft tendrils of your hair down your back, the swell of your breastsâ God, youâre the sexiest thing heâs ever seen.Â
And then you pick something up from the floor, and Joel realizes a second later that youâre putting on his flannel. The one you stole at the beginning of the summer. Do you wear it often? Do you always wear it alone, half naked in your bedroom? His lips part and his breath catches in his throat. Heâs not there. Heâs just standing in his backyard, ruining this patch of grassâŚbut a part of him is. Something of his is there, with you, touching you, and somehow it sets him on fire.Â
Especially when he watches you climb into bed. He wonât watch you sleep, he decides. He might have intrusive thoughts and secrets and uncontrollable fantasies, but heâs not a creep.Â
Except you donât go to sleep, so Joel continues to watch. He watches you run red painted fingers over your bare skin, between your breasts, over your belly, and back up. You do it again, slower this time, and Joelâs cock strains in his jeans. He watches you slip your hand beneath the band of your panties. He canât see any details from this far away, but his breathing synchronizes with the speed of your fingers.
Suddenly, he remembers youâre still in his flannel. Realizes that you put it on to touch yourself. Pressure builds in his cock, and he finally admits that yeahâ maybe heâs a little bit of a perv. But only for youâthereâs something about you that drives him fucking insane.Â
He stands there and watches you touch yourself until you finish. He revels in the small arch of your back, in the tremble of your legs, in the way your chest heaves with each ragged breath on the come down. He wants to clean you up with his fucking tongue.Â
Joel doesnât finish mowing the lawn that night.
When you go off to college, he canât deny what a massive relief it is. You move across Texas to some campus far away, and the distance makes him feel like he can breathe easily again. He stops having so many disgusting, intrusive thoughts. He stops feeling guilty every time he plays pool with your dad because those secrets he kept for you were ones that donât truly matter. Not when youâre nowhere to be found, anyway.Â
As the year stretches on, Joel realizes that heâd been wrong all along. He wasnât a pervert. You are a seductress. Even Tommy jokes about the obvious schoolgirl crush you had and admits one night when itâs just the two brothers that if you had thrown yourself at him, he wouldnât have been able to resist you so easily as Joel had.
Itâs not him thatâs in the wrong. Itâs you. You and your soft hair. You and your pretty smile. You and your red nails. You and your pink lace. You and your soft voice. You, you, you.Â
For several years, those intrusive thoughts haven't plagued him. Not until your junior year of college, when some problem with campus housing surfaces and youâre forced to stay at home for a few days. Your dad is excited about it and forces the four of you to go out to dinner together to catch up.Â
He sees you for the first time in so long, and you look so different but somehow even prettier. Youâre wearing a short white dress, and Sarah tells you you look like an angel, and Joel silently agrees. You have a tattoo on the inside of your wrist. Itâs the tiniest little image of two hands with their pinkies wrapped around one another, and he thinks itâs so fitting for a girl with so many secrets.Â
Every time you look at him during dinner, Joel shifts in his seat. He isnât very hungry. Not for food, anyway. Heâs a little floored when you proudly present your shiny, brand new ID to the waitress and order a fruity pink drink called a Paloma. You explain that it has tequila in it, and share a subtle glance across the table, and Joel feels his insides warm as if he was the one drinking a cocktail instead.Â
He drowns himself in work the entire week. He cannotâ cannot afford to find himself back in his old ways. Youâre a woman now. A fully grown woman, who no longer needs validation from older men. He knows you're not interested. He knows this time, this time, it really is Joel whoâs the problem. Avoidance, surprisingly, works.Â
Until you knock on the door one night with a DVD in your hand. âIs Sarah home? I found my old copy of Evil Dead. She said she missed having movie nights.â
Joel shakes his head. âNo, uhmâshe spent the night with a friend. Sorry.â
âOh,â you deflate. âThatâs okay, I get it. Sheâs older now. ItâsâŚâ
âWeird,â he finishes.Â
You laugh softly, and the sound brings a smile to his face. âYeah, really weird,â you agree. âI just hope sheâs nothing like me.â
âWhyâs that?â Your eyes darken, and Joel asks himself why heâs attempting to make conversation at all. Itâs dangerous. He knows this.Â
âYou know,â you say purposefully. âAll those secrets? There were definitely more.â
For a reason he canât pinpoint, it makes him a little annoyed. He knew it the whole timeâof course,  he knew there were more secrets than just the ones he was privy to. But a part of him wanted to know you better than anyone else. And maybe he did, for a second, but that second was long gone now. It was probably over moments after it began. âYeah, wellâŚthatâs different.â
âHow so? Sheâs only a little younger than I was when I met you.â
Itâs an accusation. Joel can feel it. He can feel the anger seeping through your fake sweetness, too. But he doesnât understand it. He didnât do anything wrong. âYouâre not my daughter. Thatâs whatâs different.â
You roll your eyes, and his hands twitch with the urge to grab you by the jaw. âGod, Joelâyouâre such a pussy. Do you know that?â
Your words startle him. A crease forms between his brows, and he takes another step out of the doorway. â Excuse me ?â
âJust say it! Say what you so desperately want to say. I can take it. Say it.â
The words come out slow and deadly, sounding far meaner than intended. âSay what?âÂ
âTell me itâs different because Iâm a slut. Itâs okay, Joel. Itâs just the two of us now. Go ahead. Admit it.â
His jaw ticks.Â
âWhat, you think Iâm dumb? You think I donât hear you laugh at Tommyâs jokes when I walk out of a room? You think I didnât know you guys called me jailbait for years?â You laugh cynically, arms crossed over your chest, and Joel thinks heâs never seen you so angry. So heated.Â
So hot.
He grabs your elbow and yanks you close. âHave you lost your fucking mind?â
Your face is inches from his, and he can smell vanilla and cherry and something happens. Something familiar and unique to you. Something disgusting. âAnd you know what the worst part of it all is?â
The worst part is that heâs twice your age. The worst part is that heâs known you since you were in high school. The worst part is that heâs friends with your father. The worst part is that youâre friends with his daughter. The worst part is that those perverted thoughts were never involuntary. They were never unavoidable. They were never unwanted. They were never intrusive.Â
âYou like it,â you say with a smirk. âYou like that I dress up in short skirts for you, and you like it when I climb in your bed when someone else leaves me unsatisfied. I almost finished that day, did you know?â
â Jesusâfuck âdonâtââ
âYou barely touched me but I was so close just sitting in your lap. You like that I put on your clothes and touch myself in front of my window, hoping youâll see. You like that Iâm a slut for you, Joel Miller. Admit it. Itâs okay. Itâll be our little secret .â
He pulls you into the house and slams the front door closed. His blood boils beneath his skin. He should have slammed it in your face, he thinks. But youâre here nowâtrapped inside with him. Or maybe heâs trapped inside with you.Â
The pleased smile on your face is his undoing. His breath comes fast, and he knows if he moves an inch there will never be any going back from this. So he doesnât move. His limbs are frozen and his eyes are fixed on yours.
After a couple of tense filled seconds, your smile falters. Joel sees it. He hears the slight change in your voice too, as you confess, âI want you to touch me so badly.â
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck âJoel holds your face in his hands and slams his mouth to yours. You taste just the same; cherry sweet and delicious. Itâs his favorite flavor, he thinks. Better than any forbidden fruit. Your tongue is so soft against his and impossibly more greedy. You invade his mouth, his soul, his heart.Â
It happens so fast, and so easily. Your arms loop around his neck and Joel pulls you flush against him and grips the back of your thighs. He lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, hips already rolling against him like some feral thing inside of you is desperately clawing to get out. His cock has never been this hard, Joel knows. And he knowsâhe knows that he could cum just like this. Touching you, tasting you, feeling your softness. Itâs enough.Â
Still, he wants more. He wants to see you fall apart. He wants to reach inside your chest and make you feel what he feels, make you feel tortured the way heâs been for years.Â
Joel walks to the sofa and sits with his legs spread wide. Youâre still kissing him with everything you have, and itâs a clash of tongues and lips and teeth that he loves so much itâs an effort to thread his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck and pull you away, but he does it. Youâre both panting, and you let out a whimper at the loss of contact. His cock is throbbing, straining behind his jeans. âPut your money where your mouth is, baby,â he says breathlessly. âYou wanna act like a slut for me, be a slut for me.â
He fists your dress in his hands and pulls it up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. And then itâs just you, sitting in Joelâs lap, wearing nothing but pink, lace panties and a pair of strappy white heels. Youâre so pretty, and heâs always known itâbut seeing you up close has him weak. He canât keep himself from touching you, from running his hands over your hips and living the fantasy heâs existed in for what feels like forever.Â
Once he starts, Joel canât stop. He runs his calloused palms over your belly, your ribs, allowing his thumbs to ghost across the underside of your breasts. He moves slowly, meticulously, enjoying every moment. And when you hook your thumbs in the band of your panties with the intention to remove them, he places his hands over yours. âHell no,â he says. âYou think you can tell me you almost finished in my lap that night and get away with it?âÂ
âBut, Iââ
âNuh-uh. Prove it.â
Hesitantly, you tilt your hips against his. He wishes he was in only sweatpants the way he was that night because his jeans are keeping the feeling of your wetness away from him this time. But he can see itâthe baby pink fabric is darker at the apex, and as you grind your hips against his Joel realizes youâre creating a mess on his clothes, too.Â
He understands. He really, really does. He feels it, too. Joel understands how desperate and needy you are. And because heâs just so understanding, he grants you a little reprieve. He leans forward and takes your nipple into his mouth. Heâs real sweet about it too, giving you the same tender treatment your mouth gave him that night in his room. He licks the hardened peak softly, swirling his tongue, and you let out the prettiest moan heâs ever heard. The pace of your hips picks up, rolling against the bulge in his jeans faster.Â
âOh, god,â you whimper. Your breath catches, and he can hear your heart beating rapidly behind your ribcage. He peppers kisses across your sternum and inhales deeply, sucking in a breath thatâs nothing but you and holding it in his lungs. He kisses your other nipple and pinches the one wet with his spit between his thumb and forefinger.Â
He sucks your nipple into his mouth and groans when you fist your hands in his hair. You sound so pretty, he thinksâand he leans back on the couch to admire just how pretty you look. He canât catch his breath, but he doesnât mind.
Your pace falters the slightest bit, and your chest is heaving a little slower now. He sinks lower into the couch and thrusts his hips up into youâonce, twice, and your legs are shaking. âAww,â he coos. âYouâre so sensitive, baby. Look at you.â
Too lost in your own bliss, Joel decides to help you, to teach you. He grabs your chin and forces it down, forces your attention to where your bodies are joined.
âI told you to look,â he repeats. Joel turns his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulls them taught, creating even more pressure against your clit. The pink fabric immediately becomes darker, sopping up some of the mess youâve created on top of him, and Joel intends to make good on his wish to clean you up with his tongue. But not yetânot when you still have something to prove. âYou gonna cum just like that? Hm?â
You nod frantically, your attention flickering between his dark eyes and your panties clutched between his thick fingers. â Yes,â you tell him, legs trembling. Your pace is quick, and each roll of your hips becomes shorter and shorter. And with Joel moving underneath you it only takes seconds more before you combust. âOh, fuckâfuckâIâm coming, Iâm comingâ!â
âThatâs it,â he says, and you feel the deep timbre of his voice skitter across your skin like embers. âThere you go. Youâre being such a good slut for me, hm?â
When your orgasm finally fizzles out, you fall limply forward and Joel is there to catch you, like he always has been, like he silently vows he always will be. He rubs soothing circles against your spine and presses sweet kisses into your hair, waiting patiently as you try and regain what little composure you have left.Â
You lift your head from the crook of his neck, and your eyes are glossy and your bottom lip is swollen and your cheeks are flushed with a rosy hue, and Joel thinks youâve never been more beautiful. But then you slide from his lap to the floor in one fluid movement, and he realizes that this is the prettiest youâve ever been; on your knees before him, eyes bright with anticipation and excitement. You place your hands on top of his strong thighs, look up at him through your lashes and ask softly, âCan I suck your dick, Joel?â
He has to squeeze his eyes shut. He has to because his cock is so fucking hard and your voice is so sweet and filthy he canât handle it. He breathes in slowly through his nose and says, âOf course you can, baby.â
Without a moment's hesitation, you unbuckle his belt. The metal clinks in your fingers, and Joelâs heart is racing when you unbutton his jeans and hook your thumbs through the loops to tug them down. His cock snaps against his belly, and you lick your pink lips.
You take it in your hands, and Joel aches when you swipe your tongue over the tip, tasting the salty sweetness of his precum. He canât believe this is really happening, that youâre really here, running your sweet, sweet tongue over every inch of his cock. Youâre tasting him, savoring him, and Joel wonders if it pleases you to see him all bent out of shape like this.Â
He prides himself on his masculinity. Heâs always been a strong man, one who handles his shit on his own. Maybe itâs the Texas in him, but Joelâs always had traditional values. Heâs always been the provider, the protectorâheâs always been the one in charge. But when you wrap your lips around him and ease his cock into your hot, wet mouth, heâs at your complete mercy.Â
â Fuck,â he hisses, hands going to your hair. He tangles the silky strands between his fingers, and you hollow out our cheeks, creating a suction that has him groaning. He feels each pass of your lips down his spine, pressure forming low in his belly. âJust like that, pretty girl.â
You wrap your hand around the base and stroke the length you canât fit into your mouth, and his grip in your hair tightens. Your nails are painted redâand the look of them wrapped around his cock is far better than heâd ever been able to imagine in his head. Itâs so good that he doesnât want to stop, he wants to cum just like this. He wants to expend himself at the back of your throat and watch his cum leak out of your mouth.
But Joel doesnât get too far ahead of himself. There are other things, filthier things he wants to do to you than fill your mouth up. You let out a whiny groan as if sucking him off is somehow more pleasurable for you than it is for him. Itâs the sexiest thing heâs ever seen, and the vibrations nearly send him over the edge, but Joel rips your head back to prolong this precious time with you.Â
Your eyes are glassy, makeup smeared, lips swollen. You give him a beaming smile and Joel huffs a breath. âDid I do a good job?â
â Yes, baby,â he says. âYou did so well. Câmere, stand up.â You do as told, even though your legs are wobbly, and Joel lifts your foot into his lap. He unbuckles the straps of your heel, takes it off and sets it aside. He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh and repeats the action with the other one, and then proceeds to pull your panties down your legs. He helps you out of the pink lace, and he knows he shouldnât but he just canât help himself and shoves them between the couch cushions, where he hopes youâll forget about them.
He presses his mouth to your hip bone, an open mouthed kiss that leaves goosebumps in its wake as he does the same to your other side. âThat feels so good,â you tell him.
Joel keeps peppering wet kisses across your belly, below your navel, over your pubic bone. Your thighs are pressed together, and youâre shifting on your feet in anticipation, and Joel can see the shiny wetness coating your pussy. He reaches between your legs and so gently slides his middle finger teasingly over your slit. It comes away sticky and wet, and he canât resist the urge to lick the digit clean. Itâs heady and sweet, and he feels drunker than whiskey or tequila has ever made him. âOh, sweetheart,â he says, forehead falling against your abdomen. âWhat are you doing to me?â
âItâs okay,â you tell him. âI want you so bad, Joel. Please touch me.â Your hands are in his hair, stroking the unruly curls and lightly pulling.
The word please in your mouth sounds so fucking cute, so needy and desperate. What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to be a good man when you exist? He canât, Joel knows. So long as youâre nearâheâll never be a good man. Only a bad one. Only a perverse one. He hooks his arm around your leg and lifts it over his shoulder, keeping his other hand wrapped around your waist for balance, and lets himself taste you fully, to drink from the source.Â
And Jesus Christ, Joel loses it. He laps at your pussy, swallowing you up. He cleans up the mess you made in his lap, relishing in the decadence. He could do this for hours, he thinks. Could swirl his tongue around your swollen clit, could suck it between his lips, and kiss it softly for the rest of his life. He breathes in slowly, taking your scent deep into his lungs, and wonders why heâd ever want to come up for air. Your moans are music to his ears.
He dares a glance up at you to watch your expression when he reaches beneath you and slips a finger easily into your dripping pussy.Â
Your head falls back, your mouth falls open, and Joel falls in love.Â
The noises you make are obscene as you grind against his face, but not nearly as much as the sounds heâs making from between your legs. Heâs groaning with your clit in his mouth and youâre creating a puddle in his palm, and itâs so sloppy and disgusting and he fucking loves it.Â
Joel silently admits that you were right; that he loves your obscenities. He loves your secrets. He loves your defiance. He loves your depravity.Â
He loves that youâre such a fucking slut.Â
âOh, godâ Joelâ!â
He pulls away because if youâre going to moan out his name again itâs going to be because of his cock. He stands abruptly, keeping one hand at the small of your back, and holds your jaw. With your face tilted up towards him, he smirks as he watches tears form in your eyes. âWhatâs wrong, baby?â
âWhy did you stop?â Your voice is so whiny, so hopeless and frantic that it makes his cock twitch. âYou were about to make me cum,â you say.
He kisses you hard, and you moan into his mouth, and Joel runs out of patience. He lifts you up and lays your back flat against the couch. Heâs hovering over you, and his cock is just inches from the place itâs wept to be inside for so many years. Joel rolls it against you, gasping at the feel of your pussy on the underside of his cock. Youâre so wet, and he doesnât know how heâs supposed to last long enough for this to be good for you.Â
But heâs determined. â Joel,â you beg breathlessly, bucking your hips to try and find just the right angle where he slips inside.
âYeah, baby?â He tilts his head slightly, watching as your eyes flicker back and forth between his hips and his predatory grin.Â
âYouâre being mean,â you say. âStop teasing me. Just put it in, Joel, I need it so bad.â
He kisses your forehead. âSâthat right?â
âYes!â
Itâs impossible, he thinks, to hold back his laugh. âYouâre so fucking cute, baby,â he says. âSay please.â
â Please! Please, please pleâ!â
Joel lets out a ragged breath as he pushes into you. Finally, he thinks. Finally, finally, finally. âFuck.â
Itâs so much better than he ever imagined. He sinks in deep until your hips are flush, and even then he pushes your knee back to open you up and get impossibly deeper.Â
âOh my god,â you whimper, and Joel kisses you to swallow up the beautiful sound.Â
You take him like you were made for his cock. And maybe you were, because Joel had never known it could be this fucking good. He knows itâll never be this good again. âYouâre taking it like such a good slut, baby,â he whispers into your ear, tongue sliding up your neck. He pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, the sudden change in force ripping a cry from your throat. âShhh, itâs okay. You can take it.â
With your arms and legs wrapped around him, Joel fucks you slow. Real slow, real deepâheâs touching parts of you you didnât even know existed. You feel so full and pressure coils around your spine.Â
âFeels good, doesnât it?â
âYes, yes yesâ mmmâ!â
He sets a steady pace, hitting that soft spot inside of you every time. He reaches between your bodies and swipes this thumb over your clit. âSay thank you, baby.â
You look right into his eyes, warm and dark and full of devotion. You say, â Thank you, Joel,â and you suddenly remember the same memory he does of that first day.Â
He remembers how pretty you looked on your knees, and you remember how you spent that whole night in your bed touching yourself to him.Â
And now itâs happened, itâs finally happened, and his cock is buried deep inside of you and his thumb is pressing hard against your clit and before he realizes it, your pussy is squeezing him as you cum.Â
Tremors rock through your body, legs shaking and red painted fingernails clawing at his back. He keeps his same steady pace and says, âGive it to me, baby. Good fucking girl, being such a good little slut for me. Thatâs it. Give it to me. There you go.â
Even when your muscles loosen, you keep your limbs wound around him tight. Like even though youâve finished and heâs seconds away from following you there, you still want him as close as possible. It makes him feel tender. âI want you to cum inside me,â you say, and Joelâs cock spasms in your tight pussy. âCum in me, Joel, please âfill me up.â
He shouldnât, he really fucking shouldnât, but he already is, and stars blur his vision. Joel fights through the blindness though, and squeezes your cheeks in his hand. âLook at me,â he orders, and looking at your face makes him cum even harder. You take his thumb into your mouth, soft tongue circling it. And Joel bottoms out inside of you, has the best orgasm of his entire fucking life inside of a girl half his age, but cannot bring himself to regret a single second.
The weight of him over you is heavy but comforting. Itâs perfect, and helps you catch your breath. Joel is panting, and you smell like vanilla and irish spring and cherry chapstick and when his eyes close, he wonders if heâs died and gone to heaven.Â
Your fingers are stroking his spine lazily when the fear creeps in. Do you regret it? Now that itâs out of your system, do you wish youâd never have done it? Never have taunted him, never had let him keep all those secrets, never have come over tonight? The Evil Dead DVD sits on the floor by the front door, abandoned.Â
There couldnât have been much tequila in your mixed drink. You didnât taste like alcohol at all. But still, youâd had someâdo you feel like maybe he took advantage of you?Â
Joel is afraid to look at you. Heâs afraid to open his mouth, to ask if youâre alright, to apologize, to beg for your forgiveness.Â
But then you ask him softly, âIs it okay if I sleep with you tonight?â
He hears the echo of those words, and wonders if you do, too. You wince as he finally sits up and pulls himself out of you. He knows he should say no, but he canât. Instead, he asks, âWill you make pancakes in the morning?â
The sound of your girlish laughter greets him and calms his fears for now. âAnything you want.â
Joel stops at the bathroom on the way to his bed and cleans the sticky mess from between your legs. Itâs then as he realizes how many unhinged decisions heâd made tonight. He doesnât know if youâve slept with other people without protection, doesnât know if youâre on birth control, doesnât know if youâd be willing to take a contraceptive pill in the morning if youâre not, doesnât know anything. The distance, while easier, has taken so much of you from him. And the realization leaves Joel cold.Â
Youâre so young, and heâs so much older than youâŚif the worst happened, would it even be the worst? Do you even want kids?Â
A new fantasy emerges in his brain. The first one since admitting to himself that itâs a little more than just an intrusive thought. Youâre standing on the back porch with a beaming smile, hand over your eyes to block out the bright summer sun while he mows the lawn. Youâre in a pretty pink sundress, and your belly is swollen with Joelâs baby, and his knees buckle as he leads you to his bedroom.Â
You climb in beside him, and he holds you under the blankets a little tighter than you hold him. Emotion chokes him. Joel swallows it down. But then you ask, âWhatâs wrong?â
âI want to keep you,â he confesses. âI want to keep you forever.â
For a moment, itâs quiet. He wonders if maybe you think heâs going to say more, but he doesnât. He doesnât know what else to say. He doesnât have anything else to say.Â
âSo do it,â you whisper.Â
âBut I canât.â
âYou can,â you tell him with a sigh. âYou can, Joel. Thatâs the real secret.â
The words reverberate through him. They clang around in his brain and leave him with something akin to elation. You kiss his jaw, and Joel thinks maybe you might be right. Maybe he will keep you.Â
But for tonight, having you here pressed against him with the promise of pancakes in the morning is enough.
[PART TWO]
[masterlist]
divider by @thecutestgrotto <3
#ao3 fanfic#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel tlou#pearlessance#ao3 writer#no outbreak!joel miller#no outbreak au#joel the last of us#age difference#smut#dads best friend#dbf!joel#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller imagine#our little secret
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homesick
a cowboy like me one shot
oh, i missed these two. here's a little check-in on my favorite morally irresponsible outlaws.
pairing:Â dbf!joel miller x fem!reader
summary: you spend the weekend back home in austin with joel.
warnings:Â age gap (early 20s/late 40s), twinge of angst, piv sex in the shower (beware of slippage). you know the drill with these two. part of the cowboy like me universe, but can probably be enjoyed as a standalone.
word count:Â 6.3k
series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post đ§Ą
âThis is Joel Miller. I canât come to the phone right now, so leave a message and Iâll get back to ya.â
You wait for the beep, pacing along a wall of steel cylinders. The laundromat is stifling, the machinesâ drumming deafening. Itâs eighty-something degrees out, and itâs only six oâclock.
âPick up, Miller. Hello? Hello? I know youâre there. Canât come to the ââ you clear your throat, strum the twang in your vocal cords, ââ Canât come to the ph-owww-ne right nââ
The line clicks as he picks the handset up.
âDid you call just to make fun of me, kid?â
You halt, spinning on your heel. âSo you were screening me?â
He scoffs. âDidnât notice the time. Iâve been out back with Tommy.â
âOh,â you mellow, tongue curling around your ice cream, âWe donât have to call right now, you know. Iâm just doing laundry.â
âIt is six there, right?â
âYeah, but donât let me keep you. Go hang with your brother.â
Joel sighs as he sinks back into his couch. âKeep me. He knows you were calling tonight. Heâs probably outside fraternizing with the neighbor, anyway. Wonât even notice Iâm gone. Laundry, huh?â
âMhm.â You suckle on the lip of the waffle cone. âItâs a beautiful night, and Iâm stuck being force-fed MĂśtley CrĂźe and watching a steel drum shred my panties.â
âSounds like a good time to me.â
âEnough, cowboy.â
âI like MĂśtley CrĂźe,â he chuckles. âThey got some hits under their belt.â
âName five.â
âFive,â he says. âYouâre asking a lot there, darlinâ.â
âOf MĂśtley CrĂźe or of your memory, old man?â
Joel hums. âShouldâve seen that one coming, baby.â
You boost yourself up onto one of the dryers, swinging your legs. If there were anyone else in the laundromat, youâd care to hide your fluster â but youâre here on your own, and the man just melts you. All girlish and giggly, you feel his words swirl around your stomach like sweet honey.
âTell me about your day,â you say, covering the flutter in your voice with another mouthful of ice cream.
âWell,â Joel says, âweatherâs fine, workâs fine. Almost done with that renovation for your favorite clients.â
You gasp. âThe old couple with the cats?â
He grumbles. âThatâs them. They still hate me, by the way.â
âThe couple, or the cats?â
ââŚJuryâs out.â
You snicker.
âThen, uh, I called Sarah, had some dinner, and now here I am talkinâ to you.â
âHm. Iâm your favorite part, right? Iâm your favorite part of today?â
Joel pauses, breathing for a moment. Slow, quiet, but sure, he says: âYouâre my favorite part of every day.â
The smile on your face cracks, crumbles into something more pained. Your heart sinks.
Itâs been three months since you were last home. Technically, itâs been seven weeks since you were in Austin â but Joel was out of town for the weekend, and you spent four days cleaning your dadâs gutter and watching westerns.
Itâs been three months since you were last in Joelâs arms. In his house, in his clothes, in his bed. Three months since you heard his voice not through the crackle of a thousand miles apart; since you smelled him on your skin, not on the flannels youâve stolen from him.
Three long, tough months.
And it means nothing, anyway. All this missing each other. So you tell yourselves, and so you tell everyone else. Youâre not together, youâre not committed. Youâve been seeing other people, so has Joel â even if heâs only been on two dates in the nine months since you moved away.
Spending a casual weekend together here and there is enough to get you by. Itâs easier this way, right? Itâs cleaner. There are no crossed wires, no strings at risk of becoming tangled.
Only â your entire relationship is woven in tangled strings. Messy, knotted, twisted around your fingers and threaded through your ribs. A summerâs worth of weaving yourselves closer and closer together, only to be pulled apart come fall.
It didnât take long to prove that when a knot is pulled, it only binds tighter.
It only binds sorer.
âAnyway,â Joel says, âyour turn. How was your day?â
You gulp, slipping down from the dryer to check on your wash. If you speak, youâll break, and if you break, youâll sob.
âBaby? You still there?â
âYep,â you croak. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and shake your head. âI â uhâŚYeah, my day was fine.â
The line quietens.
âYou sure? Everything okay at work?â
Your reflection blinks back at you in the window of the machine, warped and molten. She opens her mouth and replies, âAll good.â
He can read you even three states apart. âLet me call you back. Hold on.â
The call disconnects before you can protest. Over your shoulder, another regular shuffles into the laundromat.
She smiles, skin supple and sun-spotted, looking but not looking you in the eye. She slides her full basket over one of the machines on the other side of the room, and tosses her clothes into the drum.
When your phone vibrates again, you pass by her and out onto the street.
Joelâs pixelated living room stretches across your screen.
âJoel,â you sniff, âJoel, itâs ââ
âCan you see me?â
âNo, you gotta flip your ââ
ââŚnever know why the damn thing donât ââ
âThe button with the arrows. The camera button, Joel, itâs ââ
His coffee table flips, and in place â straight, dark brows drawn tight in a frown. Crows feet, scar across the bridge of his nose. Peppered hair a little longer than the last time you called, beard a little thicker.
The only person in the world who can weaken your knees and splinter your chest, in one fleeting glance.
âHi, baby girl,â he whispers, expression softening. âLook at you.â
You slump against the warm wall, sliding down. One sight of him, and your knees give. âOh, my God, I miss you today.â
Joel laughs. His head cocks, smirk tugging at his lips. âI miss you every day.â
âYeah, thatâs â thatâs what IâŚâ you sigh, ââŚThatâs what I meant. Itâs just â some days, you feel a little further away.â
âToday one of those days?â
You nod. A car soars by, whipping hot air from the road which pours over your bare legs. âItâs justâŚbeen a day. Thatâs all.â
âWe can talk about it, if you want. Youâre hell of a lot smarter than me, darlinâ, but Iâve had my share of bad days before. Never does any harm to get it off your chest.â
He smiles. It breaks your heart.
He works ten hours straight, some days. Out at the crack of dawn, home with only enough time and energy to nuke something in the microwave. Somewhere amongst that, he fits in beers with Tommy and ridiculous DIY jobs your dad elicits his help for.
And still â he sets aside an hour or two every few nights, specially for you. He collapses into his couch, decaf in his mug, and puts the world to rights with you on the other end of the phone.
The meaningless work dramas, the paper building up on your desk. The commute, for the love of God â the traffic jams you swear will one day be the death of you. The last thing Joel needs is to listen to your problems on end, and you tell him so.
âBullshit,â he replies. He shakes his head, takes a sip of his beer. âI asked, didnât I? Talk to me. Tell me whatâs goinâ on.â
You groan. âI justâŚI wish I could turn my brain off. Just for a little while. No meetings, no call times. No helping my dad trim the trees in the yard when Iâm home for the weekend.â
He laughs. âHe rope you into that one too, huh?â
âSure did.â You tense your fist, wince at the memory of splinters you were still plucking from your palm even weeks later.
âI got nothing to complain about,â you tell Joel, âI know that. This job isâŚitâs right where I want to be. Just â sometimes, I miss being back in Austin, following you around Costco and hiding from my dad. Itâs like life was simpler then.â
Joel chokes. âI guarantee you,â he coughs, thumping his chest clear of beer, âlife was not simpler. Not by a long shot. Goddamn.â
He swings to his feet and wanders across the room to his kitchen. Past his armchair, past the guitar mounted on the wall. Past the dining chair he always hangs his coat from. You know the anatomy of his home better than your own, it feels like.
You sure as hell miss it more than your own.
âLemme seeâŚâ Joel squints over his phone. He leans over his kitchen counter. âWhatâs next weekend look like for you?â
You shrug. âMy weekend off.â
âNothing planned?â
âNothing yet.â
He nods. âIâm meeting a supplier on Saturday afternoon, but if you can stand to be without me for a few hours, thenâŚâ
His eyebrows lift.
So do yours. âThenâŚ?â
âI can look at flights,â Joel says, âget you booked tonight. Pick you up Friday, drop you off Sunday. Spend the whole weekend with your brain shut off, if thatâs what youâre lookinâ for.â
A wave of warmth floods through your chest. Relief, maybe â or simple adoration for the man on the other end of the phone. Most likely, the way it always seems with Joel, itâs both at once.
He loves you. Enough to break every rule in the book. To go behind his best friendâs back for an entire summer. He loves you enough to let you go, watch you follow your wildest dreams, and then be the safety net at the end of each long day, each hard night.
He loves you enough to scratch everything off his calendar for a few days, just to make sure youâre okay. Just to hold you in his arms, heart beating a rhythm he knows better than his own. Just to sing you to sleep, and wake you up with burnt toast and runny eggs.
You pull the collar of your shirt over your nose and weep into the material. âI ever tell you how much I love you?â
He smiles. âNot half as much as I love you.â
âGross.â
âI know.â
The laundromat door flings open.
Face now flushed and hair scraped back, the woman clocks you immediately and throws a pointed finger in your direction. âAre you coming to get your panties or what, little girl?â
She clicks her teeth and disappears again. The blind hanging over the door rattles with the force it slams closed.
âGuess thatâs my cue,â you whisper, heaving to your feet. âBetter go get my panties.â
âWhy?â Joelâs making his way back outside. âAinât like youâre gonna need âem.â
You scoff. âTalk later, cowboy.â
Austin welcomes you back with a delayed flight, a screaming seatmate, and a raging headache.
The airport is busy. Loud busy. All chittering couples, hordes of kids with nauseatingly bright backpacks. You drag your suitcase through to arrivals, careful not to trip over the wheels of the stroller ahead.
When you spot his tall, dark figure weaving between bodies, the gate hushes. You move towards him by instinct, parting the crowd as you go. The magnet in your chest senses its partner drawing nearer, and nearer, and nearer.
And nearer, until heâs reaching out. Heâs close enough that his hands land on your waist, and itâs the first time in three months that youâve felt this weight â his weight, the way only he feels â all around you.
Joel pulls you in to his chest. He locks you in, resting his chin on your head.
âHi, honey.â
You inhale his scent, breathe in the comfort of him. âHi,â you exhale.
Tears prickle at your eyes. It feels stupid. He looks down at you, thumb swiping across your cheek, and a salty droplet spills.
âHow was the flight?â he asks.
âGood.â
âYou okay?â
âPerfect, now.â
âYou look perfect,â Joel grins, âLook like the sun.â
And you could swat him away, could shrug him and his flirting off. The sun sure as hell doesnât look stewed in three-hour plane, too tired to move and too clingy to unhook from her dadâs best friendâs arm.
But thatâs not what heâs saying, is it?
You do look different. You feel different. You feel brand new. Golden â just like the sun.
These days, it feels like there are two versions of you. One, youâve spent the better part of a year polishing off â electric and vibrant, eyes wide and head spinning, moving through her day like gliding on air and then collapsing in a heap come nightfall. Chaos with a clipboard and call sheet.
And the other â slower. Steadier. Surer on her feet, simpler in her ways. Dust under her heels and a Texan shine in her smile. Honeylike; moving where her body tells her to go, drinking up the world as she pleases.
Thereâs a moment, stood under the fluorescent lights of the terminal, where you feel the first give way to the second. Safe now, in Joelâs arms, to slip back into her old, worn boots and shutter her mind â even just for this weekend.
âCome on,â he whispers, wrapping his hand around yours. âLetâs get you home.â
And there never seemed like a better idea than that.
He keeps your things in his shower caddy.
Bottom basket, strictly yours. Shampoo and conditioner and bodywash and a loofah, all exactly where you left them last time you were here. He says it as he cranks the handle, holds his palm under the flow until itâs just right.
âThe strawberry stuffâŚ?â Joel nods to the bottle, face screwed.
You gasp. âYou donât like it?â
He shakes his head. âLike it on you. I smelled like a fruit farm for a week, baby.â
âMakes a change from wood trimmings,â you mutter, peeling the shirt from your chest.
Joel glares over his shoulder. âYou wanna say that a little louder?â
âNo, sir,â you whisper, and step into the cubicle.
The water pours over your head and down your spine, breathing life back into your body. You close your eyes and let it wash down your face. LA feels so distant, so lost to the steam and serenity in Joelâs ensuite.
He lingers in the doorway, watching as you turn under the shower. He smiles when you hold your hand out and flick your fingers.
âSoap, please.â
âYes, maâam,â he says, dropping it in your palm.
You slip the velvety bar over your skin. The soap lathers in thick, milky bubbles, cascading over your chest down to your hips. Your hands lift from your navel to cup your breasts, pinching your nipples between soft fingers.
Joelâs jaw ticks. He crosses his arms, shoulders tensing. âEasy, darlinâ. Dancing with the devil here.â
It burns low in your stomach.
You pass him the bar back. âMaybe I want to dance,â you murmur. âMaybe he does, too.â
His eyebrows lift. âMaybe he does,â he agrees. He trades the soap for shampoo, tapping the bottle against your hip.
The heat grows under your skin. Having him watch, his close eye on you as you wash the suds from your hair and slick bodywash over your skin.
His eyes drift from your chest to your waist, looping up to your soaked eyelashes and dripping bottom lip, diving again between your legs.
Hungry. Starved, even.
Three months of secret photos and sexy phone calls to get you both by. Three months of imagining you, fist around his cock in the dead of night, coating his stomach just with the thought of you.
And right here, right now, in his shower: the real thing. The forbidden fruit. Body hot and skin soaked, just as desperate as he is. Just as needy.
You step forward, reaching for his shoulders. Arms around his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt, you pull him closer.
âDance with me,â you whisper against his lips, stealing a kiss.
Joelâs gaze darkens. He takes your jaw and tilts your head back. Voice like thunder rolling over you, he warns, âI told someone weâd be somewhere.â
You smile, tugging on the hem of his shirt. âWeâre running late. Somethingâs come up.â
His arms lift and you pull the cotton over his head, tossing it to the floor. Heâs the same solid sculpture as always. Strong and wide, torso scattered with hair which thickens across the span of his chest.
He rids himself of his boots and jeans, kicks his underwear off, and joins you under the water. So big that he corners you, so tall that he has to adjust the showerhead.
Pressed up against your body; warm, manly scent raining over you. Heâs hard, tucked right by your hip, rutting gently as he steals kiss after kiss.
Heâs addicted to it. To you. Has been ever since that first night, the first taste of poison. Has been, probably, since that first glimpse of you last summer. For all the wrong reasons and in all the wrong ways, for better or worse â
You break him open. You make him weak.
Joel groans when you wrap your hand around him. That familiar weight in your grasp. He glances down to watch your slow strokes, fighting back a filthy smile.
âMissed you,â he breathes, voice lost to the patter of the shower. He slips a hand between your legs. âAinât gonna last long, are you?â
âFuck,â you hiss, grinding into his palm. You toy with his bottom lip, nipping at the edges of his smirk. âWe got all weekend. Just â just fuck me.â
He hikes your leg over his hip and lines up. A blooming ache when he notches at your hole, tip teasing your entrance.
Your back curls. You wrap your arms around Joelâs neck, whimpering into his chest.
ââs alright,â he kisses your neck, âJust take it nice ân slow. Get her used to me again, baby.â
He pushes inside, two heavy hands on your waist. Always in control, always easing you in. He holds you delicately, moving inch by inch, watching the twist of your brow and bite of your lip before sinking in further.
He reaches up and tilts the downpour to the wall. Lifts your fragile body, split in two on his cock, and pushes you against the tile.
Your cunt aches as he slides out. She clamps around his tip. It hurts â but you donât want to let him go.
âStay,â you cry, nails digging into his shoulders. âStay inside me.â
He hums and presses his lips to the hinge of your jaw. âI ainât goinâ anywhere, baby. Iâm right here.â
His hips move forward. Your cunt opens for him the deeper he moves. Like welcoming him home, remembering the way it feels to be this full. The stretch of taking him, the air stolen from your lungs. The love you can never find the beginning nor the end of.
And then heâs moving quicker, sharper, one arm wrapped around your neck to cradle your head. Hips snapping against yours, slowing to a roll when you yelp.
Whispering sweet nothings in your ear â how good youâre taking him, how tight she is. How much heâs missed this, missed her, missed you. Never wants to let you go, never wants to be anywhere except right here, feeding you his cock and watching you come undone.
âMade for me, huh?â Joel grunts. He presses his forehead to yours and slips the words across your tongue. âAll mine.â
âAll yours,â you echo, weeping under him. The flame catches and curls around your stomach.
The missing piece to the last nine months. The dead-end dates, the hazy hookups. Awkward good mornings, and goodbyes that never seem to come quick enough. Sneaking off home to shower the scent of it away, to replace it with something sweeter.
Him.
Because none of them are him.
They donât make you laugh and they donât make you come. They donât see you, donât hang on your every word. They donât â they canât break your world apart and paint it something new. They donât know your every move, donât understand the most fleeting glances.
You could spend forever circling every bar and every diner; what do you do for work and where did you grow up. You could chase the tail of every flannel shirt, search all over for that twinkle in his eye.
Theyâre not him. Theyâll never be him.
Joel coaxes you where he needs you. He fucks you until youâre quivering in his arms, head rolling across his shoulder. His thrusts begin to stall, breathing turns to panting, teeth sink into any part of your skin he can find.
He moans into your neck. The sound nudges you towards the edge.
âIâm close, baby,â he grits, ââm so close.â
You look up at him through tear-soaked eyes.
Three months. Since the last time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you like this. Since the last time he lost control, came deeper inside than anyone before, or anyone since.
Three months since the last time you held him in your hands, lined your lips with his, and begged him to stay in you.
Joel laughs. âDangerous little game, darlinâ.â
But heâs fading. Heâs falling under, same as you are.
You want it. You need it. Need to be full of him â that ache when you walk, the warmth leaking down the inseam of your thighs. The feeling of being his, all his; ruined and wrecked in the sweetest way.
âStay â inside,â you plead. âI want you to â want it so bad.â
âKeep begging, honey. Sound so cute when youâre desperate.â
âPlease, Joel,â itâs getting harder to hold, âJust wanna feel you in me ââ
âI know, I know,â he shushes.
You tense in his arms, gasping. âIâm gonna â come ââ
âSo,â Joel smirks, âcome.â
And it snaps.
You scream into his chest. Your climax pulls you under, drowns you in a heavy wave of pleasure. Your hips lock, legs clamp around his waist as you cry out.
He plants a hand flat against the tile to steady himself. He holds you still as his own orgasm rolls through, pumping your swollen cunt with each rush of warm release.
You collapse against his body, bubbling and mumbling something incoherent.
He hears you, though.
He shuts the water off and rocks you back and forth. His cock slips from between your legs. âShh, shh,â lips to your temple, ââs my girl. Such a good girl, baby. So good for me.â
You hum in response and pull yourself upright. You trace the shape of his beard, soaking wet and soft under your touch, following the droplets of water to his chin.
He kisses the tips of your fingers. âI love you,â he says. Chants it like a prayer, leaning closer and closer until his lips are against yours. âLove you more ân anything.â
You giggle. âYouâre tickling me.â
Joel nuzzles his nose into your neck. He wriggles his fingers under your ribcage. âCanât get enough of you,â his tongue swipes across your hot skin, âSwear to God, baby, youâre killing me.â
âJoel,â your head falls back with a clap of laughter, âJoel, stop â oh, my God, you have to stop, please â Joel!â
He hoists you onto his hips and turns. Hands still exploring, still pinching and squeezing everywhere they shouldnât be, he carries you out to his bedroom and drops you onto the mattress.
âHere,â he chuckles, wrapping a towel around your body. He knots it over your chest and rubs your waist, before flopping down onto the bed with a sigh.
You roll over on top of him and fix the dripping hair from his forehead. âMissed you,â you whisper, trailing kisses along his collarbone.
He smiles. His heart flutters beneath yours. âMissed you more,â he says.
His semen drips between your legs. Heâs softening against the inside of your thigh. The bed is soaked, sheets thatâll need changed before you sleep tonight. Youâre tired, spent, pussy throbbing from the loss of him â and itâs all so perfect.
Being here, with him. Seeing him, feeling him on your body. In your body, for crying out loud. Holding him, kissing him, loving him up close.
Itâs fucking perfect.
âWhat are we running late for?â you ask.
Joelâs eyes flutter open. He cocks his head, frowning.
âYou said we had somewhere to be,â you clarify.
âOh,â he winces, âUh, your dadâs. Heâs havinâ us for dinner.â
âOh,â you echo. âWhen is he expecting â?â
He glances at the clock. âHalf hour ago.â
âNice.â You push yourself up, slipping from his grasp. âWell, this is about to be awkward.â
Joel folds his arms behind his head. He tracks your flurried movements: lugging your bag across the floor, tearing through it for an outfit that doesnât scream, Your best friend just fucked me senseless in his shower.
When you straighten and lift your arms, eyes wide, his lips turn.
âYou said you wanted to dance, baby. I was just following orders.â
The sun filters through the leaves, breathing back and forth with the sway of the trees.
Youâre horizontal in a deckchair, feet in Joelâs lap, blanket around your shoulders. Full on burgers and baseball talk; if it werenât for your dadâs riveting conversation about his new lawnmower, youâd probably be asleep.
âRide-on,â he tells Joel, nodding. It makes gardening a real thrill, apparently. He flicks a hand over the span of the yard. âWhole thing done in less than twenty minutes. Hank says heâs half a mind to make an investment himself.â
Joel purses his lips. He strokes your ankles soothingly. âSounds like a good buy,â he placates.
Your dad drums on his armrests, admiring his yard some more. He mumbles something about raking the leaves, painting the fence, then â with a vigor that makes you jump, he taps your arm.
âHowâs work, kiddo? Still rockinâ ân rollinâ?â
Your eyes flash across Joelâs. The hell does that even mean?
The corner of his lip twitches. Your guess is as good as mine.
âYep,â you lie. âLiving the dream, Dad.â
Joel says nothing. He hasnât told your dad why you came home â hasnât even mentioned the tears outside the laundromat. Your secret is safe with him, you know that. Some puzzles are easier to figure out, the less eyes that are on them.
He hasnât even brought it up with you yet. Granted, youâve been home all of four hours, and a solid quarter of that time has been spent naked with him back at his place â but heâs waiting for you to make the first move.
This weekend doesnât have to be about work. Hell, it doesnât even have to be about you feeling homesick. It can be as simple as you hadnât seen your dad for a few weeks, or you heard the news about the damn lawnmower and just had to pay a visit.
Itâs what youâve always loved so much about Joel. Itâs what reeled you into him in the first place.
He just lets you be. No questions, no pressure, no worries. He knows youâll figure it out â you always do. And if he knows that, then it makes you believe in it, too.
Dad sinks back into his chair with a sigh. âWhatâs on the cards this weekend, then?â
âJoelâs down San Antonio way tomorrow,â you yawn, âSome supplier meeting.â
âYou donât feel like a road trip?â
Your eyes roll to Joel. Heâs already staring back. You cock an eyebrow, smirking into your glass.
His shoulder rolls in a shrug. âYour call, chief,â he says, tipping his drink to you.
The minute he mentioned the meeting last week, you knew youâd be tagging along. Two hours each way and an hour in between is too big a chunk of your weekend together to miss out on.
That â and youâve missed Joelâs front-seat singing.
It doesnât matter what you planned on doing â rolling around his bed for three days straight, driving to San Antonio and back. Hell, trimming your dadâs trees and cleaning his guttering.
As long as youâre doing it with Joel, itâs enough.
Itâs what you came home for in the first place.
The drive passes quickly enough. Joelâs truck doesnât have Bluetooth, and he only keeps three discs in his glove compartment: Don McLeanâs American Pie, a Guitar Classics compilation album, and a blank disc with SARAH MILLER, SECOND GRADE scrawled in Sharpie.
He whips it from your hands when you fish it out of the compartment.
âListen, listen to this,â Joel says, slotting it in the tray. âFound it a couple weeks ago. I listen to it when Iâm drivinâ to work.â
Her squeaky, seven-year-old voice punches through the cabin. âWelcome to my presentation ââ she roars into the mic, pausing when a voice picks up in the background. âHuh?â Sarah asks.
âYouâre holdinâ the mic too close,â Joel murmurs, almost fourteen years younger. âFarther. Farther,â he says, and then â âAlright. Go.â
âWelcome to my presentation on Amelia E-Earhart,â she resumes, clearing her throat. âSheâŚOh, Daddy, we gotta restart. I forgot to tell âem my name.â
Joel covers his laughter with his fist, reciting it line for line. âTommy said heâs gonna make her a copy for her birthday,â he says.
âOh, my God. Sheâs gonna hate you guys, you know that, right?â
He nods. âIâm countinâ on it.â
Sarah rounds off a few facts about twentieth century air travel before Joel swaps her for the radio. He hands you the disc and you place it safely back in the glove compartment.
You curl up in the passenger seat, swinging your legs over to his lap.
He rubs your calves and glances over, smiling. âYou okay over there?â
âIâm more tired than I was when I landed,â you reply, and he laughs.
You havenât had much of a chance to catch up on sleep. The second you made it home last night, your dress was on the floor at the foot of Joelâs bed. He woke you this morning with his lips on your thighs, your underwear around your ankles.
He was midway through cooking breakfast when you floated into the kitchen to return the favor. The toast burned, the eggs shriveled to a crisp, and your knees bruised.
Fuck it, right? Youâll miss him when youâre gone. When all thatâs left are the memories, and the sound of his climax through speakerphone.
An afternoon spent on the road is good recovery time, then, for all thatâs waiting for you when you make it back to Joelâs tonight.
A few off-key covers of fifty number ones from the last fifty years later, youâre pulling into a barren lot headered by a beige trailer. The supplier springs out â a beefy guy with a full head of thick, white hair. He crosses the lot as Joel parks up.
Joel rounds the truck, pausing when he spots you lingering at the tailgate. He curves a hand around your neck, thumb circling over your pulse point. âYou cominâ?â
You twist the hem of your tee around your finger. âMaybe Iâll stay out here and wait. Itâs a nice night, and you ainât gonna be too long, right?â
He shakes his head. âBe as fast as I can. If it gets dark out, you come inside, alright?â
You shuffle into his embrace. âPromise.â
He kisses your head and steps back. âHere,â he slips the flannel from his shoulders, âIf youâre sittinâ out. Got my phone if you need me.â
He disappears inside and the door falls closed. A cluster of moths twirls around the light on the trailerâs side. You hop up on the bed of the truck, crossing Joelâs shirt around your frame, and nestle against the back window.
The sun pulls down towards the horizon, sending dregs of daytime in ripples to the stars. Sheâs still alight just beyond the trees, still burning a hole in the sky. She winks at you from a distance.
The world looks different from Austin. Bigger, like the view from your bedroom window. Thereâs always more, just beyond the horizon. There has to be more, right? More than four pink walls and a chest of drawers. More than Salâs store, more than Ritaâs cross stitch.
You chased that more halfway across the country â only to realize it was in your hands the whole time.
Him and his lazy smile, sarcasm as thick as the accent he speaks it in. Rolled up sleeves and messy collar; a half-empty cup of coffee and a cracked watch face.
Heâs all the more you could ever need.
Youâre still perched on the tailgate, staring skyward, when Joel finishes up.
He swaggers across the lot, tan arms speckled with dry dirt, boots kicking up dust. He tosses a fistful of papers in the front seat, then drifts around to settle between your knees.
âHi,â he whispers, tucking his nose under your jaw.
âHi.â
He plants his hands either side of your hips and kisses your neck. âHome time, sweet girl.â
You glance over your shoulder.
This time tomorrow, youâll be on your flight back. Row twelve, seat C. Joelâs flannel over your shoulders, slowly forgetting the scent of him, mile by mile. Youâll sleep with it tucked under your chin until it no longer smells like oak or pine, or the mint bodywash he uses.
Youâll miss it the way youâll miss him. Holding onto every last moment. Deep morning voice, warm, safe embrace. The rumble of a laugh in his chest, the glimmer or mischief in his eye. The touches he saves just for you; the words he whispers when the lights turn out.
You wrap your arms around his neck.
âCan we go watch the sunset somewhere?â
Joel glances off behind you. His eyes flit back to yours, sunlight catching their ochre and setting him ablaze.
âGet in,â he pulls you down, âI know just the spot.â
Itâs almost dusk by the time you reach the outlook.
A twisty dirt road which opens up between some trees, halfway out of the city. Joel reverses the truck and parks in the clearing. The two of you slide onto the tailgate, sharing a bag of fruit gums he had stored alongside Sarahâs CD.
The stars turn one by one, dotted across deep indigo. The last of the dayâs blush still lingers where the city meets the sky. Tucked between trees and twilight, it feels as though youâre the only two in the world.
Joel holds the bag out, and you pinch a couple pieces of candy. âHow you feelinâ?â he asks, looking out to the skyline.
âOkay, I guess,â you mutter. âThis has been a nice reset. I wish I could take you back with me.â
Joel laughs. âI donât.â
âNo?â you suckle on the sweet fruit, âI think youâd fit right in.â
âOh, Iâm sure.â He shakes his head, pinching your chin. âNaw, LA is yours. Itâs something you did, all by yourself. I am so proud of you, honey, do you know that? I mean, I miss you like hell, I really doâŚâ
He glances back down, rustling the bag in his hands. Heâs hiding, you know him well enough. Staring at his lap instead of in your eye. When he looks back up, thereâs a glimmer along his waterline.
ââŚBut the way I feel any time you call, and I knowâŚI know youâre out there doinâ something you actually give a shit about. You ainât stuck here, too big for your own bedroom, too comfortable for anywhere else.â
He slips a hand over your knee and squeezes.
Itâs infuriating, how right he always is. Youâre working your fucking ass off, and for good reason. Austin was always too small for the world inside your head. Missing each other is a price youâre both willing to pay, for the luxury of not missing out on every dream youâve ever had.
But â
âWhat if it keeps getting harder?â you sniff, âWhat if I need you more?â
Joel clicks his teeth. ââs always gonna get harder. Thatâs life, darlinâ. But the hard times wonât last forever. And when it feels real tough, and you feel like you canât do it no more, you call me. You jump on the next flight. You switch your brain off, and you let me take care of you for a little while.â
You shake your head. Tears break loose, rolling down your cheeks. âI canât ask that of you, Joel, you got your own shit to worry about ââ
âBaby.â He sighs. âIâm old. Iâve done everything I think I oughta do. You know, the days I know youâre gonna be callinâ at eight oâclock â itâs all I can think about. Iâm at work checking my watch every five minutes.â
You giggle, turning into the crook of his arm.
âItâs true,â Joel snickers, âIâm like a goddamn teenager. Thatâs what you do to me.â
He catches you and pulls you against his chest.
âWhat Iâm saying is â there ainât nothing that matters more to me in the world than you. My own shit to worry about? You mean â you?â
âShut up,â you scoff, spitting tears into his shirt.
âYou call,â he says, resolute, âand Iâll be there.â
âIâm calling,â you whisper. âIâm always calling.â
âThen Iâm always here.â
You sit back, bracing yourself on Joelâs thighs. He wipes the wet from your cheeks and fixes his shirt over your shoulders.
âYou know, one day,â you tell him, âyouâre gonna get a call, and itâs not just gonna be for the weekend.â
He smiles. âI know.â
âOne day, Iâm gonna come home forever, Joel.â
âI know,â he repeats. âAnd Iâll be on the front porch waitinâ.â
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#the last of us#tlou#tlou fic#joel miller smut#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel#fic: cowboy like me
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âlovers once a yearâ | 9.4k
dbf!joel miller x f!reader
SUMMARY: One always craves what is out of reach. Like the forbidden fruit that lingers just beyond grasp, tempting with its sweetness. Joel became the townâs greatest sinner, and you, his best friendâs daughter, are the tantalizing temptation he knows he should never indulge in. Your very existence marks the path to his ruin. He can't help but follow it. WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. joelâs POV. a lot of introspection. mentions of alcohol. miscommunication. no outbreak. dbf!joel. age gap (25 and 56). petnames. religious imagery. car sex. oral sex (f!receiving). fingering. unprotected p in v. riding. missionary. doggy style. orgasm denial. crying. hair pulling. thumb/finger sucking. cum shot. creampie. reader sits on joelâs lap and has hair. moodboard for aesthetic purposes only. A/N: the fact this idea has been sitting on my drafts for over a year is just crazy. i finally found the time to put into words, and i know iâm a little late to the whole dbf!joel trope, but iâm a real sucker for it... hope you like this one! <3
No one couldâve ever said Joel was a great best friend.
For one, he was terrible at remembering important dates. His mind just didnât catch hold of details like thatânever had, really. He wasnât the sentimental type, either. At best, heâd manage a pat on the back or a firm handshake, maybe even a call on Christmas if he remembered. Emotional displays werenât in his nature, far too used to keeping things at armâs length.
Luckily for him, Stephen never seemed to care much about these things. Theyâd been friends for over forty yearsâwhich is, well, a hell of a long time, especially considering each had gone off to carve out his own life. Theyâd trudged through both primary and secondary school side by side, and Joel felt Stephenâs absence like a hollow ache the day his friend left for university in another state.
Technology eventually offered them more ways to connect, but it didnât make keeping up any simpler. The years had tested them, and somehow, theyâd held on to the quiet strength of their friendshipâa bond theyâd forged across decades and distance, held steady like the roots of an old tree.
Stephen was the laid-back type, always down for anything as long as a cold beer was part of the deal. It was rare for him to lose his temper, having a way of letting nuisances slide. Joel could bend every rule, yet Stephenâs patience never wavered. He was unflappable, hardly bothered by Joelâs mood swings, which was what made them a match made in heaven. Nothing could throw him off.
Though Joel doubts Stephen would stay so calm if he knew what heâd done to his daughter. As mentioned, Joelâs not exactly what youâd call a good friendâparticularly considering heâs slept with his best friendâs daughter. Just once, to be fair. One ephemeral, impulsive encounter. Right here, in this very house, exactly three hundred and sixty-five days ago.
His gaze drifts across the room, settling on you at a smaller table a few meters away, surrounded by your younger cousins, ages five to fifteen. He watches as you scroll absent-mindedly on your phone, your brow furrowed in concentration, only tearing your eyes away from the screen when one of the kids hurls a handful of salty peanuts at you.
You press your palms flat against the tablecloth, eyes narrowing as you scowl playfully at the child, a mischievous glint in your expression. âYouâve got ten seconds to run,â you utter in a tone meant to sound ominous, tickling his sides until he erupts in laughter, his giggles filling the dining room with raw joy.
Joelâs been here for over two hours, but he canât recall a single detail about the nightâs events. All he knows is youâheâs studied your every movement, following the shape of your silhouette through the crowd. Heâs accepted a few drinks, engaged in shallow conversation with your relatives, trying his best to play the part of a man with nothing to hide. But despite his efforts, despite every attempt to appear unaffected, he feels a slow burn kindling in the pit of his stomach, an ache that curls through him in a deliciously destructive way.
Itâs when you look up, locking eyes with him, that he nearly mutilates the chicken breast on his plate, the knife skittering over porcelain with a screech. He quickly mutters an apology, excusing his clumsiness and blaming it on one too many drinks. Meanwhile, you donât quit glaring at him, a hint of a challenge dancing in your stare.
This shouldnât feel the way it does, this hazardous, risky game youâre playing. At one time, he mightâve thought this was something only seen in movies, something imagined and unreal. But here you are, and here he is, and the indisputable hunger in your eyes is as real as anything heâs ever known.
Suddenly, his memories drift back to a year ago, to your grandmotherâs 84th birthdayâthe night it all began.
Stephen had left Austin when he was eighteen to pursue a college degree. Thatâs how heâd ended up in New York, and from that point on, he never came back. Itâd been amazing to see him as an equal when they were teenagers, but as they grew older, the only things they shared were the white hairs scattered all over their beards and the memories of much better days.
Whenever they got in touchâwhich didnât happen oftenâyour dad would talk about you. You were just a name without a face, an empty canvas. Close to graduating, with only a few subjects and finals left. Psychology was your majorâwerenât you smart? Joel remembers typing back with a string of exclamation marks to show his contentment. His best friendâs daughter was a success; how could he not be happy?
One random day, Joelâs phone buzzed late in the afternoon, flashing with Stephenâs name. It was rare for them to talk outside the usual birthdays and holidays, so seeing his name on the screen sent a small jolt through him. A dozen scenarios raced through his mind as he picked up, each one edging between concern and curiosity.
Just like that, Stephen dropped the news without any preamble. âIâm moving back to Austin,â His voice came in clear, and there was something unusual about it, brisk but almost nostalgic. Joel gripped the phone a little tighter, processing the words. âIn fact, Iâm filling up the gas tank as we speak. Thereâs someone at home who wants to see you.â
That someone had been your grandmother. With a twinkle in her eye, sheâd insisted on inviting Joel to her 84th birthday. âItâs the perfect chance for you two to reconnect,â sheâd declared, her tone laced with warmth and hope. She adored Joel, practically worshipping the ground he walked on, often reminiscing about the vibrant young man he had once been.
Who could deny anything to an elderly person, especially one as cherished as her? He was strong, physically imposing, but not strong enough to resist her wishes.
The reunion was going as well as it could, given the circumstances. After all, it was a strange kind of delight, seeing his best friend for the first time in decades. Joel thought theyâd do what friends doâsit back, drink, smoke, and trade stories about the good old days.Â
Then you walked into the room, absolutely gorgeous and with a smile that was all teeth, and you reached out to shake Joelâs hand as you introduced yourself. The contrast hit him instantlyâyour skin was satin-like against his, smooth where his was rough and calloused from years of handling concrete and steel. A subtle heat bloomed where your fingers touched, the chill of the rings on your hand sending a shiver through him, as if his senses had sharpened in that brief instant.
You pulled away, taking a step back, your eyes flicking between him and your dad. Joelâs arm fell back to his side, his hand forming a tight fist, the bite of his nails embedded into his palm to keep him grounded. But he couldnât stop himself from scrutinizing youâevery detail of your face, the curve of your smile, the effortless way you carried yourself. Your beauty was at fault, not him. You were completely out of reach, yet close enough to marvel at. He was no more than a man, bound to notice the charm of a pretty girl like you.
That you happened to be the daughter of his best friendâthat was just a cruel stroke of fate.Â
âOh, sweetie. Iâm glad you got to meet Joel at last!â Stephenâs voice cut through his thoughts, an arm draping across Joelâs shoulders, pulling him into an affectionate embrace. âHeâs that friend from school Iâve been telling you about.â
Stephen looked so at ease, so utterly pleased, that Joel could only swallow back the lump in his throat. What kind of sick joke was this? What could he have possibly done to deserve this twist of the knife?
With a soft laugh, you folded your hands behind your back, tilting your head to the right. âMy father wouldnât shut up about you,â you said, light and melodic, drawing him in like a lure. Joel found himself adrift in the sweet cadence of your voice, entranced by the delicate chain glinting at your throat, resting just above the neckline of your shirt, the v-cut hinting at a world of temptation.
He blinked owlishly, fighting the images clawing behind his eyelids. âWell, heâs a good man, your father,â Joel managed, his smile strained. Not because it wasnât true, but because there was a blaring alarm in his head, warning him to get a fucking grip. He knew himself well enough to read the signs, the underlying meaning beneath these nerves, the quickened pulse, the quiet, undeniable urge to reach out and feel you.
He was gone already. He fancied you, and his mind raced with thoughts he knew he had no right to entertain. He imagined what youâd taste like, the way you might sound if he were between your legs, encouraging you to gasp his name. Yet, he was aware that these fantasies were as treacherous as they were forbidden, even more with you standing right in front of him. And your father, just inches away.
From the kitchen, someone called out to Stephen, and with a weary sigh, he unhooked himself from Joelâs shoulder. âComing!â he shouted back, already angling himself toward the door. He glanced back at the two of you, half-smiling while rubbing his temples. âI forgot how exhausting it is to host a family birthday party. Iâll be right back. You two go ahead and chat without me.â
Fuck, no, Joel thought to himself. Donât leave me here. Where the hell are you going?
Joel resorted to remaining silent, choosing instead to take a long sip of his beer to avoid the occasion of sin. He refused to look in your direction, fixing his gaze on anything that didnât involve your bare legsâthe same legs heâd just been eyeing in those damn denim shorts, which exquisitely hugged your thighs. But, then again, he shouldnât even be noticing that.
As he peered down at the carpet, he couldnât ignore the movement of your shoes as you stepped closer. He observed your fingers playing idly with the frayed edges of your shorts, your body inching nearer, and he braced himself in anticipation of whatever you might say next. When his eyes landed on yours, he was met with an aura of expectancy, a cocky smirk pulling at your lips.
âItâs a pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh, Mr. Miller,â you murmured, watching his Adamâs apple bob as he swallowed with effort. Letting your hand linger beside your face, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, glancing at him through your lashes. âIâve heard so much about you.â
Joel felt the flush rise to his cheeks, and there was no mistaking itâyou were doing this on purpose. Were you trying to push him off balance, to see how far heâd bend before snapping? Was this just a game for you, a bit of mischief to spice up a family gathering? The idea irritated him, but he couldnât entirely ignore the thrill woven into the discomfort. A quarter of his mind itched to play along, but the rest of him screamed to find the nearest exit.
âYâcan just call me Joel. No needa be so formal,â he mumbled, lifting the beer bottle to his lips once again, the bitterness spreading across his tongue.
âBut I like Mr. Miller better.â
His mind conjured all those images of fire and damnation, of being dragged to some dark, smoldering pit. Rotting in hell, he could already see himself within the flames. Tugging at the collar of his flannel, now too tight and hot, he gave a rough, clearing cough. âMâgonnaâgo find your dad.â
He was glad you didnât try to approach him in public again. For a few hours, he felt something close to tranquillityânot fully, though, as he could still hear echoes of your voice in the silences. Every so often, out of the corner of his eye, heâd catch you orbiting near him, lurking in his peripheral vision, even though you sat at a different table.
Later in the night, he wandered upstairs in search of the bathroom, instead stumbling upon your fatherâs childhood bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and he took the liberty to enter it, a familiar scent filling the room. He ran his fingers over the walls, still papered with posters he recognized well. It was as if time had paused thereâeverything remained as it had the last time heâd been in this very room. The framed portraits, the worn bedspread, and Stephenâs desk, scattered with foreign bills under a layer of glass, each one a memento from the different countries he had visited.
It was only a matter of time before you found him, a light knock on the open door drawing his attention. Joel turned on his heels, catching sight of you, acknowledging your presence with a slight bow of his head. You ambled toward him, curiosity alight in your steps, twisting the chain of your necklace, a restless gesture that betrayed the energy simmering beneath your calm exterior.
He scratched the back of his head, offering a half-hearted smile. âThis isnât the bathroom, right?â he joked, attempting a casual tone. The joke was a weak one, admittedly, but you laughed anyway, a nonchalant sound that showed the gleam of your teeth.
âNo, I donât think it is,â you replied, sliding onto the edge of the desk with an effortless ease. âWhat brought you here?â
âBirthday parties can be a bit overwhelmin', dontcha think?âÂ
âTotally.â
And then you went back to watching him, your eyes tracing his features with an almost stubborn intensity.Â
âYou gonna stop doin' that?â he asked, the words coming out sharper than he meant, though they didn't make you flinch.
âDoing what, exactly?â
âLookin' at me all doe-eyed.â His voice didnât waver, but he advanced in your direction. His knees nearly brushed against yours, the weathered denim grazing your bare skin, and only then did a flicker of uncertainty soften your confident stance. âWhatever it is youâre after, itâs not gonna happen. So quit tryinâ.â
You drew in a slow breath, pushing yourself to your feet. âYou sure about that?â Before he had the time to react, you were standing inches from him, your chest pressing against his, just close enough for him to feel the soft weight of your breasts. âShould I pretend, then, that I havenât noticed youâve been half-hard all night?â
Joel's jaw tightened, his teeth gritting almost painfully. His fists flexed by his sides, his entire body feeling heavier, muscles pulled taut by some invisible thread. "Watch your mouth.â
âOr what?â You hooked a finger inside his belt loop, tugging him that much closer. Your breath, fresh and minty, mingled with the faint scent of your perfume, and he inhaled both, heady on the mix. âYouâre gonna teach me a lesson?â
There was only so much patience a man like him could summon, and you were a thorn in his flesh, determined and unyielding. He leaned in, voice gruff as he uttered three words that made your brows knit together. âClose the door.â You stayed frozen, lips parting in surprise. âDid yâhear me? Mânot into exhibitionism. Close. The. Door.â
You did as he asked, obliging, stepping back to close the door before returning to your place. Without warning, he turned you around, pressing your palms flat against the cool glass of the desk, a sharp chill that made you yelp. His hand settled firmly on your back, guiding you down until your chest was flush against the surface as well. In one swift motion, your shorts were gone, followed by your soaked panties, a damp spot where your arousal had begun to seep through.
He slipped his fingers inside you first, his hand covering your mouth to stifle the needy whimpers escaping your lips. The roughness of his beard grazed your cheek as he hovered over you, his breath hot in your ear as he spoke. âBeinâ too fuckinâ loud, doll.â Matching the rhythm of the slow drag of his fingers, his hips pressed forward, grinding against the curve of your ass, each movement making his mouth go dry. âYâwant this cock that bad?â He nipped at your throat, and you, against his sweaty palm, mumbled what could have only been a muffled Yes. âThen I need yâto keep real quiet for me, alright?â
His jeans and boxers hung around his knees, his cock leaking and throbbing at the tip. Joel realized what true desperation felt like, dangerously close to busting his load at any given moment before even getting the chance to be fully inside you. On top of the desk, your body trembled, and you reached back, pulling your top higher up to bare more of yourself to him. He unclasped your bra with one hand, while his other guided him to your entrance, his lips pressing reverently against your spine as he pushed inside, savoring the heat of your walls wrapping around him for the first time. It certainly didnât feel like anything heâd ever experienced in his fifty-six years of life.
It had been short, and harsh, and fast. Borderline animalistic, what experts would label as a quick fuck. The moment he breached your entrance, you begged for more, fucking yourself back onto him until his thighs met your skin. You acted as if possessed by a greater entity, diabolic, though Joel didnât mind it. He relished it, welcomed it. But he couldnât let you take the reins. He asserted his dominance, snapping his hips forward with a force that drew moans from the depths of your lungs. He was the one in control, driving himself deeper and deeper within you. Suffice it to say you seemed to love it, if the sounds he elicited from you were anything to go by.
It was what you wanted, what you needed. One way or another, heâd caught onto what those lingering glances throughout the party had signified. Every glance youâd thrown his way had been leading to thisâa silent promise that whatever was happening had been destined to be the nightâs climax.
You bit down on his palm as you reached your peak, tightening around him, and perhaps it was the thrill of it all, the knowledge that heâd need far more time to become well acquainted with your body, that had him chasing after you. Holding back until you came had been a feat, pulling out seconds prior to his release, stroking his length once before painting your skin with his seed. A low, primal groan escaped him as he slid his length between your cheeks, prolonging his high, each heated pulse marking you in a way that felt undeniably his.
As he regained his composure, he watched you swirl your thumb along your lower back, collecting a trace of his release, and bringing it to your lips to have a taste of him. You softly laughed when he cursed under his breath, turning your face lazily to the side. âDamn minx yâare,â he rasped, closing the gap between your mouths, his claiming yours in an urgent kiss. Your mewls faded beneath the insistent press of his mouth as he sought to suppress the strange pull in his guts, reluctant to confront the unfamiliar sensations churning within him.
Things wrapped up quickly after that. You both returned to your places, resuming the roles youâd stepped out of briefly: Joel had been in the bathroom; you had been on the phone with a friend. When he reappeared downstairs minutes after you, no one thought twice about his slightly damp hair.
For the remainder of the party, the two of you exchanged no further words. The time for him to leave came, and he offered only a nod of his head across the packed living room. It was a farewell only Joel would give, a subtle acknowledgment that left you wondering about its meaning. There were no explanations, no parting words.
The next time he saw your father, the mere thought of seeing you again terrified him. If itâd happened once, then the temptation would still remain undiminished, strong enough to awaken the lust and the longing veiled in silence. But you werenât there anymoreâback in New York, focused on finishing your semester at college. The surprise must have been evident on Joelâs face, a bewilderment that prompted Stephen to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. âRemember I told you she hasnât graduated yet?â
âYeah, yeah. I remember now,â he said, wishing to convince both your father and himself.
You were out of the picture, no longer around. Yet, the two of you now shared a secret. You still do, to this day. Heâs no stranger to the notion that some things never seem to change. After all, heâs a creature of habitâsame breakfast every morning, same brand of bread heâs been buying for years. Like all his other preferences, heâs come to realize he likes his women a certain way. And though he hates to admit it, you fit the bill perfectly.
Betty, Stephenâs mother, was turning eighty-five tonight. A seat with Joelâs name was saved at the big table; they wanted him there, his best friend and his best friendâs mother. How nice it was to actually feel wanted. He liked that feeling. Still, heâd had to bite his tongue when your father mentioned youâd be there, too. You had graduated at long last, with your birthday having been just a couple of weeks ago.
âCanât believe sheâs twenty-five already,â Stephen muttered with a chuckle, taking a long drag from his cigarette.
Sitting beside him, Joel gripped the arm of his chair, sinking his nails into it. âMe neither, man.â
His choices had led him to this moment. The clinking of glasses rings in his ears, blending with laughter and the rich aroma of food that fills the air. None of it manages to distract him. He can't help but track you down, eyes scanning the room, relentless in their pursuit of yours. The need to see you goes beyond any shred of restraint he might have faked to have. Joel canât muster the decorum to feign indifferenceâGod, not when youâre near, when the pull toward you feels like gravity itself. Heâs keenly, almost painfully aware, that heâs not even pretending to be indifferent, his interest etched plainly in the way his gaze persists, refusing to pull away.
Itâs his first time seeing you in a year. A lot can change in that span of time. He canât help but be amazed, because you look just the same as you did back then. Only your hairâs a touch shorter. He wonders if itâs even noticeable, or if heâs just spent so long memorizing your features that heâs losing his sanity. He bets itâs the latter.
A light pressure on his shoulder makes Joel jump, breaking down his reverie. He turns quickly, eyes widening. "Betty," he exhales, patting his chest with a smile, eyebrows lifted. "Jeez. Yâscared me."
âYâalright, Joely? Yâlook a bit pale.â The older woman reaches up, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead with a gentle familiarity. Through her lens, heâs still young. âDoesnât seem like youâve got a fever, though.â
"Thatâs âcause Iâm not sick." Joel takes her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Howâs everythinâ goinâ so far? Got all these people together just tâcelebrate yaâ."
"Itâs a wonderful night, sweetheart. So happy yâfound the time tâbe here," she replies, pinching his cheek in that affectionate way that earns her a quiet laugh from him. Her eyes then catch sight of a familiar figure. "Oh, look who's here. If it isnât my beautiful granddaughter."
He stops smiling. In fact, he thinks he even stops breathing for a second as you intrude yourself into the scene, settling yourself beside your grandmother, flashing him a knowing grin. âI was getting kind of bored with the little ones.âÂ
âYâknow Joel, right, dear?â
âYes.â A pause, a beat you draw out between breaths. âYes, I do.â
Betty leans his way, her warm hand still on him. âHave yâheard the latest news? This young lady just graduated.â
âStephen told me,â he answers, looking up at you with a reserved nod. âCongrats, kid.â
âThank you, Mr. Miller.â
Thereâs that damn name again. Were he alone with you, heâd laugh in your face, but he canât. Under the scrutiny of family and friends, he knows heâs cornered. Joelâs starting to believe you think youâre untouchable, that there are no consequences to your actions. You might look the same, maybe a little older, but that teasing, provocative spark in your eye hasnât changed a bit.
âAlways so polite, my child,â Betty says, cupping your cheek with a light pinch, a grandmotherly gesture perfected over the years which she seems to repeat often. âAny boyfriends back in New York?â
This would, without a doubt, be the perfect moment for him to excuse himself and stand upâa conversation heâd rather not be privy to. But with you positioned right in front of him, escape isnât an option. âStill single, grandma,â you respond unfazed, as if you know exactly what youâre doing. âNo one to worry about. Better like this, anyway.â
âBut whatâs the problem? There arenât any boys yâlike?â
He doesnât even know what makes him say itâsome impulse, some hidden tension surfacingâbut he jumps in, his voice carrying a slight, sardonic edge. âBoys are more foolish than ever these days, Betty. Surely yâwouldnât want her to settle for the first idiot who crosses her path.â
Betty clutches his arm, shaking her head in feigned shock. âOh, not at all! Itâs all about waitinâ for the right person. Thereâs no rush, for either of you. Youâre still on your own, Joely?â
Time to drink again. He drains the last drops of alcohol remaining in his glass, feeling your eyes on him, intense and searing, and then he clears his throat, swallowing down the words heâd rather say. âAffirmative.â
âWell,â she sighs contentedly, patting each of your hands as though binding you both with some invisible thread. âJust means yâtwo have to wait a bit longer, right? Time has its way.â She chuckles, eyes soft with memory, turning to you. âDarlinâ, this man here was quite the heartbreaker in his day. He and your dad would find all kinds of trouble with the ladies!â
âHow so?â You cross your arms, playfully tilting your chin up. âJoel Miller, the charmer of the town?â
âGuess Iâve been known tâmake a fool of myself,â he shoots back, silently cursing the moment he missed his chance to slip away. âStephen got more fans than I did, though.â
âI did what?â Joel feels an elbow nudging his back, and thereâs his friend, grinning in his usual easy way.
Joel's luck in life had been more bruised than blessed, a string of hardships that seemed amplified compared to what most people experienced. Being drawn in by youâin which category did that fall? Good luck or bad? He couldn't decide. Every glance and delicate smile you aimed his way stirred something reckless within him. Was it pure thrill, or a warning?
He laughs every time Stephen cracks a joke, but heâs barely listening, his mind half-tethered to the present. Itâs like heâs watching himself from afar, observing his reactions as if he were an outsider. He isnât stoned or drunk, just acutely mindful of your presence. He catches himself peeking up at you from where he sits, jaw tight, his brow creased. You meet his gaze with a slight squint, a polite look that hides something far more dangerous.
Boys are more foolish than ever these days. Heâs sure of that much. Theyâre young, untested. But what about him? Heâs no model of virtue, either. Heâs made his share of mistakes, left good women behindâwomen who were willing to love him in spite of his flaws. Theyâd seen through the layers he wore like armor, and yet, in the end, he couldnât hold on to any of them. He carried the ghosts of every past life, fragments of who heâd been and what heâd left behind, and he knew those shadows werenât for everyone.
A thought pierces through him, sharp and sobering: what would Sarah think? His lovely daughter, grown and settled into her own life, would likely be mortified to know her fatherâs infatuation with a twenty-something. The weight of that realization sinks into his chest, and that seems to be his last straw.
He canât possibly take it anymore. Rising from his chair, he mutters something to Stephen about needing fresh air and makes his way to the backyard door, exhaling deeply and gripping his car keys. The cool night air hits him, stepping outside, a temporary relief as he heads toward his truck.
Just as heâs about to open the door, he hears your voice. You call his name, your tone soft but distinct. He doesnât turn, only lets out a long, weary sigh. âWhat?â
âWhere are you going?â You stop a few steps behind him, watching the way his shoulders visibly tense. âAre you mad at me?â
âWhat?â He faces you, almost snapping his neck in his rush to look at you. âWhy would I beâIâm not mad at yaâ.â
âThen whatâs wrong? Why are you leaving so early?âÂ
He scrubs a hand over his nape, fingers pressing into the tension gathered there. âWould yâlike me tâbreak it down for yaâ, how messed up this is?â His gaze drops to the ground, unable to meet yours. âIâm riskinâ the only real friendship Iâve had here for⌠for somethinâ that I canât even wrap my head âround. This isnât okay, no matter which way I look at it.â
In that moment, itâs as if reality pulls you under. The mask of subtle, practiced arrogance falls apart, scattering in fragments around you. He watches, waiting for you to gather them up, to hide behind that composed veneer again. But you donât move. You leave the pieces where they lie. Instead, you confront his gaze, unguarded, and ask, âDo you regret what happened between us?â
Another question. You seem to be full of them. They just keep coming, one after the other, as if you already had them prepared. I donât, he thinks to himself, but would it do you any good if you knew it? âDonâ start with those mental games.â
âThen come back inside.â
âI know myself well enough to know whatâs gonna happen if I do that, darlinâ.â
Neither of you breaks the silence thatâs settled between you, thick as the night air. You slip your hands into the pockets of your jacket, shoulders slightly hunched, head hanging. Once again, like all those times before, heâs struck by how young you are compared to him. The difference stretches between you like a chasm, bridged only by these stolen moments. The weight of his years presses down on him, the choices heâs madeâthe mistakes and the half-hearted attempts to mend them. Heâs got decades on you, three of them to be precise.
Joel never thought of himself as an ever-lasting free spirit, the kind of man who clings to youth or pretends to be something heâs not. Right now, with you here, he feels reckless, like a boy again. Stupid, impulsive, like the foolish young men he used to shake his head atâthe very ones heâd warned your grandmother about.
âYou left without even saying goodbye last time,â you mumble, low but clear, as you scuff the toe of your shoe against the grass. âAnd now youâre doing it again.â
He inhales sharply, clenching his keys, feeling the edges of the brass biting into his palm. For a moment, he thinks the sharpness will give him something to hold onto, but he knows the sting is nothing more than a weak anchor. âYouâre a smart girl. Donâ need me to spell this out.â
âI know exactly what you mean, trust me. I get it.â
âThen why do you keep pushing?â His pent-up exasperation slips through despite himself, and he can see the hurt flicker across your face, the way your forehead barely puckers as his words hit harder than intended.
Even as you look away, a trace of that hurt fading, you stand firm. You shake your head after a beat, seemingly trying to brush off your doubts and confusion. Joel canât decipher if youâre feigning innocenceâif you are, he thinks, you could be one hell of an actress. âI donât know. I guess I want to see how far this can go.â
You take a small step forward, testing the waters. Your feet move cautiously, not aiming to scare him off. Each step draws you nearer until thereâs only a whisper of space between you, close enough for him to catch your scent, and he has to force himself to peer down to meet your eyes. They hold a quiet intensity: pleading, wide and earnest, already trained on him. Gleaming like two lone stars cutting through a moonless, empty sky.Â
It baffles him, the question forming unbidden in his mind. He goes even further, canât help but wonder: why him? What is it that you see in him? What makes you keep coming back for more? Youâve already had a taste, a story you could tuck away, a secret to be shared with your friends someday around a campfire. So why, he would like to know, are you still here, seeking something from a man like him?
âI like you,â you blurt out, fingers drifting to skim over the worn fabric of his flannel, almost hesitantly. That tentative gesture sparks something raw in him, a low rumble of desire that feels like itâs been lying dormant for too long. Heat pulses through him, hot blood racing through his veins, awakening every nerve, each beat of his heart more insistent than the last one. âI think you like me, too.â
âYouâre insufferable,â he bites out through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching so hard it nearly hurts. He closes his eyes, half hoping youâll disappear, that heâll find some reason, any reason, to call this off. Though when he opens them, youâre still there, waiting, unshaken. âI wish I knew how to stop this. How to walk away.â
âThatâs not what you want.â
âWe donâ always get what we want, kid. Youâll figure that out soon enough.â He means it as a warning, but even he hears the way his voice falters, his defenses crumbling in the face of your unflinching state.
You let out a slow sigh, your arms falling to your sides, eyes roaming over his features as if youâre memorizing every line. Your focus dips to his mouth. âMaybe,â you murmur, and he feels the warmth of your breath against his skin. âBut some things are worth fighting for. And sometimes, those who donât give up⌠get the best in the end.â
With a gentleness that stuns him, you lean in, bringing your lips to his in a featherlight kiss. You pull away, and he helplessly notices the way your lips part, how your breath hitches, and for a split second, the guilt becomes palpable, the significance of wanting a woman he knows he shouldnât. You stand there, chest rising and falling, skin tingling, a faint trail of goosebumps visible where your neckline meets your chest.Â
Apart from the glint in your eyes, he catches the persistent, quiet ache of want. He isnât sure if itâs just physical attraction, if it runs deeper, or if thatâs all it is for him, either. He doesnât need to know. The simplicity of it all is a short-lived relief. Itâs an easy escape, though, this bare minimum of understandingâyou want him, he wants you. Let it be enough for one more moment, for tonight, just another memory heâll have to lock away. Yet heâs aware, deep down, of his own pattern: promises broken just as easily as theyâre made. Heâs only fooling himself. The part of him that knows this isnât something heâll let go of so easily sits there, silently taunting him, daring him to make another compromise he wonât keep.
From where you remain frozen, heâs certain you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighs every possible outcome. âItâs gonna happen, isnât it?â Your voice is barely above a whisper, and before you can react, his arm slides around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and turning you toward the car door. The cool metal pressing against your back startles a gasp out of you, but the suddenness only heightens everythingâthe heat of his body, the toughness of his hold.Â
He doesnât waste time with words, having always been a man of action. His hand cradles your face, inspecting your features to later crush his mouth against yours. Your tongue finds his without hesitation, seeking him out, hungry and unrestrained. He savors your eagerness, the way your hands roam over him, clutching at his shirt, tugging him closer by the belt until your lower halves are pressed tightly. The taste of beer and mint clings to your lips, and a husky groan rumbles from him as your fingers find their place in the longer strands at the nape of his neck, twisting and pulling him impossibly closer.Â
He could lose himself in this, the simple, electric thrill of kissing you, how you fit so perfectly against him. Hours could slip by, and he wouldnât mind, but then reality pulls him back; itâs too exposed here, right outside his truck where anyone could stumble upon you. âGet in the car,â he rasps, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, fumbling to unlock the door. It takes him three tries, and he chuckles, feeling the warmth of your laughter beside him as you tease him.
Once inside, his mouth finds yours again, this time more urgently, his hand pressing against your back, tracing the line of your spine through the clothes. âTell me yâwant this,â he breathes, his kisses trailing down your throat, latching onto the tender skin there. âCâmon, baby. Tell me yâwant it. Tell me yâwant me.â
A soft, breathy sound escapes you as his mouth fixates on that sensitive spot just below your ear. You tilt your hips instinctively, craving contact in search of relief, and he shifts you onto his lap, guiding your thighs to settle over his. Desperately working to undo the buttons of his shirt, yearning to uncover him, you pant against his cheek. âJ-Jesus Christ, I need you. Please, touch me. Anything will do. Justââ
Heâs silently grateful for your choice of a dress tonight. It makes things easier for him, and he gets right to it, bunching the fabric around your waist, hands roaming over the soft skin of your hips before moving his fingers lower, tracing teasing lines over your clothed center. He canât fully make out the murmured words you breathe into his ear, but your voice drives him like a lighthouse guides a sinking ship, and he adjusts his movements, pressing with more intention. The only sounds filling the car are his ragged breaths and your gasping moans, and he holds you close to his chest, cooing softly as you start to rock into his hand, asking for more.Â
His fingers find their rhythm, circling your clit in deliberate flicks. Joel watches as you unravel, trembling in his arms, a hint of drool spreading over his shoulder from your parted lips on his skin. His grip tightens as he tugs your underwear down your legs, grinning when you kick them impatiently to the floor of the car. Now, as he strokes his digits up and down your folds, you turn to putty on his lap. In another world, heâd have you laid out in his bed, enjoying each inch of your body. But here, in the cramped, dim backseat, he keeps the lights off. He knows itâs reckless, yet that barely slows him down. His cock throbs at the very risk of getting caught, at the edge heâs walking just to have you like this.
âGoddamn, youâre soaked, arenât yaâ?â He doesnât expect you to answer, at least not in any coherent way. He sinks his middle finger into your bare heat, searching your face in the dark, contemplating the fluttering of your lashes. His hand weaves into your hair, a firm tug guiding your gaze to his. Your head tips back, a moan spilling from your lips at the new sensation, rolling your hips into his palm with earnestness. âItâs gonna be a tight fit, huh? If this is how youâre grippinâ my fingers, I canât imagine what that cuntâs gonna feel like wrapped âround me.â
Studies suggest that in those final, fleeting moments of life, memories flood the human mindâa last journey through a personâs years before crossing over. If he were to die after tonight, he knows your face would be there, etched into his last breath. He can almost picture it: struggling for air, teetering on the edge, with that reddish, towering figure of mortality looming over him. But even then, heâd find solace in the thought of you, thrown into oblivion. Youâd grant him a last-minute reprieve, easing the ache. Youâd be the one whoâd hold back the shadows. This constitutes the apex of his life, and he knows he should be worried, yet intellectual dominance doesnât stand much of a chance when confronting the heart of a man. Not when that heart, so long starved of its pulse, has finally found someone worth remembering.
He makes space for himself, thrusting his long fingers into you until heâs got your slick coating his palm. One hand settles firmly at the small of your back, guiding your movements, while he feels his collected composure faltering. You mouth at the rough stubble along his jawline when you start to get close, breathless whimpers clouding his thoughts. âJoel,â you call out to him, as if that alone would make wonders. âOh, fuck. Please, I waited a whole year. I need to come.â
A whole year. You were his once a year, and he was yours, a bittersweet ritual bound by time. He never wouldâve thought this party could bring him such pleasure, though he canât pretend heâs against it. Last time, he hadnât taken the chance to pull you under and make you fall apart as many times as heâd wanted. Heâs intent on making up for that missed opportunity, determined to make you enjoy every moment.
He withdraws his fingers abruptly, and a sharp laugh nearly escapes him at your reaction. You reach instinctively, grabbing for his hand, trying to guide him back to where he belongs between your legs. But heâs already moving, maneuvering you down until youâre lying on your back, fully under his command. He lowers himself, replacing his fingers with the warm insistence of his mouth. The sound that escapes your lips as his mouth presses against your center is nothing short of a screamâa wild cry that fills the space around you. Heâs grateful he parked far from the other guests, because that sound would turn more than a few heads.Â
Joel laps at your arousal as if it's the fountain of youth, the very essence of everything pure and precious in the world. He presses down on your thighs until they rest on either side of him, unclamping your legs from around his head. The suppleness of your skin feels divine under his fingertips, and he brushes his thumbs over your trembling form, coaxing you into calmness, to let him have his way with you at his own pace. It's an absurd paradoxâaiming to soothe you while his mouth continues its fervent worship, tracing intricate patterns against your most sensitive flesh. His beard, streaked with gray and freshly trimmed, glistens with your slick, and Joel smolders with all-consuming passion.
When his friends had told him to go out more, maybe find someone to date, he's certain they didn't mean this. The smart choice (scratch that: the correct one) would have been to pursue a woman his own age. But fuck itâhe's spent a lifetime doing what's right. Every road he might've taken would've led him here, to this moment, with you. Part of him believes he must still have something left, some spark of appeal. To have a pretty little thing like you, so eager, so willing, offering yourself to him? He has to have something. His knees ache from where he kneels on the unforgiving surface, but the burn is inconsequential, and heâll endure anything to be what you need.
Joel trails his hand up your body, over the curve of your breast, before gently groping it, his palm covering yours in a shared grip. He runs the tip of his tongue along your folds, his saliva mingling with your wetness, aquiline nose grazing your sensitive bud. âYouâre tellinâ me youâre this tight âcause youâve been savinâ yourself for me? You do know what tâsay tâmake a man happy.â He spreads you open slowly, his gaze lingering on the way your cunt glistens, a sense of satisfaction rippling through him. You remain silent, your breath shallow. âStill with me, sugar?â
âItâs just thatâIâm so close.â You bite back a moan, nails digging into the soft leather of the seat. Joel hums in response, his lips closing around your clit. Agitation flickers across your face as you try to grind your hips against his mouth. âFuck, fuck, fuckââ
The pressure is gone as he notices your thighs quivering again, his movements halting immediately.
âNo, Joel. Pleaseââ
âYouâll come when I tell yaâ.â
Heâs having the time of his life. Damn right he is.
He suddenly realizes he's still dressed from head to toes, the heat building in his body becoming too much to ignore. With a frustrated grunt, he undoes his belt, yanking the metal zipper down, longing to rid himself of the constricting denim. A strangled noise escapes him as you suck on his neck, fisting his base, giving him a few purposeful tugs.
âNow, youâre gonna ride me,â he murmurs, making a pause to shrug his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor of the car, âand youâre gonna like it. Donâ want you tâhold back this time, understood?â
His back ends up against one of the fogged-up windows. The air is thick with the apparent scent of sexâa phrase heâd only ever heard in movies, but now, itâs undeniably real. Joel holds his cock, aligning the tip with your entrance as his lips crash against yours in a hungry kiss. A deep groan escapes him, vibrating over your mouth, nipping at your lower lip. The sensation intensifies when your wet interior welcomes him, velvet walls molding to his size. Your brows scrunch together at the stretch, a choked whimper catching in your throat. As your hips sink fully, your ass flush against his thighs, your body clenches around him, that abrupt tightness drawing a stuttering gasp from him.
âFor Godâs sake,â he exhales, the words rough as his forehead bumps into yours. His hand splays over your ribcage, fingers curling slightly. âSweetheart, youâreâkillinâ me here.â
âI can feel you everywhere,â you huff, your arms looping around his neck to pull him closer, holding your breath. He takes the moment to capture your nipple between his swollen lips, leaving a shiny trail of spit in his wake. You lift yourself, the motion teasing, before sinking back down onto his lap, taking him in fully. âCan feel you in my stomach.â
When you begin to move, Joel loses track of everything else. Time seems to stretch, bending and reshaping itself each time his tip finds some hidden place inside you. Heâs fifty-six years old, yet in this moment, his soul feels infinite. Invincible. He brings his hand to your lips, thumb grazing over them before slipping inside. Your warm tongue envelopes it, and when you start to suck dutifully, muffling your moans, his body jerks in response. His eyes drift to your glistening chest, where a sheen of sweat makes your skin glow in the dim light. Youâre the most captivating woman heâs ever seen, and he knows heâll never look at anyone the same again. He canât tear his gaze away, mesmerized by the way your body merges with his, the way you undulate your hips on top of him.
You move back and forth, and he drives into you, filling you to the brim with every calculated thrust. He thrusts upward, stealing the air from your lungs, the sharp motion making you sputter as your body struggles to keep up with his.
âThatâs it.â His voice is a husky growl as he wraps his arms tightly around your back, your chests sticking together with sweat. His pace quickens, the rhythm becoming more insistent. âTakinâ it like a good girl. You feel exquisite, baby. Makinâ me lose my fuckinâ mind.���
âSo big inside me,â you pant, your own pace faltering as you surrender to Joelâs unforgiving tempo. His hooded eyes flicker to yours, catching the way your pupils have swallowed up your irises, dark and blown wide with desire. A shiver runs through him as your fingers dig into his shoulders, your grip leaving faint crescents in his skin. âMissed your cock so much, Mr. Miller.â
Fuck, not that shit. If itâs possible, he grows impossibly harder. He pounds into you with renewed intensity this time, his singular goal to leave you speechless, boneless, completely undone. He wants you limp and shuddering, with nothing left to give. âEnough of that.â His hands find their place on the soft globes of your ass, molding and squeezing until the pressure has you mewling, the sweet sound shooting straight through him. His lips ghost over the shell of your ear. âResponsive everywhere, honey. Have any idea how much fun Iâm gonna have with yaâ?â
Who wouldâve believed him back then? It proves this isnât some once-in-a-lifetime fluke. It happened before, and now itâs happening again. He might as well surrender to itâaccept his fate and move through the motions like a man resigned to whatâs already written.
Thereâs a moment when your moans sharpen, turning high-pitched and dazed, and the way you constrict him sends his eyes rolling to the back of his skull, a guttural noise tearing from his chest. His movements still, clutching your waist to pin you in place, denying you the chance to move, to bounce on him.
Then you break. A sob wracks your body, tears spilling over and tracing hot paths down your cheeks. They gather, fusing together as they slide along your throat and pool in the hollow of your jaw before disappearing lower. âAsshole,â you hiss, the word fragile as you push your face into the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in his embrace.
âSorry? Couldnât catch that.â He makes sure to keep you securely tucked under his chin, tilting his lower half upward. âIf you want me tâstop, just say the world and I will.â
Heâs messing with you, plain and simple. He doesnât actually expect you to take his words at face value. But you do, grinding down harder, impaling yourself further on the length of his cock, and your arousal trickles down, slicking the coarse hair of his thighs. âPlease.â
âPlease what?â
âPlease fuck me.â Slotting your mouth over his, you attempt to move, chasing any sort of friction against your clit. Sadly, pleasure doesnât come on its ownâitâs Joel who can make you feel good, and heâs not obliging. His hand seizes your hair in a rough grasp, tugging sharply. Eyes fluttering shut, you hunch forward, submitting to the sharp edge of his control.
âWhat an impatient little thing yâare.â Joel grabs your thighs and turns you over, your back pressed against the leather seat. The brusque shift pulls him out of you, the cool air a cruel tease before he taps his head against your swollen folds, then fills you again in one powerful thrust, kissing your cervix in the process. A deep moan rips from your lungs, deep and guttural, as your legs tremble uncontrollably on either side of him. Your ankles dig into his back, fervent to keep him close. His balls rest heavy against your skin, full and aching for release. âGonna give yaâ what yâwant, okay? Youâve been on your best behavior,â he mumbles with his lips stuck to your forehead. âThatâs a good girl. Think she deserves to come after all.â
Only then does he find his rhythm again, ramming into your drooling hole. For the third time tonight, heâs captivated by how you teeter on the edge of overwhelming pleasure. He has you eating out of his hand, taking all that he offers, and you do so willingly. He knows he could ask you for anything, and in exchange for an orgasm coaxed by him, you'd comply without thinking twice. In many ways, heâs not so different. He gathers some of your saliva, using it to moisten his fingers before slipping them between your bodies, rubbing your clit as he continues to hit your bundle of nerves. Where his stamina comes from, he has no clue, though heâs determined to keep pushing.
Your face becomes a living poem, each cry of yours adding to its verse. Your head nearly reaches the door, but he cradles it with his arm, ensuring you donât hurt yourself. âClose,â you whine, struggling to keep your eyes from falling shut. âJoel, please. Let meââ
âGive it to me, darlinâ.â Another thrust, another moan. âDrench me, câmon. Thatâs what yâwant, isnât it? To come all over this cock?â
The way heâs worked you up has its rewards, leading to a release that feels like an eruption. You bite down on his shoulder, your cries growing louder, chanting his name without pause. It loses all meaning after being chanted so many times, but the way you say it still has an undeniable weight. He doesnât mind it one bit, not when heâs finishing right after you plead him to fill you. His jaw hangs open as ropes of his seed spill inside you, and he sags against your frame, giving short thrusts to push his cum deeper into your warmth, your pussy milking him dry.
âOh, GodâŚâ he groans, fumbling with one of your breasts, holding onto something for dear life. âJesus Christ.âÂ
âDonât pull out yet,â you say, grinning when you feel him twitch. âStay a little longer.â
Too personal. Too intimateâdangerous in his books. Normally, he'd tuck himself back into his briefs, drive the woman heâs slept with home, and that would be the end of it. No happy endings in his story. So heâs surprised when he supports his weight on his forearms, claiming your lips in a voracious encounter of tongues and teeth. He caresses your cheek, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, and you sigh contentedly.
The two of you lapse into a heavy silence after that. He clears his throat, and says: âI shouldâve asked you for your number that one time.â In the heat of the act, heâs being too honest. Regret will come knocking on his door once his excitement fades. His eyes bore into yours, dubious. âMâsorry for that.â
âWell, you could ask me for it now,â you admit from beneath him, and Joel pulls away for a moment, trying to gauge if youâre serious. He doesnât think youâre joking. âTo make up for lost time.â
This must be the onset of something else. He can't quite put it into words, but he feels it in his chest, in every place where your skin merges with his. He's no fortune teller, and there's no way for him to know where this path will take him, whether it leads to ruin or salvation. Though in this moment, he doesn't careânot now, at least.
At last, Joel blindly reaches for the pocket of his jeans with one arm. âHow long are you stayinâ in Austin?â
dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3
#joel miller#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller/reader#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller tlou#joel miller x reader#joel tlou#joel smut#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel x female reader#joel x f!reader#dbf joel miller#dbf!joel#joel x you#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction
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Honey love, dark eyes
⥠Chapter one âĄ
Summary: Joel Miller has been your best friend for four years, and your trust in him is as solid as ever. However, things go awry one night after a heated argument, and you find yourself in a position you never thought you'd be in: naked, underneath him, with his eyes devouring you like there's no tomorrow. And when you wake up the next morning, you know it right away, reality piercing your chest; things will never be the same again.
Word count: 9.4K
A/N: Okay, I was planning for the first chapter to be 4K words MAX, but my imagination went crazy with this lol I really hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing this <3 warning: ANGST! don't forget to leave feedback, tell me what you think!
If you want to be on the tag list, let me know too.
You met him on the night of your twenty-second birthday, at the small party Cassie had put together for you in her dimly lit apartment. You hadnât wanted much of a celebration, nothing bigger than a few close friends, and certainly not a group of strangers. But when Brianna swept in, holding hands with a man you didnât know, and introduced him as her boyfriend, you felt a vague flicker of annoyance, the kind that accompanies unmet expectations.
"I thought it was just going to be us," you mumbled to Cassie, catching her in the kitchen as she poured herself another glass of wine.
She looked at you, her cheeks already flushed, eyes bright. "They're a few of my friends, too; theyâre niceâyouâll like them if you give it a chance." She smiled, urging you to relax, as though she could tease you out of your mood. "Itâs your birthday; donât be so sullen."
"I didnât know Brianna was bringing her boyfriend," you said quietly, as Cassie started back to the living room.
She paused, giving you a half-smile over her shoulder. "Neither did I, actually," she admitted, lowering her voice. "Apparently, they've been together for about a month. Sheâs really into him."
And she was. Brianna clung to him all night, her laughter spilling out freely, unrestrained and buoyant from the wine. It wasnât long before someone suggested karaoke, and as voices rang out in the next room, you slipped quietly back into the kitchen, craving a moment of solitude. You were surprised to find Briannaâs boyfriend there, leaning against the counter, scrolling absently through his phone with a glass of water in hand.
He looked up, straightened, and offered you a tentative smile. âOh, hi. Happy birthday,â he said, his voice warm but reserved. âSorry, I didnât get a chance to say it earlierâŚâ
âNo worries,â you replied, your tone reassuring. âThanks.â
He hesitated, as though weighing what to say next. âAre you having a good time?â
You gave a slight shrug. âItâsâŚâ but before you could finish, he cut in with a knowing smile.
âItâs okay. I donât love my birthday either.â His eyes glinted in the soft kitchen light, and you felt a small smile tugging at your own lips.
You looked at him then, really looked at him, allowing yourself the indulgence. âI didnât want to admit it,â you said, feeling the faintest hint of heat rising to your cheeks. âWhat was your name again?â
âJoel,â he answered, his gaze drifting briefly back to his phone. âSorry, Iâm a little on edge tonight. Left my daughter with a new babysitter. I think sheâs having a rough time.â
Your eyebrows rose in mild surprise; you hadnât pegged him as a dad. You moved closer, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice and asked, âHow old is she?â
âFour. Her nameâs Sarah.â He ran a hand through his hair, and you could tell he was tense. âItâs only the second time sheâs been with this sitter, and apparently, sheâs been crying all evening.â
âOh, poor thing,â you murmured sympathetically. âSheâs little. Changes like that must be hard on her.â
He sighed, his gaze drifting to the side as he typed something quickly on his phone. âI should probably get going. Brianna wonât love that idea; weâd planned to stay outâŚâ He paused, eyes flicking up to meet yours, worry etched across his face. âYou think sheâll be too mad?â
âNo,â you assured him, though you knew Brianna wouldnât be pleased. âGo be with your daughter. Sheâs little; she needs you. Brianna will understand.â
A grateful smile spread across Joelâs face, and for the first time, you noticed the faint dimple on his cheek. For a fleeting second, you wanted to reach out, trace it with your thumb.
âThanks,â he murmured, his eyes lingering on you in a way that felt unintentional, yet steady. âI hope your night gets better once karaoke is over,â he added with a quiet laugh. "Wish me luck."
You chuckled, meeting his gaze. âGood luck, Joel.â
He left with that same soft smile, and you watched him go, his warm brown eyes leaving an odd impression, like an unclaimed memory. And, as expected, Brianna didnât understand. She spent the rest of the night sulking, casting sharp words at Joel through her bitterness.
âYou knew he had a daughter when you got with him, this was bound to happen at some point,â Cassie told her, fed up with the other's complaints.
You didn't hear the answer, as you were distracted by watching the colorful pictures someone had put on the television.
You heard nothing more from Joel for a couple of weeks, until Cassie blurted out the gossip one morning while you were having lunch at her house.
âHe broke up with her,â she began to tell you. âHe told her she wasn't being empathetic and that he couldn't drop everything to party with her as if they had no responsibilities.â
It was no surprise. Brianna was a woman who lived at night; she was twenty-three years old and enjoyed it with the freedom that was rightfully hers. You couldn't blame her for wanting to have fun with her boyfriend. But Joel lived a very different reality than she did; at twenty-eight, he had a daughter to take care of, routines to follow, and a lot of work to do.
Although you thought it would take her longer to get over him, it wasn't long before she met a guy at her gym and got into it with him, outgrowing Joel in a matter of days. But for some reason, Joelâs warm, steady gaze stayed with you, like a whisper that hadnât fully faded.
Years passed quietly, slipping through your fingers like sand until, suddenly, it was your twenty-sixth birthday. This time, the scene was different: youâd moved into your own place just two days earlier, and there was little thought of celebrating. Instead, the weekend found you alone, arranging your things and attempting to bring order to the chaos of a new home.
It was a crisp Saturday morning, and you stood in your front yard with a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice in hand, humming along to some eighties tune drifting in from the living room. The songâone of those upbeat ones that made even housework feel lightâhad lifted your spirits, and you moved rhythmically as you pushed plastic flowers into the dirt along the front path, sending little puffs of air to make the petals flutter.
You were lost in your task when you heard soft footsteps behind you, instinctively making you turn.
âOh, hello,â you said, quickly masking the slight surprise the girlâs sudden appearance had given you.
She looked at you with wide, curious eyes, seemingly unfazed by her solo adventure.
âHi. Whatâs your name? Do you live here?â she asked, her gaze shifting from your face to the flowers in your hands.
Glancing around for any sign of her parents, you noted her relaxed stance, like sheâd been coming here all her life. Smiling, you nodded and gave her your name. âYep, I just moved in.â
She looked unimpressed. âThis house was empty for a while. I didnât like the kid who lived here before. He was a pain in the assââ
âSarah!â came a sharp voice from behind, making you jump slightly. Heavy footsteps approached, and you squinted against the sun to see a figure striding toward you, his features obscured by the bright morning light.
When he stepped closer, his face came into focus, and your breath caught. You knew him.
âSarah, you canât just leave the house like that,â he said sternly, a furrow in his brow, his tone more parental than reproachful.
He turned to you, and the scowl softened as recognition dawned.
âJoel,â you murmured, the name slipping out before you even meant to say it aloud.
His expression shifted into a surprised smile, and that was all it took to break the ice between you. You explained that youâd just moved in and were still settling. Joel offered to help with anything you needed, including taking a look around the house to ensure everything was in order. He formally introduced you to Sarah, now eight years old, who had nearly scared him to death by sneaking out. She had his same lively spark in her eyes, a brightness that seemed familiar.
That evening, Sarah invited you to dinner with them, leaving Joel with little choice but to agree. And one dinner became many, as evenings blurred into weekends, and you found Joelâs presence in your life weaving into something inseparable from your routine. He started popping by to help with small projects, fixing kitchen cabinets or adjusting the wobbly front steps, visits stretching into movie marathons or lazy conversations with cold beer in hand. Days flowed into evenings of chatting over the meals you cooked to share with Sarah, and sometimes her uncle Tommy. Though Joel claimed he was no cook, his barbecues were legendary, and you couldnât deny you looked forward to them most of all. And soon enough, he was there for everything, from driving you to doctorâs appointments to accompanying you on those grocery runs he pretended to hate. He even started showing up early on days he knew youâd need a ride. Over time, he became the best friend youâd ever had, a safe place, someone who felt like family. With everyone else scatteredâCassie overseas, old friends moved awayâJoel became your rock.
It wasnât something you dared to admit to yourself often, but you couldnât imagine your life without him. And maybe thatâs why you never allowed yourself to voice those little fleeting thoughts, the ones that flitted through your mind every now and then: how safe you felt whenever he threw his arm around your shoulders, or how good he looked reclining on his couch after a long day. Or how perfect it felt when the three of youâSarah dozing on his lap, you leaning into his shoulderâsat together in the warm silence of a Sunday afternoon. There was an ache, too, a quiet pang whenever he mentioned another woman. Thankfully, that was rare; Joel once told you, with a shrug, that he âwasnât really looking for that sort of thing.â
Sometimes, you watched him carefully as you talked about your own dates, hoping to catch a glimmer of jealousy in his gaze, some subtle cue that maybe he felt the same way. But there was never anything you wanted to see, and you always felt silly for looking. So, you buried it all. The risk of ruining things with Joel wasnât worth the confession.
One afternoon, however, your emotions almost escaped your eyes when, while preparing Joel's birthday cake, Sarah dropped a piece of news that caught you off guard. She told you, with her usual nonchalance, that Joel had gone out the night before with someone new.
âYeah, itâs like⌠the third time theyâve gone out,â Sarah mentioned while spreading cream on the sponge cake. âI donât know her name or anything, just that he met her in line at the bank,â a laugh choked in her throat, amused at imagining her father flirting with some woman in a public space.
You forced a smile, laughing along like it was funny.
"And who stayed with you last night?â you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.
Not that Sarah was necessarily a baby; she was already twelve and extremely independent. But Joel never left her alone if he went out for the night, he knew how much she loved spending time with you watching movies and eating junk food. Then, when he arrived, you would pester him with gossipy questions and he would pretend to get angry and then answer every one of them.
âUncle Tommy," she said, eyeing her work with satisfaction. âWe had fun, but I kinda wished youâd come too. Hey, what do you think?â she fingered the cream neatly arranged with the angled knife.
âIt's perfect,â you smiled at her, not waiting too long to ask the question you wanted so badly. âWhy didn't you call me then?â
Sarah started sprinkling colorful sprinkles on top of the cream and looked at you for a second when she noticed the tone in your voice at the last word. She didn't seem to think much of it.
âYou were busy, weren't you? Dad said you had something to do.â
Her answer hit you like a small weight to the chest. Joel had purposefully left you out. Heâd even made an excuse for Sarahâs benefit. So, there had been three datesâthree times heâd kept this woman a secret. A small knot formed in your stomach as you forced yourself to smile, still watching Sarah as she concentrated on the last of the sprinkles.
In the kitchen, you were running your hand through the steam from the beef stew on the stoveâJoelâs favoriteâwhen the door opened. His footsteps grew louder, approaching, and you nervously adjusted the dress youâd chosen, one you knew he liked, though heâd never said it. It was your favorite too, a cream-colored sundress with delicate shoulder ties.
Sarah sprang forward, covering his eyes. âDonât look, the tableâs not ready.â
You hurried to set the glasses in their places, your hands a little shaky as you moved, hoping he wouldnât notice the flush creeping up your cheeks.
âI donât need to see itâI can smell it, and it smells incredible,â Joel grinned beneath Sarahâs tiny hands, which sheâd plastered over his eyes, half to keep him from sneaking a glance, half just because she could.
âToo bad you donât smell incredible,â Sarah retorted with a smirk, wrinkling her nose. "Go take a shower!"
You laughed, catching Joelâs raised brow at her.
âYouâve got five minutes,â you said, placing the lid on the simmering pot.
Joel snorted, brushing Sarahâs hands away from his face.
âThatâs the smell of a hardworking man,â he replied, feigning offense as he turned for the stairs. âYâall oughtta know.â
*
Later, the three of you sat around the table, and Joel took his first bite of the stew, eyes widening, a kind of bliss washing over his face. He tossed his head back and groaned.
âSweet Glory,â he mumbled, closing his eyes. âThank you for this.â
âOh, come on,â you teased, though part of you couldnât help but feel a pang of something between irritation and flattery. âYou say that every time I cook for you.â
He shook his head, smiling as he chewed, then spoke softly, his gaze slipping downward.
âIâm not exaggeratingâI love everything you do.â A pause, and then a quick, awkward clarification. âI mean, everything you cook.â
The clarification was like a line drawn in the sand, a boundary etched by his voice alone.
You smiled weakly and inwardly thankful when Sarah spoke, telling you about something that had happened at her school that week and distracting you from the question that was spellbinding your tongue. You were dying to ask it, to look him in the eye and ask: who did you go out with last night? Why didn't you tell me? Is it someone I know? Is that it?... But you didn't, you stayed quiet and participated in the pleasant conversation, celebrating his birthday as he deserved. After all, no matter how much it angered you that he kept things from you, it was still his special day.
After dinner, Sarah forced Joel to sit in front of his cake, two lit number candles glowing in front of him. You turned out the lights, watching as the light from the flames reflected beautifully in your best friend's dark pupils.
Joel was wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans, his hair was still barely damp from the shower he'd taken before, and his sun-kissed tan face looked smooth, decorated by the beard and mustache you loved so much. Behind him, his shadow vibrated and spread across the wall with grandeur.
âMake a wish!â Sarah cheered, bouncing with excitement as she placed her small hands on his shoulders.
Joel smiled, closed his eyes, and blew out the candles. In the dimness, you leaned in and kissed his cheek softly.
âHappy birthday, old man,â you whispered, your hand resting gently on his neck.
He reached for your hand, pressing a warm, lingering kiss into your palm. âIâm not that old,â he muttered with a mock frown.
Sarah giggled, holding a knife to cut the cake and licking a dab of frosting from her thumb. âYouâll be forty in four years,â she teased, catching your amused expression.
Joel scoffed, scratching his stomach as he stood back up, turning to you with a smile that made you forget, just for a moment, all the questions you were holding back. There was only Joel, his rumbling laugh, Sarahâs delighted giggles. It felt like home.
Sarah gave him his gift first: a copy of Curtis and Viper 2 with the deleted scenes and a mystery box. When he opened it, a smile formed on his lips.
He pulled out a weathered wristwatch, broken for months, now polished and repaired.
âI took it in to be fixed. Do you like it?â Sarah asked, eyes wide with anticipation.
Joel nodded, eyes softening as he extended his wrist for her to put it on. âItâs perfect, baby.â
âLet's watch the movie later,â Sarah said. âYou can't fall asleep.â
âLet's see which one of us falls asleep first,â you joked, and you were right. Joel had been working all afternoon and Sarah had been yawning for hours.
You turned and picked up the box resting beside your feet, handing it to him. When he opened it, Joel pulled out a black cloth garment and a paper envelope. He tugged at the cloth, revealing a thick, soft jacket. He read the label and a smile appeared on his lips.
âI saw it and thought of you,â you said, mimicking his gesture.
âHow much did you pay for this?â
âDon't worry about it, it had to be yours,â you noted as you stood up and took it from his hand. âHere, stand up. Let's see how it fits you.â
âAnd what if it doesn't fit? Do we have to travel to Rome to exchange it?â
You laughed, then helped him slide it over his shoulders, a comfortable, familiar movement.
âI know you by heart, I couldn't be wrong.â
âSo?â he asked, smiling coquettishly. Your stomach tingled and you decided to ignore it.
âLookinâ good, Dad,â Sarah chimed in, her innocent smile lighting up the moment. âBet someone special will love it, too.â
Joel smiled weakly, as if he was trying to tell her something with his eyes, and for a second you hated the thought of your gift being enjoyed by someone else. You imagined him getting ready to go out with her -whoever she was-, running his hand through his hair and perfuming his neck as he did from time to time whenever he went out with someone. You knew that perfume perfectly, you'd recognize it anywhere, though you were sure it wouldn't smell the same on anyone else. Joel added his own scent to it, and you loved it.
âOkay, now, open the envelope,â you urged, your voice unintentionally sharper than you meant.
Joel sat back down and opened the blue paper envelope. He read the note carefully and when he looked up, you and Sarah were looking at him excitedly.
âSunshine, did you pay for this?â he asked you, a soft disbelief in his tone.
Inside were three plane tickets. Sarah had helped you pick the destinationâsomewhere none of you had been but would love.
When you nodded, he let out a soft sigh. âLet me cover part of it.â
You groaned, rolling your eyes. âItâs my birthday gift to you, Joel. Itâs all settled. You need a vacation, and we certainly do too, don't we?â
âThat's right,â Sarah confirmed, smiling complicitly.
He sighed, shaking his head. âYouâre too good to me.â
But he smiled, tucking the tickets back into the envelope.
Time with Joel and Sarah was easy. When you were with them, hours slipped away, and the heaviness of everything else seemed to dissolve. You felt at home, and sometimes it left you wondering about Sarahâs mother, about how anyone could have left them. Didnât she see how extraordinary they were? Didnât she realize what sheâd lost?
You thought about this as you relaxed on the couch beside Joel, Sarah curled up with her head on your shoulder. Her breathing had slowed, and you smiled, realizing sheâd fallen asleep. Three glasses sat on the coffee table: the wine Joel had opened just before dinnerâa bottle youâd brought back from your last trip to Italyâand Sarahâs lemon soda. Joel snorted softly, glancing at his daughter with a smirk, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
âFallen soldier,â he whispered, smiling.
You laughed, brushing a hand over Sarahâs hair. âSheâs tired. She was up all afternoon making your cake, you know? Tried the cream three times before she got it right.â
Joel sighed, an apologetic note in his voice. âI know, sorry I was late. I know she wanted me here sooner.â
Curtis and Viper 2Â was halfway through on the TV, forgotten in the background. Joel straightened, signaling heâd take Sarah to bed, and you shifted to make room as he lifted her, carrying her toward the stairs. You watched him disappear down the hallway, and as the house fell into a quiet lull, that familiar disappointment stirred in your chest. Now, without Sarahâs chatter, youâd have to keep pretending that nothing was wrong.
You took a long sip of your wine, finishing off the glass just as Joel returned. He sat down heavily beside you, causing the cushions to sink as he let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes before giving you a grateful look.
âThanks for today, I had a great time. Sarah was very happy,â he said quietly, a warm smile appearing on his lips.
âI'm glad, hun. Although the credit goes to her, I just made dinner.â
âDoesnât matter. You helped her, and Iâm grateful. I mean that. For today, and for⌠all these years.â His voice softened, almost reverent.
âYou donât have to thank me,â you whispered, feeling your pulse pick up as he leaned closer, his brown eyes unreadable but soft. âYouâre my family, both of you. Really, Iâm the one who owes you thanks.â
He shook his head and leaned back, taking another sip of his wine.
âNot at all,â he replied, leaning back again.
You watched him for a moment, turning the weight of your question over in your mind. If you said something, heâd make an excuse. If you kept silent, the doubt would eat at you. You tried to fix your gaze on the TV, on anything other than his profile in the dim room. But the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.
âSo, what did you do last night?â
He tensed beside you, so subtly that only you couldâve noticed. âWhat?â
You tried to keep your tone even, hoping you didnât sound like youâd spent all day thinking about it. âI just⌠didnât see your truck out there, thought maybe you were gone or something.â It was a lie; you had fallen asleep on your couch last night, you hadn't even noticed Joel was gone.
Joel seemed to measure his words carefully. âOh. Yeah⌠I just went out for a beer with Tommy,â he answered, his tone a little too casual.
Heat crept up your face, disbelief taking root. He really was holding out on you for some reason, wasn't he? The man was lying to you, and not very cleverly. Tommy had been with Sarah, what if you had seen him, hadn't he thought of that? Apparently not.Â
It took a moment before you could bring yourself to say anything, watching as he glanced at you with an uneasy smile, waiting for you to believe him.
âJoel,â you murmured, not quite able to keep the accusation out of your voice. âYouâre lying to me.â
He gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, but you didnât let him off so easily. Before he could say anything, you spoke again.
âTommy was with Sarah last night, here,â you pointed out, your voice firmer this time. His silence told you everything, his face drawn and uncertain as he realized youâd caught him.
After a long pause, he looked down, his voice unusually flat. âAlright, yeah. I know.â
The admission was so casual it took you by surprise, but you shook your head, feeling the ache of frustration and betrayal creep in.
âWhy would you lie to me?â you pressed. âWeâre friends. Why wouldnât you tell me youâre seeing someone?â
Joel sighed, avoiding your gaze, his eyes instead locked somewhere in the distance. âItâs⌠itâs nothing serious,â he mumbled. âJust getting to know her. Don't make such a fuss out of it.â
âWhat? what you're saying doesn't make sense. Youâve kept it hidden, avoided every chance to be honest about it. Why?â you asked, trying not to let the hurt seep into your voice.
âItâs not like that,â he insisted, but his voice sounded unsure.
âSo if I call Tommy right now, heâll tell me the truth? Or did you ask him to keep this from me too?â
Finally, he met your gaze, his eyes scanning your face, reading the frustration and hurt youâd tried to keep buried. You could see it in his eyes, that familiar tug of defiance, a flash of something deeper than guilt or secrecy.
âWhat if I did?â His voice was almost philosophical, his gaze intense and challenging. âThis is my private life. I donât have to explain myself to anyone, not even you. Do I?â
You drew in a sharp breath. His words struck like a slap, but you steadied yourself. âYouâre right, Joel. You donât owe me explanations. But you donât have to lie to me, either.â You looked down, feeling your voice start to waver. âYouâve never hidden your relationships from me before.â
He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face and slumping back against the couch.
After a few seconds, he finally looked at you, a look of exasperation crossing his face.
âBecause of this.â He gestured between you, his tone gentle but firm. âThis reaction, right here, is exactly why I didnât tell you.â
What Joel was saying didnât make sense. Your frustration wasnât over him seeing someone else; it was something else entirely, something more fundamental.
âOh, just stop,â you snapped, voice sharp. âIâm not mad because youâre dating someone, Joel. Iâm mad that you lied to me. Theyâre two completely different things.â
He took a breath, settling back on the couch, and turned to face you, a guarded expression crossing his face. âNo, itâs always the same thing. Remember the last time I was seeing someone?â
And you did, briefly. A year ago, one of his friends had introduced him to his cousinâa woman who had just moved to town. She was polite enough, but her smiles had a brittle quality to them, and when she met Sarah, her warmth never extended beyond a single, dismissive greeting. The indifference was obvious, at least to you, and maybe youâd let that show a little too openly. Joel had caught on quickly, and after that, things with her fizzled out.
âThat was different,â you argued, exasperated. âShe wasnât nice, Joel. She had zero interest in Sarah.â
He gave a bitter, half-smile. âMaybe, but it wasnât your job to manage that. I can handle my own relationships. But you alwaysââ he paused, thumping his chest with a finger, âyou always step in. Always get defensive.â
âThatâs not true!â Your voice rose as anger crept in, heating your face. âYouâre just making excuses. Date whoever you want, Joel, I donât care. But donât lie to me, donât insult me with these flimsy excuses. Or if youâre going to lie, at least make it convincing.â
He clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening, something fierce sparking in his eyes. âAre you sure about that?â he asked, his voice low and measured, the words hanging between you like a dare.
âSure about what?â Your brow creased in confusion, the pulse in your chest picking up, a flurry of anger and⌠something else you couldnât place, mingling with the haze of the wine.
His eyes narrowed, holding yours, unflinching. âThat you donât care. Thatâs what this is about, isnât it? Because I know you, i know you to well to know youâre just jealous.â
Jealous. He thought you were jealous.
He had missed the point completely. Your feelings for him were complex, that much was true. But you had learned, or thought you had learned, to carry them quietly. Your friendship with him had come to feel like a sturdy house you could live inside without having to ask too much of it. Having him in your life was enough.
But now, you felt that house shift, cracks spreading through the walls. His inability to trust you hurt more deeply than youâd expected. The openness youâd once trusted was fracturing. You felt the sting of tears prick at your eyes, the words heâd thrown out so casually cutting to the quick.
âFuck you, Joel,â you muttered, standing abruptly, storming to the door and slamming it shut behind you. You barely heard him call your name as you left, fury driving you down the front steps, the cool night air biting at your cheeks.
Honestly, he could go fuck himself.
Just as your hand reached your front door, his footsteps closed in behind you, his strides fast enough to catch up. You tried to close the door before he could reach you, but his hand caught it just in time, his voice heavy with irritation.
âJust go away, Joel,â you said, barely glancing at him. âI donât want to see you again.â
âThatâs not true, and you know it.â His voice was calm, almost pleading.
You stepped back, reluctantly letting him into the foyer. Heâd have come in anyway.
âI mean it, God. Go home,â you insisted, your voice wavering, betraying the anger mixed with something else.
He shook his head, taking a few steps closer, his jaw tight. âCan we just talk?â
âTalk?â you repeated incredulously. âTalk about what? About how wrong you are?â
He didnât flinch, but his eyes darkened. âDonât act like what I said was crazy,â he said, voice steady but a little sharper now.
You scoffed, throwing your hands up. âOh, so now Iâm jealous, is that it? Then, by your logic, you mustâve been jealous too, right? Like last month, when Travis asked me out. Because if thatâs the case, then weâre having the same conversation, arenât we?â
Joel clicked his tongue, tilting his head with an exaggerated sigh. âNo, Travis is just a jerk. And I donât like him, plain and simple.â
Travis Dunn, your neighbor, had moved in a few months after you did. Handsome, tall, and friendly, everyone on the street adored himâeveryone except Joel. He couldnât seem to stand him, though Travis was always polite to him.
Last month, when Travis had asked you out, Joel had practically laughed in your face when you told him about it, muttering something dismissive as if the very idea was absurd. Youâd told Travis you were busy, though deep down you knew the real reason you hadnât accepted was because of Joelâs disapproval.
You shook your head, exasperated. âTravis isnât a jerk, Joel, you just donât like him. Heâs nice, honestly, much nicer than some people, if weâre being honest here. Everyone loves him; youâre the only one who has a problem with him.â
âThen everyoneâs as much of an idiot as he is, sunshine.â
âOh, really? Or maybe⌠youâre jealous of him?â Your tone was teasing, but you felt the shift as soon as you said it.
Joelâs mouth twitched in a half-smile, but the humor didnât reach his eyes. He ran his tongue over his lips, shaking his head slowly, twice.
âDonât turn this on me,â he said. âThis isnât about Travis or me.â
âNo?â you shot back, voice edged with challenge. âSo if I go tomorrow and say yes to him, that wouldnât bother you at all, right?â
He stepped closer to you, his eyes dark with something youâd never seen in him before. The air seemed to thicken, his presence so intense it felt as though it wrapped around you. He leaned in, his face close enough that his words brushed your skin.
âYou can do whatever you want, baby. Itâs your fucking life.â
âAnd you can do whatever you want too, Joel. Thatâs the fucking point!â you nearly shouted, hands pushing against his shoulders, shoving him away. âI donât care what you do! Itâs already clear you donât get it, you donât get anything, ANYTHING!â
Joel staggered back for a split second, but it wasnât long before he closed the distance again, though he didnât get as close this time.
His voice was lower, a thread of something hard in his tone. âIf youâre so insulted by the idea of being jealous, maybe thatâs something for you to think about. Ever thought of doing a little introspection?â
âAre you drunk, Joel?â you asked, eyes narrowed, softening your voice a fraction. The argument was exhausting you, and the anger left you feeling hollow.
He laughed, an odd, choked sound. âOh, c'mon, you know one bottle of wine ain't enough to get me drunk.â
âYeah, but youâre tired, and youâre not exactly young, Joel,â you said, brushing past him, his gaze glued to you the entire time. âAlcohol hits you differently now. Just go home, leave me alone.â
âFine. Iâll leave you alone, and maybe then you can run across the street and fuck Travis Dunn, if you want it so badly,â he shot back, impatience tinging his voice as he turned toward the still-open door.
The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, the anger washing over you in a wave. Before you could think twice, you rushed up to him, gripping his arm tightly to force him to turn and look at you.
âWhat the hell did you just say, Joel?â you hissed, grabbing his shirt, fingers bunching in the fabric as you backed him up until his shoulders hit the wall by the door. âGo on, say it again!â
Your breaths came fast, chest rising and falling as the rush of anger pushed tears to your eyes. You couldnât believe heâd actually spoken to you like that, cutting right through to something raw and vulnerable. Heâd never spoken to you like that before. Maybe he was a little drunk, or maybe he was losing his mind.
But there was no softness in his gaze, no hint of the Joel you knew. His stare was sharp, almost wild with something simmering underneath, something you didnât understand. To you, this whole argument made no sense, at least not his reaction.
Joelâs grip on your wrist was firm, almost grounding, as he pulled you closer, pressing your palm against his chest. âI canât stand that asshole, but go ahead and fuck him if you want,â he spat, voice laced with frustration. âGo fuck the whole neighborhood while youâre at it. I really donât care anymore.â
His words were harsh, designed to cut, but they only drew a laugh from you��sharp and derisive. A tear slipped down your cheek, uninvited.
âWhat, did you ever care?â you asked, your voice trembling on the last syllable, thick with emotion.
But Joel didnât respond, and the silence ignited a fire in you, something that swirled beneath the surface, ready to boil over.
âDo you know why weâre friends, Joel?â Your pulse quickened, each beat like a drum in your ears. âBecause it just works between us. There are no ulterior motives. You know why? Because I donât like you like that. Youâre not even my type, and you never will be. And no, Iâm not jealous that youâre dating some woman youâll probably dump in less than a month, so get the fuck over it and leave me the fuck alone!â
You watched as his gaze flickered between your eyes, uncertainty warring with something darker. Suddenly, with an unexpected strength, Joel tightened his grip on your wrist and pushed you back hard against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping as your back hit the unforgiving surface.
His expression had transformed, those deep, dark eyes piercing you like arrows. His breath quickened, crashing against your face, and you could feel your lower lip tremble as he pressed even closer, pinning you against the wall.
âYou donât know how to lie,â he murmured, his lips almost brushing against your cheek.
The sensation was unbearable; his body pressed against yours, heat radiating off him and melting you inside. You could feel the edge of something primal, something that could tip either way. But suddenly, clarity surged through you. With a burst of strength, you pushed him away, breaking free from his grasp, forcing him to pull back just enough for you to gasp for air.
But the distance felt worse. In his eyes, you recognized something youâd never seen beforeâdesire, raw and unfiltered. It clawed at you, igniting an inexplicable need. A sigh escaped your lips, and like a match struck in a dark room, it was enough to set off an explosion. In an instant, Joel lunged at you, and you found yourself wrapped around him, mouths colliding in a desperate kiss filled with moans and the urgency of your racing hearts.
With a loud thud, Joel kicked the front door shut, his hands moving feverishly down your body, fingers skimming your thighs, slipping beneath your dress. He caressed your skin before squeezing your ass hard, drawing a moan from your lips that echoed in the small space between you. You clung to him tighter, his hands fitting around you as if they were made for this very moment.
He pulled back for a breath, the sound wet and chaotic against the walls of your home, and then his lips descended down your neck, unraveling what little sanity you had left. A moan rumbled in his throat as your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently to tilt your head back, giving him better access to the tender spot just below your ear, your blood pulsing beneath his hungry mouth.
Joel seemed to want to devour you whole; his hands roamed erratically, trembling as his mouth kissed and bit your jaw, pressing your bodies together in a way that felt impossibly intimate. When you lifted your right leg and wrapped it around his side, he was quick to respond, hands securing your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto his hips, burying his face against your chest.
Another moan escaped you, and he pulled you down just enough to find your lips again. âJoel,â you whispered, breathless as you parted from him, pressing your forehead against his, eyes searching his.
âTell me to stop and I will,â he said, his voice low, almost broken, each word laced with a vulnerability youâd never heard from him before. âDo you want me to stop?â
âNo,â you replied in a small, desperate cry, feeling the heat radiating from him, the thin fabric of your underwear igniting a fire deep within you.
You were dying of thirst, and he had just asked you if you would refuse a sip of water. Was he mad? You wanted to drink it all.Â
No sooner had you answered than Joel pulled you off the wall, striding toward the stairs with a confident grace. You lowered your legs cautiously, meeting his lips again in a frantic, wet kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with urgency.
You walked to your room with the agility of one who knows where to step, and once inside, you grabbed the shirt you had angrily grabbed earlier and lifted it up his body in a desperate attempt to rip it off. Joel raised his arms, letting the fabric pass over both of you and then fall to the floor, and as quickly as your hands returned to his chest, he kissed your neck again, desperate, pressing his fingers into the tender flesh of your waist, seeking a physically impossible closeness.Â
His hands found your thighs once more, fingers gripping and kneading with a measured intensity that sent electric shivers through you. As he moved lower, his fingertips brushed the thin fabric of your underwear, inching closer to where you ached for him, squeezing you tighter as if to draw you in.
In a single, decisive motion, he grasped the hem of your dress and pulled it upward, the fabric sliding along your skin as he lifted it away, tossing it aside with a casual disregard that only heightened the tension in the air. He took a step back, his gaze roaming over you, from the soft curve of your face down to the tips of your toes, a look of hunger that felt almost consuming.
You weren't wearing a bra (your dress didn't require it) and your breasts fell beautifully in front of him, hard nipples and soft skin. Your chest flushed with warmth, a rosy hue creeping into your cheeks as you swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated when he stepped closer.
âIâve always loved that dress,â he said, his voice trembling with an emotion that was both reverent and raw.
âI know,â you replied, a smile curling at the corners of your lips, the moment igniting an intimacy that made your heart race.
His eyes swept down your body again, glittering with an unmistakable lust, and when he closed the distance, standing right before you, your breath caught in your throat.
His hands slid around your waist, firm yet tender, pulling you into him with a deftness that sent a thrill coursing through you. In one seamless motion, he lifted you off the ground, your feet barely grazing the floor as you instinctively stood on your tiptoes, the world narrowing to just the two of you.
Joelâs eyes darkened with a hunger that left you breathless, and he leaned in, his lips finding one of your breasts with a soft kiss that felt both electrifying and reverent. The warmth of his mouth sent a rush of heat through your body, and before you could gather your thoughts, he nipped your nipple gently, a teasing bite that sent chills racing across your skin.
His teeth grazed you just enough to elicit a gasp, a shuddering reaction that echoed in the space between you. But he didnât linger on the sharpness of that moment; he quickly replaced the sensation with the soothing warmth of his lips, enveloping you entirely.
He sank to one knee, lowering himself until his lips brushed your stomach, the warm sensation sending ripples of desire coursing through you. His face lingered dangerously close to where you needed him most.
Joel placed his hands on your hips, fingers gripping the elastic of your underwear, his gaze locking onto yours for a moment that stretched into eternity before he slowly began to lower it, the fabric sliding down your legs and pooling at your feet. You felt his breath hitch at the sight of your now bare center, the anticipation thickening the air between you as he inched closer, finally brushing his lips against your mons pubis.
âPrecious,â he murmured, and the warmth of his breath washed over you like a caress, drawing a small, needy moan from your lips. His hands parted your legs slightly, his fingers digging into your thighs, holding you firmly in place.
You cupped his face gently, as if afraid you might break him, and then, without warning, Joel licked his lips and plunged forward, his mouth connecting with you in a surprise that made your eyes flutter shut. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer as he devoured you, his tongue working its magic as he sucked and kissed you whole, with an urgency that left you breathless.
He growled into you, the sound reverberating through your body, and you felt weakness seep into your legs, trembling under the weight of his relentless attention. Joel was eating you like a hungry man, tasting you and soaking in your juices with a fervor that felt primal, kissing you as if his life depended on it.
âFuck,â you gasped, feeling every muscle in your body tighten as a building pressure coiled inside you.
He pulled away for just a moment, his eyes darkened with lust, a playful smile creeping onto his lips before he returned to you, closing his mouth around your clit, sucking and licking with a skill that made your head spin.
âAhâJoel, Iâm going toâIâm going toââ You struggled to articulate the intensity of what was building within you, your words stumbling over the tide of pleasure washing over you.
His voice vibrated through you, trailing off into a soft, âMhm.â
You pulled at his hair, tugging harder as a wrenching moan escaped your throat. The world around you faded as his movements grew more frantic, his tongue flicking at you with a desperate fervor. One of his hands released your thigh, and a low groan escaped his lips as his finger found your entrance, sliding inside with an ease that made you gasp.
âFuck me, youâre so wet,â he murmured, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of youâyour cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with lust. A satisfied smile broke across his face, and you thought he had never looked so gorgeous.
From your point of view, he looked beautiful. His bright eyes worshipped you intently, his mouth and mustache glistened bathed in you, his hair tossed by your hands mingled in all directions. Joel Miller had never looked so good.
Another finger joined the first, and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he curled them just right, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp for air. You gripped his hair again, pulling him closer, and he let out a throaty laugh, clearly reveling in the sight of you completely undone.
You felt his mouth on you again, the warmth of his lips kissing and sucking with an insatiable hunger that left you breathless. The sound of it was utterly obscene, echoing around the room like a carnal symphony, and it drove you to the brink of madness, your mind spinning in a dizzying haze of pleasure.
His movements grew more intense, a rhythm building that sent waves of ecstasy rippling through your body. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your hips moving in desperate undulations, surrendering to the climax that Joel savored with unrelenting focus. Your fingers clenched around him, digging in perhaps a bit too hard, but he welcomed it, desperate to drink in every last drop of what you were offering, to savor you whole.
With a low grunt, he squeezed your hips before pulling away, the wet sound of his departure from you hanging heavy in the air. You barely registered his rise from the floor, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure, your eyes still closed as the vibrations coursed through you. It wasnât until his hands gripped your waist that you finally blinked awake, lifting your eyelids to find him gazing down at you, his face mere inches from yours.
He leaned in, capturing your mouth again, a kiss that was both desperate and tender, igniting a fire deep within you. You could taste yourself on his tongue.
Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss. As the intensity built, you let your fingers drift down his chest, trailing lightly until they found the leather of his belt, the sensation sending shivers through you as you tugged him closer.
Joel vibrated against you, a low growl escaping as he nipped at your lower lip while you fumbled with his steel buckle, the sound of it being released becoming your new favorite melody. You unzipped his pants, your heart racing as you slipped your hand inside, finally touching him for the first time.
Your pulse quickened as you wrapped your fingers around him, feeling the heat radiating from his velvet soft skin; big, hot and throbbing in your palm. A rush of desire flooded you, and you pulled away from his lips, dropping to your knees before him, your eyes wide as you took in his form.Â
There he stood, beautiful and swollen with need, and your mouth watered at the sight. You cupped him gently, drawing him closer to your lips, placing a soft kiss on the tip. Joel closed his eyes at the sensation, surrendering to the moment completely, and you traced your tongue over him, tasting the salty sweetness of his pre cum that made your insides tighten with longing.
With a hint of effort, you attempted to take him fully into your mouth, but he was too large, stretching you in ways you hadnât expected. Joel lowered his gaze to you, his fingers caressing your jaw as you struggled to adjust.
âSlow, baby,â he urged, his voice silky yet strained, and it sent another rush of need through you. "I know you can do it."
You matched your hand to your mouth, stroking him where you couldnât quite reach, while your other hand gently caressed his balls, moving in a synchronized rhythm. Joel tensed beneath your touch, his fingers shifting from your face to tangle in your hair, guiding you as he reveled in the pleasure you were giving him.
The sounds in the room became a symphony of pleasure, every moan and gasp echoing off the walls, and you watched as Joel's pleasure climbed. The image was enough to drive him over the edge; your pink, swollen lips covered him and his cock glistened with your saliva, dripping from your chin with every move you made. Your teary eyes looked up at him desirously, and he could take no more; his gaze was filled with a primal hunger that threatened to unravel him. He finally withdrew from your mouth with great reluctance when he felt his stomach tighten, a low complaint escaping your throat in protest.
His breathing was heavy, and a flush colored his cheeks as he lifted you effortlessly, holding you at the waist, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. In one swift motion, he laid you back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he moved closer; Joel kneeling and settling between your legs which you instinctively opened for him.Â
You needed him, you needed him to fill you whole. You had never needed anything as much as you needed him at that moment. And as if he was reading your thoughts - or maybe he needed you as much as you needed him - he leaned in, taking your mouth with his once more, his moans blending with yours as he lost himself in you.
Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, the taste of him igniting a fire in your veins. You felt him positioning himself at your entrance, his heat pulsing against you, and an intense sigh shot through your chest as Joel entered you in one thrust, burning and stretching you around him.Â
âOh God,â he groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His right hand traveled to your left leg, lifting it and resting it high on his shoulder, while without hesitation, his other hand mirrored the movement with your right leg, bringing you into a position that felt both intimate and vulnerable. You were completely folded under him.
A cry escaped your lips as Joel began to move on top of you, his face hovering just inches above yours, the heat between you palpable. No one had ever penetrated you so deeply; it felt as though he was everywhere, filling you completely, every inch of you alive with sensation.
Joel's right hand gently squeezed your neck, seeking your mouth for a kiss as his movements took on a more urgent pace. The rhythmic collision of his hips against your buttocks created a beautiful sound that echoed off the walls, each thrust punctuated by the soft, desperate gasps that slipped from his mouth. Your own cries mingled with his as your body tightened again, your hands moving frantically up and down his back, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving little marks that he would surely wear like badges of pleasure.Â
A broken sound escaped from Joel, raw and primal, as he sank his face into the crook of your neck once more, increasing his thrusts with a fervor that felt animalistic, as if the world outside had fallen away and this moment was all that mattered. He fucked you into the mattress with an intensity that left you breathless, as though he were trying to ground you both in this fleeting reality, where nothing else existed except for the two of you entwined together.
You melted around him, your juices mixing with his as you enveloped him completely, and just when you thought you couldnât take any more, he lifted his head, your forehead resting against yours, his wide eyes locking into yours. You had never seen them so dark, so filled with intensity and strength.
And then it hit you:Â It was Joel, your Joel, the one who had been your best friend for four years, and here he was, fucking the life out of you like no one ever had before. What could possibly come after an experience like this?
âI thought you didn't like me,â he said, his voice choppy, strained with effort. A smirk played at the corners of his swollen lips. âSuch a bad liar, baby, look at you.â
You growled in response, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him towards you with a mix of force and anger. Your lips found his in a kiss that was anything but patient, igniting a spark between you. You felt him tense above you, one of his hands quickly moving to your center, exerting immense pressure as he leaned his weight on his other arm, holding you captive beneath him.
His fingers found your clit, tracing gentle circles that made your back arch involuntarily, another wave of pleasure building inside you. Your mouth was still on his, consuming him completely, when your second orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. You felt your insides tighten around him, squeezing him with a ferocity that pulled him closer to his own climax.
Joel gasped into your mouth, and the intensity of it sent your vision spiraling into darkness for a brief moment, the sensation so strong it felt as if the world had collapsed around you. When your breathing finally steadied, you found his hot body pressed against yours, moving in tiny tremors, quickened breaths brushing against your jaw.
He stayed inside you for a few moments longer, savoring the closeness, your hands continuing to caress his back, each touch a silent promise. Then, slowly, he pulled out of you, leaving you feeling achingly empty, his cum trickling from your entrance.
He fell limply beside you, his body slick with sweat, and pulled you close to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His breaths, still heaving, crashed against your damp skin, wrapping you in warmth. Unable to muster the energy to move, you let your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to a deep, exhausted sleep that you would not remember when you woke up...
No, you didn't remember any dream, Because when you opened your eyes the next morning, you stirred in place and your muscles ached pleasantly, reminding you of the night before. And as you stretched your arms across the bed, your fingers grazed the sheets, feeling an emptiness beside you.
When you looked to your sides, the realization hit you hard.
Joel was gone.
taglist: @orcasoul
#joel miller#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#tlou fic#tlou hbo#tlou joel#capuccinodoll#joel miller is your best friend#joel x reader#joel tlou#joel the last of us#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal joel#dbf!joel
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Text
best kept secret
pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader
words: 6.7k
summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.
warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!
a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3
Joelâs bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dadâs house across the street.
Itâs gorgeous â breathtaking, even â maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times youâve actually seen the crest of morning. Youâre far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it, never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.
You donât mind the early wakeup call, though, not when itâs this: Joelâs head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.
Heâs humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.
âCâmon baby,â he purrs. âJust gimme one before you go.â
Theyâre the first words heâs said all morning, the first thought thatâs necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core.Â
Even so, despite how badly you want to â because you always want Joelâs mouth on you â youâre not sure you can.Â
Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.
Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Millerâs house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterdayâs clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.
But with another experimental flick of Joelâs tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.
Just one, you tell yourself, and then youâll head out.
âFuck, okay â yeah,â you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.
With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again â with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another. Â
Heâs so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like theyâre made of paper. Itâs a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.
Youâre still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.
Because youâre insatiable when it comes to Joel.Â
For the past few weeks, since the first time youâd found yourself in his bed, youâve craved him. Regardless of how sated heâs left you each and every time, youâve needed more.Â
Itâs dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dadâs best-friend. But youâre finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other manâs cock ever has.Â
That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit â Itâs overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.
Heâs bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. Itâs like he doesnât want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as itâll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.
But itâs going to end soon; itâs inevitable with the way heâs laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and youâre powerless to stave it off any longer.
âJoel,â you warn, his name a high-pitched whine.Â
âShh, I know babygirl; itâs okay.âÂ
Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. âI got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.â
The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.
Joel talks you through it: thatâs it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.
The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you canât help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.
âOkay?â he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.
âYeah,â you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. âMore than okay.â
He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.
âGood,â he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him â a little sweet, a little bitter â and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. âDid so good, angel.âÂ
You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.
âI donât want to leave,â you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.
âI donât want you to either, darlinâ. But you can come back tonight, yeah?â
Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But itâll have to do.Â
âTonight,â you repeat. Solidify it.Â
You slink home just as the street lights dim.
The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.
You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then youâre tiptoeing past your fatherâs room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.
You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.
The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dadâs alarm on the other side of the wall.
By the time youâve dressed and made your way downstairs, heâs already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you.Â
Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug â your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.
God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.
âHey.â
âHey, kiddo,â he yawns. Turns to face you. âYou were up early. Heard the shower going.â
âCouldnât sleep,â you lie.
âSomething on your mind?â
Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. Thereâs no way he knows â youâve been far too careful. Still, youâre on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.
âUh, n-no,â you stutter. âJust work stuff, I guess.â
He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, âJust gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, itâs your first job out of school. They donât expect you to know it all right away.â
Itâs good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if youâre absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isnât preoccupied.
You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.
The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-
-thereâs a knock at the door.
Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?
And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.
âOh, buddy â hey! Come on in,â your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. âWasnât expecting you.â
You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.
Joel is dressed â blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.
The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.
Heâs a different Joel here, now â your fatherâs friend, your neighbor â not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length.Â
No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasnât tasted his friendâs daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.
You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay.Â
Easier said than done. Itâs as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like youâve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.
His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.
âYeah, I uh â I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopinâ you might have some to spare?â
He canât be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldnât get some on the road?
âIâm afraid she took the last of it,â your dadâs eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joelâs gaze when his follow.
âAhh,â he says. ââts okay. Iâll grab some on my way in.âÂ
His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like thereâs something else. Another reason he came here.
And then you spot it â your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joelâs back pocket.Â
You mustâve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as heâd kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.
Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink.Â
Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.
Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. âIâve been thinking,â he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, âI gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.â
Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. Youâre pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale.Â
âYou know Deb, right, honey?â he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dadâs coworkers.Â
Thereâs Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese youâve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadnât shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week.Â
This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Louâs. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.
But Deb? You donât recall a Deb. Still, youâre pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context.Â
You shake your head, no.Â
âWell, I guess you havenât seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.â
âWhen I was ten?â you retort.Â
âYeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?â
You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. âAnyway, Deb â sheâs around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and sheâs a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.â
âIs that so?â Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesnât say anything.
âYouâll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, whenâs the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since â what was her name â Jean? And if things were going well with her, Iâd hope youâd tell your old friend.â The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer. Â
âNo, I ainât seeing Jean,â Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.
âWell, you gotta get back out there!âÂ
Joelâs gaze rolls to the ceiling. âI donât know â Iâm just not real interested in datinâ right now.â
You exhale, then â a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed â unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch.Â
Iâve known this woman for years Joel, Iâm telling you, the two of youâd be the perfect match; sheâs a looker too, real pretty.
Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.
Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.
âNo, I know,â Joel grumbles. âI trust your judgment ân all, âts just-â
âWill you just give her a chance?â
âJesus; fine.â
The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.
Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.
Heâs quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that itâs beginning to bleed through.Â
âAtta boy,â he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket.Â
âPromise youâll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know youâre not gonna make me look bad here.â
Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, heâd be six feet under already. But heâs refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. âYeah, Iâll call her tonight,â he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips.Â
Heâs actually agreeing to this?
You need to get out of here before you say something rash.
The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder.Â
Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.
The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late.Â
The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your bossâs door.
It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dadâs words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.
The thing is â you canât blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.
Maybe heâd be happier with Deb.Â
They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.
Because thatâs what this is, you and Joel â itâs wrong. Not like you werenât already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman youâve never met to rub it in.
The day passes infuriatingly slow.
The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time youâre due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.
âSorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than Iâd hoped,â you lie. But you can tell she doesnât buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.
âI need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.â
âOf course,â you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. âIâll get them done and on your desk by Friday.â
âThanks.â Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.
You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as sheâs out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joelâs number is already dialed on your phone.
He picks up after two rings.
âDarlinâ â are you okay?â
Itâs admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when youâve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.
But this canât wait. Itâs been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you donât talk to him about it, youâre going to end up unemployed. You donât bother to ask if heâs still on the job site, around other people. âYouâre going on this date.â Itâs not a question. More of an accusation.
âBaby,â he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest.Â
âWhy didnât you say no?âÂ
âHow could I?â he groans. âThereâs your dad, askinâ me if Iâm seeinâ someone, sayinâ heâs already told this lady about me â what am I supposed to say?â
âI donât know.â Your voice comes out a whine. âMake something up. Tell him youâve taken a vow of celibacy.â
He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. âYeah, baby. Think heâd believe that one, fâsure.â
âFuck,â you huff. âI justâ I donât-â
You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you arenât dating. You donât have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you donât want that, no. You just want him to choose you.
âI donât wanna go, darlinâ. I really donât. But if I do this, I think itâll get him off my back for a while. He wonât have a reason to suspect that Iâm foolinâ around with his daughter.â
Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.
Itâs not exactly a lie. You havenât put a label on this thing, whatever it is. Itâs been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation â as if you havenât been driven by overwhelming desire â makes your stomach churn.
Joel doesnât seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. âItâs for the best,â he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor.Â
âYeah,â you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. âFor the best.â
He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. Youâre not sure that you believe him.
The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.
You dodge Joelâs calls for the remainder of the week.
Thereâs no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.
Even so, it doesnât stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.
He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You canât. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. Youâll break; you know you will.
So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.
But you still ache for him â a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin.Â
Itâs a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.
On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. Heâs grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.
âJoel and Debâs date is tomorrow,â he says. âThink theyâll really hit it off, donât you?â
Youâre dumbfounded for a long moment â canât believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your fatherâs fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.
âOh! I mean, I donât know. Like I said, I donât remember Deb.â You canât help your condescending tone. Your dad doesnât seem to catch it anyway.Â
âWell,â he says, âI think theyâll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately â maybe if he has a lady, heâll get out more!â
âYou sound real excited,â you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.
âIt is exciting. Iâve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place theyâre going to â the Tavern â itâs got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-â
âDad,â you stop him. You think youâll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. âSorry, I just â Iâm really tired, all of a sudden. I think Iâm going to head to bed early.â
Itâs not a complete lie. Youâre emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.
Your dad doesnât question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.
Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern.Â
Not that youâre planning to go there anytime soon â youâre just curious. Thatâs all.Â
Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait.Â
You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.
This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst youâve had in a while.
You jot the address down anyway.
Downtown Austin is buzzing with life.Â
Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons â it almost distracts you from the task at hand.Â
At just past seven, youâd told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. Heâd been a bit taken aback, seeing as youâre not very social these days, but heâd seemed happy. Relieved.Â
Thatâs not what youâre doing, of course.
No â in reality, youâre turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. Itâs packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joelâs truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.
Itâs idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew heâd be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped heâd stand Deb up.Â
You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do â storm inside and demand that he leave with you?
You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.
From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurantâs entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.
Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face â the same one youâve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.
And youâre here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.
Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time theyâll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, youâre convinced that theyâre going to close the place out.
But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb.Â
Sheâs talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. Itâs undeniable that sheâs stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.
She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.
You wonder if heâll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If theyâll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once heâs helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.
But he doesnât lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers.Â
He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that heâll call â and he will, first thing tomorrow. Heâs probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday.Â
Maybe he knows, after just one date, that sheâs his soulmate. Heâll buy the ring in a couple weeks. Theyâll be engaged in a monthâs time, and heâll say he just couldnât wait any longer.Â
Sheâs the one thing Iâve been missing.
You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.
And then â he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.
Heâs staring directly through the windshield. At you.
Fuck.
He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.
With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side.Â
He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down.Â
The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.
âYou wanna fuckinâ explain what youâre doinâ here?â he snaps. Youâre afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.
You know youâre in the wrong. You shouldnât have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?
When your gaze finally meets his, he looks â distraught â jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.
âI donât know,â you mumble, âI just wanted to see how you were with her.â And itâs the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but itâs the truth nonetheless.
âDoesnât give you the right to spy on me.â
âSo what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, Iâm sorry,â you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, âthe guy I was fooling around with.â
This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.
âIt wasnât like that,â he grits
âNo? Isnât that all this was to you: fooling around?â
Thereâs a beat. Joel sighs.Â
âNo â fuck, no. Of course not.â
His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. âI tried callinâ you,â he says, voice barely above a whisper.
âI know,â you admit.
He nods. Another beat.
âDid you kiss her?â you ask.
âNo.â He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now.Â
Your mouth goes dry.
âNo?â
âNo,â he repeats. âI didnât.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause I didnât want to.â
âYou donât want her?âÂ
âNo,â he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. âI donât want her.âÂ
âWhy not?âÂ
He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face â warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.
âI donât want her,â he says, voice an octave lower, âbecause I want you. I thought you knew that?âÂ
The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.
âYou want me?â you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. âProve it.â
Joel doesnât hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.
Itâs sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. Heâs groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair â as if he canât get close enough, as if heâll only be satisfied once heâs swallowed you whole. Youâre pretty sure you want him to.
Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat.Â
And then heâs back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw.Â
Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. Youâve missed this, god, youâve missed this â but itâs still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt â youâre not picky. Just need him in whatever way heâll provide.
âJoel,â you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep.Â
He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. âWhat is it, baby?â he asks through labored breaths.Â
âNeed you â please.â
He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs.Â
Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.
âYou gonna let me fuck you?â he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.
Your breath catches.Â
You know what heâs really asking: are you going to let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?
But you donât care. In fact, youâre way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take whatâs his.
You nod frantically. âYes,â you pant. âPlease.â
Joel nods too, as if heâs accepting his fate. Heâs going to fuck his friendâs daughter in the passenger seat of her car. Thereâs no way around it â not when youâre begging for it. Heâs going to give you what you need.
âOkay,â he soothes, âI got you baby.âÂ
He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.
He doesnât bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then youâre pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.
You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. âGo ahead baby,â he whispers into your ear. âTake it; itâs yours.â
His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist.Â
You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. Heâs so thick, stretching you like itâs the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.
âFuck,â Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.
âGotta move baby â please move.â
Heâs so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.
Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You canât suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesnât seem to mind. Heâs just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.
Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. Heâs relentlessly hitting that spot â the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life.Â
Itâs approaching too quickly; heâs going to make you come.
One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry itâll pop.Â
Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.
âOh fâ ahh, oh myââ
âThatâs it,â he coos, âyou got it, babygirl.â
His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. Youâre wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.
His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.
âCmon, baby,â you goad, âplease fill me up.â
He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You donât move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like heâs afraid to let you go.
You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.
You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You donât have the energy to care.
Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joelâs chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.
âJoel,â you say.
He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.
âYeah?â He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.
âDid you mean it?â
âMean what?â
âAbout wanting me.â In truth, youâre not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. Youâre done sharing him.
âOh, baby,â he drawls. âOf course I do. Youâre all I want. Do you want me?â
And itâs a stupid question. He has to know that. Youâre nodding before he can even finish it. âYes,â you breathe. âI want you, Joelâ
âThen itâs settled. Itâs me and you. No moreâŚinterlopers.â
You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driverâs seat with achy legs.
Youâve never felt more content than you do in this moment.
Still, youâll have to hide â wonât be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad â and neither will Joel.Â
You donât care much, not as long as heâs yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.
âJoel,â you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.
âYeah, darlinâ?â
âAre you sure you donât mindâŚbeing a secret? Donât mind keeping me a secret?â
He looks at you like you have two heads.
He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.
Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure youâre listening.
âI want you â doesnât matter who knows or doesnât know. Long as youâre mine.â
Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.
âIâm yours?â
He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning.Â
It all feels somehow sweeter, now.
âYeah, angel. Youâre mine. My girl.â
end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.
Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)
tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673
#joel x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#dbf!joel#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#tlou fic#the last of us fanfiction
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october's end.
dbf!joel miller x f!reader summary: a filthy halloween night with your dad's best friend, joel miller. [you get him to briefly wear a ghostface mask]. [enjoy that! i did]. warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap. alcohol. au. begging. cream pie. dirty talk. dom!joel. fingering. jealous!joel. language. masked!joel. no outbreak. no use of 'y/n'. praising. smut. use of 'good girl'. use of 'slut'. unprotected piv. word count: [about] 3,800. a/n: hi! debut, written for @mermaidgirl30's halloween writing challenge. cover by me, divider by @saradika. @saradika-graphics.
Everythingâs bigger in Texas, including Halloween. Your childhood neighborhood is locally televised each Octoberâs end, due to every homeâs enthusiastic participation. Thereâs an annual stoppage of traffic for the singular eveningâs festivities, permitting only costumed bodies to roam the gated communityâs residential roads.Â
Branches draped in gauzy webs. Yards engulfed in artificial fog. A beloved holiday tradition, predating the tailend of the seventies, when Dad and Joel were elementary aged and wielding pillowcases of candies. Now, theyâre fifty-somethings, bemoaning mutual back pain and cursing pesky lawn decorations.
âHere,â Joel gruffs, while individually sliding Dad two Reeseâs pumpkins, from across the kitchenâs counter. âProtein break. âS four grams.â
Dad swipes them both up, before confirming that statement by thumbing oneâs wrapper, âThat ainât bad.â
Youâre quietly laughing at their supposed refueling, while stooping behind the fridgeâs door and scanning the moistened shelves. There. A seasonal beer, from your favorite brewery in Austin. Itâs comfortably predictable, returning home for Halloween; From Dad purchasing your favorite autumnal ales, to Joel Millerâs ruggedness.
You properly right yourself. Then, using your waist, nudge the applianceâs door shut, âDad, whereâs your bottle opener?â
Dadâs phone abruptly drones, reverberating against granite and interrupting your question; He grimaces at the callerâs illuminated identity.
You guess, âGhostface?â
Dad laughs, before emphasizing, âWorse. My neediest client.â He abandons his barstool, continuing, âActinâ like buildinâ up in Waco makes âer Joanna Gaines.â Dad apologetically nods toward you, âJoel. Will âya?â
Joelâs scruffy chin tips upwards, directing you, âCâmere.â
Somethingâs brewing, once Dad vacates the vicinity. Your forced proximity to Joel is newly palpable; Tonightâs different. Youâre obedient, in approaching him. Joel doesnât stop staring. The bottleâs neck is being strangled, under your dominant hand. You canât completely ward off an image of taking him into your palm.
Your minimal passage to his barstool seemed slow-motioned, almost. Youâre not sure. Timeâs just apparently lengthier, under Joelâs browned gaze.
 Joel grunts, fingering his carabiner of keys, attempting to sift out his bottle opener keychain, âYou playinâ Michael Meyers, âgain? âRound one night, only?â
You amusedly scoff, âKeepinâ track?â
Joel shrugs, âEight days, in eight years.â
Youâre genuinely surprised that Joelâs noted your absence. Maybe, Dad revealed that specific number, correlating to your sparse appearances in Austin; Well, it couldâve been that Dad mentioned to Joel about how since your high schoolâs graduation, youâve only managed to visit home yearly. Thatâs just basic math. Right?
You stammer, âUh huh. âS my favorite holiday.â
Joel hums, before abruptly wrapping his calloused palm around the entirety of your hand and the beer bottleâs width, âHm. âN that your favorite beer?â
Youâre momentarily silent, muted by Joelâs warmth. A sizable hand, roughened from decades of hard labor. The tips of his delectably thick fingers begin tightening at your wrist, securing his hold as heâs standing himself up.
Even fully seated, Joelâs intimidating in size. Him standing toe-to-toe with you? Thatâs another story. His construction boots are weathered and worn; They would be comically large, in comparison to your measly-sized sneakers, but nothingâs funny about Joel Millerâs body mere inches from yours.
You reply by mustering an eager nod; And, whether thatâs in response to Joelâs prior question pertaining your liking of the beer, or merely an approval of his nearness to you? You havenât decided.
Joel rasps, âAnythinâ else?â Heâs pulling your combined hands downward, to his waist. The carabinerâs remained attached to his beltâs loop, âThat âya favor?â
Youâre struggling to think of something witty to retort. Because, the frayed seam of Joelâs zipper is right there. Heâs deftly notching the bottleâs cap inside of the openerâs teeth; The beer crisply hisses, releasing any contained pressure.
Joel whispers, âWhat, darlinâ? Bat got your tongue?â
You defeatedly laugh, âSomethinâ like that.â
He grins, carefully releasing you, âTaste it.â
You harshly gulp, âSâSorry? Oh, right. TâThe beer.âÂ
Joel agrees, âThatâs right.â Then, darkly teases, âYâknow, that pretty mind âa yours is boundinâ for the gutter.â
He crosses his arms against his broad chest, the canvas fabric of his Carhartt jacket drawing taut. Joelâs now cocking his head, sending his gaze along the pathway from the glass vessel that youâre feebly holding, to the lower lip that youâre inadvertently biting; Daring you.
Youâre feignedly bold, âMeet âya there.â
You drink, even if itâs primarily to keep yourself from further stuttering. At first, itâs an adequate enough distraction; The alcoholâs frigid in temperature, soothing to the high-strung tendons of your throat, from the inside-out. Then, youâre curiously drawn to Joelâs own gulping throat, and that transient composure of yours is gone.
Joelâs devotedly watching you, his glare heady and sensual. His Adamâs apple jerks, moving atop the clenched muscles and corded veins of his neck. Youâre somewhat tipping back, gathering your final mouthful, for now; Youâve drained three-fourths of it, by the time that youâve halted your sipping.
Then, Joelâs thumb darts out, before smoothing against your glistening mouth. He drawls, âGot it lookinâ real good. Letâs see.â
Youâre only narrowly audible, âOh? Joel.âÂ
Joelâs tongue, deliciously large and scrubbed pink, strokes his finger. He groans, âMm. Ainât sure. Need ât sample it from the source.â
You inwardly whimper, âYeah?â
Youâre foolishly tempted to extend him the ambered bottle itself, because surely Joel Miller, your dadâs best friend, would identify that as the âsourceâ. Not your parted, wanting lips. Like Joelâs read your hesitant mind, he reassuringly pins your hands behind your back, easily dismissing the beer; A singular hand of his own, dwarfing the pair of your wrists.
Joelâs ghosting your lips, âYeah.â
For good measure, Joel lightly moans, sucking his dampened digit. Humming around the pumpkin spiced suds, lapping up any residual taste from his finger. Arms restrained, spine straightened; Your chestâs rising urgently.
Joelâs own chest, delicately hairy below his threadbare t-shirt, is an odd inch away. A desperate heatâs begun permeating your lower abdomen; Achingly unfurling, taking up residency in your cunt.
Of course, itâs then that Dadâs barrelling over, having withdrawn from his nearby office, âSorry âbout that, kid. Get âer open?â
Youâre coughing out, âYâYep.â Then, âThanks, Joel.â
Dropping your wrists, Joel winks, âOh. âM pleasure.â
Your incriminating closeness to Joel goes unrecognized by Dad; Seeing as, Joelâs wide shoulders completely obscure you from view.
Dad sighs, âGee, there ainât no escapinâ this shiplap.â
Joel immediately laughs, casually reclaiming his prior barstool. The jarring segue from Joelâs flirting with you, to his joking with Dad, is absolutely disorientating. Youâre fidgeting, repeatedly and silently tapping your foot. You canât do Joel here; Youâll settle for doing last-minute Halloween preparations.
You blurt, âGoinâ to start organizinâ the candy. âS all in the garage, Dad?â
Dad assuredly nods, âSure is. âCept these.â He chuckles, gathering the forgotten wrappers from his earlier âprotein breakâ with Joel.
You remind him, âDonât forget to refill the fog tanks.â
Dad, who seemingly had forgotten, regretfully snaps his fingers, âWhat would I do without âya?â Heâs bragging to Joel, âLook at âer.â
Joel agreeably nods. Eyeing you, âGood girl.â
Because, Dad and Joel are career contractors, who are simultaneously life-long friends and next-door neighbors, itâs only right that theyâve done an elaborate, joint Halloween for three decades; Locally dubbed the âConstruction Frightâ.
A (questionably) age-appropriate spread of horror, featuring thrifted tools that bludgeon and dismember an assortment of plastic skeletons. Hard hats, faux-bloodied and stabbed with rusted nails. Construction tape, riddled in spiderwebs.
A half-dozen, battered wheelbarrows, brimming with chocolate candies; Three brown ones, carrying Hersheyâs, Rolo, and Tootsie Roll. Three orange ones, containing every imaginable variant of Reeseâs.Â
 Youâve already been working for nearly an hour; Arranging the color-coordinated barrows of candy. Youâre jamming the recycling binâs lid shut, overtop the cardboard and plastic wrappings of king-sized bars, when the entry doorâs opened.
Dadâs entering the garage, âSunâs settinâ soon, kid. âOughta get dressed.â He lazily squeezes you in an impromptu side-hug, âThanks, for helpinâ.â
You breathily sigh, âMhm. Oh, I need ât light the Jack-O-Lanterns.â
Joel appears, insisting, âGo on, darlinâ. Iâll get âem sweatinâ for âya.â
Youâre thinking, âThatâs ridiculously slutty of him to sayâ, when Joel continues, this time addressing Dad, âHey. Phoneâs ringinâ over âgain.â
Dad sighs, âGot ât be kiddinâ me.â Then, grumbles, âSure hopinâ itâs Ghostface.â He grins, lightly pinching your elbow.
You giggle, âCâmon. She canât be that bad.â
Dad shrugs, smiling before swiftly jogging up the garageâs concrete steps; When Dadâs fully retreated inside, and the doorâs naturally swung shut, Joel doesnât waste any time pinning your body against it.
Joel whispers, âBet âya find that this pussyâs wet âf me, when youâre undressinâ it.â His jeaned, muscular thighâs nudging your legs ajar.
You airily groan, âPâPlease. Fuckinâ kiss me.â
Joel grins, wedging his ample thighâs sturdy surface against your beating cunt. He kisses you; Joel Miller fuckinâ kisses you. Heâs grabbing your face, thumbing your cheekbones. His lengthy fingers, scraping your skull.
His tongueâs deeply delving, eagerly exploring your mouthâs every crevasse. You canât breathe efficiently or think coherently. Everythingâs Joel. His graying beard, raking your chin; A woodsy scent, like that of the hardware storeâs lumber aisles, exuding from his clothing.
Youâre moaning, âNgh.â Then, ripping at the silvery hair thatâs curling against the nape of his sun-freckled neck, âMore.â
Joelâs grunting, âFuck. Need ât stop.â He canât stop, and sucks your bottom lip, once more. Then, âHâHear âim? Heâs gaininâ on us.â
Sure enough, Dadâs approaching. Itâs damn-near impossible to quit rutting along Joelâs denimed, upper leg. Youâre whining, âNeed âya.â
Joelâs panting, âTâTonight, darlinâ.â He arousingly whispers, âAll night. When the porch lightâs out, sneak over.â Then, darker and deeper, âRepeat it.â
You repeat, âTonight. When the porch lightâs out, sneak over.â
Youâre admittedly distracted, during the eveningâs trick-or-treating segment. You understand that nothingâs allowed to appear awry around Dad, but Joelâs playing casual too well. You shouldnât overthink, but itâs torturous; That heâs apparently unaffected. Drinking with Dad and Tommy. Never really staring at you.
Joelâs (conveniently) costumed as himself every Halloween, but himself during working hours; A leathered tool belt, cinching his tender waist. A backwards Filson hat, tamping his unkempt curls. His dirtiest âwhiteâ t-shirt; The necklineâs absurdly tattered and torn, an array of holes displaying his bodyâs coarse hair.
Midlandâs country cover of âWicked Gameâ is emitting from neighboring speakers. You canât resist likening the songâs drumming pattern to your own heartâs pulsating rhythm; Yearning for Joelâs attention. Then, Dadâs whistling for your attention.
Dadâs pointing, âLook, kid. Your âol boyfriend, Nick. Heâs fuckinâ Ghostface.â Dad humorously roars, standing, âSee âim? HâHold on.â
Youâre avidly protesting, but Dadâs already approaching Nick, whoâs not wearing, but holding his hooded mask; Fingers cupping the elongated, rubbery chin. Thereâs nothing inherently wrong about him; He (morally) should be your holiday hook-up, not your dadâs best friend. Itâs too bad.
Joel snipes, âDick?â
You tut, âItâs Nick.â
Joelâs feigning understanding, âOh, Prick.â
Youâre unsure whatâs initiated this potent sexual tension, but itâs consumed your every thought this Halloween; While, Joelâs every word is loaded. His irritated sarcasmâs gunned your way. Any bickeringâs uncommon, for the pair of you. Youâre hoping that Tommyâs too busy proffering candy to notice.
Dadâs returned, towing Nick, âWerenât we just talkinâ âbout him, kid? So funny.â Dad, and his dorky penchant for inside-jokes.
Nick cluelessly smiles, âHi, you.â
You politely reply, âHi, yourself.â
Nickâs extending his hand, summoning you from your designated seat, âGot ât see this costume.â Then, heâs declaring you, âStunning.â
Youâre incredulously laughing, âTheyâre bloodied overalls.â
Nick grins, persisting, âLove âem. Also, this apronâs awesome.â Heâs thumbing your accessoryâs front, tracing the logo, âCarhartt girl, huh?â
Youâre aiming to get under Joelâs skin with, âScream girl, too.â You inspect Nickâs black robe, feeling his armâs draping sleeve.
Oh, Joel Millerâs jealous. Heâs rolling his earthy-toned eyes; Aggressively peeling his beerâs damp label, while instigating Dad, âHearinâ this?â
Dadâs indifferent, shrugging. Heâs always approved of Nick for you; Heâs Texan, and plays Minor League Baseball. Thatâll do it.
Nickâs pleading, âLetâs please walk âround, sweep the neighborhood?â
Joel snarks, âHell. Reckon heâs recruitinâ for Neighborhood Watch?â
Nickâs nervously smiling, having not heard Joelâs dig, but surely hearing Dad and Tommyâs abrupt snickering.
You kindly respond, âLetâs. Love seeinâ the decorations.â
Itâs nine-thirty. Your streetâs grown habitually sparse; Toddlers, having resigned to stringent bedtimes. Teens, having retreated to erupting parties.
You decipher Joelâs looming silhouette; His rocking chairâs creaking, upon the dimmed porchâs planks. A gleaming tumbler of (presumably) whiskey is resting against his crossed leg, the glass winking at you.
Joelâs dragging his index fingerâs edge against his groomed mustache, thumbing his angrily tightened jaw. He rasps, âAinât walk âya home?âÂ
Youâre ascending his porchâs tread, âDidnât need that. Told âim so.â Then, untying your apronâs chaotic knot, âUncross your leg, Joel.â
Joelâs pleasingly pliant; He warns, âThatâs the only order that Iâm takinâ tonight.â His lapâs deliciously spreading, âGet ât drawinâ the blinds.â
The anticipationâs wetting you. Youâre immediately scampering along the porchâs perimeter, rolling down every privacy blind; Joelâs patiently swigging his auburn liquor. You whimper, âAâAnythinâ else?â
Joelâs rolling the wick of his adjacent kerosene lantern; Thrusting his opened lap, scrounging his Zippo lighter from an anterior pant pocket. His handâs arousingly veined, while flicking the lighterâs flint wheel.
He belatedly replies, âDrop your apron. Undo your overalls.â
Youâve dropped the apron, and somethingâs spilling out from the largest pocket; Joelâs deeply exhaling, âExplain that.â
The lampâs emitting faint light, fire illuminating his hardening expression. Heâs so scarily sexy. Youâre inching nearer, but Joel hoists his palm, stopping you.
You embarrassedly gulp, âNâNickâs mask. Asked me ât hold it. He never wore it.â
Joelâs impatient, waving, âAnd?â
Youâre tentatively unhooking your denimed straps, gently uttering, âWâWould âya? Wear it?â
Joelâs mildly surprised, âOh?â Deciding, âBring it here. On your knees.â
You instantly kneel, before gathering up the discarded disguise using your teeth. Youâre crawling to Joel, crossing the porchâs dully-lit surface. The bib upon your overalls undone; The garmentâs buckling loops clinking.
Joel involuntarily moans, âNgh. Dirty fuckinâ girl.â His index fingerâs pumping from his balled up fist, signaling you.
Your pussyâs thumping, because of his commanding, curling digit. Youâre itching to suck it. You need anything of Joelâs inside of you.
Youâve gradually reached Joel; Youâre being caged in-between his lengthy legs. Joel forcibly pinches your face, removing the mask from your biteâs grasp. The itemâs resultantly spat, against his abutted groin.
Heâs astonished at the filthy sight, rustling, âHow âbout that.â Youâre resting on your haunches, while Joel praises, âGood girl.â
Joelâs abruptly leaning downward, before hungrily lifting your bodyâs entirety along his own. Heâs immediately kissing you, sinking against the rocking chairâs curved spine; The porchâs cedar ground sighs, creakily duetting with Joelâs groans.
Youâre practically siphoning the remnant whiskey from his tongueâs cushioned pad; Your mouthâs rabidly sucking, while your waistâs desperately grinding.
Joelâs bypassing your denimed, disoriented trousers; His palmâs greedily grasping your backâs arched column. His remaining arm, ladling your ass. Then, Joelâs effortlessly hauling your goosebumped figure upward; The rocking chairâs momentum being an assistant. The maskâs wedged in-between your upright bodies.
Joel breathes, âTâThe lamp. Hang tight.â Youâre licking Joelâs partially bearded throat; Heâs briefly hunching, responsibly lowering the wick, consequently extinguishing the flame. Your quartet of limbs, wrapping his flexing torso.
Youâre whispering, âYouâre so big and strong, Joel.â
He amusedly sighs, âYeah?â Promising, âAinât seen nothinâ.â
Then, Joelâs roughly stamping your body against the front doorâs exterior; His bulge swelling, pinning your pussy. The entry knobâs blindly twisted. Joelâs heavy-footed steps are reverberated, crunching his homeâs metallic threshold.
First, Joel carelessly clears his entry wayâs waist-heighted table. Juggling you, while his tanned armâs sweeping everything off; A ceramic, coffee-stained mug of loose changeâs completely shattered. Second, Joel harshly kicks his anterior door shut; Thereâs an impressive boot print, left behind.
Joelâs panting, âTell me ât stop?â
Youâre begging, âKâKeep goinâ.â
He hums, âHm. Need it, darlinâ?â Joelâs hurriedly planting you upon the tableâs cleared crest, kissing your nodding throat. Agreeing, âYeah. You do.â
Itâs dizzyingly hot; Joel gruffly ripping off your mussed overalls, easily tugging off your slip-on sneakers. Heâs lobbing them across the room, away from the mess of coins and shards. Youâre noticing the Ghostface mask, under his unmoving bicep.
Joelâs noticing you, âThis what âya want?â Heâs hesitantly thumbing the maskâs gaping jaw. âAinât scared?â
You quietly say, âLike ât be scared.â Youâre reaching upward, prying off his hat; His hairâs deliciously gray and tousled. âHere.â
Joelâs flinging his accessory away. Then, handing you the hooded, horror mask, âGo âhead.â He warns, âWearinâ it âtill youâre cominâ. Understand?â
Youâre stroking his untidy hair, readying him, âWonât be long.â You murmur, âSâSoppinâ for âya.â
Joelâs grunting, âFuckâs sake.â Kissing you, in-between threatening, âFilthy. âOughta edge âya. Talkinâ like that.â
He impatiently rings your wrists; Youâre positioning the mask properly overhead. The draping fabricâs hitting Joelâs colossal shoulders.Â
Your pulseâs hammering, âOh.â
The maskâs milky-colored expression, surveying you. Stark, against the setting of Joelâs unlighted home. His index fingerâs impulsively traveling your body; Dragging over your bottom lipâs dampened flesh. Then, carnally downard, riding your throat. Fingering your jugularâs delicate divet. Hooking your undershirtâs airy collar.
Joelâs taunting, âHeartâs racinâ.â
Youâre anguishly rutting against his console tableâs lacquered top. You need to be touched. You beg, âJâJoel. Oh, Joel.â
Joelâs eerily tilting his head, âPussyâs racinâ like that, too?â Whispering, âAinât it?â
Youâre deliriously horny, âYes.â
Heâs humming, âHm. Shirtâs got ât go, first.â His unoccupied handâs rummaging his hind pocket, while, âReckon that my knifeâll work?â
Youâre pleading, âCâCut it off.â
Then, Joelâs brandishing his utility knife. The bladeâs expertly flicked outward. He urges, âTry ât hold still.â
Joel Millerâs carving your fucking shirt; His bladeâs blunt edge skimming your sternum. Heâs effortlessly halved it, forging an impromptu vest. Heâs instantaneously shoving the garment overtop your rigid shoulders.
The knifeâs frigid handle brushes your tapered nipple; Joelâs awaiting permission, hovering your underwearâs waistline. Youâre nodding, kneading his large shoulders. His fingerâs hitching the material, before his bladeâs cutting it.
Snipping the remaining side, Joel grunts, âCunt need stuffinâ?â Heâs pocketing your saturated underwear and his retracted knife, âI know itâs wet ânough to take two fingers.â
Youâve been fantasizing about Joel entering you all Halloween. And, finally; He does. Heâs groaning, âSâSwallowinâ both of âem. âJus like that?â
Your angling headâs hitting the paneled wall. Youâre obscenely squelching around his battering digits. You belatedly respond, âJoelJoelJoelJoel.â
Joelâs roughened wristâs repeatedly rubbing your beating clit. Youâre clenching speechlessly around him, innately meeting every re-entry. Your spineâs warming; Your stomachâs taut.
Your arousalâs watering his driving hand; His palmâs pooling. Joelâs incessantly steady. Praising, âCominâ up. Doinâ good.â
Youâre gasping, âThere. Oh, right there.â
The instant that youâre coming, Joelâs yanking off his hindering mask. His beardâs patchy and sweaty. He grins, âMan âa my word.â
Then, Joelâs amused mouthâs pounding upon your own; Heâs desperately inhaling your breaking moans. Licking your teethâs underside.Â
Youâre abundantly squirting, as Joelâs uncorking your cunt. Your spotting visionâs correcting leisurely. Youâre languidly sighing; Breathing deeply.
Heâs genuinely insane for drinking you from his cupped palm. Then, Joelâs mouthing his soggy fingers; Hitting knuckle. Youâre blurting, âNeed ât fuck.â
Joelâs arching his aging brow; Rasping, âAsk nicely.â Then, heâs towing your body overtop his broad shoulder. Spanking you, âGreedy fuckinâ girl.â
Youâre nakedly suspended, Joelâs bicep rippling below your ass. Heâs entering his living room; Carefully placing you across his cognac-colored sectional. Youâre propping upon the chaiseâs leathered cushions. You whine, âPlease, Joel.â
Joelâs tutting, âBetterân that.âÂ
You supply, âPretty please?â
Heâs gradually moving nearer; His denim-clad shins, butting the couchâs edge. Joelâs unhurriedly thumbing his beltâs loop, painfully prolonging his removing it. Youâre wetting and writhing against his furnitureâs fabric.
Joelâs unimpressed, âCâmon.â
Shedding his accessory; Working his zipper. His acting armâs so freckled, tanned, veined. Joelâs yanking his t-shirt overhead, before subsequently revealing an appetizing, softened tummy. His happy trailâs graying and wiry.
Youâre begging, âJoel. Please.â
Heâs winking, âGood ânough.â
Every soundâs tantalizing; Joelâs boots and pants, thumping across the carpet. His bare, bulky thighâs abruptly rubbing against your naked pussy; Then, Joelâs mirroring your bodyâs horizontal position. Mounting you.
Your arousalâs drenching his underwearâs front; His lengthâs largely tenting the humid material, âBegginâ like that. Fuckinâ slut.â
Youâre involuntarily panting, when Joelâs finally and fully undressed. His cockâs deliciously girthy. The tipâs engorged, reddened and seeping; Erecting far beyond his bellyâs button.
Youâre whimpering, âPleasePleasePlease.â
Joel grins, âCuntâs quiverinâ. Feelinâ that?â
You desperately nod, âNeed you ât feel it.â
Joelâs immediately pistoning his fleshy waist; His cockâs knocking your cervixâs wall. His rough thrustingâs fastly inching your bodies upward, until your headâs rearing the sofaâs supple tailend.
He whispers, âWarm ânough?â
You gasp, âCâCockâs perfect.â
Joelâs inaudibly responding; Ramming your hand, palming your pelvis. Youâre feeling his cock, below your abdomenâs exterior. Heâs interlocking your fingers; His own swallowing yours; Pressing. Youâre practically tracing his bulbous, twitching tip.
Heâs praising, âTakinâ me well.â
Joelâs bottoming-out, pounding steadily; His bloated, weighty balls welting your taint. Your clitâs puffing, from his pubic boneâs rhythmic route. Dementedly fucking you. Youâre moaning, âAh. FâFuck.â
He murmurs, âCuntâs gulpinâ me.â Joelâs hooking your kneeâs underside, before lugging it overtop his broad shoulderâs slope, âNeedy fuckinâ hole.â
Youâre stammering, âNgh. MâMm. RightThereRightThere.â
Then, Joelâs angling deeper, differently; Laying his bodyâs robust weight against your languid, vertical leg. Your footâs achingly surpassing your head. His chest hairâs graying and saturated; Scraping you.
Your pussyâs overwhelmingly spasming. Joelâs messily tonguing your nippleâs peak; His mustacheâs prickling the sensitive skin. Youâre tugging at his hairâs curling strands, âJâJoel. Close.â
Joelâs echoing your prior words, âMeet âya there.â
Youâre shockingly surprised, that Joelâs remembered the momentary retort; Your faux-bold response and pumpkin spiced alcohol. Thatâs it. Youâre blindly coming. His cockâs densely brimming your contracting hole; Hammering you.
Your pussyâs pornographically sloshing. Joel whimpers, âAââAtta girl. Drenchinâ it.â Then, âCominâ inside. âM snipped. Yeah?â
Youâre immediately kissing him. Palming his beardâs rugged stubble. Sucking his tongueâs pink pores; Tasting your arousalâs heady flavoring.
His climaxing moanâs roaring down your throat; Cum rapidly spurting, coating your cunt. Youâre rubbing his rolling eyeâs crinkled grooves. His foreheadâs tanned and wrinkled. Joelâs especially gorgeous, while cumming hard.
Youâre pouring, when Joelâs unplugging you. Heâs breathlessly cursing, âFuckinâ hot.â Standing, âGettinâ towels. Need anythinâ else? Water?â
Youâre beginning to respond, when Joelâs unexpectedly bending; Kissing you. You smile, tapping your bottom lip, âWhatâs that for?â
Joelâs embarrassedly pointing, toward the nearby microwaveâs blinking clock. He explains, âTen thirty-one on October thirty-first. âDunno. Good luck? Make âa wish or somethinâ.â
Youâre actually dumbfounded, âOh? Youâre absurdly cute.â
Joel frowns, âAinât allowed ât call me that. âSpecially while leakinâ my seed.â Heâs nakedly turning, preparing to walk, âWater?â
Youâre pulling Joelâs hand, âWait. Want ât hear your wish.â
He gulps, âThat⌠Youâll be visitinâ home on Thanksgivinâ.â
#pedro pascal#joel miller#dbf!joel#joel x reader#joel miller x reader#smut#joel tlou#pedro pascal smut#joel miller smut#dbf!joel miller#joel miller age gap#joel miller one shot#joel miller imagine#joel miller x fem!reader#Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge
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THE RIGHT KIND OF WRONG â dbf!mechanic!joel oneshot
series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3 pairing: dbf!mechanic!joel x f!reader. summary: your car breaks down and you make a deal with your dad's best friend, joel, who happens to be the best mechanic in town. you'll work for him over the summer holidays to pay your debt back, but maybe you can find a pleasant shortcut to it? a/n: well, well, well... what can i say? this whole uniformed!joel shit is giving me proper brain rot. i don't know what came over me while writing this but i just rolled with it. i do appreciate any notes you may wanna leave to keep me motivated hehe. enjoy! x edit: forgot to mention this oneshot was prompted by this ask! warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. juicy age gap (reader is 21, joel is 48). rough, ABSOLUTE filth & i'm not even sorry. some edging. semi-public groping? masturbation (f and m receiving). oral (f and m receiving). pussy pronouns (she/her). unprotected piv. mouth fucking. very mild brat taming kink. transactional sex. alternating pov. reader is female but that's about it. w/c: ~8.9k of pure filth. divider by @cafekitsune
âUgh, not again, câmon!â
Your cranky little car did not have it in it anymore. It was almost fifteen years old now, having passed down from your older brother to you when you turned sixteen five years ago. Out of pure frustration, you hit the steering wheel with the palm of your hand and let out a raspy grunt.
The check engine light had lit up on the dash, which was what caused your fit. And then, as if orchestrated by the universe, the engine made a loud, clicking noise. You flattened your forehead against the wheel, your fingers curling around the rubbery texture with a tight grip.
âYou stupid car!â, you screamed at it as if it was a sentient being. âIâm broke, you cannot die on me like this!â
You were on the parking lot of a cafĂŠ. Early that afternoon you had met with some friends to celebrate the beginning of summer and the end of the academic year. One more and you would be done with your degree â it looked so damn far away, but you still had this summer to look forward to.
Rummaging through your purse, you finally located your cellphone and quickly dialled your dad.
âYeah?â
âHey, dad. Iâm at Bettyâs. The fucking light has come on again?!â
âWatch your mouth!â, he reprimanded you from the other side of the line. You could hear him huff and puff with disapproval. âI think your car is on its last legs, gonna have to think about buying one.â
âYou know I canât afford that, all my savings are going into my degree. Iâll just have to get it fixed for now.â
âTake it to Joelâs then. See what he thinks.â
âBut itâs a Sunday, you think heâll be open?â
âThat man is a workaholic, you bet his business is open today.â
âAlright, you reckon heâll do it for free?â
âFor free?â He laughed; you could imagine him shaking his head. âI doubt it, but maybe heâll give you a discount. Gotta go, little bug. Iâll see you at dinner. If you can make it, obviously.â He mocked you.
âHa, ha⌠So funny. Talk to you later.â And you hung up.
The drive to Joelâs garage was a fucking torture. Every time the engine made a squealing noise, your heart would jolt to your throat. You tried to encourage it, whispering sweet nothings in the hopes it would get appeased and make it to Joelâs repair shop.
You also got distracted by your filthy mind. Joel had been in your DILF radar since you were nineteen. Three years ago, your dad celebrated his 45th birthday with a barbecue in the middle of summer. Joel had turned up in a white tee shirt, khaki shorts and flipflops, with untamed silvery curls and a crate of beer under his arm.
When the Texan heat became unbearable, he had stripped himself of his clothes, fashioning a pair of short swim trunks that had left you breathless and wet. When you watched him get out of the water later that afternoon, you could have sworn that the tip of his dick had shown briefly before he discreetly tucked it away. That image had been burnt into your retinas and haunted you since then.
Unconsciously you licked your bottom lip, your core molten with slick, as the car came to a halt. You had arrived at your destination.
There was an old Ford at the front of the garage, someone working under the hood. When the driverâs door of your car slammed against the frame, Joel peeked up from the engine he was working on.
His eyes flickered with recognition. He grabbed an old rag to clean his big, veiny hands of grease and oil. You wondered what else would be big and veiny. Stop it, you dirty fucker, you told yourself.
âHey, Joel!â You waved at him with a smile.
âWhatâs up, kiddo?â
You rolled your eyes at him, the grin staying on your plump lips.
âIâm not a kid anymore, Joel. Have not been for a long time now, yâknow.â You punctuated, unsure of what you were trying to achieve with that comment. Well, you knew, but did not want to admit it to yourself.
âOh, I knowâ, he husked, his voice suddenly gruff.
Tilting your head to one side, you looked at him with question marks in your pupils. Why had he accentuated that âknowâ? And why all the sudden was your cunt gushing? How could he make you wet with three simple words? You were going to need to request a booty call that night from your friend with benefits.
âUh, uhmmâ, you laughed nervously. âThe engine light on my car has come on for the third time this week and the motor is making weird noises, could you check it out for me, please?â
âSure thing, lemme see.â He took the keys from your hand, electricity cracking between you.
You pursed your lips, a gesture he did not pick up on. Joel walked to the driverâs side, activated something and then the hood popped open. He walked around to the front of the car and propped the hood up with the metal rod that was inside.
As Joel was inspecting the motor with his broad hands, you put one foot in front of the other in a vain attempt to rub your knees together and cause some friction in your needy cunt. You squeezed your thighs some more as you watched him work with his hands, and you imagined what it would feel like if he was working you instead.
Oof! Take it down a notch, girl, you thought to yourself when your clit twitched in desperation.
Then Joel turned around to look at you.
âWhen was the last time you changed the timing belt?â
âThe... what now?â Your mind was hazy with lust, but even if you had been at your full mental capacity, you wouldnât have known what he was talking about.
âThe timing belt. In the engine. What ensures that the camshaft and crankshaft rotate in sync?â He looked at you with a cocked brow, cleaning his hands again on that old rag.
Oh, I would pay big bucks to be that rag.
âAre you even speaking English?â, you replied back, partially because you really had no idea what he was talking about, partially because your brain was all mushy with desire.
âIâll take that as a âneverâ then. You should really get it replaced, seems like thatâs your problem. Have you had trouble starting the car?â
âAs a matter of fact, yes, this very morning.â
âYeah, sounds like it. You need to change it asap, if it breaks while youâre driving it would be bad, very bad. You could have an accident. Also trying to fix it after itâs broken will cost you even more.â
âSo⌠will I need to break the bank?â You asked, already flinching at the idea.
Joel seemed to take a second to consider your options, leaning against the passengerâs door and scratching his scruffy beard.
âItâll be $800.â
Your heart almost stopped, your mouth agape.
âEight fucking hundred?â He nodded. âWell, can Iâ Can you not give me a bit of a discount here? You are best friends with my dad. Pretty please?â You laced your fingers together in a prayer and batted your eyelashes at him.
With a low grunt, he straightened his back and folded arms at his chest.
âIâm already giving you one. I would usually charge $1100. Youâre already getting a bargain.â
âWell, what about $300?â You counteroffered.
Joelâs brows knitted together and then loudly scoffed.
âWhat? You think Iâm a fucking charity? No, kiddo. $800 and thatâs it. If I go any lower, Iâd be losing money. Got a business to run here.â
You really did not have $800 bucks to spare. In fact, you barely had five hundred bucks to your name. Asking your family for money was not an option either â not because you were proud (you were), but because money was tight. Your parents already had enough struggles as it was, you did not want to add to the pile.
You visibly pouted and stumped one foot against the gravel, vexed. A loud sigh slipped through your lips as you pressed the heel of your hands against your eye sockets. You needed the car.
Dropping your hands to your sides, you looked at Joel with puppy eyes, covering the distance that was between you. Pleading, you palmed his strong forearm, your fingers wrapping around the girth of his muscles.
For a brief second, you wondered if you would be able to fully grip his erection. Would your fingertips be able to touch your thumb? Or would he be so thick you would need both hands to handle him?
âJoel, plâplease?â, you stammered, your arousal playing games with your vocal cords.
Unwillingly, he scanned your body up and down â slowly, taking his time, pondering his options.
Joel had wanted to fuck you for three years now, since your lustful eyes widened at the sight of only his tip on that dreadful summer day. He could vividly remember the way you had chewed your bottom lip as you watched him slide his cock back in his swim trunks, shamelessly, without blinking. You only stopped devouring him when someone talked to you, snapping out of your trance.
That night, when he got home, he had jerked himself off with you in his mind. He had imagined your plump lips sealed around his glans, the tip of your tongue playfully caressing the slit â your sparkly eyes looking up at him, dreamy and teary, imploring. He had taken his sweet time, rejoicing in his fantasy, until he had spilled in the palm of his hand, as if he was a hormonal teenager. And every time he would fuck someone to find relief, he would visualize your cunt sheathing him, clamping down on his dick like a beartrap.
Ever since then, every time his eyes landed on you, his blood would boil and his cock would harden. Just like now, dick pounding against his boxers, begging to be paid due attention. With the eyes of his imagination, he saw himself letting go and throwing you into the back of your car, drilling your pussy relentlessly until you came wailing, asking for more.
Joel sucked in his breath â he needed to calm down, distract himself with something else. You were his best friendâs daughter. He shouldnât be daydreaming about fucking you stupid. He had seen you grow since you were a babe.
Never thought of you any other way until that fateful barbeque, when he realised you were a full grown ass woman. Suddenly he had seen you for what you were: a fuckable brat who could get his cock rock-hard with the simple lick a of a lip.
An idea formed as you begged him. You looked desperate â desperate enough to him at least.
Joel cracked his tongue, his expression unwavering. But if you could see, you would know his cock was throbbing already.
âWell. I do have an idea.â His words dragged, his erection making him feel uncomfortable.
âYou do? Iâm all ears!â You exclaimed with a lopsided grin, your delicate fingers tighter around his forearm.
His head snapped to his right, pointing to a sign that read âHand Car Washâ.
âIf you help out all summer handwashing cars, Iâll consider part of your debt paidâ, he explained, looking down at your hand touching him.
âIn full?â You eyed him as if he was your goddamn saviour and that unsettled him.
âI said part of it, kiddo. Iâll leave it at $300.â
You batted your eyelashes at him. Did you know that your suggestiveness was wreaking havoc?
âAnything I can do so the $300 reduces to zero?â
âIâll think about itâ, he reluctantly conceded. Joel had a few ideas in mind, but none of them were precisely appropriate. Not for a twenty-one year old to do with a forty-eight year old at least, that was for sure. âBe here tomorrow at 9 AM, sharp. The team works from nine to twelve, Mondays to Fridays.â
You frantically nodded, almost squealing in excitement. The noise you made forced his cock to twitch. He could make you squeal too, only if you would let him.
âIâll be here! Thanks, Joel.â
Before he could think, you let go of his forearm and hugged him close to your chest. To your round breasts. Those two meaty globes he wanted to palm so badly. He could swear your nipples were stabbing at him. You embraced him so close to your body, his bulge pressed gently against your lower belly, and he wondered if you could feel him.
And then you stepped back. Quickly, too quickly for his liking.
âYouâll need to leave your car here, donât want you driving back in that junk. Iâll have a look at it tomorrow. Iâll give you a lift backâ, he offered. âLemme close first and Iâll be right back in five minutes.â
âNo probs, take your time.â You smiled at him as you went back to your car to grab your things.
Soon you were on the passengerâs seat of Joelâs pickup truck. It was dusking on the horizon, the light scattering through the windshield. Joel put down the visor so he wouldnât get blinded by the sun.
âSo howâs college going?â His attempt at small talk made you smile.
âItâs good, hard but good. The first year was really bad though. I didnât know anyone there, so had to make friends and everything.â You mentioned, shrugging, while mindlessly playing with your seatbelt.
âIâm sure you had no problems making friendsâ, Joel said distractedly, checking all the mirrors before turning at the streetlight.
You placed your elbow on the window frame, the back of your head resting on your palm, and you turned to look at him.
âHow are you so sure?â You asked, curious to see what his take on you was. The man was like a brick wall.
âYouâre so vivacious and talkative. Youâre not the shy kind either, always were part of the popular group in high school, werenât you?â You nodded, but he didnât see you, all focused on the road ahead. âBetâcha you have all the boys running after you.â
Well, that was unexpected. For both you and him, because you saw how his jaw clenched. It was almost imperceptible, but you were so aware of his every move, your body so in tune with his, you couldnât have missed it.
Had he noticed you? Like, actually? Was it possible that Joel fucking Miller, your freaking dadâs best friend, could look at you with other than paternal eyes? Why would he make hat comment otherwise?
Your cunt, still wet from your previous innocent interaction, fluttered. You had no butterflies in your stomach â they were actually clapping their fragile wings in between your legs. This man was a fucking menace to your senses, and he seemed oblivious to the effect he had on you. Or did he? Time to find out.
You giggled at his question and patted his upper thigh a couple of times, as if he had cracked the best joke you had ever heard. The pad of your fingers almost caressed his groin, that sweet dip where his thigh met his pelvis. The denim under your touch suddenly stretched as Joel flexed his leg, trying to release the tension that had rapidly built up.
You bit your bottom lip as he peered at you askance, your hand still too close to his crotch.
âI actually do, but none of them seem good enough, yâknow? I want a man, not a boyâ, you ventured, your top teeth sinking further in the soft pillow of your bottom lip.
You saw Joel sucking in his breath â and the grin in your face grew. He was definitely not immune to you, at least not as much as you had originally thought. He looked so unattainable, always so distant, you had wondered if, in his eyes, you had never grown up.
âDo you now, kiddo?â He asked between gritted teeth, tone throaty.
His brown eyes drifted down for one second, watching the tips of your fingers rubbing the denim of his jeans slightly, and then he locked them back on the road. You heard a low grunt vibrating in his throat, although he tried his best to suppress it.
âYeah. Iâm sick and tired of stupid childish boys. They are just boring now, they lackâ well, you know.â You let him brew with your unfinished sentence and removed your hand from his lap.
You could tell Joel finally was able to breathe again as his chest expanded slowly. His reaction to you left a prickling sensation in your pussy â wet, throbbing, needy. You pressed your knees together, but what you really wanted was for him to reach for you and dunk his thick fingers in your slit.
âYour dadâs there.â He stated, succinct, after clearing his throat.
You looked over your shoulder and through the window to realise that, in fact, you had arrived home. Your father was already waiting for you on the porch, probably because he recognised the noise of Joelâs truckâs exhaust pipe. And then he started walking towards you.
You suppressed a pouting grimace â you wanted just a few more minutes alone with Joel. A few more moves and, who knew? Maybe you would have him fingering the shit out of you. But thanks to your father, you would never find out.
Your father knocked on the passengerâs window and you rolled it down, smiling. Although what you really wanted to do was smack him for interrupting.
âHey, dad.â
âHey, sweetie. Howâs the car?â
âWellâŚâ You looked at Joel â you had already forgotten what was it that needed replacing.
âThe timing belt is going. Bit expensive but your daughter and I have reached an agreement. Will reduce the price for her but sheâs gotta come work on the hand-wash businessâ, he explained, matter-of-factly.
âSounds âbout right. Get your first taste of what the real world is like.â Your dad laughed at his own occurrence, while your mind drifted far, very far.
âIâd love to get a taste.â You answered feigning innocence, turning your face to Joel with a very wide smile painted on your mouth.
His eyes darkened, transfixed on yours. Oh, he knew exactly what you meant. He subtly stirred on his seat and you wanted to giggle so bad, but refrained.
âHey, Joel. Thereâs a game on tomorrow night. You wanna come over? Can have something to eat, few beers, will be fun. I need the company, God knows this lady over here just complains while scrolling through her social mediaâ, he pointed towards you with his thumb and you simply rolled your eyes at him.
Watching football with your old man was as boring as it got. However, if Joel Miller was there, he would have your undivided attention. Well, not him, the screen, obviously. Duh.
Your eyes shot to his, expectant. Your cunt was even more anticipative of his answer.
âYeah, why not?â
Famous last words. That was Joelâs only thought as soon as he entered his best friendâs home. You greeted him at the door, all smiley and welcoming, ignoring the fact that you had been trying to get him hard the. whole. fucking. day.
You had come to work with some very short jeans â every time you bent down to rub the sponge on the carâs bodywork, the bottom part of your perfectly round ass cheeks would show beneath the denim. Did you even wear any underwear? He thought not.
And then that white crop top was the fucking end of him. You had gotten it all wet when a loaded sponge dripped all over your front while you were talking to him about some trivial thing he could no longer remember. You had tittered and apologised while you scrunched it to get as much water out as possible. And the only thing he had been able to focus on were your pointy nipples, staring right at him, screaming for his caress.
After that, he had been at full mast the whole damn shift.
âHi, Joel, come in!â You greeted him excitedly, swinging the door open.
He had taken a cold shower before coming over, but maybe what he needed was a fucking ice bath. Because the moment you batted your eyelashes at him, his cock twitched again. Joel had fisted his dick while showering, in the hopes that emptying his nuts before seeing you again would placate his lust for you.
Nope, hadnât worked. Not one bit. This was probably a bad idea.
âHey, kiddo.â He greeted you, emphasizing the last word.
He could literally be your fucking father, but that did not seem to deter you. If anything, it spurred you on. Had you no shame? Had he no shame? Because he should have stopped you the moment you started to be suggestive. Instead, he had let you go on, enjoying every single second of it.
Joel walked in and made his way to the kitchen, with you on his heels, where your father was lathering up some ribs with his secret sauce recipe.
âHey, Joel. Let me get that from youâ, he said before cleaning his hands on a kitchen towel and grabbing the beer crate from him.
Feeling they were still cold, his best friend cracked two open and handed him one. Joel lifted the can to his lips and saw you looking at him from the corner of his eye.
âWant one?â he asked, since you were of legal drinking age.
You shook your head no, wrinkling your nose in disgust.
âEww, nah. I hate beerâ, you sniggered and his dick spasmed some more.
ââCourse you doâ, said your father before he could reply. âYou only drinkâ Whatâs that crap again?â
âGin and tonic, dad. Itâs literally gin and tonic mixed. Itâs not that fancy.â You huffed and puffed, shaking your head.
âThis youth mixing everything because they canât have proper alcohol. Whatâs next? Mixing beer with lemonade or something like that?â
âWell, thatâs actually a thing. Itâs called a shandy. Donât be so old.â
Joel let you two have a go at each other. Observing the exchange, he sat down on one of the stools in front of the island, knees slightly bent.
âWhat?! You listening to this, Joel?â You father exclaimed with a joking tone. âIs Sarah like this too?â
âYeah, exactly like this. Thinks beer is disgusting and everything. Thought I raised her better than that, but apparently not.â He jested, sipping from the tin can.
âHowâs she doing?â His friend asked.
âSheâs fine. Sheâs turning twenty-four in a couple of weeks. She moved out two months ago, gone to Houston for her new job.â He couldnât help but be proud of his Sarah. She had accomplished so much. âSheâs supposed to be here for her birthday, but weâll see. Sheâs always so busy, donât really know with what.â
âArenât they all? I barely see this one over here and she still lives under my roof.â
You folded arms, rolling your eyes again, while you sat down beside Joel on another stool.
âSorry for having a social life? Like, what do you want me to do? Stay here with you watching football? Got better things to do, dad.â
âSo you ainât staying tonight then?â Your dad asked.
Joel turned to study you, interested in your answer. Could he have some reprieve tonight?
âOf course Iâm stayinâ. Would be rude not to when we have guests over, right, Joel?â And as the last words abandoned your mouth, you placed your left hand on his right thigh under the counter.
God have mercy.
Joelâs muscles stiffened, one in particular more than the others. His thighs were tense as he gripped the beer can with more strength than what was necessary. He kept his eyes to the front, taming his breathing.
He should have done something, slapping your hand away from his lap for instance. But he didnât. And you took that as an invitation, because soon enough you were kneading his bulge under the kitchen island. Your palm rubbed harshly against the denim, and he saw you chewing your bottom lip.
Your father busied himself with seasoning the ribs and the French fries, oblivious to what was happening just a few meters away from him. This feels fucking wrong, but so fucking good, Joel thought to himself, your hand frisking his groin brazenly.
His cock was thudding with desire under his clothing, begging to be freed from its prison. You sensed his desperation, because you quickly tried to clasp your hand around it. Feeling your frustration at the inability of fisting him properly, Joel parted his legs to give you better access. If that was not an open invitation, nothing was.
Iâm already going to hell. Joel had to stop himself of sucking his breath in when you started to unzip his jeans. His eyes slightly widened, but that was his only tell.
âSo who do you reckon is going to win tonight?â Your father asked as your fingers dipped underneath his boxers.
Your warm skin against his beating cock dulled his senses. Then you took his dick out of his boxers and attempted to circle his girth while working him. Joel had to drink from his beer to shut himself up.
âNot sure, but Iâd like for the Longhorns to winâ, he spat the words out as best he could given the circumstances.
âYeah, would be nice seeing our hometown win something this seasonâ, your father continued with the small talk.
Joelâs thighs flexed when you started pumping him decisively. Fuck. He briefly looked down at his erection. It felt too damn good, your tiny fingers gripping him hard as you slowly moved your hand up and down on his lap. The tip of his cock was glistening with precum and you expertly rubbed it on his foreskin with your thumb.
As your father turned around to put everything in the oven, Joel took the chance to look at you. With your gaze averted, you pretended there was something interesting in the wall in front of you, while your right hand was buried underneath your slutty denim shorts. Joel could swear he could hear the squelching sounds your pussy was making while you played with yourself.
âRight, I think this is it. Gotta wait for an hour until everythingâs properly cooked. Wanna move to the family room in the meantime?â He happily chattered as he walked around the kitchen island.
You reacted quickly and let go of his shaft. With his lap right under the kitchen counter, Joel hoped to hell his friend would not see anything out of the ordinary.
âYeahâ, he said with a coarse voice. âNeed to go to the bathroom first.â
Your father just nodded as he sauntered towards the living room and Joel almost let go a sigh of relief. You simply chortled as you put your left thumb in your mouth, making it obvious that you were tasting his precum.
Joelâs cock jerked on his lap as he whispered a blasphemy. Quickly he tucked away his painful dick back in his boxers and zipped his jeans as he stood up. Then he retreated to the bathroom, needing a fucking moment to find his composure again.
Until he heard you.
âGonna go get my phone charger, be back in a jiffy!â
Before Joel could close the door behind him, you slipped your hand in the door gap to stop him from shutting it. You caught him off guard, because he stepped back, brows knitting when he saw you under the door frame.
âWhatâcha doing?â, he questioned you.
You could feel the rigidity radiating from him. You entered the small bathroom and silently closed the door behind you, both of your hands holding onto the doorknob on your back.
âI came to finish what I started.â
You didnât give him time to think â if you did, you knew he would put an end to this. You were too turned on, your cunt beating every time your heart did. Your pussy lips were all wet and puffy â you could feel your slick trapped between your folds, almost seeping into your panties. You had unleashed the beast and wanted it all for yourself.
So you threw yourself into Joelâs chest, your teeth softly scratching his Adamâs apple as one of your hands found its way back to his cock. He tilted his chin up and groaned at your touch. His pounding dick felt warm and velvety against your palm, so hard from working him under the kitchen counter a minute before.
Once he opened his eyes again, he looked down at you as you gripped his erection with both hands. Slowly you jerked him off, feeling powerful with him on the palm of your hands. Every time you pumped him, your clit would twitch in response. He had not touched you yet and your pussy was already palpitating for him. You could not wait to feel him inside you, stuffing you full.
 âWe shouldnât, your father is right thereââ
You could not care less. And to make it evident, you sunk to your knees in front of him, still holding his cock, now at eye level.
Your tongue darted out and you leaned his dick forward until the tip rested flat against your tongue, your hands still working his veiny shaft.
âYou were saying?â You asked before briefly pecking his glans.
âFuckâ, was the only thing he managed to mumble.
That was your cue to give free rein to your lust. You nudged his column with the tip of your nose as your mouth drifted down to kiss his balls. Then your tongue slid out in its full extension, and you flattened it against the underside of his cock, slowly lapping at it until you reached the top and sealed your lips around his mushroom head.
Glancing up at him, you saw pleasure softening his features as you took him in further and further down, until his cock reached the natural resistance at the end of your throat. When his tip bottomed out in your mouth, Joelâs eyes found yours. His jaw visibly clenched at the sight of you kneeling in front of him, cock burrowed in between your lips, tears gathering on your bottom eyelids because of how his dick was outstretching you.
You moaned as Joel pulled his hips back, his shaft leaving your wet cavity, now full of precum and saliva. You swallowed to make room as you avidly tipped your head towards him, your lips hunting down his dick again. Slurping so you wouldnât drown in fluids, you ate his cock like if it was the last edible thing on earth.
At that moment, something shifted in the air. As if Joel, finally, let go of his prejudices and accepted what you were giving him: your mouth to use as he pleased. His fingers hovered over your temples and then they clamped down on your skull as he held you in place.
âStay stillâ, he commanded, and you nodded, his cock sitting snugly in your mouth.
His hips moved back and then forward, rocking his dick in and out of your lips. First slow, then picking up a pace. You stayed put throughout while he fucked your mouth mercilessly, palms against your knees like the good girl you were. Then his glans breached your uvula and you inevitably gagged at the intrusion.
He forced you to remain still as he tried to go further down, but there was nowhere for him to go. Your eyes welled up while you fought back the need to cough, almost unable to breathe.
Joel snapped his hips back and your mouth became free. You started panting while trying to catch a breath. Joel cupped your chin up so you would look at him. His sly grin told you he was enjoying himself a bit too much.
âCan tell youâve not eaten many cocks, have you? Despite pretending to be this slutty brat in front of everyone, hm?â He asked, his voice rumbling in his chest.
âWell, Iââ He didnât let you finish the sentence because as soon as you opened your mouth, he slotted his dick back in between your plump lips.
âI actually donât wanna hear it.â
Inevitably your cunt gushed at his roughness. He was right though â you had only given head to two guys before and their cocks did not measure up to his. Your jaw had actually started to hurt now due to the effort you were making to house his dick in your mouth.
Joel quickly resumed his pounding, fucking your mouth relentlessly â his hips swaying back and forth in front of you.
âSweetie! Can you bring my charger too please?â Your fatherâs question forced both of you to snap out of the sexual haziness you both were feeling.
You two froze in place, Joelâs cock still in your mouth.
âOr I can come get it.â Then you heard his booted steps coming up the corridor.
In a panic, Joel stumbled back and you sprang to your feet, eyes widened with fear.
âNo! Donât worry! Iâm coming!â You shouted back, hoping that your voice sounded far away enough to him.
The steps stopped and you both listened to him walking back to the living room. âThank you, sweetie!â
You turned to look at Joel, who had grabbed a bunch of toilet roll to clean off the mess on his still throbbing cock.
âJoel, Iâm sorry, bââ
âJust go before he changes his mind and comes looking for youâ, his voice was strained with effort. His erection had to be painful by now without any relief.
But he was right. You couldnât risk it. Neither of you could. So with apologetic eyes, you slithered out the bathroom door and ran to your room to snatch a couple of phone chargers.
Fucking torture that was.
Joel had never been in a worse position than that. Sat on the couch with you, your father on the recliner just a couple of meters away â and his dick still pulsating, his balls full of unspent cum. His cock would writhe in his boxers, asking for a relief that never came. He was in excruciating pain and was not able to concentrate at all. All the small talk your father did went over his head, didnât pay attention to the TVâs commentary either.
From time to time, you would graze his thigh lightly â and on one occasion you slid your naughty hand towards his groin. Luckily the living room was dark, the TV being the only source of light, so your father didnât pay much attention to your provocations. You quietly kneaded his bulge, curling your fingers around his erection underneath, and it got to a point where Joel had to force your hand away, because he was too close to coming.
So, when he waved you both goodbye and got into his truck, he could literally not wait to get home. Under the dim light of the lampposts that filtered through the windows into the truckâs cabin, Joel freed his aching dick and fisted it from the base. With his head tilted back against the headrest, he furiously jerked off â fast and with no measure, to the point it was almost hurting. Tension built up from his nuts upwards and when Joel finally got relief, he groaned audibly as his cum spurted out in white, thick streaks.
With a heavy sigh and some laboured breathing, he opened his eyes, looking for some tissues to clean the mess on his lap. As he was putting his cock back in his boxers, something caught his attention.
The darkness camouflaged you well, but he spotted you on the window of your room, watching him eagerly with half-lidded eyes and chewing your bottom lip. Then your head leaned forward, your chin almost touching your chest, and Joel suddenly understood what was happening. You had been touching yourself while observing him do the same thing, until you orgasmed too.
Your eyes locked on each otherâs through the blackness, something dark and perverted floating in the atmosphere. The whole thing felt wrong. The right kind of wrong.
The next week had been a continuous dance between the two of you. You too suggestive, him too evasive. After you had seen him wanking in his car, you had thought you had him under your spell. He had looked like a damn teenager chasing his release, unable to contain it much longer.
But you couldnât blame him â you had had him on edge for almost five hours. First touching him under the counter, then sucking his dick in the bathroom, and finally kneading him on the couch with your dad only two meters away.
It all had affected you too, because as soon as you had scurried away to your room and had looked out the window, you fingered yourself with your eyes locked on him. You came so hard, that you had to steady yourself on the windowsill, trembling knees and all. And once the orgasm softened its grip on you, you had realised he had been watching you as you rode the last wave of your climax.
So yes, for a week you tried to seduce him again, because you needed to know how it all ended. Having him burrowed down to your guts was a necessity now. However, it got to a point where you almost gave up â it was draining having to follow him around like a bitch in heat. You still had one ace up your sleeve though. One that you hoped to play this afternoon. Because if you didnât fuck him today, you were going to lose your shit.
You focused on your task, which was rubbing the soaked sponge on the bodywork of the car. Two other people were doing the same thing on the back, while you were slightly bent over the hood trying to reach the middle. Your breasts brushed against the metalwork, your white tank top completely wet with soapy water, almost transparent now. The coldness was refreshing in the asphyxiating Texan heat and your nipples especially welcomed it, wrinkling tightly and showing through the fabric.
When you straightened, you caught a glimpse of Joel eyeing you intently. But you pretended you didnât â maybe you needed to play difficult, show him no interest. Reverse psychology. So for the rest of your shift you just ignored him, fully conscious of how his sight followed you at all times. Let him brew.
Joel didnât say a word though, didnât come close to you either. But you heard him wicker while you were openly teasing one of your teammates. Were you trying to make him jealous? Absolutely. So, you giggled and played with your hair at the tasteless joke your colleague told you. It wasnât funny, but you wanted Joel to listen to your flirting.
Midday came around and the other two people working on the hand wash business said their goodbyes. Joel employed a father and son in the shop too, who left the garage to go home for lunch. And then it was only you and Joel left. Just as you had planned.
âJoel? Can you help me with this, please?â You politely asked him after lifting a bucket full of water up to your chest.
You took a couple of steps forward and the water spilt all over, soaking your shirt completely.
âShitâ, you heard him say under his breath, jogging towards you.
He slipped his arms underneath the bucket to release you from its weight and then placed it back down between both of you.
âWhat are you doing? Youâre gonna hurt your back with such terrible manual handling.â He reprimanded you, tutting.
âSomething hurts and itâs not my back, Joel.â You muttered, your fingers wrapping around his wrist to haul him closer to you.
You were done with subtlety. You guided his hand to your pussy and pressed it gently.
âHurts right here.â The low, needy mumble poured from your lips like honey.
Joelâs eyes squinted just a tad, and his nostrils flared. You saw the inner battle in his chocolate eyes, and you fucking hoped he lost.
Soon you had the answer you had been looking for. The palm of his hand flattened against your crotch, holding you possessively, and pulled you against his broad chest. You couldnât help but moan when your breasts pressed against him, your taut nipples aching with sensitivity.
âYouâre so fucking nasty, kiddo. Been watching you all week, trying to get me hard all over again, havenât you?â You shyly nodded, biting down your bottom lip as you glanced up at him, his palm rubbing your cunt with determination. âOf course you have, youâre so cock drunk. You loved sucking me, didnât you?â
You shook your head yes, holding onto the waistband of his jeans. You whimpered when his thumb burrowed in your pants, trying to find your slit over all that clothing unsuccessfully.
âJoel, please.â You begged for mercy, for relief, for something â anything he could give you, you would take.
âYou want me to fuck you, kiddo?â His free hand cupped your chin, tilting your head up, while his thumb kept nudging your damp slit. His mouth hovered over yours as you simply nodded again. âHm? You want me to destroy your pussy?â
âYes, yes, YES.â You were already gushing at his dirty talk.
With no more prodding, Joel bowed down and sunk his tongue in your mouth, darting in with the ferocity only a man on the edge could feel. He swept your entire cavity in an open-mouth kiss that left your knees shaking and your pussy throbbing. You moaned into his breath and your tongue lapped at his, the span on his fingers gently covering your neck and squeezing lightly.
Joelâs hand between your legs moved to your ass, pressing you into him. His swollen lump poked at your lower belly intimately and you couldnât resist the urge to dip your hand in his boxers. He audibly groaned as you attempted to circle his whole girth and failed. Just like a week before, you would need both of your hands around his shaft to properly grip him. You pumped him once, very slow, your hand gliding down till it found his balls.
Joel grunted in the middle of the sloppy kiss and pushed you to go backwards until your body met the back of his pickup truck, which was parked at the end of the driveway. Out of prying eyes, you hoped. Not that you cared that much at this precise moment, anyway.
His beard scratched the skin on your cheek as his lips drifted down to your neck. You looked up to the clear sky before you closed your eyes, giving his pulsing cock a light squeeze that snatched a moan out of him.
Without warning, Joel broke the messy kiss and knelt before you, his hands tugging at the waistband of your shorts with no difficulty. Soon your pants were around your ankles, your panties quickly following, leaving you naked from the waist down. Joel helped you take them off but left your tennis on.
Still on his knees, he peeked up with a devilish smile, then leaned forward and lapped at your mound. A heavy sigh slipped from your lips as your fingers raked his salt and pepper curls. The tip of his tongue brushed the point where your slit started and then licked upwards, his tongue skidding through your skin until it reached your belly button.
You pursed your lips, wanting him to go down, not up. In fact, you pushed him down ever so slightly and the cold of his breath against your wet skin when he laughed made you look down, frustrated.
He kissed the beginning of your slit again and when you thought he was going in, he stopped. You whimpered, thwarted, as he got back up to his feet and towered above you.
âYou want me to touch you where it hurts, hm?â He questioned with his lips ghosting yours. âYour pussy? Thatâs where?â
Not waiting for your reply, his index dunked in your pearly furrow and traced it in its entirety, from your quivering hole to your thumping clit. And then he did it again, for good measure.
âYouâre soaking, kiddo. Iâve barely touched you and youâre already dripping.â To emphasize his words, Joel suddenly dived his finger in your opening, a squelching sound making it obvious that you were, in fact, dripping. âYou hear that?â He forced his finger out and then back in, the wet, sucking noise even louder this time.
You frantically nodded as he fingered you, his thumb caressing your begging clit as he did. You mewled into his chest, eyes shut, trying to calm the fluttering of your inner walls around his lonely finger. Lonely not for long, because Joel then introduced a second. You held onto his sides, his tee shirt scrunching in your fists, the orgasm building up.
âCâmon, squeeze your cunt for me. Show me how tight you areâ, he whispered in your ear as his relentless fingering picked up a faster pace between your legs.
You happily obliged and squashed your walls together around his fingers as he dextrously stroked your g-spot. All of a sudden, a firing sensation built in your clit without warning and the haziness of pleasure took over your senses abruptly. You came hard, very hard, wailing his name as he kept on fingering you until the last wave of your climax washed over you.
What the actual fuck? You thought to yourself, amazed. You rested your forehead against his chest, catching a breath and feeling your arousal wetting your inner thighs.
Still recovering from your unexpected orgasm, Joel picked you up and settled you down on the edge of his truckâs cargo bed. Your feet dangled in front of you, and you parted your legs to make room for him while you wrapped his neck with your arms and licked into his mouth.
âNow Iâm gonna eat you raw, kiddo. Give you some of your own medicine.â His hoarse tone gave you goosebumps. Palming both of your breasts over your wet tank top, he pushed you down until your back met the floor of the cargo bed, your legs hanging freely from your knees down. âIs that what you want? This old man feasting on your pussy, on her? âS she gonna like it?â
âJoel, please, justâ Yes, eat my pussy. Eat her, eat me, please.â You begged with a small voice while you pinched your nipples over your shirt, eyes closed.
And finally, he did. With his hands on your knees to keep them apart, Joel lapped at your cunt in one sweet sweep. Your body trembled with elation, shivers firing down your spine. His tongue caressed all the crevices in your shiny slit, lips puffy and reddened. His thumb found your clit as the tip of his tongue played with your leaking hole, going in and out a few times â fucking you with his tongue.
You were not able to take it for much longer â with Joelâs tongue lodged in your creamy fold and your fingers playing with your nipples, you were done for. Soon you came undone, tension growing in your lower belly and molten lava finding its way out. You howled his name, your knees pressing against his head, holding him in place as you came in his mouth. Joel sipped from your fountain, leaving not even one drop behind, your pussy licked clean of your own discharge.
His turn to find relief.
Even though Joel had been fisting himself while eating you raw, the roughness of his palm could not compare to your warmth. He just knew your pussy would hug his cock just right. And he was dying to find out.
Pushing his work jeans and boxers down to his ankles, he kicked his feet until they came off. Soon his security shoes and socks were kicked to the side too. With renewed energy, Joel jumped on to the cargo bed. You propped your torso up with the help of your elbows to study his erection, wetting your lips unknowingly.
Your eyes lingered on his cock for too damn long and it twitched on his hand.
âSpread your legs, kiddo.â
And so you did without complaints. You stretched your legs, Joel having a perfect view of your glistening pussy. You were so horny, he could literally see your cunt palpitating from this angle. Knelt between your legs, he leaned forward until the tip of his dick brushed against your slit, so damp again it just slid off. Jerking himself off, he nudged your soaked entrance with his mushroom head and your mouth opened, shaping a perfect O.
âSo needy, isnât she? Arenât you? Playing difficult to catch today, trying to make me jealous with that stupid boy, but in reality, youâre just a desperate brat wanting to get her pussy drilled by her dadâs best friend.â His dirty talk did not stop while he pushed in, your flesh parting to house him until he bottomed out.
Joel moaned, sweat gathering on his brow, his hands on either side of your head. He stood still for a long minute while your cunt fluttered around him, sheathing his whole length. He could feel your inner muscles adjusting to him.
You were so cockstruck you didnât even reply.
âIâm gonna fuck you now, so take it well, kiddo.â He warned before tilting his hips back and abruptly back in.
You wailed loudly at the first thrust, and Joel had to muffle your screams by covering your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm, but he didnât let go. He did not want you to alert the neighbours around the garage. His hips bucked against yours and then, after a few teasing shoves, Joel started jackhammering you fast and viciously hard.
You draped your legs around his waist, the heels of your white tennis pushing on his ass cheeks, encouraging to go deeper and quicker. And so he did, uncovering your mouth to replace it with his.
Joel fucked you mercilessly, filthily. He drove his dick in and out of you in quick succession, drilling your tacky pussy. And he knew you were loving every single second of it. Your soft sobs only spurred him on and when your moist pussy clutched around his drumming cock announcing your orgasm, he couldnât restraint himself for much longer.
He stoically let you come while riding your own climax. His balls tightened and his belly muscles strained, signalling his own relief.
âWhere?â, was the only word that he managed to whisper.
Your eyes were still closed, a languid smile lingering on your lips, all blissful and satisfied while he was still fucking suffering.
âIn my mouth.â Your reply was almost his undoing.
Joel snapped his hips back, his hard, throbbing cock slipping out. He dragged his body across yours until his thick, hairy thighs were on each side of your head and his nuts were resting on your chin, his ass hanging over your breasts.
âOpenâ, he husked, raspy and throaty.
Still with your eyes closed, you parted your lips, and Joel shoved his beating cock down your throat unceremoniously. He leaned forward over you â his hands holding his weight off you, flat against the cargo bedâs floor. And then Joel started fucking your mouth mindlessly, as if it was your cunt â his testicles slapping against your chin and your eyes welling up.
He could feel your head almost rocking up and down below him with the strength of his thrusts. You only stopped swaying underneath him when your hands grabbed his buttocks, your fingers sinking in his flesh.
With a guttural growl, Joel came undone and his thick cum filled your mouth. You stayed still while the last white ropes spurted out the slit on his tip, finally reaching the bliss he had been chasing for a week.
Joel lifted his hips off your face and his dick came out of your mouth with a pop.
âEat it, kiddo.â He requested of you, towering above you.
From this angle, flat on your back and with Joel almost sat on your face, you saw first his balls and then his soft cock hovering over your eyes. What had just happened was filthy, and you loved it, even though you were sure that your throat would hurt tomorrow.
âItâs $300 if I swallowâ, you kidded out of nowhere, almost gargling with his cum as your mouth was full of it.
Joel chuckled as he came off you, sitting down on your left.
âDealâ, he agreed.
And so you gulped his cum down, letting it slip down your throat until it landed in your belly. You smiled at him before opening your mouth to show him it was empty.
Joelâs chest rumbled with satisfaction.
âGood girl.â
#uniformed!joel#joel miller x reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagine#joel miller smut#tlou joel#dbf joel miller#dbf!joel#dbf!joel miller#joel miller#the last of us#the last of us fanfic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal cinematic universe#joel miller x y/n#pedro pascal x y/n#smut#joel miller fic#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal character#ppcu#pedro pascal fic
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Watch It Spark | LTF Part: 2
mbf! Joel Miller x F! Reader
Part 1
Synopsis: Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?
Genre: fluff, angst, and smut! the trifecta!
Warnings: divorced parents, mentions of cheating, no Sarah, no outbreak, drinking, age gap (reader is said to be in college but Joel's exact age isn't stated), Tommy's a bit of a sleaze, kissing, 18+ content, p in v sex, (un)protected sex!, lots of different sexual acts, cursing, light breeding kink mention, cockwarming?
All gif credits to owners!
A/N: Sorry this took so long! I don't wanna make excuses but on top of being super busy, I also had severe writer's block. But! Here she is! Just in time for Pedro's birthday!!!
"Shit." Joel's voice sounded out behind you.
Turning, incredulously to him, "Shit? That's all you have to say?" Not even sure what to say yourself.
"I'm sorry baby, but I don't know what else to say. I think shit actually might be the perfect sentiment in this situation." There's a bit of playfulness laced in his voice as he crosses the room to you. But the fun drops as he locks eyes with you, grabbing your hands while rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs in a comforting gesture.
"Are you okay?"
Not sure what else to do, you nod.
"I mean it was inevitable, I just didn't think she would find out like this. Thought maybe I'd be able to ease her into it...maybe...I don't know."
Joel nods as you speak, âYouâll figure it out and sheâll come around, Iâm sure. Whatever happens though, Iâm right here.â
When you donât say anything, Joel uses two fingers lift up your chin so your eyes now meet his. You see the certainty in them and he repeats, âIâm right here.â
With the mood ruined, Joel returned home to let you mull over your plan. It felt weird. How do you explain to your mother that you are currently dating her crush? Not something you had on your bingo card that's for sure.
That night you paced back and forth in your room until about 11 o'clock when you decided you just couldn't take the turmoil anymore. Your mom hadn't returned home. So instead of continuing to sit in your torment, you forced yourself to go to bed.
And when you awoke in the morning, there still was no sign of her. Sighing as you closed the door of her bedroom, you dragged yourself down to the kitchen. Your one last hope was that you could put together some grand breakfast for her and it would somehow lure her home. I mean she had to come home eventually anyway, right? She might as well come home to a yummy breakfast.
So there you were sitting alone at the table with a plethora of food laid out in front of you. Not wanting to eat without her, you sat there waiting. Now, almost an hour later, the food turned cold and the house was still empty. Sighing, you pushed yourself out of your chair, made a quick plate and popped it in the microwave to heat up.
As the time ticked down, you leaned against the counter watching it spin like it would make it go faster. The microwaved beeped to signal its end and that's when the front door swung open.
Abandoning the food once again, you rushed into the living room. Your mom's eyes locked onto you immediately as you crashed into the room. Her body visibly tensed up as she sighed at your presence.
"I-I made you breakfast." You rushed out before she could leave or you lost your nerve.
"Breakfast?" Venom dripped from her voice as she repeated your words.
Snapping your mouth shut, you gulped, trying to think of what to say. That's when she sighed again and closed her eyes, pinching her nose bridge as she tilted her head to the side.
"Sweetie, I'm not mad, but I'm also not happy-"
"-I know you liked him, it's just-" You cut her off, your words coming out quick, laced with your nerves. She held up her hand, to cut you off back.
"Let me talk, because honestly I don't want to hear anything from you right now." Another sigh, this time like she was preparing to give a speech, she was. "You got so hurt last time and with your father and I, I'm just scared for you. Sure, I liked Joel but it was never more than an infatuation. I'm not mad because he was never mine to get mad over. You know the night him and Linda dropped me off?"
You nodded in conformation, she continued, "I actually tried to kiss him that night." She laughs at her own stupidity. "He dodged it, playing it off like nothing happened. I'm sure he just didn't want to embarrass me by blatantly telling me he was in a-" A pause as she looks you up and down, tongue running across her front teeth. "-relationship."
You pulled your lip between your teeth as you listened to her speak. How could she be taking this so well? You were way too used to young people drama. People like your mom and Joel knew how to communicate their feelings. Honestly, it was relieving.
"Kind of weird to admit I almost kissed my daughter's boyfriend." Your mom says with anguish. Her face scrunching up in disgust as if she didn't find him attractive just days before.
She lets herself relish in this thought for a second, before continuing again, "I just hope you are keeping yourself safe. I know I already gave you the responsible talk but this is different. I just don't want to see you hurt like the last time."
You took a second to process her words. She didn't care who you were with, she just cared that you didn't go through what you did before. It warmed your heart and relieved a lot of the pent up stress.
"Mom, this time is different. Joel he, uh, he told me himself. I actually told him what happened." Your mom knew this was big for you to tell someone about the whole cheating thing and when you told her that, she visibly relaxed.
A smile graced her lips as she made her way over to her. She held your cheek in her head. You relaxed into the touch, closing you eyes in relief.
"You're happy with him, I can tell. So like I said I'm not mad. A little sad I missed my chance but there will always be someone else. He's good for you, I'm sure of it."
You smiled at her and leaned in to peck your forehead before wrapping you into her arms and holding you tightly. Her body heat radiating you with all the love only a mother had for her child. She pulled away a bit later, holding you at arms length.
"Although, the age difference is a bit much. That one took me a minute to get over." Laughs laced her voice as she spoke.
"I know, took me a bit to accept the initial attraction too but he's just so..." Your voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. She only smiled to this and nodded.
"I understand, that's how I felt about your father when I met him too." A sad smile now formed as she looked down and you knew she was thinking about how it had turned out for her and him. Now it was your turn to comfort her as you rubbed your hands down her arms.
She shook the thoughts out of her head and sucked back the tears that were pricking her eyes. "Okay! Now, tell me everything. How you guys met! The first date! I want to hear everything."
Letting her drag you to the couch while laughing uncontrollably at her excitement. The rest of the day the two of you could not stop talking as you told her everything.
After hours of chatting, your mom finally called it a night. All but pushing you out the door to go see Joel. Mumbling something about how he must be on the edge of his seat. You giggled at her antics, it was almost unbelievable how quickly she had gotten over it and was now your number one supporter.
So now you found yourself knocking at Joel's door. When he opened it there was a small look of shock on his face.
"Wasn't expecting you to be over so soon, sugar." He said as he pulled you into a quick hug. Breathing in his scent for a second, you sighed, content.
"It went better than expected." Your words were muffled by his chest since you refused to release yourself from his grasp. Not like Joel was complaining.
"Good, I'm glad." He spoke into your hair before placing a soft kiss there. A second more of holding you before Joel is pushing you out to arms length. He searches your face for a second before bringing his lips to yours.
The kiss is slow, like he is learning the feel of them for the first time. It makes you putty in his hands. The stress that somehow was still all pent up inside of you, now finally melting away.
You felt safe. You felt loved. Joel was home for you and in that moment you knew that this was real. Joel was real.
And that night as you settled into his bed and into his arms everything in your past seemed to fade away. It was only you and him.
Smiling into his chest, you fell into a deep slumber.
The morning sun shining through the curtains of Joel's room woke you up. Reaching to the other side of the bed, you find nothing but cold sheets. Confusion washes for you for only a second in your half-awake state, until you hear the steady beat of shower water coming from the connected bathroom.
You take a second to lay in the silence, just listening to the drops of the water. Before an idea pops into your head and you are smirking to yourself.
Pushing off of the bed, you make your way into the bathroom, shredding off pieces of clothes as you go. Joel seems unaware of your presence so you are careful not to scare him too bad as you slide the shower curtain down the rod just enough for you to slip in.
He only jumps a bit as your arms wrap around him. Turning in them to face you.
"Hello." He says to you when his eyes meet yours.
"Hi." You whisper back, pulling him in closer to you, your head now resting on his chest. He lets out a light chuckle while rubbing your back in soothing circles.
To ensure you don't fall, you shift slightly on the wet surface. This causes Joel to let out a soft grunt, his now hardening member brushing against your thigh. It causes you to smirk and pull away, looking up at him.
"I barely hugged you and you're already this excited?" You question.
Something between a chuckle and a grunt passes through his lips, "Not my fault that you came in here all naked. It's human nature, baby." A pause while he drops his head down so his lips can brush your ear, "Remember when I said I wasn't as old as I seemed."
He nips your earlobe after speaking, an action that sends a rush down your spine. Heartbeat speeding up as he continues to breath right next to your sensitive skin, goosebumps popping up despite the warmth of the shower water.
He trails kisses down from your ear, across your chest, and up your neck. One kiss to your jaw, one to each cheek, one to your forehead, before pecking your lips. Pulling away way too soon for your liking as you try and chase his lips with your own.
Now Joel is smirking seeing how desperate you already are for him after making fun of him only moments before. Yet he decides that neither of you really need the teasing so early in the morning so his reserve goes out the window and he's connecting his lips to yours.
The kiss is slower than usual, the intensity not fully there since both of you only just woke up. It is slow, yet passionate. Your lips meet like they were meant for each other. Tongues only barely fighting each other as neither of you really wanted to take dominance of the situation.
And as Joel's fingers slowly make there way down the middle of your stomach, finding your sensitive bud soon after, yours are wrapping around his waist and pulling him even closer to you. You gasp as his fingers move your clit in slow methodical circles. The feeling makes your legs weak, but you quickly recover when you remember where you are and how easily you could fall.
The thought almost makes you laugh but that is also quickly forgotten when the finger that was just working your clit, makes its way into your folds, testing your entrance. It seems like Joel contemplates if you are ready for a second so you keen towards him a bit to egg him on. That's when his finger finally enters you, working its way in and out of you in time with his lips on yours.
Your hands now find their way in between his legs. You try to stroke his dick in the same pace as his fingers in you, but your brain has become a bit foggy. This only gets worse when Joel begins quirking his fingers inside of you in an attempt to find that particular spot inside of you.
"Come on baby, you know you want to give in." He says into your lips. The words come out almost desperate and the gruff nature of his voice has you melting. If you were an ice cube you would be down the drain already.
"I just want you inside of me. It's too early for all your teasing." Your words are now the ones that are desperate, as you fully grip his cock and stroke it quickly trying to urge him closer to wanting to fuck you.
He laughs at your actions and pushes your hands off of him, fingers also retreating from their still steady pace inside of you. Grabbing your hips with such careful hands, so careful that you almost question if this is the same man. Usually so rough with you that you are sure that even his callouses could leave marks.
Flipping you around he bends you at the hips and pushes you towards the wall, careful not to let the two of you fall. Your hands make contact with the cold tile and if you weren't so gone you would've pulled them away instinctually.
That's when he leans over you and whispers into your ear, "I'm going to fuck you now, but the way I want to. Nice and slow. One sound and I stop, understood?"
You open your mouth to answer, but snap it closed and nod instead.
"Good girl." Joel kisses the bit of jaw he can reach before he is standing back up straight.
One hand finds your waist and pulls you back into him. Your hands almost slip from the wet tile that is holding you up, but you recover. Just in time for the tip of his dick to tease your entrance.
Joel gathers the your wetness and strokes it down his member, covering it in preparation to enter you. When he is satisfied with his job he pushes his tip past your folds. Very slowly he enters you. And after what feels like an eternity he bottoms out inside of you.
The feeling has you gulping down a gasp that is threatening to leave your lips. Sure Joel has fucked you pretty much every which way, but there is something about right now that you are finding it so much harder to follow instructions. You just want to let him know how good he makes you feel.
And before you can fully let this thought circulate, Joel is pulling out of you painstakingly slow. The type of slow that almost hurts but also fills you with so much pleasure that you could forget your own name.
This is how he continues, this slow, painful pace. In and out of you. All the way from tip to base, each action feels like it could be a full minute of white hot pleasure. Joel holds your orgasm over your head like a pig with a carrot on a stick. Kept on a tight leash, with your lips also kept shut tight.
You're not sure how he is holding himself back at this point but, obviously, you don't question it. too scared of what would happen if you let anything escape your lips.
One particularly harsh thrust has his hips snapping into yours and involuntarily you are pushing your back into his, trying to get him even closer. Like that was possible.
This has him tutting at you and gripping your hips a bit rougher, "Like the way my dick fills you up baby?"
You want to answer, you really do but you just bite your lip instead. He seems to notice you holding back and laughs lightly at you.
Pulling out of you and flipping you around to face him. He pecks your forehead before lifting one leg around his hip. You almost lose your balance as he pushes you back into the wall, so you have at least a little bit of support.
"Let me give you what you really want." Joel says as he enters you once again. "Wanna see the look on your face as you cum on my dick, pretty girl."
Now he's pistoning you onto his dick, letting you feel as much of his length as he can with how tightly your leg is wrapped around him. Its like your body wants to keep him permanently inside of you, not like your brain disagrees though.
Just like that, a few thrusts later and you are getting closer to your orgasm. Your body giving in so easily and it's heightened state. You never knew how malleable morning sex would make you.
And as your vision is beginning to be clouded by stars and your stomach is tightening, a whimper escapes your lips before you can catch it. Joel's hips stop abruptly and so does your orgasm.
Your eyes snap open to meet his. They just stare back blankly, almost no emotion because you know what you did. You want to plead with him, maybe complain that you were close but you don't. Silence watches over you.
Joel sits there staring at you, member half inside of you. Your pussy clenches onto it, as if trying to urge him into giving in. But it isn't until you are dropping your eyes from his that he's leaning forward and capturing your lips in his own. He kisses you for a moment, slow and steady, still just warming his cock inside of you.
"I know you were close baby, but you knew the rules." He says in a way that it almost sounds like an apology. But that is long forgotten as he snaps his hip forward into you and hits your g spot in one perfect thrust.
The urge to moan again is intense that you are biting down on your lip. For a second you question if you would draw blood, but decide the pleasure is way important right now. As your head tosses back meeting the cool tile.
With how close your orgasm was before it isn't long before you are reaching your peak once again. Your stomach clenches again and vision blurs. Although this time you are conscious of the sounds you would normally make and hold them back. As the wave crashes over you and you are spasming into Joel's body.
Joel's strong arms hold you up as your legs go weak under you, the wet floor making it all too easy for you to just go down. The leg around his hips also loosens but he grips that thigh holding it there as he begins to chase his own orgasm.
The feeling of your walls clenching around him getting him dangerously close to his own peak. His teeth find your neck in an attempt to hold back his orgasm, not wanting to cum into you without a condom (or permission).
"Baby-" He grunts out, pain laced in his voice. You catch the tone immediately and try to find you feet. Although it takes you a second, in that second he is pulling out of you and stroking his dick in an attempt to reach his orgasm.
Without a second thought you are dropping to your knees and swatting his hands away replacing them with your own. The minute your mouth meets the tip of his member, he is shooting his load into your waiting cavern. Swallowing it all down as you stroke him slowly, working him through his high.
Joel's hands grip your hair as he comes down from his high. When he has come back down to earth, his fingers loosen and instead he is stroking your head in a comforting gesture.
Giving him another second to recover before you stand up to attach his lips to your own. Now he is melting into your touch as he tastes himself on your lips.
"I love you." This has you pausing and stepping back. You are sure you didn't hear him right. Seeing the look on your face a playful smile graces his own.
"Y/N I love you." Joel repeats.
"I-I love you too." You want to jump into his arms, but obviously you don't want to break your leg...or his.
"Why did you have to tell here?" Now you are hitting his chest, leaving the hand there, just needing to feel him. He laughs at your antics, but let's you continue, knowing you well enough to know you aren't done yet.
"I'm all wet and I just woke up. I have sex brain. Uh!" Another hit, this one has him grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him carefully.
"I feel like that's the perfect time." Joel says with a smile, leaning down to place a kiss on your pouting lips.
"I feel like that's the perfect time." You mock him which has him laughing again. Another kiss is placed on your lips, this one continues a bit longer as if he is savoring the feeling of yours on his.
The blush is evident on your cheeks but you aren't giving up, "Just finish up in here, I'm going back to bed." A huff and you are leaving the shower. Joel's laugh echoes behind you.
When you told Joel to finish up, you didn't think he would take this long. At this rate you should've just stayed in there and washed yourself too. Instead you have dried yourself off already and are sat crisscross on Joel's bed. His shirt adorning your body and a towel wrapped around your still damp hair.
You have a book resting on your legs as you read in silence. Hearing the water turn off in the bathroom, you smile down at your book knowing Joel will be out soon.
Just as the sink faucet is switched on, the front door opens and a familiar voice sounds out through the house. The bathroom door is all but slammed open at the booming voice. Joel stands there towel around his waist, toothbrush between his lips. A bit of toothpaste is threatening to spill out of the corner of his mouth and you bite back a smile.
"Tommy." Joel says, the words a bit muffled by the brush and paste in his mouth.
Your eyes widen. No you weren't scared to meet his brother, I mean you have technically met him before. It was just you wanted to make a semi good impression and well here you were in only your underwear.
But before you can make any change to that Tommy's footsteps are thudding down the hallway and the door to Joel's bedroom is swinging open, with not so much as a knock.
"Joel!" Tommy calls out just as his eyes drop to yours. You are quickly pushing your legs straight under the covers in any attempt to cover yourself.
Tommy's jaw drops, "You!" Your eyes stay open wide not sure what is going to come out of his mouth next. Joel stays stuck in the doorway, not sure what to do either.
Then Tommy laughs, like a whole belly laugh. Loud, resounding. He doubles over holding his stomach. That's how funny he finds this whole situation.
It's almost a minute before he is recovering from his fit, wiping the tears that formed in the corners of his eyes. Both you and Joel are still stood there in shock. Watching his brother with semi-concerned eyes.
"The girl from the bar!" Tommy points to you, then to Joel. "And you! You old dog. Joel's still got it, huh?" He nods as if he's just discovered something.
Another chuckle and he's looking back at you, "Damn."
"Tommy..." Joel tests the waters, still not fully sure what to say to him.
"This is, just wow!" Then Tommy does something that is even more astounding. He slow claps. Actually slow claps like he's in some movie.
He does this for a second or two before looking between you and Joel, nodding slowly. You clear your throat, trying to attempt anything to clear the awkward air of the situation.
"I'm Y/N, by the way." A tight smile comes with your words. Hand leaving its grip on your book to give a small wave to the man.
He's still nodding, "Tommy-" He weighs his words. "I'm gonna go." And with that he is turning on his heel.
Yelling a quick, "Good job big bro!", before the front door is closed behind him.
As soon as the lock is clicking, you and Joel turn to each other. Still in shock, before you are giggling.
"Well, were two for two on family first meetings. Got any other family members I could awkwardly meet?"
Joel smiles at you before he is retreating to bathroom to spit out his long forgotten toothpaste. Returning to the room , he crawls across the foot of the bed towards you, like a lion stalking his prey.
"No, but honestly that's the best it could've gone with Tommy so don't feel bad." A kiss to your lips.
"I don't feel bad, I feel embarrassed." You say as you trace a finger down his jaw. He melts into your touch.
"I mean look at me!" You gesture to your lack luster clothing... or lack of clothing.
Lust flashes behind his eyes, "I think you look sexy." You almost hit him again but hold back.
"Of course you do, I'm wearing your shirt."
Joel considers your words for a second, "Is that what it is? Sure it isn't how I'm still thinking about how badly I wanted to fill you with my cum earlier?"
Your jaw drops, actually drops at his words. But two can play at this game.
"So why didn't you?" Hands play with the hairs at the nape of his neck, a shiver runs down his spine.
"You," A poke to your nose, "were in no mindset to give me permission, pretty girl. Not to mention, you were keeping those pretty lips shut." As he mentions your lips, he glances down at them. You readjust your body so your tits brush his chest. Nipples hardening at the sensation.
"Now I'm thinking about how much I missed out." You try, wanting to get one response in particular from Joel.
"Well, what my baby wants, she gets." Joel says matter-of-factly. Grabbing your hips and pulling you to lay down beneath him. You feel his hardening member brush your thigh.
"Mr. Miller, already so hard again?" You question the sound of fake astonishment in your voice.
"Shut up and let the whole neighborhood hear how good I make you feel. Gonna get you so full of my cum, sugar."
Needless to say, neither you nor Joel left the bed that day.
Taglist:
@wh0reforbucknasty @guelyury @shibeom @theoraekenslover @deathsholywaterr @azxulaa @untamedheart81 @akah565 @shadowmoonlight0604 @papi-ispunk
I just went ahead and tagged everyone that mentioned wanting a part two :)
#fanfiction#fanfic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#the last of us#joel miller#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#tlou joel#the last of us joel#last of us joel#joel the last of us#joel tlou#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#dbf joel miller smut#dbf! joel miller#dbf! joel miller smut#mbf! joel miller#dbf joel miller#dbf!joel#last of us fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#last of us smut
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Diehard
Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader
Summary: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Erectile dysfunction. Daddy kink. Praise kink if you squint. Overstimulation. Cumplay. She/her pussy pronouns. Pushing physical limits with a pre-negotiated safe word in place for it.
Note: No more limp dick erasure. We die like [old] men.
Part of the Waiting Game âverse | Word count: 986
Joel just wanted to prove he could fuck like he used to.
He didnât think heâd almost kill you in the process.
âJOEL!â you screeched, heels digging deep in the mattress as your climax came in seismic waves.
The stimulation was insane. Normally the much-older man would have been down for the count after twoâand usually oneâbig O, but now his chest was heaving, hips relentlessly beating a punishing pace against your own.
Your walls were slick with not only your cum but his, milky ropes of his arousal making for an obscene set of sounds every time his dick slid in and out of your cunt. You could feel his balls tighten and twitch with every forthcoming spurt of him, practically reeling with the pulse of each new sticky gift inside you. His groans rumbled low, but the power and pleasure and outright primal fervor they conveyed were unmistakeable. You had to look down, feebly, to believe it yourselfâJoel never fucked his way through your orgasm and his.
Then you felt a palm slide up the back of your head, and Joel held it up to make sure you watched him fuck you.
âJ-Joel,â you whimpered, watching his girth disappear and reappear at least a half-dozen times as you did.
âJust a little more, honey,â he murmured against your forehead. The smack of each thrust was dizzying, âWant my pretty girl nice and fullâa me before she leaves, okay?â
Joel never could let you head back to college without a few of his loads and a head full of filthy memoriesâsomething to hold you over until your next visit home. You wouldâve liked to mumble back, âOkay,â but then your pussy clenched around him, and his thrusts grew faster.
âMy sweet girl,â he grinned, âShe likes that, huh?â
You could scarcely manage a nod. The weight of your head was held fully by him, and if that wasnât indicative enough of your fucked-out state, your face surely said the rest. When Joel leaned back to adjust the angle of his thrusts, he caught sight of your hooded, glossy stare and almost came all over again. He slowed his pace for once.
Then he dipped a finger between your body and his, just long enough to douse the tip of his digit with cum. He bottomed out inside you, watched you part your lips in a gentle gasp, and pressed his touch to that open space.
It was almost like you didnât have the strength to suck. You just let him smear the sticky stuff along your lower lip, gaze plastered to his. Then Joelâs cock sank deeper.
âO-ow!â you whined, partly reanimated by the stretch.
âYou can take it,â Joel grunted.
The double entendre wasnât lost on you. You could, and would, take his finger and his cock inside. You suckled dumbly on the cum-drenched fingertip in assent.
But when Joelâs finger popped out of your mouth and his thrusts picked back up, you werenât entirely convinced you would be able to hold up the second half of that deal.
It wasnât fair. He took one magic pill, and poof, his dick stayed hard for half the fucking day. You had nothing but your youth and two shaking legs to ensure your survival. When Joel worked his cock back and forth a couple more times and it seemed your body was about ready to scream, you took hold of his biceps and squeezed tight.
âI canât.â
âCanât what?â
The tip of his cock nicked a soft ridge inside you, and you jolted back. Joelâs palm was still pressed to your head, holding you to him, and his hips had you pinned as well.
Instead of answering, you whimpered.
You didnât want him to stop, but you also werenât sure if you could handle any more. Your eyes met his, pleading.
âCanât what?â Joel pressed, a little more sternly.
Another whimper. Inside, Joelâs cock was rubbing that pleasure point raw, and you felt another climax coming.
âUse your words.â
âTooâ tooââ
Each new thrust was sending stars before your eyes. Joel was one sick man if he tried to make you talk while he fucked you past the point of all intelligible speech.
âToo what? Tell me, baby.â
Youâd get that fucker back someday. Joel just grinned.
âToo much,â you hissed when his hips delivered another mind-numbing push. Then, feeling pleasure threaten to peak at almost a painful degree, âToomuchtoomuchtââ
Joel continued thrusting, knowing damn well you knew what to say if you really wanted him to stop. As if to underscore this point, he tipped your head back and made you hold his gaze, features creased with a frown.
âThat sure donât sound like the safe word to me.â
It wasnât. You knew it wasnât. He didnât need to tell you twice, or even breathe a second word besides. With one more brush of Joelâs thick, throbbing, implausibly hard cock, he sent you over the edge and into your fourth orgasm of the morning, hitting that spot again and again.
And again.
And again.
Just like before, Joel fucked you through each wave, catching your lips this time to stifle your cries. You mightâve gone blind for a second or two, but that was alright; the pleasure, proximity, and then the sweet, erratic pulse of his cock sending rope after rope of his cum deep inside made the overstimulation worthwhile.
Your body went limp against the bed, held tight in Joelâs grasp, when you felt that sickly sweet dichotomy of soft, tender touches and a cock lodged between your walls that was as hard as it had ever been. Still trying to console you with kisses, still trying to warm you up for another round, perhaps, Joel almost laughed out loud in your mouth when you groaned into his and whispered:
âPlease donât ever take that fucking pill again.â
#SOMETIMES I WRITE THIS MIDDLE-AGED MAN LIKE HEâS 25 AND JUST NEED TO SHUT THE F*CK UP#*brittany broski voice* BE REALISTIC!!!!!!!#BE F*CKING FOR REAL#FOR A SECOND BE FOR REAL#joel miller#joel miller tlou#joel miller smut#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us fic#joel miller x you#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel
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Push it
3k4 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist
Summary: you have a secret ârelationshipâ with Joel, your dad's best friend. You know you can't have more, but you canât resist the idea to provoke him a little
Warnings: 18+ mdni. Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel late 40s), Joel is a grumpy, possessive, jealous man, reader is a brat. Grinding, dry humping, oral (f/m), pussy slapping, spanking, degradation, rough sex, dirty talk, cum eating, squirting, piv, creampie
a/n: so, this is my first dbf!Joel fic. Thank you anon, for your ask â¤ď¸ I hope you'll like it đ
@aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing baby đđŤś
dividers @saradika-graphics đ
The fic is titled after âPush itâ by GarbageÂ
Joel was looking at you walking back and forth from the dining room and the kitchen, swaying your hips and teasing him in your short dress. And if your father had been paying any attention to him instead of the game on TV, he would have noticed the way Joel was biting his upper lip or rubbing his hands together. Joel was nervous, and the more nervous he got, the more you teased him.
âDamn brat,â Joel muttered under his breath.
âWhat?â your father asked.
âNothing,â he replied and then sighed. âJust said that player really sucks, thatâs all.â
âI think heâs hot,â you said cheerfully. âHow old is he?â
âA little too old for you to be interested, honey. Over 30 years old.â
You scoffed at your fatherâs words, and you were pretty sure you heard âjesusâ coming out of Joelâs mouth.
You spent the rest of the match pulling down your neckline to expose more of your cleavage or hiking your dress up your thighs. You were careful to do it in a way that your father wouldnât consider inappropriate if he ever looked at you at some point, but he was captivated by the game.Â
Your and Joelâs gazes met often and he gave you a few serious warning stares that you ignored shamelessly. You didnât even try to hide your satisfaction each time he had to readjust his jeans.
Once the match was over, you brought their empty beer bottles back to the kitchen, and Joel's firm hand closed around your arm as soon as you were there.
âThe hell you doinâ?â he grumbled.
âI don't know what you're talking about.â
âCut the crap, sweetheart,â he hissed through his teeth. âActing like a damn tease, makinâ me hard during the game? In front of your father, goddamn it! Could even see youâre wearing the black lingerie.â
âOoooh⌠yeah, your favorite. Too bad you made it very clear the last time you filled me up- we fuck just for fun, right? So let me have fun and act as I please in my father's house. And let go of me.â
But he squeezed harder. âKeep it down,â he growled. âAnd that ainât what I said.â
âWhatever. Next time you see me, I may be with my boyfriend.â
âWhat boyfriend?â His nostrils flared and you loved the sight.
âThe one Iâm probably gonna meet tonight, when I go out with my friends. The one whoâll appreciate my lingerie. Let go of me,â you repeated, yanking yourself free.
You headed towards the kitchen door, and after glancing behind, you saw him leaning against the counter. Annoyed, dark eyes, eyebrows furrowed, arm muscles stretching his black t-shirt. Irritation suited him well, he was even more handsome than usual. You tried to ignore the racing of your heart as you stepped back into the dining room.
âCan you help me with the internet at home?" he asked you in front of your father. âConnection ain't working.â
âIâm sorry, Joel, I canât right now. I have to get ready, Iâm going out tonight and my friends are picking me up in an hour.â
âJesus, your manners?!â your father replied as if you had said the most impolite thing in the world. âGo help Joel. Your friends can wait a few minutes.â
You rolled your eyes, careful so that only Joel could see you. He smirked in a way that was so feline that you felt yourself dripping. He walked out towards his house, not checking if you were following him. He knew you were.Â
Once home he sat down on his couch, resting his right arm on the backrest.
âWhat's the problem with the internet?â
âAin't got any problems. Come here,â he said, patting his thighs.
âWhat makes you think I wanna sit on your lap?â
âPussy's dripping. Can smell it from here.â
You rolled your eyes but you walked over to him and straddled him, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. He grabbed your hips tightly and positioned you how he exactly wanted you, his stiff shaft in his jeans against your folds covered only by your black panties. Your eyes sparkled when you felt his manhood. His were fixed on yours. Full of confidence, the eyes of a mature man, aware of his power of seduction over you.
âStop being a brat and grind on me. I know you need it bad.â
You rolled your hips slowly, grinding against his hard cock. His hands firmly laid on your hips, but letting you lead the pace. His jeans almost hurt your inner thighs but you needed that friction against your soaked pussy. That sweet pain, the one that helps to feel better, like an itch that can be relieved only when you scratch it a little. He pulled your neckline down roughly, cupping your breasts in his palms before taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking it.
âJoelâŚ,â you whimpered.
âKeep humping me, sweetheart. Yeah, just like that. She needs it, uh?â
He took your nipple back in his mouth, licking and then nibbling on it lightly, pressing on your shoulders to feel you more.
âUse me. Use me to get off,â he said, the need in his voice showing you how much he loved feeling you rub yourself against him. You kept rolling your hips, moaning âJoel, JoelâŚ,â your whimpers getting louder and louder, until you breathed out âitâs good, so good, Iâm gonna come,â just before you came against him, whining into his neck, trembling. Your desire wetting your panties even more and flowing onto his jeans.
You let your forehead rest against him, panting into his skin that you kissed as he stroked your back, before you pulled back and faced his dark eyes.
âI wanna suck your cock,â you said, kneeling down and unzipping his jeans.
âYeah? Gonna help me with that after your little game? That's what you wanted, uh? Wanted me to get fuckinâ hard, while I couldn't do anything about it.â
You nodded, there was no more brat attitude left in you, just eagerness as you pulled his cock out gently, and watched his weeping, red tip. You licked your lips and spread the precum around his slit with your thumb. You sucked him the way he liked, lingering on his tip for a long time, licking, sucking. Each time, you wanted to give him the sloppiest head, so that he wouldnât think about anyone else. Wouldnât want anyone else.
When you took his length in your mouth, getting used to its thickness, pressing your tongue against his quivering skin, you felt him shiver. Until he pressed his cock against the back of your throat, and finally put his hands on your head. You loved feeling his underlying power, his pressure on your temples.
âDonât move,â he said in a low voice, his length buried in your hot throat. You felt his tip twitch. Finally he started to thrust, fucking your mouth and your throat, using you as a fuck hole.
The mouth of his best friendâs daughter. He didnât think about it anymore, when he was buried in one of your three holes. His remorse was forgotten. He didnât care what could happen next, where this relationship or whatever it was, would take both of you. Didn't think about the consequences anymore. Only your warmth, your tightness welcoming his cock, mattered.
His hands firmly gripping your head, he thrusted in, and began fucking your mouth relentlessly. From the first time heâd fucked you, you noticed how different he was from your previous boyfriends. He loved when you teased him. He loved being seated on his couch, manspreading, while you were dancing lasciviously in front of him, waiting for him to break and reach out to you. But sometimes, often, you were the one breaking first.Â
When you danced like that, his gaze was full of promise. Promise to fuck you so well youâd forget your own name when he was done with you.
Guys of your age didnât have that patience.
He loved to make you come several times before spilling his cum. Sometimes he made you come again after, with his tongue or fingers, leaving you breathless and cock dumb.Â
Your ex boyfriends usually didnât care.
But he cared.
You let him use your mouth, let him move your head back and forth. Let him bury himself in the back of your throat. You learned not to gag anymore, when he fucked it. He trained you to do it.Â
His hands froze on your temples, and you knew he was about to shoot hot ropes of cum that would hit the back of your throat.
âFuck, âm gonna come⌠swallow all of it, sweetheart. Like a good girl, just like I taught you.â
His cum spurted out, and drop by drop, you swallowed it all. Then you carefully cleaned his shaft, his tip, until he pulled out. He put his cock back in his pants, and zipped them.
âYou should go, youâre gonna be late.â
âDo you have something to tell me, Joel?â
âGood evening?â He sighed when he saw your eyes, a little blurry, and added âand keep those wet panties on. I want you to remember how you came humping me, while youâre out with your friends.â
You didnât try to meet his gaze when you heard his words, and you left.
Babe? Babe!â You heard your friendâs voice in the distance. You were so lost in your thoughts. Always the same. Joel.
âWhatâs wrong with you?â
You spread your hands in front of you, as if to mean you had no idea what she was talking about.
âWeâre supposed to have fun and you seem⌠somewhere else. Whatâs on your mind, babe?â
You answered that everything was fine, and tried to push Joel out of your thoughts. Joel who had told you that you werenât a couple, that you didnât have a relationship because your father, other people couldnât know. That this thing between you was a bonus that you were giving each other. But that there couldnât be more.
So when a guy of your age approached you and asked you to dance, you didnât say no. When he offered you a drink and asked if you wanted to join him in the bathroom of the bar, you didnât say no either. Sat on the bathroom sink, you let him eat you out.
And you only thought about Joel who always did it so perfectly, knew when to lick lightly, when to suck on your clit, knew how to fill you with two of his fingers. You had to think about him, the whole time that guy was eating you out. You had to think about Joelâs beard and mustache, scratching tenderly or roughly against your sensitive skin.
It was the only way for you to come.
When you left the bathroom, Joel was the first person you saw. Dark stare. Then darker than ever, when his gaze fell on the man who walked out of the room right after you. You froze before heading to your table, but he grabbed your arm before you sat down.Â
âIâm taking you back home. Now.â
âAre you mad? I come home whenever I want.â
âWow wow! Whatâs going on? Are you her dad?â Joel looked at this man whose name you didn't even know, from his full height, fists clenched. Joel looked at him as if he wanted to throw him to the ground, making him take a step back.
âNo I ainât her dad, luckily for youâ, he growled. He turned to you before adding âI said, now.â
You followed him, like a docile dog. Turned on by his jealousy and attitude.
âGet in the damn car,â he grumbled. He started driving, silent, hands clenching the wheel until his knuckles were white.
âJoelâŚâ
âDonât,â he rambled. âDonât say a word.â
You sank into the seat, waiting for him to drop you off at your place. But he pulled into his driveway.
âFollow me,â he said, without waiting for you.
When you joined him at his house, his hands were on his hips, his gaze turned towards the ground.
âYou fucked him?â he asked in a low voice.
âNo. No I didn't.â
âHe fucked you?â
âNo, damn⌠He didn't fuck me.â
âYeah?â He raised his eyebrows, in a way that was clear- he didn't believe a word you were telling him.
âYeah,â you confirmed.
âDon't lie to me. You got that âjust fuckedâ face.â
âDamn, I⌠He went down on me, that's all.â
âYou let him go down on you? On that pussy?â
If you didn't know him, his tone might have seemed detached. But you had known him for a long time, and the surprise mixed with jealousy didn't escape you. Actually, it was even more than a surprise. Almost a shock.
You even felt like he was holding back from saying âmy pussy.â But he had been clear about you two. Fun.
âWhy do you care? You donât want anything serious.â
âHe ate you with your wet panties on? He pushed them to the side?â You nodded shyly, almost embarrassed.
âFuck, come here,â he said, grabbing you by the hips before pulling you back towards the couch, your feet dragging in an attempt to keep up with his pace.
He pushed you roughly to sit you down and knelt down in front of you. He pulled your dress up and practically ripped your panties off, and yanked your hips towards the edge of the couch.
âI think this pussy needs to remember who makes her come,â he growled, already pushing two fingers inside you. âYou're fucking soaked. You came in his damn mouth?â
âYes I⌠Fuck, Joel!â He was fingering your pussy quickly, as if he wanted to remove any memory of any man other than himself.
âWas he good at it?â
âYeah, he was perfect. Made me come so quickly.â
He slapped your swollen clit and you whined, tears at the corner of your eyes.
âI said, don't lie to me,â he spat at you, stopping his fingers deep inside your pussy.
You lowered your head before answering.
âNo, he wasn't good at it. Had to think about someone else to come. Had to think about you,â you whined. âStop being mean to me, I didn't do anything wrong!â
âI need to remind you how this cunt needs to be eaten. Like the damn slut she belongs to.â
This wasn't the first time he'd degraded you. He'd noticed early on how receptive you were to it. And the way your pussy squeezed his fingers couldn't hide it, once again.
He settled between your thighs, lapping at your cunt still soaked with another manâs saliva, your pleasure and your desire for Joel.
He dove in like it was his last meal on earth, lapping, sucking, mixing his saliva with someone else's and he didn't care. Your hands tangled in his curls. Your orgasm was building and Joel stopped just before you exploded on his fingers and tongue.
âNo Joel! Please, why did you stop?â
âI don't want another tongue on this cunt. Ya hear me?â
âBut you saidâŚâ He slapped your clit again, making you whimper.
âRepeat it.â
âI⌠fuck, Joel! Jesus⌠You don't want another tongue on this cunt.â
âIf I see you with anyone else again, if I hear about you with anyone else, Iâll spank you so hard you wonât be able to sit down for days.â
Your pussy clenched around his fingers without you being able to control your body.
âJesus Christ, you fuckinâ like it? You want to get punished over my knee like the dirty little brat you are?â
âI⌠no, I⌠fuckâŚâ
âPussy's drooling even more. UnbelievableâŚâ He started to finger you again, slowly, and placed his thumb on your swollen and sensitive clit, making you whimper. âYou were a good girl, with proper manners. And now⌠can't think straight since you took my fat cock, right?â
âI'm⌠fuck. I'm a good girl.â
âReally?â he smirked darkly. âGood girls donât get their pussy eaten by a stranger in a damn bar.â He leaned down and licked a long stripe from your hole already filled with his fingers to your clit, before stopping again cruelly. âGood girls donât make their man jealous,â he added before diving between your thighs, fingering you fast and so hard that his knuckles tapped against your entrance. His tongue focused on your clit, swirling around it perfectly.Â
âMy⌠my man?â
He didn't answer, growling from the depths of your thighs, making you squirm on his fingers as he fingered you hard, until jets spurted out suddenly and wetted his face.
âFuck yeah! thatâs a good girl, squirting on my face, jesus, sweetheartâŚâ
You were completely gone, not realizing that you were cumming on his fingers still buried inside you, until he replaced them with his tongue. He drank everything you gave him, greedy, eager. You kept squirming but his strong grip kept you seated on the couch.
When your jolts stopped, he grabbed your arm to lift you up and bent you over the dining room table. His hand tightened on the back of your neck, and he unzipped his jeans, lowering them mid-thigh with the other one, before sinking into you in one go, grunting like an animal.
He buried his fingers in the flesh of your hip, pumping into you. Hard, deep thrusts, growling âtake it, just like that,â and you could only take it. Letting him feed on your needy pussy, on your low moans that he could barely hear, fucking you so hard that you were almost speechless except for the whimpers.
âFuck, youâre taking me so good.â He kept thrusting in, filling you like only he knew how.
âHarder, Joel. Harder, please,â you begged.
âJesusâŚâ
Clinging to the edge of the table, you tried to remain as still as possible despite his roughness that threw you forward with every thrust.
âSay my nameâ, he said in a needy voice. You didnât hear him and he scoffed. âToo cock dumb to even hear me,â he growled before spanking your ass, hard, making you squeal.
âJoel!!!â
âOh, youâre back? I said, say my fucking name.â
âJ⌠JoelâŚâ
âThatâs right. Whose pussy is this?â
âYours.â
A second spank landed on your already red skin.
âSay it again.â
âDamn, Joel?! Your pussy⌠my pussyâs yours, damnitâŚâ
A third spank, even harder than the other ones. âJoel, what the fuck??â you whined.
âSqueezinâ me so tight, each time I spank you⌠donât pretend you donât like it, dirty fucking girl.â
You didn't answer. He was right, you liked it. He knew it and you knew it. You liked his strength, you liked that he used you. You liked being his.
âIâm gonna come. Gonna fill you up, fuck!â
He shot his cum deep in your pussy and didn't stop thrusting, pumping you full until you milked his cock.
Your hand against the wood of the table, you were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath as his heavy body pressed against yours.
âYou said it was just for fun⌠What happened?â you murmured.
âAinât what I said. I said, your father can't know. The neighbors, your friends, can't know. But you⌠you gotta know. I don't share. Got it?â
âYeah⌠got it.â
You smiled, feeling his breath against your neck, and his hand tightening on yours, on the wood of the table.
Thank you for reading đ
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someone to be thankful for
DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader
summary: Itâs Thanksgivingâwhen dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your fatherâs best friend, Joel Miller.
warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20âs, i do not specify her age, but sheâs a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50âs). Readerâs a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Readerâs parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) readerâs family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, readerâs parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines sheâs a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) readerâs dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (readerâs dad), implied toxic marriage (readerâs parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joelâs recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states sheâs on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlinâ, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?
PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isnât your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.
MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.
word count: 11.5k
a/n: yeahâŚidk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.
You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.
Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.
Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.
Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.
And somehow, someone will still find something.
Something to point out.
Something to comment on.
Something to criticize.
If not your appearance, itâll be something else.
Because someone always had something to say.
âShould you be eating all of that?â
âAnother year gone and still no boyfriend?â
âDonât you want to get married?â
âWhen I was in my twenties, I had two children.â
Boundaries didnât exist on Thanksgiving.
Actually, for your family, boundaries didnât exist at allâsomehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why youâd decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.
âSweetie!â Your motherâs shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. âI need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!â
You groan outwardly.
Thereâs still plenty left to do?
Howâs that even fucking possible?
Youâve been cooking and baking since sunrise.
âDonât you think itâs too early?â youâd grumbled at five oâ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to beginâeven though itâd be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. âMom, whyâs there so much food?â Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, youâd started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. âAre we cooking for all of Texas or something?â
âVery funny,â she had glared at you. âOf course we arenât.â She started unwrapping the turkey. âWeâre simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? Weâre hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I wonât accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?â
Thirteen hours later, sheâs still driving you insane.
Youâre only home visiting until the end of the week and then itâs back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?
You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. âIâm coming, mom!â you call back. Itâs difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. âOne minute!â
Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in orderâthere is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots youâd packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.
You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. Sheâs donning a festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress, and her hairâs still up in rollers. âFinally, there you are,â she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living roomâmen donât lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. âI need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dadâs at the head of the table. Oh and donât forget to bring out the childrenâs table for all your little cousinsââ She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. âWhat in the world are you wearing?â
Frowning, you look down at yourself. âClothes?â
Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.
âHoney, that skirt is too short. Itâs inappropriate.â
You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. âItâs like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? Itâs not like itâs a miniskirt, mom.â As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide youâre not in the mood to argue and say, âOkay, fine. Iâll go upstairs and change into something else thenââ
âNo, no, forget it,â she shakes her head. âWe donât have the time for that.â Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holdersâsheâd special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. âHere. I wrote down all the names of everyone whoâs coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of theââ
Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if thereâs one thing to be thankful for today itâs the fact that your motherâs given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you donât want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until heâs passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.
You get to the bottom of the list and canât help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. âJoel Miller?â
She nods, returning to her board.
âYou remember Mr. Miller, donât you, sweetie? He and your father went to college togetherâheâs one of his oldest and dearest friends. Donât tell me you forgot about him? Youâve met him plenty of tiââ
âYeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,â you mutter, cutting her off. âDidnât he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?â Youâd been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joelâs wife and daughter. Surely, itâd just been a mistake on her part, though. âI had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didnât mention it to me at all.â
âTheyâre not.â She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. âJoel moved back to Austin, heâs been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they umââ Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, âThey got divorced.â
Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. âWhat?â
âI know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,â your mother remarks, shaking her head. âI ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those twoââ
âWould get right with Jesus,â you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. âShe says that about everything, mom.â
âWell, she isnât wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldnât be broken. Itâs not right.â Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. âAnyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarahâs spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didnât want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I donât want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?â
You canât help but scoff a little. âIâm not a child.â
She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.
âNo, youâre a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?â
Of course she didnât have to remind you about last yearâs fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.
âThatâs an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,â sheâd remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. âDonât forget, dearâa moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.â
You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your motherâs fine china at her. âI wouldnât really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,â you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. âMuch less when your husbandâs stepping out and eating someone elseâs pie when heâs away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.â
That comment hadnât gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.
âWell?â
âShe deserved that,â you say, shrugging lightly.
âSheâs family.â
âSheâs a jerk.â
âYou crossed a line.â
âShe crossed it first.â
Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.
âJesus, we donât have time for this!â Your motherâs eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. âOh no, people are arriving and Iâm still not ready!â She makes a beeline for the hallway. âGet the door and greet our guests, Iâll be down in five minutes!â
She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just canât possibly miss that.
You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but itâs not.
Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.
Heâs broader than you remeber, so much broader.
The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frameâstretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. Heâs holding a box of store bought something or other but youâre much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume itâs some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box heâs got in his hands.
After a minute, you realize youâve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. âHello Mr. Miller,â you greet him politely. âItâs very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.â
He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. âYou remember me,â he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him insideâas he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; itâs intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if youâre not careful. âIâm surprised. Sâbeen a real long time since you last saw me.â
âIt hasnât been all that long,â you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalanceâas if you arenât one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. âHas it?â
He thinks about it. ââBout four and a half years.â
âThatâs really not that long.â
âSânot,â Joel admits with a chuckle. âBut with how much Iâve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasnât sure if youâd recognize me, yâknow? I look a lot different than I used to.â He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. âI must look like an old geezer to you now, donât I?â
Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. Heâs got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrowsâhe does look a lot older, but heâs so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.
You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. âI donât think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.â
âWell, youâre sure as hell makinâ me feel like an old geezer by callinâ me that, darlinâ girl.â He gives you a little wink and youâre not quite sure if itâs that, or if it was the way heâd used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. âPlease, just call me Joel.â
You nod and shyly agree to it. âOkay, then. Joel.â
âSâmuch better.â His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.
Thereâs a silence that follows, but itâs not awkward or weird. Itâs comfortableâbeing in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.
Joelâs always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limitedâkind, quick helloâs in passing on Sundays whenever heâd come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But youâre older now, no longer the child who greeted her fatherâs best friend because it was bad manners if she didnât. You donât want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.
But you suddenly remember heâs not here for you.
Heâs here for your father.
Joel!â Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollersâand put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box heâs still holding. âOh, it is so good to see you! Itâs been far too long!â
You force back a small, amused snort.
As if she hadnât been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.
Itâs performative, too over the top to be sincere.
âSâgood to see you too.â He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. âPicked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I wouldâa tried to make it myself, but the kitchenâs still all packed up in boxes.â He pauses, laughing again. âThen again, I ainât really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,â he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother canât help but stare a little.
Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, âDidnât I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?â
Joel lightly pats his stomach. âBrought that too. In fact, I didnât eat a thing all day long. Iâm absolutely starvinâ right now. Could eat a whole horse.â
âGood! Dinnerâs going to be served soon. Williamâs in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, Iâm sure youâre eager to see him.â Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. âSweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?â It isnât a request, itâs an order masked as a requestâitâs the kindest sheâs been to you all day. She takes Joelâs arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, âAnd please set the table!â
You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.
Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. âEveryone! Itâs time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,â she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until thereâs complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your fatherâs. Youâre on his opposite side and Joelâs right beside you. âI think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.â
Nodding, your father begins the prayer.
âHeavenly Father, bless this food we are aboutââ
Youâre not listening. Youâre distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joelâs. His hand dwarfs yours and itâs rough and calloused, but somehow itâs the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your handâyou open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. Youâre convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like heâs savoring the touch.
Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.
His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. Thereâs an unmistakable desire thatâs already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you canât extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your fatherâs best friend. His best friend.
ââŚthrough Christ our Lord. Amen.â
âAmen,â your relatives chime together in unison.
You force out the declaration. âAmen.â
âAmen,â Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesnât want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesnât want to let it goâand he doesnât. He doesnât let it go until the sound of your fatherâs loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.
Dinnerâs fairly uneventful.
You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.
Part of you wonders if itâs because youâre sitting in between him and your father, the only person that heâs most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, youâre just about to ask him if heâd like to trade places when he turns to you and says, âYour dad told me you went to school in Chicago.â
Heâs just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. Heâs friendly. Thatâs all. It doesnât mean anything.
âYeah. I did.â You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping itâll ease the nerves. âI graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.â
âYou became a teacher?â
âYeah. I teach kindergarten.â You smile proudly.
âCan you believe that, Joel?â Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. âI spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?â He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. âNow my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.â He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. âNot too sure where I went wrong with this one.â
You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.
âDad.â
Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. âOh, come on, honey. Iâm just kidding around. You know that I donât mean it.â He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. âDonât be so sensitive,â he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.
But he does mean it.
His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.
Joel nudges your arm with his. âYâknow somethinâ, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, âspecially to kids that age,â he states in a matter of fact tone. âSomeone whoâs real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.â
Warmth radiates through your entire body. Itâs not just his words, but itâs the sincerity behind them.
You shoot him a small, grateful smile.
The two of you wind up talking to one another.
Joelâs moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesnât bring Connie up onceâperhaps itâs too painful for him? Itâs hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesnât appear heâs mourning his marriage; but itâs difficult to believe heâs not missing her, the woman heâd spent three decades of his life with. It shouldnât even matter to you whether heâs missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you donât know why. Or maybe you do know why, but youâre too ashamed to admit it.
âDo you like Chicago?â Joel questions, curiously.
Shrugging, you respond, âYeah. Itâs a cool city.â
âYou plan on stayinâ out there permanently?â
âIâm not too sure,â you admit. âItâs too expensive. I donât want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I donât think that Iâll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.â
Joel seems hesitant about his next query. âDo you ever think âbout cominâ back to Austin at all?â
Suddenly, youâre not too sure about that either.
Youâve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. Thereâs a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.
Realizing heâs still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. âI donât think Iâll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.â
âOh. I see.â He sounds disappointed. âAre youâdo you plan on visitinâ home again for Christmas?â
âI do. Iâll be here for Christmas and New Yearâs.â
Heâs being friendly. Heâs being friendly. Heâsâ
âItâd be real nice to see you again then.â Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if heâd said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear heâs nervous. About what heâd just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?
Theyâre both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that itâs one of his secretaries. Heâs got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware heâs on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.
Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. âIt would. Itâd be very nice, actually.â
Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, âWeâll talk âbout it later, then. That okay, darlinâ?â
Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smileâbut the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that itâs useless.
He knows how heâs making you feel. He likes it.
Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, âShould you be eating so much bread, dear?â Ines, whoâs sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. Thereâs a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like youâd done last year.
For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like itâs water.
Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but itâs not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. âDonât you listen to her.â He says it loud enough for her to hear him. âYou just enjoy yourself, alright?â
Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. âWell, Iâm just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.â
Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.
âAre you fucking kidding me right now?â You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the childrenâs table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.
Your mother says your name warningly. âDonât you start,â she hisses, shaking her head. âBe quiet.â
Angrily, you round on her. âSeriously? Youâre going to let her say that to me? You donât care that sheâs making comments about my weight?â You almost laugh. Of course doesnât care, she has never cared and she never will. âIâm your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?â
âShut your mouth!â Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasnât put his hands on you since you were nine, but heâs as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. âYou hear me?â
Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your fatherâs chest, he mutters, âHey now letâs take a step back from her, alright?â He guides him back down into his chair. âAinât gotta be in her face like that, Will.â
âIâm sick and tired of her ruining everythingâcanât get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking childââ
You canât bear to sit there and hear another insult.
Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. Itâs about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but thatâs the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing thatâs hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years oldâit wasnât until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that heâd hung one up.
You sit down, hands curling around the rope thatâs so old and weathered itâs beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that youâre concerned about it snapping. Youâre so busy trying to keep it together that you donât notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see itâs Joel.
âHey there, darlinâ,â he says, gently.
You stare at him in surprise.
âWhat are you doing out here?â
âNeeded to make sure youâre okay.â
âIâm fine,â you grit the lie through your teeth.
Joelâs expression softens. âYou ainât gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.â
His concern is genuine. Itâs real.
You donât quite know how to handle it. Accept it.
âIt got real ugly in there, âspecially with your dad.â
Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. âFuck, Iâm sorry, Joel. Iâm so sorry.â
âSorry?â Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. âThereâs a few people who need to be apologizinâ for what happened, but darlinâ you sure as fuckinâ hell ainât one of them.â
Itâs odd. Feels foreign, even.
Youâre not used to someone being on your sideâit prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, itâs useless. You manage to whisper his name. Itâs a feeble warning, one thatâs telling him to go back inside before heâs caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.
But he doesnât budge. He waits. Joel knows youâre about to break and heâs ready to catch the pieces.
Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. Youâre holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that youâve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.
âSâokay to let go,â Joel encourages you and youâre certain heâs not just referring to the swing. âListen to me, darlinâ girl. I ainât gonna let you fall, alright? Iâm right here to catch you. You can let go. Iâve got you, okay?â
You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. âJoel,â you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.
He feels like stability.
He feels like security.
He feels like safety.
Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.
âSâalright, sweet girl. Iâve got you. Iâve got you.â
He repeats his reassurance over and over again.
He wants you to believe it.
And you do believe it.
Joelâs as patient as can be. Itâs growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldnât care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.
âShit,â you mumble when you pull back and notice youâd left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. âI ruined your shirt.â
âSâokay. Nothinâ the dry cleaners canât take care of for me.â Joel chuckles and lets go of you. âYou feel a little better now, darlinâ?â
âI do.â You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, âI donât want to go back in there, though.â
He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. âWell, yâdont have to go back in there,â he states. âIs there somewhere I can take you? Friendâs house, maybe?â
âMy best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,â you explain, sighing again. âAnyone who didnât leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I donât want to bother them.â
Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. âWell, donât know how comfortable youâll be with the idea, but my place ainât all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if thereâs no one out on the roads.â
âJoel, thatâs so nice of you to offer, but Iâve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,â you say, sheepishly.
âSweetheart, you didnât ruin a fuckinâ thing for me tonight. And you wouldnât be puttinâ me out at all,â he promises. âSâgettinâ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.â Holding out his free hand, he adds, âAnd comfortable.â
âBut Joelââ
âI can be real stubborn too, yâknow,â he teases you with a playful grin. âWeâll be out here all night long freezinâ our fuckinâ asses off.â
He isnât going to take no for an answer.
âOkay,â you relent, accepting the offer.
You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesnât let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram thatâs parked behind your grandfatherâs silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. âSorry, sweet girl. Itâs a bit of a trip up into the seat,â he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldnât be sexier. âGood up there?â
âYeah, Iâm good.â
Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driverâs side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. âSeatbelt,â he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, âYou warm enough?â
âI am. Thank you, Joel.â
ââCourse.â He nods and pulls away from the curb.
As Joelâs driving you further and further from your parentsâ house, all you feel is sweet relief.
âMâsorry the place is such a mess.â
Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.
Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, âIâd hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.â You take a look around his townhouseâmost of his furnitureâs still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; heâs been sleeping on the couch, or at least, thatâs what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. âIf you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.â
You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.
âSâit pretty bad?â
âMy roommateâs a kindergarten teacher too. Youâd be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.â
âIf youâre tryinâ to make me feel better, itâs workinâ like a charm.â Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. âGo on and make yourself comfortable, darlinâ. You thirsty at all? Iâve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,â he adds, jokingly.
âWhat kind of beer?â you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.
He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.
âLone Star.â
âIâll have one. If itâs not too much trouble.â
ââCourse itâs not too much trouble. Not at all.â
Itâs hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench togetherâhis back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collarâthis man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you canât help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks yâ
âHere you go, darlinâ.â
Joelâs deep voice shatters your train of thought.
Heâs standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which heâd uncapped along with his own.
Blood rushes to your cheeks. âThank you,â you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that youâre holding ontoâit wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.
âSâit too cold in here for you?â he asks. âI normally keep the thermostat pretty low.â
âItâs a little cold,â you admit. âBut itâs not a probââ
Itâs too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. âThat a bit better, sweetheart?â
âYou didnât have to do that.â
He shrugs. âYou said it was cold.â
He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.
âYou feelinâ alright?â
âHuh?â You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. âOh. Um. Yeah, Iâm alright.â
Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. âYou sure?â
âNo. Not really,â you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. âBut Iâll get over it. I donât have a choice but to get over it.â Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.
âMâguessinâ your familyâs got somethinâ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?â
âBingo,â you deadpan. âI was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like Iâm such a fucking disappointment.â
He frowns. âYouâre not a disappointment, though.â
âMy parents think Iâm a disappointment. My dadâs never told me heâs proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.â There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. âDo you know what itâs like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone whoâs supposed to love you unconditionally?â
Joel knows itâs a rhetorical question, he knows itâs not something youâre expecting him to answer.
But he does answer, because he does know.
âI do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.â
He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his fingerâwhere he once wore a wedding band. You donât even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, âYouâre good enough, Joel.â
He canât help but laugh a little. âSheâd disagree.â
âSheâs wrong.â
âYou donât know what happened.â
âI donât have to know what happened.â
âThat ainât how it works, sweetheart.â
Stubbornly, you lift your chin. âI donât care.â
Joel laughs. âYâthink you know me, darlinâ? Yâthink you know what kinda man I am? Hm?â
âI do know.â You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. âYouâre a good man, Joel Miller. I know that youâre a good man.â
âYou couldnât be more wrong âbout that.â Thereâs a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, âA good man wouldnât be sittinâ here just fuckinâ dyinâ to kiss his best friendâs daughter.â
You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. âYouâyou want to kiss me?â
âSince the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.â Joel shakes his head. âSânot right.â Heâs riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. âI ainât a good man at all. Youâre half my fuckinâ age and I shouldnâtââ
You cut him off, softly uttering his name. âJoel?â
âYeah?â His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.
âCan youâwill you kiss me? Please?â
You need more than just his kiss, so much more.
You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars canât be choosers and if one kiss was all youâll get tonight, then youâll fucking take it.
Joel swallows dryly. âThat really what you want?â
His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.
âYes,â you breathe in reply. âPlease. Kiss me.â
He leans in, and thereâs brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. âWe shouldnât be doinâ this.â His warm breath fans over your lips; theyâre parted, eager to meet his own. âI shouldnât let this happen. IâI should take you back home to your family before I do somethinâ real stupid.â
Your heart sinks. âThat really what you want?â you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing thereâs a chance his answer could be the answer that you donât want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.
Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. ââCourse itâs not what I want.â His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. Heâs studying, memorizing them, as if heâll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line heâs about to cross, youâre both about to cross, that just might be the case.
The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.
You exhale shakily. âThen just kiss me already.â
He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and heâs gentleâtoo gentle. You want to tell him youâre not made of porcelain, but youâre much too preoccupied with how Joelâs mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. Itâs a silent request.
He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access heâs seeking. Joel doesnât waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, youâre lying on your back and heâs settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.
You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chestâsuddenly, heâs not being so gentle. He isnât being rough. But he is hungry, heâs possessive, and heâs letting it show in the way heâs swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.
Your mind is racing, and yet, you canât think at all.
Itâs not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. âJoel,â you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.
âFuck,â he curses, pulling back. âMâsorryââ
The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.
âNo! Please donât be sorry,â you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. âI want this, you know I want thisâdonât you?â
Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his armsâyou want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where youâre aching for him most.
He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.
âBaby, yâneed to think real hard âbout thisââ
âI want this,â you repeat yourself. âI want you.â
Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joelâs shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.
Your touch erases all the uncertainty heâs feeling.
âWanna feel you too, baby.â Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. âChrist, you look so fuckinâ soft.â
He doesnât even realize heâs saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. âJoel,â you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.
Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. Heâs a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.
Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.
âJoel, please. I need youâI fucking need you.â
He tears away from your nipple. âWhere, baby?â
You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties youâre wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.
Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joelâs able to halt them right in their tracks.
âYouâre too fuckinâ beautiful, sweetheart,â he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. âSo beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckinâ perfect.â
You watch as he makes himself comfortableâwell as comfortable as he canâin between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.
âKnew I shouldâa put the damn bed together. But I been puttinâ it off and puttinâ it off all week long.â
You giggle breathlessly. âWho needs a bed?â
Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.
Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.
âJoel.â
Any traces of humor vanish. Youâre both reminded of the next wall thatâs about to be broken, the next line thatâs about to be crossed.
He looks down and groans. âSuch a pretty, perfect little pussy,â he remarks, his voice low, husky. âBet sheâs nice and wet for me, ainât she baby?â He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. âOh, sheâs fuckinâ soakinâ, sweet girl. Sâthis all for me?â
Foreplay wasnât in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that heâs taking his time, teasing youâmaking you really want it to the point where youâre willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Millerâs the only man youâd ever beg for.
He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like heâd done with the other. âTell me darlinâ sâthis where you need me? Right here?â
Frantically, you nod your head.
âWords, honey. Gotta use your words for me.â
âYes!â you choke out. âThatâs where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddyââ
You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldnât really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.
Joel raises an eyebrow. âDaddy, huh?â
Your face is on fire. âIâit slipped,â you stammer. âI didnât mean to call youâIâm so sorry, Joel. Iâm not even sure where that came from. Iâve neverââ
Youâre on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when youâd called him that. Youâre taken aback.
He fucking likes being called Daddy.
âSweetheart, there ainât nothinâ to be sorry âbout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.â
You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.
âAinât allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.â There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. âThat understood?â
You nod obediently. âYes.â
âYes what?â he prompts.
âYes, Daddy.â
âGood. Thatâs a real good girl, honey.â
For a split second, you canât breathe.
This man will surely be the death of you.
Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.
âPlease,â you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.
âPlease what?â he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. âTell Daddyâtell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.â
âYour mouth,â you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. âYour mouthâI need your mouth. Please.â
Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like heâs a ravenous, starved man who hasnât had a thing to eat in days. âWhat a good girl,â he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. âBet you taste as delicious as you fuckinâ look, donât you, pretty girl?â
He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. âOh fuck,â you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.
He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into youâyou feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that heâd ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.
âFuck, yes, just like that,â you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. âYes Daddy, fuckâfeels so fucking good, please donât fucking stopââ
Itâs not like you have to tell him what to do.
Joel knows exactly what heâs doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joelâs quick to learn your bodyâs cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you lessâwhen he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.
You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as heâs fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.
Youâre milliseconds away from release.
âJoel, Iâm so fucking close. Iâm gonna comeââ
His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.
One last, broad stroke of Joelâs tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, whoâs face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slickâand somehow it it ignites another fire and youâre ready for more, so much more.
âSweet girl,â Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue
You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.
You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.
Tearing away from you, he grits out, âBaby. No.â
You immediately snatch your hand away from him.
âYou changed your mind?â you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.
Youâre just so fucking greedy for this man.
He offers reassuranceâand an explanation.
âNo, that ainât it at all. Sâjustââ Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. âSâjust that, well, I ainât got condoms on me, darlinâ.â
Relieved, you assure him, âItâs okay. Iâm clean.â
âMe too. But that ainât what Iâm worried about,â he admits, his face going from red to maroon.
You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.
âIâm on birth control.â
Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of itâtaking your cunt bare. âYâsure you want this?â He rasps out. âI need you to be a hundred percent sure âbout it.â
âIâm a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything Iâve ever needed in my life.â
Thatâs all he needed to hear.
Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like itâs your first time ever seeing a dick, but if heâs as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.
He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.
You swallow harshly. Heâs fucking massive.
âLike what you see, sweetheart?â Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. âHm?â
Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards himâJoelâs cock hasnât been anywhere near you and youâre already fucking walking side to side. âCome here,â you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. âThis okay?â you ask him, breathily. You canât be sure as to why youâre suddenly feeling a bit shy, like youâre not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.
âMore than okay.â Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. âGonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?â
You gift him with a cheeky grin. âYes, Daddy.â
The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.
Joelâs hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. âWasnât aware that my girl was such a little fuckinâ tease,â he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.
âYour girl?â you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. âIs that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?â
âSâthat what you want, honey?â Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that youâve shared all evening. âYâwanna be my girl?â
Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.
âI do,â you mumble against his lips. âI really do.â
Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. âBreathe, baby,â he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. âChrist, youâre so goddamn fuckinâ tightââ
The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. âJoel,â you whimper, biting back a loud cry. Youâre fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. Youâre so full of him.
One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.
âThis where youâre feelinâ me, pretty girl?â he coos gently. âThis where you feel Daddyâs cock? In your belly?â
âYes,â you sigh out contentedly. âFeels so good.â
You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.
Joelâs head falls back onto the couch. âChrist.â He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once heâs managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you canât find a single trace of brown. âGo on, then,â he rasps. âGo on, sweetheart.â
The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly youâre desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.
âYeah, thatâs it baby,â Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quickâmuch too quick for his liking. âJusâ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckinâ good for me. Just like I fuckinâ knew you would be.â
âFuck,â you whine. âYou feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside meââ
Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.
âJoel,â you whisper his name over and over. Youâre both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. Thereâs no chance to warn himâyour mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.
âMâso fuckinâ close,â Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. âWhere? Where do you want it, pretty girl?â
âInside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,â you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge heâs teetering on. âFill me up, Daddyâplease, want every drop of you inside meââ
Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.
He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.
âYou alright, sweetheart?â he asks after a minute.
âMâperfect,â you mumble against his chest. Youâre not sure if itâs because youâre coming down from a high or if itâs because heâs tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.
âLet me get the blanketââ
Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.
âNo, please donât,â you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he canât move you off to the side if he really wanted to. âIâI want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.â
âBut baby, youâre coldââ
You donât bother explaining to him that youâre not.
âJust hold me. Please.â
And thatâs exactly what he does.
Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joelâs hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, youâre nearly soothed into sleep.
âJoel?â
âYeah, darlinâ?â
âI hate Thanksgiving,â you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.
âDo you, now?â
You nod. âI do. But Iâm really thankful for you.â
Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, âWell, mâthankful for you too, sweet girl.â He pauses momentarily. âI ainât all too sure how Iâm sâpposed to just let you go home. I know I have to butââ
Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.
He doesnât mean home to your parentsâ house. He means Chicago.
You graze his beard with your thumb. âIâm coming back in a few weeks,â you remind him, gently. âIâve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.â
âYouâd do that for me?â
âOf course I would, Joel. Iâm not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I donât want them catching onto us.â
âCâmere.â Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. âIâll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and Iâll figure it out.â
divider credit to @saradika-graphics đ¤
#asdfghjkl BYE#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller x reader#dbf!joel#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x you#joel tlou#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#joel miller x y/n#joel miller au#dbf joel miller#dbf joel x reader#fic: someone to be thankful for
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đđđđđđ đđđđđ | dbf!Joel Miller x reader
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summary | you're stranded, you need helpâof course, Joel Miller is your savior.
content warning | listen. i wrote this in 3 hours, idk what to say. i had a thot and it went from there. its completely p w/o p, dbf!joel, age gap, moodboard is for aesthetic and reader is mostly not described aside from hair long enough to be put up, unhinged popsicle eating, eye-fucking, public-ish unprotected p in v car sex. listen i'm on my period rn don't look at me and thank you for my love, my twin, @chaotic-mystery for constantly supporting my gremlin behavior
word count â 3.2k
Out of all the people you had the chance of running intoâof course it was Joel.
The chances were slim, but not impossible. You knew his work schedule well enough, similar to that of your fathers. He worked early mornings into the late evening, taking his commute home just as the sun was starting to set.
You gripped the gas can in one hand as you made your way down the side road, the other hand placed over your eyes like a visor to block the sun away. You didnât even have a cell signal out here, so the walk seemed fruitless.
But, you had to find a gas station.Â
You thought you could make it home, which was clearly poor judgment, and the hair falling from the haphazardly tied knot on top of your head was sticking to your neck, eyes squinting as the truck pulled up next to you.
âNow, darlinââthe hell are you doinâ out here in the middle of nowhere?â Joel asks, the blast of AC hitting you in the face as he rolls down the window, arm leaned over the console as he looked you over.Â
It was clear youâve been out here longer than you should and Joel doesnât even take a second to hesitate before heâs popping the handle on the passenger door and inviting you inside the cooler cabin of his truck.
âWhere are you cominâ from?â He asks, shifting the truck into drive before he rests his palm over the gear shift.
âA friend, I thought I had enough gas to make it home but,â You shrug, waving vaguely at your car parked on the side of the road as he drives by.
What took a fifteen minute walk to where Joel had picked you up was only a minute or so drive back. Joel looks at you wearily and turns up the AC, blasting the stray hairs away from your face but the immediate burst of cold feels like absolute heaven.
âGrab a water out of my cooler, sweetheart,â He gestures with a thumb over his shoulder and you scramble, leaning over the center console with your ass popped up in the air.
Joel assumed it had to have been a pool party, the skirt covering your bottom half doing nothing to hide the thin, strappy bikini bottoms you wore underneath.Â
Joel doesnât mean to stare, but heâs worried that you might hurt yourself, his hand reaching out to wrap around your calf in an effort to keep you steady.
A subtle smirk plays at the corner of your mouth as you reach for the water inside the cooler and pop your head back up, your ass grazing his hand on the way down as you twist back into your seat.
Little touches were never a big thing with you two, normal and constant and nothing unusual.
A hand on your shoulder at family cookouts, his hands engulfing yours as he popped open the cap on your beer, a squeeze of his hand at the back of your neck when he hugged you after a month or two of not seeing you around your fatherâs house due to college or work, whatever was keeping you so busy. He didnât try to pry, but youâve been around less and less with each passing summerâso this unsuspecting time with you, he didnât mind. It was nice.
Really nice.
You twist at the cap and take a drink of the water, so thirsty that it starts to drip out of your mouth, a small droplet down your chin, reaching your chest and down the center of your breasts.
âIt ainât goinâ nowhere,â Joel jokes, squinting his eyes as he hides the growing grin on his face with his usual frown.
âSorry, being out in that heat like thatâŚâ You take a breath, recalling the bottle and putting it in the drink holder, âI just feel so stupid for thinking I could make it.â
When the street lights come into view, you know you're closer to actual civilization. And, just as Joel takes a right on the next intersection you stop at, there it was.
âIt happens,â Joel comforts, âbut you were lucky I was drivinâ homeâcanât even think about what could have happened if I didnât pass by.â
Joel pulls into the gas station and turns off the ignition.
âWell,â You flash a bright smile, squeezing at his shoulderâheâs got on a dark shirt plastered with the logo of the construction company he worked for, faded and slightly damp from his own sweat, âyou did and Iâm thankful for it, Joel.â
âHand it over,â Joel motions toward the gas can, âIâll fill âer up for you.â
âJoel, you donât have toââ
Joel tilts his head toward the gas can at your feet, eyebrows raised and hand held out expectantly.
âJust hand it over.â
You sigh softly and relent, reaching between your legs to grab the plastic jug, knowing of the eyes that drag down your spine from the open back of your top, tied just as your neck and the side of your breasts spilling out of your swim top.
Joel knows a snag, just a simple hook of his fingers would send them spilling out into the cool air, nipples perked up under the mesh fabric of your top andâ
âJoel.â
Joelâs eyes pull up suddenly, his face flushed but heâs lucked out by the redness of hot, summer heat on his face.. He clears his throat and grabs the gas can.
âBe right back,â He tells you, âstay put, alright?â
âAnd where would I go?â You retort playful, âIâm sure youâd find me again anyways.â
Joel chuckles to himself with a shake of his head as he departs into the store, handing a ten to the clerk before he takes a quick glance back at you, fanning yourself with your hand and chugging down another swig of water.
âActually,â Joel pauses for a moment, holding a finger up as he lingers down the aisle toward the freezer and grabs out two popsicles, hoping that would quell some of the heat, even if for a momentâplus, he knew you had quite the sweet tooth, âthere, just put whateverâs left on the pump and Iâll use that to fill it up.â
The clerk nods and scans the items, handing Joel off the receipt and heâs half jogging back toward his truckâquick to toss you the keys and the two popsicleâs heâd bought.
âWhat is this?â You ask cheerfully, eyes lighting up as they plopped into your lap.
Joel kept the driver's side open as he filled up the gas can, watching as you peeled eagerly at the popsicle, the red dye immediately dripping down your fingers as you pulled away the plastic.
âJust throw it on the floorboardâIâll clean it up later,â Joel notes as you look around, placing the lid back on the gas can before climbing back into the truck, âyou mind openinâ mine?â
You place the cherry flavored popsicle between your lips with an eagerness that forces Joel to look away, the sound of you peeling away plastic in his ear as he pulls out of the gas station and makes his way back toward your car.
âThank you, baby,â He says casuallyânot all that odd either, heâs got a million nicknames for you, some trickier to let slip around others but there was an unspoken agreement. You never minded, never cared.
He was only ever Joel to you and he didnât mind that either.Â
âOf course,â You smile, before dragging your tongue along the bottom of the popsicle and back up, sinking it back between your lips.
Joel just bites at it, not one to savor things very often.
You giggle and roll your eyes, the popsicle tip just as the edge of your lips before Joel is looking over at you curiously, ignoring the red stain of popsicle on your tongue as it peeks out.
âWhat?â
âJustâyouâre not even trying to enjoy it, Joel.â
âItâs meant to be eaten, right?â
âItâs hotâitâs a cold treat, youâre supposed to make it last a little. Come on,â You hold the popsicle out for demonstration before licking up the side, sinking your lips back down in a show that was more for yourself, knowing how he constantly looked at youâif Joel chokes on the bite of flavored ice in his mouth you donât see it.
It wasnât a secret, how he looked at you. Itâs been a few years since you left for college and teetering that line, nearing your mid-twenties now it seemed like it had only gotten more and more obvious. Joelâs never made his own advances aside from the one time your drunken state made you a little too confident, sliding between his legs at one of your family parties late at night, pressing a kiss right against his lips that ended far too quickly.Â
He did kiss you back though, you do remember that.
âAlright, alright,â Joel waves his hand at you nonchalantly, âyou can cut that out.â
You raise an eyebrow, feeling the sticky sweet juice slip down your fingers as the popsicle starts to melt, nearly finished as Joel had already downed his own.
âIâm just eating the popsicle,â You brush him off, âthat you bought meââ
âYou know what Iâm talkinâ about, sweetheart.â
You do, but that half second of lingering pause makes Joel worry he has read the situation completely wrong.
âWhat? Do you not like it?â You tease him, âDoesnât it turn you on, Joel?â
You finish up the last bit before tucking the stick into the plastic and back on the ground, suddenly realizing the red dye had stained the front of your top, causing a frown to form on your face as you rubbed at the material.
âShit,â You curse, ignoring the heated look on Joelâs face at your words, practically oblivious with the sudden distraction. You pull at the tie on the back of your top and bunch up the fabric as you stuff it between your lap, meeting Joelâs half-dumbstruck look as he tries to keep his eyes on the road but also canât draw his eyes away from you, âwhatâI got it all over my shirt?â
Joel pulls to the side of the road in an instant, forcing the truck into park, âWhat are you playinâ at?â
You look at him with confusion, narrowing your eyes.
âWhat? Why did you pull over?â
âWhat are the chances of me findinâ you out here? On this road?â He raises his eyebrows expectantly, âHm?â
You feign innocence for a few seconds before you cave, smiling with a devilish glint, resting your chin in your hand as you lean against the center console, your bikini top doing nothing to cover the plump of your breasts as the press against the fabric.
âWell, I meanâI figured they were pretty likely butââ
âIs your car even out of gas?â
You chew at your bottom lip thoughtfully, eyes tilting upwards in thoughtâtruthâŚlie.Â
Joel seemed set on getting the truth. So, you give it to him.
âNo, but I had you going, didnât I?â
Joel is silent for too long and you raise your eyebrows in question before Joel reaches forward, tugging at the lever under his seat to send him scooting back.
âCome here,â Itâs simple. An instruction.Â
But the look on his faceâthe intimidation shakes you to your core.
âNow, donât back off,â Joel challenges, âitâs what you wanted, right?â
âAs if you donât want it either,â You counter, âyouâve been eye-fucking me since I got in your truck.â
Joel doesnât even deny it, only waits. A simple nod of his head in a gesture for you to climb over and into his lap.
So, you do.
His hands immediately find your thighs and push up the denim skirt, your own hands resting at your sides as you scoot until your cunt is pressed up against the hard line of his zipper, the denim of his jeans so sensitive against your bare skin, feeling like all your senses were dialed up.
âWe do this,â Joel starts, âthereâs no going back. So, I need you to think if you really want this orââ
You surge forward, forcing the back of his head into the headrest as you swallow his words in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, tongues clashing with the taste of sugary sweetness.
âGotta be quick,â Joel tells you, his words lost on deaf ears as your hands drag down his front, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne, the ironic freshness despite having worked in the heat all day, âcan I fuck you, baby? Sâthat too much to ask?â
You shake your head, peppering soft kisses against his lips, along his jaw, feeling his fingers reach for each tie at your hips and pull, his hand immediately sliding over your cunt, cupping you with the warmth of his palm.
âGet it out, babyâgot my hands a little busy right now.â
The heat in his words makes your pussy clench, but your hands move even faster, dragging over the front of his jeans and pulling at the zipper swiftly and Joel lifts his hips enough to get them down his thighs but that was it, hissing at the instant your hand closes around his cock.
âYou got a problem with me fuckinâ you like this?â Joel asks, a true gentleman, but you roll your eyes. âDonât even know why I askedâyouâve been begginâ for it.â
You tilt your head, smiling at him playfully before you lick at your fingers and taste the remaining sticky sugar before pressing them along the center of your cunt, mixed with the already growing slickâJoel nudges at your entrance as you watch, the tip of his cock notched against your hole and your pussy quivers with the anticipation as he drags his cock up, down, up, before sliding in all at once.
Itâs slow, but intense. Your eyes close, brow drawing together as he pulls you further and further down his cock.
âOpen,â He breathes out, âopen your eyes and look at how youâre takinâ me, baby.â
You blink quickly, grabbing onto his bicep for purchase as you look down, his hands squeezing at the tops of your thighs as he admired, watching the way his cock has you on the edge of near tearsâa mix of overwhelming emotion and intense sensation.
Joel pulls at your top gently and it falls without much struggle, he bunches the material up and tosses it aside with your bottoms, massaging the swell of your tits under his palms as you rock your hips slowly, hearing the soft grunt behind his closed lips as you lean into his touch.
Flicking his thumb over your nipples, he admires the way the nubs hardered, like heâd imagine earlierâhe tries not to dwell on how you both got here, like it wasnât years of built up tension finally crumbling underneath you both.
âDonât be shy,â He tells you, âtake whatever you need, baby.â
As does he, leaning forward to press his lips against your breast, tongue lapping over the pert nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, drawing a soft sigh out of you.
You lift your hips, in time with the hand of his own that drops to your side to quicken your pace, âWanna take my time with you but we canât,â Joel admits, âgotta get home.â
You nod, knowing he had his own responsibilities as a fatherâyou donât argue, placing your hands against the headrest and raising your hips nearly off of his cock before sinking back down quickly, keeping that pace for as long as your body will allow, shared breaths into each others mouth as he hands travel from your tits to your face, the largeness of his palms engulfing your face as he brings his lips to your mouth again, again, soft whispers of words you know he doesnât mean. Promises you know are fleeting and easy to break.Â
You couldnât be with him, but you would take whatever this is.
âJust like that, baby,â He murmurs, grunting harshly into your ear as you tuck your head into his neck, his hand buried into the hair at the back of your head as you sink down onto his cock desperately, crying out into the side of his throat as he snaps his hips roughly, hitting so deep inside of you it makes you clench, biting down gently on his skin, âI feel it, I felt it.â
You snake your hand between your legs, finding your clit quickly and rubbing over the swollen nub, and Joel can tell by the neediness in your tone, moans broken into his skin as he fucks into you, haphazardly scanning the road for any passing carsâbut he knew this place was always deserted, a shitty road that no one ever took.
Not even you, but todayâit wasnât a coincidence.Â
âThatâs right, baby,â Joel sighs, head thrown back as he groaned out, âgonâ let me use this pussy, yeah?â
You nod instinctively, willing to agree with whatever Joel asked.
âWanna fill her up,â Joel admits, forcing you to lift your head and look at him, head tilted down slightly to meet your eyes, âthat alright, darlinâ?â
You nod again, but coherent this time.Â
He loosens the reins completely by then, practically hauling you over his shoulder as he pounds into you, encourage the hand on your clit as he squeezes a handful of your ass under his palm, marking the skin with a few firm slaps that has you moaning out loudly into the sacred space of the truck.
âJoel, pleaseââ You gasp, âIâm gonnaâright there,â
âI know, baby. I know.â He says softly, but the strain in his voice is obvious, groaning through clenched teeth as your orgasm crests, warmth spreading as you gush over his cock, the momentary bliss of sensation making your forget where you were, suddenly wishing that this had been a little less impulsive, wondering how Joel would treat you within the walls of his bedroom, buried in the sheets of his bed.
When Joel comes, itâs intense. His hands squeezing at your waist hard, his hips jerking out of rhythm as he stills you, coming inside of you with a deep groan, pulling you in for a frenzied kiss, laughing at how your faces uncoordinatedly press together, your nose smushed against his own and he kisses at the tip of your own as you pull away, his hair messier than when you started from your insistent grabbing and pulling during the heat of your orgasm.
He looked a complete mess, actually.
âYou okay?â He asks after a long pause, his hand rubbing at your back, cock still buried inside you on the side of an empty road.Â
âMhm,â You nod drearily.
âBaby, you gotta drive home now.â He tells you and you knowâit doesnât make it any easier, though. âDonât pull this shit again, alright?â
If heâd see it any other way you would have flinched, but it was soft and comfortingânot a warning.
âYou need somethinâ, you come knockinâ on my door.â
And you know he means it.
âOkay, I will.â
âSwear,â That was an order, âI need to hear it.â
âI swear.â You reply quietly.
Joel doesnât push you away, though.
If anything, he savors the few moments he has in this dreamy afterglow, a taste of what could beâbut you both know never will.Â
divider creds: @/cafekitsune
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x f!reader#the last of us#tlou#tlou fanfic#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#my writing#dbf!joel
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Fall Into Me masterlist
Moodboard courtesy of the wonderful @mrsmando
Summary: dbf!Joel x f!reader. Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything. Complete.
Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.
Chapter One: The Day That I Met You
Chapter Two: It All Turned Around
Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters
Chapter Four: Until I had met you there was no sun in my sky
Chapter Five: My whole world came alive
Chapter Six: And I knew my heart wasn't mine
Chapter Seven: I'll Catch You Darlin'
Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching
Chapter Nine: I'd Fall for You Twice if That's What You Wanted
Chapter Ten: I'd give you my life from now 'til forever
Chapter Eleven: Fall Into Me and I'll Catch You Darlin'
Epilogue
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel x female reader#the last of us#tlou#dbf!joel#Fall Into Me#pedro pascal#mutual pining#idiots in love#joel miller fluff#joel miller smut
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Who We Are
pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller
description: when your father falls ill, his patrol partner and best friend, joel miller finds a way to aid in his recovery. but this solution is complicated and requires you to take on a week-long hunt for supplies and resources. being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in evenutally.
word count: 17k words. this one is a LONG ONE. get a snack.
warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, illness that requires medical intervention, blood, guns, killing of infected, forced proximity, joel is kinda pervy?, talks of loss of family members, joel lies about his past, oral (f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, creampie, after care.
author's note: ... hi folks! this one is a long one, so like I said, grab a snack and get comfy! I was going to make this multiple parts but I'm eager and unhinged. to be honest, this story is better as one big one shot anyway. I had a very intense time editing so I know I probably missed some things. I may write little branch off stories if you guys enjoy it enough. anyway, enjoy! <3 lemme know what you think!
âDidnât know you were workinâ tonight, darlinâ,â Your fatherâs Southern drawl brings you out of your daze. You had been cleaning glasses for the last hour and a half. Surprisingly, the Tipsy Bison wasnât busy on a Wednesday night. You had been keeping busy by cleaning and serving two visitors.Â
You look up, noticing your father and his patrol partner wander into the bar. They find a seat at the bar, right in front of you as you dry some whiskey glasses.Â
âI work every night this week, Pops,â You mutter, turning back to the liquor bottles to grab his favorite bourbon. You knew exactly what he came here for. He wanted to pester you on your shift and watch you write under his partnerâs gaze. He thought your little crush was entertaining. You have made comments to your dad in the past about how you thought Joel was nice to look at and your Dad would just laugh. He would jokingly wiggle his finger at you and tell you to find someone your age.Â
Little do you and your father know, Joel feels similarly about you. The first moment he saw you, he thought about how if he was a young buck, heâd lock you down as soon as he could. The age held him back initially, never even entertaining your subtle glances or welcoming smiles. Then when he realized who your father was, he immediately shut down all thoughts like that in his head. You were strictly off-limits.
âWell good, keeps you busy.â
You did not enjoy the idea of working every weeknight with a bunch of drunks, but this job was a bit better than constantly shoveling horse shit. Instead, you got to mingle with the locals. Maybe find yourself a man, since you were in your early thirties and unmarried.
Joel loved coming to the Bison when you were here. It meant he got to drink a whiskey neat and watch you twirl and rush around the bar. Tonight was slower, though, so he got the privilege of speaking with you, which was rare.Â
You pour your Dad his bourbon, finally glancing up at his partner whoâs practically ogling at you. You made a conscious effort to avoid his piercing brown eyes.Â
Joel Miller was a dream boat, god damn. Every time he glanced in your direction, you would freeze up and stutter out a very jumbled âhelloâ. He was quite guarded, never much to talk. When he did finally speak, you found yourself reeling over his deep voice.Â
âWhatcha want, Mr. Miller?â
His lips twinged, his eyes flicking up to yours. He loves hearing you say that, he thinks to himself. You hand off the bourbon to your Dad, waiting for a response.Â
âWhatever heâs having is fine, sweetheart,â He says plainly, nodding toward the half-empty bottle. Your knees could buckle at the nickname, but you keep your composure. You canât crumble that easily.Â
You three slide into a conversation about their patrolling, what they found that day, and the game plan for tomorrow. You make a sly comment about how they needed to find some meaning in life other than patrol. Your dad laughs, and Joel just stares blankly at you. You instantly want to take back the comment and never speak again, ever. Instead, you just continue drying the glasses you just washed.Â
When your dad finished his bourbon, you noticed his expression change from relaxed to pained.Â
âYou okay there?â You ask, grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink below the counter. He rubs his chest, letting out a deep guttural cough. Joel looks perplexed while you get closer and notice the blood splattering into your dadâs palm.Â
âItâs nothing, just a cough,â He manages to say, his voice hoarse. You scan his face, knowing immediately that heâs lying.
âBullshit, youâre coughing up blood,â You reach towards some towels, tossing them on the counter in front of him, âYou should probably go get checked out, Dad.â
Joel quips, âYeah, donât need you getting sick when we are out tomorrow. Why donât you stop by the infirmary before you go home?â
Your Dad just shakes his head, âYou two are being dramatic. Itâs nothing, I promise.â
Your Dad was known for downplaying his pain and sicknesses. You remember being a little girl traveling with him across the country and every time he got hurt, heâd just suck it up. He shattered his left pinky years ago and he resolved to just chop it off. So thatâs what he did. He was lucky it never got infected. But he was known just to blow off all his ailments, reminding you heâs beat all the other odds.Â
So instead of fighting with him, you just nod all the while, stealing a long glance at Joel. Heâs finishing his drink and you canât help but watch his neck. His Adamâs apple bobs as he swallows and you fixate on it for a bit too long.Â
Youâre brought out of the trance when he slams the glass down, his dark brown eyes drooping. Joel always looked tired, but you knew after the day they had, he was actually tired.Â
You had a couple more hours at the Bison before you had to close up, so you bid them a farewell, reminding your Dad that youâd be home before he stumbles off to bed. He never slept much, he would just read in the living room until you got home usually.Â
Joel waves you a farewell, thanking you quietly for the drink.Â
âDonât be a stranger,â You say as he turns his back to you to head for the door. He turns a bit, giving you a slight smirk as he reaches for the door.Â
You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what itâd be like to be with a man. You spent most of your time in Jackson without giving much of the men your age a thought. More than half were taken, anyway. While you let your mind wander, you realize your imagination is placing Joel in the spot of all the made-up situations with this said man.Â
-
You lock the bar door behind you, tugging on it to ensure itâs snug in the latch. The air was shifting, the cool warm summer turning into a slightly chilly fall. You wore a long sleeve today, luckily, or else youâd be shivering on your way home. The walk home wasnât a long one.Â
When you reach your front door, you realize the living room light is on. Dadâs awake.
But as you reach to turn the knob, you hear ghastly breathing from the other side. When you swing the door open, you see your Dad in his recliner, his hand over his chest. Heâs dry heaving, trying to get out a cough.Â
âHey, hey,â You quickly race to his side, âAre you okay? Whatâs happening?â
He breathes in deeply, âI just canât seem to catch my breath. Something isnât right.â
You have never seen him so panicked. You nod, understanding that your next step is to get him to the infirmary. He should have gone on his way home. You didnât know if anyone would be there and you surely didnât know if they would be able to treat his symptoms.Â
âAre you in pain?â You ask, grabbing under his arms to lift him out of his chair. Heâs wobbly, so you keep your hand under his armpit and use your other free arm to balance him. He shakes his head.Â
âJust weak.â
Your heart sinks. Never in your life has your father admitted to feeling weak or sick. It was like as soon as he got home, his body just gave out. You help him into his shoes and start your trek back towards the middle of town. You wish you didnât have to walk him so far because it felt like with every 5 feet, his lungs were giving out and sending him into a coughing fit. You probably woke the entire town trudging him through the streets. When you get to the front step of the infirmary, you knock as loud as you can. Usually, they had an overnight shift nurse helping, having them watch over whoever was dragged there during the day. Dispensing medicine if need be. You knew a couple of the nurses, most of them your age or a bit older.Â
When a familiar face opens the door, you feel a sense of relief.Â
âHey Sidney,â You greet her, sort of pushing your Dad into the room, still keeping your hands wrapped around his center, âSomethingâs wrong with Pops.â
She reaches out to help you with him, âOh no, whatâs going on?â
âCan hardly breathe,â Is all he can muster out. You look at Sidney, concern spread across your face. She nods, knowingly.Â
Sidney was one of the nurses you trusted the most. She gave you stitches when you sliced your hand open on a glass bottle a couple of weeks ago. She was patient and gentle, always checking to see if you were doing alright as she sewed your skin together. Sheâs a former Firefly, probably in her 40s. She got trained by some doctors years ago so she knew a decent amount about all sorts of medical treatment.Â
She takes hold of the situation completely, grabbing your Dad and walking him to a free bed near the door. She gets him to lie down and she starts scrambling for some supplies to do a quick once over of him. He looks pale and for some reason, very small, in the hospital bed.Â
âItâs gonna be alright,â You say, poking his arm. You say it for him, but you mainly say it for yourself. He closes his eyes and nods.Â
âAlways is, kiddo.â
-
The news was not ideal. After observation and some tests, Sidney decided your father probably has pneumonia. The problem was, that Jackson was low on antibiotics and they would have to decide if your Dadâs case was urgent enough to give him some.Â
It pissed you off, but you had to hold back your anger. This situation was out of Sidneyâs control, but you knew exactly who to raise your voice to. Sadly, the city council was asleep in their beds, as it was 4 a.m. Sidney reassured you that she would ensure your father was looked after until the morning when they could discuss with everyone if it would be okay to give him some of the highly sought-after antibiotics.Â
But for now, you should get some rest.Â
Your father fussed at you while he was in and out of sleep, telling you that you needed to go home and sleep. Your body was plagued with exhaustion and your brain was hardly functioning. You would need to plead a good case, so even a couple of hours of sleep would do you good. You ask if you could occupy a bed nearby and Sidney agrees with a sympathetic smile. You curl up, trying to clear your brain of your racing thoughts.Â
You canât lose your father, heâs all you have.Â
You need to remind the council of all your father does.Â
You need him to get better.Â
You need him.Â
-
âWe only have 4 vials of antibiotics,â Maria states, trying not to look you in the eyes. She feels horrible, but she knows deep down the rest of the council will probably reject your father using any. It was going to be a tough decision like this that made most of the people in the council think they were playing God, but it was real life. Would they give your 60-something-year-old father antibiotics for pneumonia or give it to a young child suffering from an infection? They had to think ahead and supplies were scarce.Â
You cross your arms, waiting for the next shoe to drop. âAnd?â
Tommy stands up, knowing you will not like the next sentence. He practically guards Maria with his broad frame. He resembled Joel, with his dark hair and stern eyes. His were a bit softer.Â
âWe are low on resources, hun. We need to think ahead and ensure that the pros outweigh the cons of giving him one of those vials. You understand?â
âWhy was this not a thought in the summer? When it was a good time to go seek some out? I just donât under-â
âWe had that sickness going around over the summer. Lots of people getting fevers. Before we knew it, Dr. Peters realized we were low. I had intentions to get out and try to find more, and trade with some people, but we just havenât discussed it all yet. Thereâs a process. It was in the works.â
Your blood is boiling and your patience running out. Each second of arguing was another second your Dad could be closer to death.Â
âWell, itâs a shitty fuckinâ process. Where can I go to get more, then? Is there another community we can trade with? A hospital we can scavenge? You guys canât expect me to sit around and wait for him to get worse.â
Maria looks to Tommy, trying to wrack her brain for a response. Tommyâs lip twitches, knowing exactly what to say. He did not want you to do it, but he knew how you were. Youâd do anything for your family.Â
âThereâs a hospital in Salt Lake that Iâve heard is practically untouched. Fireflies used to reside there and do tests. They probably left behind some supplies.â
You narrow your eyes, âSalt Lake? Isnât that a whole week away?âÂ
You start to pace the room, trying to console yourself. You canât just leave for that long and assume that everyone will take care of your Dad. Tommy places his hands on his hips, trying to figure out a resolution. He liked your Dad, always going to him if he needed help around the commune. Your Dad is always one to offer a helping hand and give solid advice. He didnât want to watch him die, either.Â
âHow about this,â Tommy huffs, âHow about we give him one of our vials and you and Joel head out to Salt Lake to scavenge that hospital? If we are right in our assumptions, thereâs probably a lot of resources there. And Joelâs been there before.â
âWhy are you roping Joel into this?â You press, crossing your arms.Â
âJoel knows where to go. He can get you there in one piece.â
âWhere am I going,â Joelâs presence takes you by surprise. You turn back at the front door of the infirmary, seeing Joelâs disheveled hair sticking up in every direction. He had red cheeks, probably from the jog he did to get there. As soon as he heard about your father, he booked it from the stables to his side.Â
Tommy shoots Joel a knowing look, âYou and her are gonna go back to Salt Lake. You think they have antibiotics at that hospital you took Ellie to?â
Joelâs visceral reaction sends you. His heart practically stopped when Tommy brought up the hospital.Â
You start to sweat when he does, realizing you would have to travel that far with Joel Miller.Â
He swallows, shifting his weight to his other leg. âProbably. Why canât ya just give him what we have?â
Maria shakes her head at his response, âWe have a long winter ahead of us, Joel. We have four vials left. This saves us from a council meeting where they shoot down everything. They wonât approve it. If I reassure them that you are going to get some more, they wonât mind if we give him one.â
He huffs, scratching his chin in contemplation. You knew this would not be ideal for him, but youâre willing to do anything, even if you had to do it alone. The four of you stand in silence while Joel wracks his brain for an excuse to say no. None comes to him.Â
Itâs not that he did not want to help you, he just does not want to relive some trauma with you by his side. He would have to swallow back all his emotions, all the while you would be posted up right next to him. He does not want you to see him falter under pressure.
âShe canât go alone, Joel,â Tommy quips, gesturing towards you. You were shaking, your body reacting before your brain even could. Your nerves were shot.
He shakes his head, âAnd if they donât have the supplies?â
You didnât even think that far.Â
âThey will,â Tommy says, matter-of-factly, âItâs our best bet. The Fireflies disbanded, there has to be stuff left behind.â
You donât know how Tommy knows all this, but he must have good sources to know all these things. Joel nods at him, accepting his response. He looks back at you, trying to figure out how you feel about the proposition by reading your face.Â
âDoes that work for you?â His deep voice isnât meant to be intimidating, but you flinch anyway at the question.Â
âI donât have much of a choice. My Dad needs the medicine. If you guys think we can make it there and back in one piece, Iâll do it.â
âWe will leave tomorrow morning. In the meantime,â Joel waves over Sidney, whoâs still sitting by your sleeping and dazed father, âGive him one of those vials.â
-
Joel sacrificing his time and effort for your father was unfathomable to you. Sure, Joel was a great friend of your Dadâs, but he truly didnât owe you two anything. It made you enamored with him even more.Â
As the day shifted into the evening, you sat by your Dadâs bed and waited for the antibiotics to kick in. His body needed rest, you knew that much because he slept more than he probably ever had in his lifetime.Â
He was sweating out a fever, so every so often youâd pat his head with a cold rag. He would mumble a quiet âthank youâ and then return to snoring. As the sun sets, you welcome Sidney back for her night shift. She checked your Dadâs vitals, telling you his lungs are already sounding a bit better. You stretch and yawn, cracking every bone in your body while you do. You were stuck in the same position for so long, elbows on your knees, your chin propped up by your hands.Â
You had a long trip ahead of you, and you couldnât lie, you were scared half to death. You did not want to come back and find your father dead. You were also terrified about going back outside of Jackson. You spent most of your last 20 years living in the wild and shitty QZâs. You were always on edge out there, and then you found Jackson. Ever since then, life has been a little more hopeful. You were able to form relationships and have some simple enjoyment, after all this time.Â
Your Dad finally wakes up when you start stirring more. His one eye opens first which makes you crack a smile.Â
âMorninâ Pops,â You joke, grabbing his warm hand, âThat antibiotic should start working soon. Youâll be better in no time.â
âYeah,â He croaks, âBut I heard youâre going somewhere.â
You bite your lip, afraid to stress him out. You knew he would worry about you, he always did. Â
âYeah, me and Joel are going to get more supplies. Nothing too drastic,â You lie, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles, âYou trust Joel enough to take care of me?â
It was the first time he laughed in the last 24 hours, âCourse he will. He knows how much you mean to me. If he fucks up, he will get a load of me, thatâs for sure.â
His voice was reassuring to hear, especially since heâs joking with you.Â
âOkay, I believe you,â You mutter, âWe leave tomorrow morning, so I need you to be good and get all the rest you can. I want you up and moving when I get back, you hear me?â
âRoger that, kiddo.â
-
âMorninâ sunshine,â Your tone is sarcastic and Joel can tell. You did not expect to be stuck with Joel Miller alone for a week, especially outside the walls.Â
He clears his throat as he finishes packing up his horse.Â
âMorninâ,â He grumbles, patting his horseâs mane, âLetâs get you all set up. Youâll be takinâ your Dadâs horse, Ranger. He is already saddled up, just need to get your stuff on there.â
Luckily, you packed light. You brought a couple of changes of clothes, some food, some camping gear, and of course, your gun.Â
Joel helps you tie down your bag and ensures all the straps he just put on are tight enough for you. You just watch him, enjoying how just takes control of the situation. He had the father instinct, always making sure everything would be safe and secure for the girls he loved. Or liked. Whatever.
You thank him, grabbing onto the saddle and flinging yourself up onto the horse. Ranger was truly your favorite horse in all of Jackson. He was the best behaved and the biggest. His mane was long and black and he loved to be brushed. You spent a lot of evenings riding him for fun, just enjoying his company.Â
Joel gets on his horse, adjusting how he sits before he takes the reigns and guides you towards the main gates of Jackson.Â
âYou still sure youâre ready for a run like this?â
Heâs giving you a chance to back out. But this was now an obligation. If you didnât do this, you would indebted to everyone. You would be the person to blame if someoneâs loved one died. Not really, but you felt that guilt.Â
âReadier than Iâll ever be, Joel.â
-
âHow is Ellie doing?â
You were burning to make conversation. You needed to rid your mind of all the anxiety surrounding your own life. Joel was too quiet, it made you feel queasy. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You were about 20 miles outside of Jackson, the sun was coming up through the foliage.Â
He inhales sharply, âSheâs a teenage girl. Sheâs grumpy.â
You grip onto the reigns of your horse, your body swaying back and forth with the trot.Â
âI remember being that young and being constantly annoyed by my Dadâs nagging,â You chuckle, remembering the days of angst, âAre you annoying her, Joel?â
Joel scrunches his face at such allegations. If anything, Ellie was annoying him.Â
âCourse Iâm not! Just⌠want to make sure sheâs doing good. Which she is. Everyone tells me âbout how helpful she is.â
You think back to the last interaction you had with Ellie. She had been helping out at the stables when you were in charge of feeding and cleaning the horses before you got the job at the Tipsy Bison. Ellie wanted to know everything you knew, pestering you with silly questions like what their names were and why they were named what they were.Â
âSheâs very helpful,â You acknowledge, thinking about how enthusiastic she always was about learning, âYou raised her right.â
He huffs, âWas hardly me. Sheâs just smart and raised herself.â
You did not quite understand the history between Joel and Ellie, but you knew Joel was not her biological father. You had no clue how they found each other or when. But you could see the love Joel had for Ellie. You remember him lighting up when he explained to you and your dad how she was the best shot amongst the recruits.Â
Joel will probably never indulge you in the specifics of his relationship with Ellie, simply because itâs complicated. He never felt the need to explain himself to anyone but Tommy.Â
âYou had a hand in some of it, Joel. Give yourself a little credit.â
But Joel was never good at that. He was hard on himself, weary to accredit any of Ellieâs behavior to himself.Â
The rest of the ride was occupied with the sound of leaves rustling. Joel spots a fallen tree that he says would be a good eating spot. You agree, hopping down off your horse with ease. You tie his reins up on a nearby branch and start digging through your saddle bag for the apple you packed for yourself. You were sick with unease all day. With everything going on in your life, the last thing on your mind was hunger. Plus, you were alone with a man that you had to put all your trust in.Â
You pop a squat on the chipping bark and get out your pocket knife to start cutting the red fruit. Joel gets out a bag of jerky from his pack and finds a spot next to you. He looks over at you, perplexed at your food choice.Â
âJust some fruit?â Joel interrogates, instantly knowing your hunger cannot be satiated by apples. No one can be satisfied with only fruit.Â
Your stomach churns at your first bite, âJust not that hungry.â
Thatâs all the explanation he needs. You watch as he starts to munch on his bagged meat, cringing at the sound of his mouth. You try to block it out, but itâs eating away at your brain. You hated the sound of chewing, it was such a stupid pet peeve, but you couldnât help yourself. Joel is oblivious, probably not even hearing how loud heâs being. You smack his arm out of instinct, something you did to your dad when he was being too obnoxious.Â
He looks down at you with furrowed brows and annoyed eyes.Â
âYouâre eating too loud,â You say, wanting to smack yourself at how stupid it sounds out loud.Â
He looks away, completely flabbergasted at the reaction. âEating too loud? Really?â
You feel embarrassed for letting your brain get the best of you. So you just cut more of your apple off and slowly crunch on it. You try your best not to hyper-fixate on your chewing. When youâre in a trance, lost in your thoughts, Joel nudges you back. Heâs getting you back, now.Â
âNow youâre chewing too loud,â He jokes, popping another piece of his jerky in his mouth, âShould probably keep it down. So loud you may attract some infected.â
You canât help but smile at his stupid rebuttal. You give him props for making you feel less foolish.Â
âSorry,â you mumble, eating another slice intentionally loud, âCanât help myself. They are just so crunchy.â
You hear him giggle, his smile easing your churning stomach.Â
âItâs okay, sweetheart. Iâll forgive you this one time.â
-
You knew the ride to this hospital would be long, but you didnât realize how barren the landscape would be. You also didnât realize how bad your ass would hurt. You and Joel finally pull off into some woods when the sun starts to set. Joel acts like he knows exactly how to navigate the woods, guiding his horse deeper and deeper. In between some large trees, you spot a lake.Â
âWanna go swimming?â You question after hours of no conversation. He glances back at you with a sly smirk on his face. When you look to your right, you notice a small path. Joel clicks his tongue for his horse to follow it. You two trot through the leaves, before coming upon a small decrepted cabin.
âThis is us,â He states as he halts his horse.Â
He had secretly always pictured taking you out here. He could not help but insert you into his small fantasies. Some nights he would imagine what it would be like to have you stick by his side forever. He always felt guilty afterward.Â
You look at the building in wonder, completely speechless. You assumed you would be camping on the forest floor, not in an intimate cabin by a lake. You swing your leg over and slide off your saddle. Joel starts to tie up his horse nearby and you follow suit. You continue to look at the cabin, curious as to who kept up with it. It looked well maintained, besides some cobwebs at the peak of the roof.Â
âIs this yours?â
He shakes his head, âNo. Technically Tommyâs. He goes this way to get to another settlement about 50 miles south. He found this place on a whim and cleaned it up.â
You look around the area, seeing thereâs even a fire pit right by the water. It had chairs and stones to outline the charred wood. You could not help but imagine what this place was before Tommy found it. How many fun nights were probably spent here by the original owner? If you had no one to go back to, you would just live here. But the more you think about that scenario, you think about how lonely you would probably get. Maybe if you had someone to stay with you.Â
You finally look back at Joel. Heâs standing on the stone path with his eyes locked on you. You get self-conscious for a moment, realizing he probably noticed how entranced you were with the surroundings.Â
Thatâs exactly what he was thinking, too. How beautiful you stood in the shadows of the trees, your eyes curiously glancing around like a kid in a candy shop. You had him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it.Â
âYou good if we stay here overnight? Get back on the road tomorrow?â
How could you ever say no to an offer like that?Â
You nod, swallowing back your insecurity, âYeah, for sure.â
-
Joel could build a good fire. Watching him gather all the wood and place them into a perfect formation. As soon as he lights it, it builds and builds. When the warmth envelopes you, you start to finally feel at ease. Joel sits down with a stick, nudging the fire every so often.
He felt guilty. He felt like he was betraying your father, a man who was trusting him with his daughter. He should not be imagining how a little life in the woods would look like with you. He should not be picturing how beautiful you would look underneath him. He should not be having these devious thoughts about you. His eyes are trained on the flames as they build, trying to push those daydreams away.Â
When his sleeve lifts as he toys with the charred wood, you notice the watch on his wrist. It looks ancient, the face of it shattered. You donât realize youâre staring at it until he snatches his hand away from your view.Â
âSorry,â You retract, sitting further into the chair, âYour watch is broken.â
He places the stick next to his foot, finally out of his head for a moment, âYeah, Iâm aware.â
You were so stupid. You know not to pry further, knowing thereâs probably a story and you donât feel like youâre at a stage with Joel Miller to dive deeper. He notices how small you making yourself, and it makes him feel bad. He never wants to make you insecure.Â
âYour necklace,â He starts, trying to place your mind somewhere else. It was a feature on your body that he noticed ages ago, but he never tried to beg the question, so this seemed like a great time to move the subject along. âIs it a moon?â
You reach up to your throat, feeling for the necklace you never took off. It feels like he almost wants to see if you will spill your story first. He is bad at reading women, sometimes. Most of the time.Â
âYeah, it was my sisterâs.â
He feels stupid, instantaneously. As soon as those words fell from your lips, he put his face in his hands.Â
âOh, Iâm sorry.â
Your feelings towards what happened 20 years ago were drastically different than how you feel now. You could still feel the horror and the pain you felt, but it wasnât so gut-wrenching anymore. It honestly doesnât even feel like it happened to you.Â
You drop the crescent moon charm from your hands, âNo, itâs okay. She died on outbreak day. She was a bit older than me, her name was Reagan.â
He looks up at you and just nods, taking in the information. You donât know if itâs a gesture for you to continue to talk, but you take it as just that.Â
âHer and my mom were at one of her soccer games when all hell broke loose. From what I heard, she was bit by one of her teammates and when me and my Dad were packing up our things to get out of there, I grabbed some of her stuff. A necklace, a sweatshirt, and her favorite pair of sneakers. I donât know why. But yeah, this necklace is the only thing that survived 20 years. Sweatshirt got too small, shoes got too torn up.â
You donât even notice the tears pricking in your eyes until you blink. You donât even remember what she looks like, her face is kind of jumbled in your memory. You remember her hair though, long and brown and super curly. Joel just listens, his eyes trained on your hands as you nervously rub them together. When you peer up at him, you see the mutual pain written on his face.Â
He thinks to his beautiful Sarah. His eyes fall to his broken watch. The pain is still very palpable.Â
ââm glad we have somethinâ from our people. Somethinâ to remember them by, yaâ know?â
You scan his broken watch and nod timidly. âYeah, something to remember them by.â
-
You stand up after eating some more food you packed, ensuring youâre somewhat nourished before you go to sleep. Joel stares at the fire, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He knows he has to sleep, but he knows you need it more. Heâs willing to give up his hours for yours.Â
âYou want me to do first watch?â You quiz, hoping to get the answer no. Instead, he just shrugs. You cross your arms, a cool shiver going down your back as you step away from the fire.Â
âIâll start first,â He mumbles, grabbing his poking stick, âThereâs a bed in there all ready for you. Get some rest, we got a long day tomorrow.â
You respond with a slight wag of your head, âOkay, goodnight, Joel.â
You turn on your heels and head towards the front door of the cabin. You creak the door open. Itâs pitch black so you step back onto the small porch to grab the lantern Joel lit a while ago. You slowly creep through the one-room cabin, placing the lantern on the small table by the door. It lit up most of the room so you got a great look at the wooden framed bed, waiting for you to lay upon it.Â
You feel a pang of guilt making Joel sit outside to guard you as you slept. You knew you needed rest. You also knew it would start getting colder and colder and that fire would die eventually.Â
Joel could handle himself, after all. You would just have to push your worry aside. When you curl up onto the hard mattress, you think back to the last time you were left to trust another man to look after you as you slept. It was a traumatizing night, so instead of worrying yourself, you close your eyes and remind yourself that Joel is safe. Dad trusts Joel. Joel is a good man.Â
Sleep eventually takes over, your soft snores rattling off the wooden walls.Â
After a couple of hours, the shivering takes over Joelâs body, so he creeps into the cabin. The lantern is dimmer, slowly running out of fuel. He shakes his head, smiling to himself at your disregard for resources. He walks over to the small wood-burning oven, opening the door to it as quietly as he can. You donât even stir. Youâre a deep sleeper, he would remember.Â
He starts a fire with the old coals, warming up the small space. Once he stands up from his squat, he hisses at the crack of his knees. He glances over at you, making sure he did not wake you. Nothing.Â
You were a peaceful sleeper, your mouth slightly ajar. To Joel, you were always so beautiful. Not even just your looks, but your kind and reserved nature. You always gave him a delighted smile when he looked your way. You were dedicated to always being there for your father, which would always melt his cold heart. He would always watch you with a careful eye, praying that you would somehow get older or him, younger. He hated himself for admiring you so often, especially since he respected your father so much. But you were right there.Â
He sat himself in the old recliner chair near the door, peaking out the window every so often. He would always find himself training his eyes back on you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly.Â
It takes everything in him not to curl up next to you.Â
-
The second day starts off a bit rough.Â
When you wake up in the early morning hours, you take notice of a sleeping Joel in the corner of the room. You spring up, loudly rattling the bed frame. It sends Joel jumping out of his skin, his eyes flying open to look at you.
You are panting like you just ran a mile.Â
âJesus Christ, girl,â He barks, his tone tired but also vicious, âThought someone had you at gunpoint.â
âYou were sleeping!â
âShit, yeah I was, wasnât I?â His tone is more relaxed, sort of annoyed. He rubs his eyes, glancing outside. Your horses were still there and it doesnât seem like you guys have been ransacked.Â
You clench your fists, âYouâre lucky we didnât get shot in our sleep or something.â
He rolls his eyes, slowly rising from the chair he took over, âThatâs a little dramatic, sweetheart. We are fine.â
After that comment, you did not want to talk to Joel Miller.Â
You also start to question if you can trust him. He shouldâve woken you up to take charge of the watch, but instead, he ignorantly fell asleep and risked your life.Â
When you pack up to leave, he realizes how rattled you are. He wants to apologize, but heâs too stubborn to do so. You were being dramatic. But he shouldnât have said that. He shouldâve kept that comment to himself. He was never really good at holding his tongue, always saying the first thing on his mind.Â
-
When the sun sets on the second day, Joel promises you two should be in Salt Lake the next afternoon. The whole day pretty much consisted of you two bickering about state capitals. He swears the capital of Pennsylvania is Philadelphia.Â
âItâs not, itâs Harrisburg,â You would say.Â
You also talked about times before the Infection. He mentions his daughter, Sarah, telling you about how she used to play soccer and she loved going to the Texas State Fair. It makes your heart happy to hear him light up about her, but it makes you want to cry hearing a father talk about his dead child. You canât imagine that type of pain, and you hope you never do. He doesnât even know why heâs suddenly baring his soul to you, but he starts to feel like his walls are falling away and heâs comfortable around you.Â
He tells you about how he plays the guitar, which you lock onto quickly.Â
âYouâll have to show me how good you are,â You smile, imagining Joel Miller strumming along to some folksy song you request. He can only imagine what type of music you would want to hear from him.Â
âWhen we get home,â He mutters, âI'll give you a performance.â
âI cannot wait.â
The conversation with you was easy. You could get anything out of him, pretty much. You were a lot like your father, but softer. He enjoyed your company a bit more. Your laugh was infectious and you were a lot easier on the eyes, of course. When you two stop for a break, he watches as you look for four-leaf clovers on the forest floor. When you find one, you pick it up and bring it over to his hunched-down frame.Â
âMy mom used to say they were for love and luck,â You explain, âThink you need it for both.â
He knew you were joking by the way you giggle and return to your spot on the ground. He just shakes his head and sticks the clover in his jacket pocket.Â
-
He was dreading being back in Salt Lake. He doesnât want to relive that day when Ellie was practically ripped from him. It sent him spiraling just thinking about all the outcomes that couldâve transpired that day.Â
He contemplates telling you for a few brief seconds.Â
He wouldnât have much to lose, especially now that everything is said and done. But then fear takes over and he wonders, would you judge him for it?
He imagines how you would react. How your nose would probably scrunch up, how your disposition towards him would soon contort into horror. You would probably call him a monster. You would probably never look at him the same way, with that beautiful smile and attentive gaze.
âYou okay, Joel?â
You two were positioned on the edge of some woods off a dirt road. Joel didnât want to attract anyone with fire, so you two decided you would just camp on the ground near the highway you would end up following to get into the city.Â
ââM all good,â He practically whispers, âJust tired. You mind gettinâ first watch?â
You just silently nod, watching him rise from his spot and move over to the sleeping bags you two had set up when you arrived. You watch as he awkwardly wiggles his large frame into a small sack. It makes you giggle a bit. He positions himself with his back to you, his front facing into the woods. He canât spend his time staring at you like he would like to, he needs to sleep.Â
You realize he has a leaf stuck on the back of his head. You couldnât help yourself, it was going to bother you for as long as you were awake. You stand up and slowly creep up to him.Â
You squat down and pluck the leaf out of his thick curls. His head snatches back at you, knitting his brows together in confusion.Â
Secretly deep down, you just wanted to find a reason to touch him.Â
âCan I help you?â
You give him a shit-eating grin, âYeah, you just got leaves in your hair. It was going to bother me if I didnât get it out. Youâre very, very welcome.â
He rolls his eyes, âCan I sleep now?â
âDonât know, Iâm already getting bored without you glaring at me.â
You were now on a mission to annoy him, he guesses.Â
Without thinking, he responds with a comment that would stick with you all night.Â
âYeah, you like it when I look at you, donât ya?â
-
The homestretch was only about another 20 miles. You and Joel had made good time, only taking about three days to get to the hospital. After the subtle flirting with Joel the night before, you got a little more ambitious with your advances.Â
Before you two took off to get to your destination, you asked Joel if you could change your clothes. You had mud all over your jeans and your shirt was reeking of body odor. The natural deodorants that were handmade in Jackson only did so much.Â
âYeah, make it quick,â He orders, pointing to a more private area of the camp, âThereâs some bushes over there.â
âIâm not getting dressed in a bush, Joel. Just look away,â You test, already shrugging off your flannel. He notices your bold move, instantly peeling his eyes away from your direction. This can not be happening to him right now.Â
âWhat the hell,â He murmurs, his hands propped up on his hips, âYouâre doinâ this on purpose.â
You feel your cheeks heat up, âDoing what on purpose?â
âTestinâ me. Me and my patience.â
You throw your shirt over your head and grab one of your spare ones from your pack, âWell, if itâs a test, youâre passing with flying colors, Miller.â
He glances back at you without even really thinking, spotting you in your bra with a shirt covering your eyes. Itâs almost like when you tell a child not to press a button, and it makes them want to do it even more.
He wanted to keep looking.Â
âFuck,â He says under his breath, trying to push those types of thoughts out of his mind.Â
You shimmy off your pants, folding them as soon as you get them off your legs. You needed a shower so bad, you felt so filthy.Â
âYou think we could stop back at the cabin on the way home? I want to bathe.â
Thinking about you naked and taking a bath made his dick hard.Â
âYes,â He manages to say, âHurry up, please!â
You grin at his frustration, âFine, fine. Iâm almost done.â
-
You and Joel trot along an abandoned highway, cars littering every lane. It was nothing new to you. You have seen plenty of cities in your lifetime. Each time was a bit different, but for the most part, they were all the same. Riddled with infected and bombed to shit.Â
You think back to when Tommy said Joel had been here before. Your mind starts to wonder, and being that you still had a couple of hours before you got to see the actual hospital, you decide to speak up and ask.Â
âWhen was the last time you were here?â
He thinks for a second. He was waiting for these questions.Â
âOver a year ago.â
You shake your head, âWas there a reason?â
You had no business prying into Joelâs life, but you felt like after spending days with him, there was some kinship. Maybe even a friendship.
âEllieâs mom was a Firefly. They had a base camp out here,â He explains, but would he go further? Would he spill all the beans?
Itâs technically not his story to tell. But then again, Ellie didnât even have the truth, so it was a story only he knew.Â
You wait before responding, âDid you find her?â
âWho?â
âEllieâs mom,â You press, glancing around some cars. You are trying to act like you didnât care, but you could tell from the moment you entered the outskirts of the city, Joel was plagued with the weight of the atmosphere. His shoulders got heavier, his eyebrows further knitted together. He was tense.Â
âNo, sheâs dead. So I brought her home,â He says, half-bending the truth. Heâs lying, but not really. Ellieâs mom was dead but that was never the reason they came out here. He just wants to say it, but his chest feels like a weight is pushing down, almost cracking his ribs. He swallowed the guilt.Â
âOh, Iâm sorry to hear that.â
You didnât have much else to say, letting the silence eat away at the prickle of your arm hairs as they stood up. You try to relax, but now that you are in the city, it feels real. You traveled all this way for medication so Jackson would not shun you. It sounded kind of stupid, coming all this way in hopes of a stocked Firefly hospital.Â
You also traveled all this way with Joel Miller. You managed to speak to him without tripping over every word and poking fun at him. You watched him sleep at night, looking so peaceful in the woods surrounding him. You try to think about the last time you saw him smile. You saw him differently, now. He came all this way to help you and your dad. He is risking a lot, disregarding his duties back home, just so he can be with you and protect you.Â
You ponder if things will be different when you get home. Maybe he would talk to you more when he came to the Tipsy Bison. Maybe he would wave back at you when you saw him around town.Â
You secretly hoped being next to him for so long would change your relationship with him.Â
Joel starts to ride next to you, studying your face as you stare forward.Â
âWhat are you thinkinâ bout so hard over there?â He poses, watching your face twist when he speaks up.Â
You lick your lips, âThinking about what itâs gonna be like when I get home.â
âWhat do yaâ mean?â
You halt your horse to look over at him. He does the same.Â
âWe came all this way and I am scared when we get back, you wonât want to talk to me anymore.â
He shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, âKiddo, your dadâs my patrol partner. âCourse, Iâll still talk to you. Youâre always around.â
The nickname makes you cringe. You donât want to be a kid to him.Â
âRight, of course.â
-
When you get to the edge of the city, Joel starts explaining the game plan. How you will get to the hospital, do your sweep as quick as you can, and donât meander around. He also explains how the exit plan is to drop everything, no matter what, and return to the horses. You see someone? Run.Â
You want to say you know how to handle yourself, but you resist and just nod in understanding.Â
To your surprise, you two do not run into any hoards. You turn a corner and spot a couple of infected twitching near an old school, and you two carefully back up and go up another block to avoid them altogether. You two donât say anything to each other as you spot the hospital in the distance. Joel just points forward, having you trot at his side.Â
You pull out your gun when you start to hear some clicking nearby. Joel gestures to you to be quiet and continues to the front of the hospital. You two ride your horses to the ambulance drop-off, parking them there. When you jump down, you start to grab your pack so you can fill it with whatever supplies you find. Joel does the same, throwing his leather backpack over his shoulder. You check the magazine of your gun and take off the safety.Â
âOkay, we stay close to each other,â He explains in a hushed tone, âGrab whatever you think we need.â
You wiggle your head in agreement. He raises his rifle as you two enter the side door. The hospital is quiet besides the wind blowing through some shattered windows. You click on your flashlight that is attached to your backpack, making sure itâs pointed forward. The main corridor leads you down to some triage rooms and nurse's stations. Joel gestures to you to check out some triage rooms. You find some bandages and some tongue presses. You grab the entire box of bandages and stuff them in your bag. When you return to the hall, Joel is stuffing some of his finds in his pack.Â
âNo meds yet,â He grumbles. You two press forward, keeping your steps silent. You find some lab rooms off the main hallway and you two scope out each room carefully, your guns still drawn and at the ready. You find more items; some gloves, masks, and some scissors. You pick them up, stuffing them in your back.Â
You hear movement from behind you and quickly spin. Itâs just Joel, holding a couple of vials of medication. You rush towards him, using your light to see what the vials read.Â
levofloxacinÂ
amoxicillin
âJackpot,â You murmur, âAny more?â
He grabs a baggie sitting on a table nearby, âNot that I saw.â
You continue searching, not finding much of anything in the drawers. A lot of the stuff is picked through.Â
You point to a central staircase, âWanna go up?â
âYeah, right behind you.â
Joel was reeling, spotting some areas where blood was splattered across the walls as he walked through the hospital. It was terrifying to put himself back in this exact spot. It felt like a fever dream. Now he had you with him, another person he cared too much about to admit to anybody, let alone himself. He cared about you in a whole different way than he cared about Ellie.Â
You trail up the stairs, finding some old labs and nurse's stations. All were picked through. You couldnât help but notice the blood all over the floor in some areas. You try to figure out what could have transpired here, but you donât even try to beg the question to Joel. With the look on his face, you are afraid to say much of anything.Â
Something bad happened here and he was a witness to it.Â
It made you want to hurry up and spare his feelings. Instead of taking careful and methodical steps, you run room to room searching drawers and counters for anything of value. You find some alcohol swabs, safety pins, and some wrist splints. When you get to the last room in the hallway youâre in, you hit the jackpot. Itâs a cabinet with some vials.Â
You start to quietly read them off to Joel whoâs standing on the threshold of the room.Â
âGrab them all,â He says, pulling his pack off his shoulder so you can put some into his, âWe can find use for âem.â
You also find some sutures and unopened syringes. You wish you could get down on your knees and thank whatever god is up there for blessing you with everything. You donât believe in that though, so instead you excitingly grab Joelâs arm and shake it.Â
âLetâs get this all home,â You smile, pressing your fingers harder into his bicep, âMaybe celebrate with something strong from the bar.â
Then you hear it.Â
Click. Click. Click.Â
Joel grabs your arm back, shoving you behind him. He slings his pack over his shoulder and you do the same. You never had many issues with killing infected, but you did not know what you were dealing with. It was dark and all too quiet for too long. Joel creeps forward, his gun drawn forward to peek out the door. When you do the same, he tucks you back behind him.Â
Lining the hallway is about 3 clickers. Your stomach drops as they slowly make their way to the sounds you two made seconds ago. Joel glances back at you, his face very serious and stern.Â
You can read the look on his face and being that you dealt with these fuckers before, you know that you need to be silent. He looks back down the hall, spotting an exit in a staircase thatâs slightly blocked by one of the clickers. He waves you along as he slowly tiptoes down the hallway. You get closer and closer to the first clicker and your gun is trained right at them as you keep your distance. You can tell by the clothing that it was a woman at one time, the infection growing out of every crevice of her body.Â
She clicks and clicks, but does not attack you. You and Joel continue, not making a sound as you shuffle past the next one. But once you get close to the one closest to the door, something snaps and itâs like they all realize exactly all at once. One squeals and the others follow suit. Joel yells for you to run, but you donât budge, emptying your gun into the closest one. It crumbles to the ground. With that one down, Joel grips your wrist tightly and flings you towards the door. You two rush out as Joel lights up the hallway with gunfire.Â
You now know that youâre attracting every infected in a mile radius so time is of the essence. You practically fall down the stairs trying to get to the bottom. Joel does not like how fast you moving, pressing you to run faster. You two sprint down the hallway as two runners come full speed at you from an opposing hallway. You try to shoot but your gun is empty. You scream for Joel to do something and he puts them down expertly. Heâs spot on even with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You find the door you came in from and quickly make your way to Ranger. He seems sort of spooked so you try to gingerly climb up him, grabbing his reigns from the pole you tied him to. Joel is quick to mount his horse. He pulls his horse back, guiding it to head back the way you guys came.Â
You follow suit, hearing stirring from all around you as your hair whips in the wind. You are not worrying about the noise you two are making now, galloping down the once-busy streets of Salt Lake City.Â
âDonât stop tilâ I say so!â Joel calls out. You can hardly hear with your heartbeat in your ears and the wind against your ear drum.Â
You get to the edge of the city after about 20 minutes of dodging left-behind cars and random barriers. You get to the point where the foliage takes over and the infected taper off. You donât realize it until you start slowing down and your heart gets back to its normal pace, youâre freezing.Â
You yell out for Joel, whoâs still going quite fast. He halts completely, letting you catch up with his step.Â
âWe have to stop, Iâm freezing.â
You werenât wearing all your layers and you knew it would be detrimental if you didnât stop to wrap up before you two continued your journey. Joel nods, trotting off the main part of the road into some woods.Â
When you get off your horse, you can feel Joelâs eyes lock onto your vibrating body.Â
âJesus, girl,â He dismounts, wrapping his reigns around a nearby branch, âThe wind do you that much damage?â
You canât help but laugh as you rifle through your pack to find your extra layers. You can remember packing two thermals, but with the way youâre shaking, you canât even grip onto the clothes to move them around to search. You donât even realize Joel has come to your side, you only notice when he nudges your side with his three fingers. You move out of his way so he can look, but you canât help but feel the warmth his gentle touch gives you on your hip.Â
He pulls out a thermal, handing it out to you.Â
âJust put it over your other long sleeve,â He instructs, digging for another layer for you. You take his advice and throw it over your head. When your head pops through the neck hole, you spot him smirking at you.Â
âIf you donât warm up soon, I may have to share my body heat so we can get back on the road,â Joel jokes, watching you pull your hair out of the back of your long sleeve. You didnât hate the sound of that, truthfully.Â
âGuess I will try my best not to warm up then.â
He shakes his head, grabbing onto your other thermal, âYou canât say stuff like that to me, darling.â
âWhy not?â
Joel has slipped up a couple of times already, he wasnât planning on giving in. But the teasing was fun and light-hearted. He knew in his heart it was not going to turn into anything.Â
Right?
âBecause I donât think itâs a very good idea for us to talk like that to one another,â He explains, stepping back as you add the other shirt onto your already warming body, âMay lead us somewhere we canât come back from.â
You swallow, âMaybe Iâd like that.â
-
It takes you a day and a half to get back to the cabin. Joel promised that you two could spend a whole day there if need be. You two were physically and mentally exhausted. The horses needed rest too, you could tell Ranger was beat.Â
When you arrive on the property, Joel makes sure to scope out a radius before you two settle in. Ever since the sly passes you made at him, heâs been more quiet. You can tell heâs deep in thought. Maybe it wasnât about you, but he had something on his mind.Â
You use the fire stove to warm up some water from the lake to give yourself a quick âbathâ. You just used an old rag and some bar soap to scrub your limbs, trying to get off all the caked-on dirt. Joel stayed outside by the fire, cooking up some squirrels he was able to trap. You stood in your undergarments, lathering your skin, watching him from the window as he poked at the fire.Â
You felt a bit better once you were clean. The growl in your stomach was dull and kind of painful. You needed to eat, so you got your dirty clothes back on and headed outside to prop yourself up next to Joel.Â
When you open the cabin door, his head snaps over to you.Â
âHowdy, cowboy,â You gleam, walking down to the stump next to him. You couldnât help but flirt now. It was funny to watch him squirm, the glint in his eyes not hard to notice.Â
âYou all clean?â
You nod, giving him a cheeky smile. âYeah, now you go get yourself all cleaned up.â
He grabs his stick poker, âDonât got any soap.â
âUse mine.â
Joel stops his motion immediately to train his eyes back on you. âYou want me to smell like you?â
âWell, I smell delicious, so why not?â
He scans your body with his eyes, âCause if we get home and your Dad smells your soap on me, heâll put it bullet between my eyes.â
You know heâs being dramatic, finding any excuse to opt out of using the soap you just used on your body.Â
âSo, what youâre saying is,â You clear your throat before continuing, âIf my dad wasnât your friend, youâd lather yourself with my soap?â
He contemplates for a moment, âYeah, and other things.â
Your heart stops beating for a second. Joel can not help but smirk at your reaction. He was playing with fire, literally and figuratively. The tension between you two was so heavy, that you do not think you could even take a deep breath in.Â
He stands up from his spot next to you. âWhy donât ya eat, sweet thing? I have to clean myself up, I guess.â
-
Joel can not do this.Â
You were his friendâs daughter. Sure you were grown, beautiful, strong-willed, and everything he could want and more but he could not take advantage of you. The only way he felt this way right now was because tensions were so high back in Salt Lake. You two have spent a lot of time together, the hormones⌠what the fuck is he thinking?
You sit by the fire, your stomach doing back flips as you think about Joel in the cabin, by himself, practically half naked.Â
Why were you doing this to yourself?
Your heart is racing faster than it ever has. No clicker, no stranger, nothing has made you this nervous. Your hand reaches for the door handle, but before you can turn it, Joel rips open the door.Â
âWhat do you think youâre doing?â
You stand there, dumbfounded. âI-I donât know.â
Heâs standing over you, his chest rising faster the more you keep your eyes trained on him. He has a green flannel on, the top couple of buttons undone. You lift your hand to touch the skin peeking through, but he stops your movements before you can make contact. You note the scent of wood burning in the cabin and itâs a lot warmer than you left it. Joel must have started the stove again.Â
âWe canât.â
You shake your head, âNo, we canât, can we?â
You two know better. You know better. You know better.Â
You are breathing in each otherâs spaces. You donât even want to look him in the eyes. His arm snakes around your midsection, pulling you forward into the cabin. At that moment, you knew that you two didnât know any better.Â
Itâs almost like you two silently made the decision.Â
âWe canât tell anyone about this, sweet girl,â He whispers, his hands still firmly on your back. You could not resist this temptation anymore. He was right in front of you, wanting you just as badly as you wanted him.Â
Your eyes glance up at his dark sultry gaze, âItâs our little secret.â
His hand reaches up, gracing your chin with his touch. When he dips down to meet your height, you finally get bold and extend your hand up and around his neck. Your lips connect and you feel like a million little butterflies explode in your stomach. You had never desired a kiss from anyone as much as you did with Joel.Â
Heâs eager and impatient, though. Heâs not as soft as you imagined for a man who hardly spoke. He just wants to feel you everywhere, all at once. His mouth melts into yours, his tongue exploring every inch of yours. Heâs moving you around the room, stumbling over furniture and shoes as he backs you into the large wooden bed frame.Â
âSo fuckinâ perfect,â He mumbles into your lips as soon as he lifts you up onto the mattress. It catches you by surprise, mainly because you never expected him to manhandle you in this way. Heâs hungry for every inch of you. After all these months of secretly pining for him and him not giving you any positive response, you never anticipated something like this happening. Especially at a time like this.Â
âJoel,â You whine, pulling him down on top of you as you fall back into the flannel blankets, âI need you everywhere.â
He grins peppering kisses down your neck, âDonât worry, I will treat you so fuckinâ good. Been wantinâ you for so long.â
It was so filthy and hot. Your dadâs patrol partner, his best friend. Keen to make you feel good? And wanting it for a while? You must be imagining his words because you canât even comprehend the situation.Â
But itâs true. Joelâs secretly been watching you when youâre not looking. When you sling drinks on Friday nights, he watches you from a booth in the corner. Tommyâs caught him a couple of times, smacking him and reminding him that you were off limits. When you came to his house with extra pot pie or soup, he would watch you walk away from his house from his living room window.Â
This taboo yearning kept him up at night. But now, he has you alone and he needs a taste.Â
He pulls back to look at your face, âAre you sure you want me?â
You canât help but giggle a bit.Â
âJoel, Iâve been wanting you for longer than I would like to admit,â You purse your lips as you bring your hand up to trace his collarbone, âThink about you all the time.â
It was the truth. Your mind was taken up but all his little sly comments. The way he would drop anything to help you or your dad. His beautiful brown eyes didnât help one bit either.
âMy god, girlâŚGonna have me cumming in my jeans like a teenager.â
He returns to laying kisses all along your body. It started with wet kisses down your neck, only for it to trail right where your shirt begins, right below your collarbones. You push him back for a moment, taking your shirt off over your head. He watched you carefully, ensuring there was no hesitancy with your actions. He wanted to be absolutely positive that this is what you wanted.Â
As soon as you reach for the clasp of your bra, Joel grabs your arms away.Â
âLet me,â He mumbles, letting his fingers trace along the seam of the black fabric before using his right hand to undo the back. With him this close to you again, you inhale sharply, catching the scent of your soap.Â
âSee you took up my offer,â You tease, letting your bra fall down your shoulders, âDid you get clean just for this, Miller?â
He catches a glimpse of you under the bra and his mind goes blank. You notice his change in disposition and decide itâs best to discard every other article of clothing completely. You struggle to get your jeans off, so he helps by practically ripping them off your legs. He canât help but spot the soak undies attached to your jeans. When you are bare under him, he gawks at you for a moment.Â
âA beautiful woman like you,â He shakes his head, biting his lip. He unbuckles his pants before he stands and shoves them down his legs. While heâs making an effort to get as naked as you, you start unbuttoning his flannel. He watches you take your time, thumbing each button slowly. He tilts your head back up, his eyes leering at you for a moment. âAnd you want someone like me?â
You know heâs probably in his own head, so you feel the need to prove to him, that yes this is what I want.Â
You grab onto his neck and pull him back down into a passionate kiss. When you notice him give in, you use all your might to push him sideways and onto his back next to you. You mount his lap immediately, holding him down with your body weight. Your soaked slit trudges over his large hard-on while you dip your head to capture his lips. You feel his hands trail up the sides of your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He finds your boobs, palming them with his warm calloused hands. You were extra sensitive so as soon as his fingers find your nipples, youâre moaning into his mouth.Â
When your hips jet forward, his tip slides between your pussy lips. The sensation sends him into overdrive, his grip on your waist getting tighter. Heâs so fucking big.Â
âNo foreplay, you just wanna grind your pussy right onto my cock?â His question sends shockwaves through your body and you raise your hips up off his crotch. You kneel over him, anticipating to rotate your pelvis back onto him, but he has other ideas.Â
Because Joel has been thinking about what you taste like for too long. He canât just fuck you. He lays back, all the while, dragging you up to his chest so your pussy is hovering over his pursed lips.Â
âJoel, what are you doing?â
You feel his hot breath huff onto your slick center, âIâm gonna devour this beautiful pussy, first. Need to get you warmed up.â
Without any warning, he wraps his arms around your thighs and pushes your center closer to his outstretched tongue. You gasp when he starts to run his tongue up and down your slit. You canât help but settle around his face, your knees feeling like they may already give out.Â
Youâve never sat on someoneâs face and watched them eat you out like a starved man. But Joel is precise with his motions, his mouth wrapping around your clit. When he starts to suck, the suction noise makes you whimper and shake. You have only ever cum by your own hand, so when the familiar heat rises in your stomach, you know instantly this is going to be the best sex youâve ever had in your life.Â
Joel is a very easy man to please. He thoroughly enjoys watching women crumble above him, their orgasms surging through their bodies while his tongue is pressed into them. But with you, he wants to drudge it out of you over and over again. Youâre so magnetic on top of him, your head thrown back in pleasure. Your hands rest on your shoulders as you grind down on him, your peak teetering the edge. He shimmies his hand in between your thighs and begins to use his fingers in you, just to drive you crazier. Heâs fucking up into you with his pointer and middle fingers, managing to latch onto your clit while he does.Â
When you tumble into bliss, Joel moans into you, egging on your spasms. You lurch forward, dragging your center off his drenched lips. Your legs are limp as you try to crawl up the bed. Joel rolls over, creeping up the bed with you. You lay on your back, propping yourself up onto some of the pillows.Â
âDo you need a break?â He asks, his hands feeling up your bare, still kind of shaking, thighs. You shake your head âyesâ and breathe out loudly. Your body is covered in a light sheen, the sweat pooling around your hairline. Joel lets you take a moment, making sure you are completely ready for him.Â
When you finally meet his eyes, your stomach fills with butterflies. Heâs admiring you from his position, his eyes not finding yours until heâs done checking out your bare chest. You giggle, tugging on his wrists. He takes up your advances, positioning himself above you. Heâs caging you in with his tanned strong arms, only allowing you to really move your upper body. You tangle your hands through his messy dark peppered curls, which makes him sigh. He secretly loved it when women felt through his hair.Â
âFuck me,â He groans as he reaches down between you, grabbing ahold of his hard member. You watch as he drags it through your heat, gathering all your wetness before teasing your entrance.Â
âJoel, please.â
He smirks, pushing in just his tip, âPlease what, baby girl? You want me to give you all of it?â
You are already overstimulated after your last orgasm and you are a bit nervous to imagine what all of it is. You nod, though, because the stretch is already so delicious.Â
âPlease, Joel, please. I need it,â You whine, knowing how desperate you sound. Itâs music to Joelâs ears.Â
âShh, baby,â He eases in further, âI told you Iâm gonna treat you real good. Gonna treat this pussy, so fuckinâ good.â
When heâs fully sheathed in you, your nails are digging into his shoulders. When he eases back to pull out some to ensure you can take it, youâre a moaning mess. It only eggs him on, feeling how slick you are and how tight you are around him.Â
âThatâs right baby, take all of me,â He says as he lifts himself off you. You have nothing to grip onto now, except the sheets that line the queen-sized bed. Joel wants to watch himself slip out of you and go back into you with ease. You love the friction, but you know you need more.Â
You donât know how, but itâs like he reads your mind. He starts to increase his pace, holding onto the back of your thighs as he drills into you. The curvature of his dick hits exactly where no man could ever reach.Â
âOh my god, fuck Joel! Fuck!â
Your words only encourage him to go harder and faster.
âKeep screaminâ my name, baby doll.â
The sweat is dripping down his face with how much effort heâs putting into fucking you. Youâre floored at how quickly your orgasm builds again, the sounds of him plowing into you alone sends you into overdrive.Â
As soon as you start to vibrate under him, Joel takes that as a great time to start thumbing at your clit. You feel every one of your nerve endings burning with such rapture, that you canât even say anything. Youâre just howling, no coherent words even coming out. Your vision goes white.
The scene is something out of the old pornos Joel used to watch. Youâre writhing under him, the orgasm practically sending you cross-eyed. You reach up to anchor yourself down and the only thing you can find to grab is Joelâs forearm.Â
âYes, Joel!â
His hips continue to snap into yours as you squeeze his cock with your gyrating hips. Heâs fucking you through it, watching your face contort. Your grip on his arm hurts, but he does not care. Itâs unbelievably hot to watch the girl he has adored from afar cumming around him. Over and over.Â
The scene is enough to have him chasing down his own high. The feeling of your cunt gripping onto him so tight, while his name is chanted from your lips, the cum practically shoots out of him before he has time to grab his shaft and pull out. He does not empty himself in you though, quickly prying himself out of your weeping hole and spilling out the rest onto your stomach.Â
âShit.â
You donât even realize what happened, not caring about really anything except for how wonderful and high you feel. Joel tumbles onto his side, half of his body resting on yours. His mouth is close to your ear so he whispers it to you, his voice shaky.Â
âI came inside you.â
You lick your lips, trying to regain some saliva in your mouth, âI do not care, Joel.â
He does not prefer that answer, but he accepts it for the time being. You could not feel your face at the moment, you did not have time to worry yourself over Joel cumming inside you. It was not the first time someone did that.Â
Joel rolls off the bed, his legs feeling wobbly with his first steps. Heâs still half hard and stumbling over to the bowl of water he just used to clean off himself. He grabs a clean rag and soaks it in the soapy water. The least he could do was clean up his mess.Â
You watch him trudge over to you, the cum still pooled on your stomach and a bit in your belly button.Â
Joel places the warm towel on your lower tummy, wiping up his mess.Â
âThanks,â You manage to say, your post-orgasm haze wearing off a bit. Now youâre just cold and exhausted. You shiver as soon as he removes the towel from your buzzing body. He notes it immediately and grabs the blanket that had been kicked to the floor. He lays it over you, making sure your full nude body is covered by the chilly air.Â
âI need to go take a leak, Iâll be right back.â
You try to stay awake. But as soon as he gets some clothes on and heads outside to relieve himself, youâre lulled to sleep by the sounds of the rustling woods that surround the cabin.Â
-
When you slowly open your eyes, you instantly notice how dry your mouth is. The itchy fabric of the blanket is tickling your bare limbs as you shift. Joelâs not beside you.Â
You sit up, glancing around the cabin. His stuff is still here, but he is not. You keep the scratchy blanket wrapped around you as you plant your bare feet on the wooden floor. As soon as you take your first step forward towards the front door, it slowly swings open.Â
Joel stands there, fully clothed, cheeks reddened from the cold outdoors.Â
âMorninâ,â He says with a sleepy voice, âGot up early to get the horses fed and saddled up.â
All you remember is him going to pee outside last night, right before you fell asleep. âDid you ever come to bed last night?â
âYeah, only got a couple of hours of sleep. You took up most of the bed.â
You clear your throat, becoming hyper-aware suddenly that you are very naked under the blanket. Joel tries not to notice your natural sensuality when you wake up. Sleepy eyes, swollen lips, slightly tangled hair. Even if last night never happened, he would be completely enamored by you.Â
âOh, okay,â You mutter, trying to act natural about the fact that you slept with Joel fucking Miller last night. âWe all set then?â
He shuts the front door, cutting off any more cold from slipping in. You watch him slowly start to invade your space. He feels pulled towards you, the gravity overcoming every sense he has. He needs to be close to you, touching you, feeling you.Â
âYeah, we are all set.â
Chills run down your spine when his cold hand reaches out and grazes your cheek. You flick your eyelashes towards him, not knowing what to say next. He dips down to your height, kissing your lips carefully. He is nervous you will back away from him, but you donât. You lean forward into him, the weight of your entire body pressing into him.Â
He is the first to pull away, but you swear you could be latched onto him forever. His big brown eyes are lasered in on your eager lips, but in the back of his mind, he knows that you two need to get back home soon. He promised Tommy four days, nothing more. And you needed to get home to your Dad. Fuck. Your Dad. His fuckinâ friend.Â
âWe have to get home,â Is all he says.Â
And then heâs gone. Itâs like he blipped out of the room. You blink and the door slams and you are alone again.Â
-
You stumble out of the cabin with your backpack on, your eyes adjusting to the sunshine between the falling away leaves. Winter creeps in so quickly in Wyoming, you think to yourself.Â
Joel is already posted up on his horse, waiting for you to hurry along and join him. You pet Ranger for a moment before you hop up onto his back. He canât help but realize how perfect you seemed in the sunlight. Your face hasnât aged with time like his. It makes sense because youâre so much younger than him. Youâve lived a very full and traumatic life, sure, but you still had a lot more energy to live. He couldnât picture that youâd want to spend the rest of it with an older guy with maybe 20 more years left in him if youâre lucky.Â
The thoughts start to eat away at him as you two make your way through the forest.Â
You assume heâs just tired from not getting a lot of sleep, so you just keep your lips sealed until you make it to the main trail back home.Â
âSo, when we get home,â You break the quietness with your open-ended statement. Joel doesnât know what youâre insinuating, so he just keeps his head forward. âWhat happens, then?â
He pulls back his horse's reins to position himself looking directly at you.Â
âWhat do you mean?â
You look at him suspiciously, âDo we tell people?â
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joel thinks.Â
âTell them what?â
He has to be messing, right? You think.Â
But no, heâs deadly serious.Â
âAbout us,â You remark as Ranger trots a bit closer to Joel. He shakes his head and your heart sinks. He canât do this, not after you two slept together.Â
âThere is no us,â He grumbles, unable to look you in the eyes anymore, âWe canât do that. Youâre too young.â
If you werenât on a horse, you wouldâve already smacked him. âWhat the hell, Joel? What if you get in my pants and make me feel special and now we are nothing? Because Iâm a little bit younger than you?â
âNo, itâs not like that-â
âWell, it seems like it is like that,â You bite the inside of your cheeks, holding back every instinct to burst into tears, âFuckinâ asshole. I shouldâve known better.â
-
When the walls of Jackson come into your line of sight, you could cry with excitement. Your hands were shaking, not only from the cold but the nerves. You had been silent the entire ride back. Your only desire was to get home to your Dad and ignore Joel Miller for the rest of your life.Â
You can only hope and pray that your father is on the mend. To keep on track and not let panic take over, youâve tried to put your mind on other things this whole trip. Most of those things you wish youâd forgotten, already.Â
The doors open when you two get close. When the crack is big enough to see through, you spot some familiar faces waiting for you. Tommy, Maria, and even your father. Heâs standing up straight, wrapped in layers of jackets and blankets. You tap Ranger with your foot, getting him to speed up. When you reach about 30 feet away, you practically fall off him to get your arms around your father.Â
A sense of relief floods your body. A tidal wave of happiness and solace. Heâs okay. Heâs alive.Â
When his scent reaches your nose, it triggers your tear ducts. After years of never having to really worry about him, knowing he can handle himself, you have felt this constant state of uneasiness the last week.Â
âMy baby is back,â He grumbles into your hair, his arms locking around you, âI knew I could trust that Joel.â
You donât have time to feel guilt over your actions, youâre just so happy heâs upright. You also donât want to hear his God-forsaken name from your own Dad. When you pull back to inspect his face, you note the tiredness in his eyes. He looks better, but not his normal. You grab each end of the blanket thatâs slowly slipping off his shoulders and bundle him tighter.Â
âLetâs get you back in the warm, how âbout it?â
You glance back at Joel who just nods, knowingly. You remember that you still have your backpack on, so before you stroll away, you shimmy out of it. Tommy watches you carefully as you hand it off to Joel.Â
âGet those meds to the infirmary,â You whisper to no one in particular. Joel studies your face, waiting for you to say something else. You do not. As he grabs your pack, you feel like Maria and Tommy are gawking at you two. Like they know something was left unsaid.Â
You two move differently around each other. When you shift one direction, Joel follows suit.Â
Joel feels like every eye in Jackson is on him. Tommyâs being the most piercing, watching him like a hawk as he grabs his horse and guides him towards the stables. While you stroll away with Maria and your father, Joel and Tommy bring the horses and supplies to the stables.Â
As you walk, you listen to Maria explain your fatherâs steady recovery. She mentions how Ellie has been keeping a careful eye on him. After she heard you and Joel were going to be gone together, she asked Maria if she could help him somehow. Once your dad got well enough to walk, she got him settled in your house. Sheâd go over there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just to help. It makes your heart swell when you hear your dad say how kind and generous she was, just like you.Â
-
Joel starts to unpack your bags from your horse first when he gets the horses parked.Â
âSomethinâ happen out there?â Tommy presses, noticing how odd you and Joel moved in front of him, âWith her?â
âNo, nothinâ,â He lies, placing your bags on a table near Ranger. When he lifted the first duffle bag, he got a whiff of you and it made his stomach sink. âWe just had a rough spot in the hospital. Clickers and shit. Nothinâ too crazy-â
âJoel, I know when youâre lyinâ to me,â His eyes are shooting daggers now. Joel was too old to be pestered by his little brother. He groans in annoyance but Tommy does not give up, âWhat did you do?â
âI didnât do nothinâ, Tommy.â
âBullshit,â He grumbles, grabbing one of your bags, âWant me to ask her?â
âYou wonât get anythinâ out of her. Sheâs mad at me, okay? She is pissed I wonâtâŚâ
He feels humiliated, his stomach twisting into knots. He would never intentionally hurt you. He just put his foot in his mouth when he realized how much your actions would change everything for him. He could not just be someone you slept with. He could not just leave it.Â
âYou wonât what, Joel?â
He bites his lip, not wanting to say it out loud.Â
âI wonât let her ruin her life for me.â
Tommyâs eyebrows furrow, not completely understanding what heâs droning on about.Â
âWhat?â
âJesus Christ, Tommy!â Joel wasnât anticipating a shake-down when he got home. You two really didnât help with those looks splattered across your faces when you rolled into Jackson.
âYou slept with her, didnât you?â
Joel shakes his head, peeling his eyes away from Tommy. Joel knew nothing could get past him, so he is practically surrendering. Tommy knew then.Â
âYou dumbass,â He whispers, getting closer to Joel, âYou slept with her when her daddy is your patrol partner? After I told you to stay away?â
Joel clenches his teeth, âI donât need this right now. Iâm gettinâ these meds to the infirmary and then Iâm takinâ her stuff to her.â
âJoel-â
âJust fuckinâ drop it, Tommy. I ainât doinâ this.â
-
Your Dad has a nice setup, thanks to Ellie. She has transformed the downstairs guest room into a wonderful stay, with tons of pillows and bedside service. When you get inside the house, Ellie is there. She stands in the corner of the living room, timidly, as you guide your dad back to his warm bed. Maria and her wait for you to handle getting him back to his bedroom. Even though his recovery has been a steady incline, heâs very weak and exhausted all the time. Itâs his bodyâs reaction to fighting a rough illness, but he made sure to reassure you that Sidney told him itâll be a couple of weeks before heâs 100% back to normal.Â
You get him back in bed, his eyes already drooping to find slumber again. You manage to get his shoes off and help him under his covers. Once his head hits the pillow, you stand by the bed for a minute to ensure heâs actually sleeping. You slip out of the room, and the sudden rush of comfort of being home takes over your senses. To hear the crackling of the fireplace, and the smell of your homemade candles. While you enjoyed every moment spent with Joel, thereâs nothing like home.Â
For a second there, you thought you had that same feeling being next to him in bed. But maybe you were wrong.Â
You walk out to where Maria and Ellie stand. They are mumbling to each other while you kick off your boots by the door.Â
âHey, Ellie,â You catch her attention, her freckled face down turning with concern. You smile, trying to ease her, âThank you for all youâve done here. I am glad he had someone like you looking after him.â
She nods, her lips twitching, âItâs no problem at all. I know how much you two mean to Joel and I just wanted to do what I could.â
Hearing his name sinks your heart, âWe owe ya one.â
Because you did. No matter what would eventually transpire between you and Joel, you owe him your fatherâs life. His idea saved him. With how sick he was, Joelâs quick plan was enough to bring him home. Then for Ellie to spend her days looking after him while you two were gone? You were forever indebted to them. Sadly.Â
âWell, we should leave you to get settled. Let us know if you need anything at all,â Maria gestures to Ellie towards the front door. Their footsteps trail around you, heading to your front door. Before Ellie can reach for the handle, thereâs a knock. You nod your head, letting her know itâs okay to open it.Â
Joel stands there, your bags in his hands.Â
You honestly just left your belongings for him to deal with. Joel looks down at Ellie, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. Sheâs not as impressed, initially.Â
âHey kiddo,â Joel acknowledges, before spotting Maria, âMrs. Miller.â
âWe were just heading out,â Maria says, pushing the door wider so she and Ellie can slip by his large frame, âGive the girl her things and let her settle back into her life, huh?â
Joel was already annoyed at the narrowed eyes and judgemental jabs. Itâs like everyone somehow knew he fucked up.Â
You two watch Maria and Ellie leave, their breaths forming clouds in the cold sharp air. Jacksonâs weather changed overnight, you think, remembering how it was more tolerable before you left.Â
âCan I come in?â Joel ponders, still holding your backpack and duffle.Â
It was cold and while you wanted to slam the door on him, you know you canât. You move away from the threshold, gesturing for him to come in. His footfalls are heavy and drawn out. You shut the door, waving him towards the living room so your voices donât carry down the hallway to your fatherâs newly set up bedroom.Â
He places your bags on the couch before he stretches his shoulders in discomfort. Your stuff was not that heavy, but Joel could not help but try to draw your attention. He glances around your living room, taking in some of the artwork and photos that line the walls. Some are old photos of you and your father, in which you donât really resemble him at all.Â
âBack to how things were, huh?â You remark, bitterly. You wanted to attack him with every mean thing plaguing your mind, but you donât. You were tired from all the travels but you were also tired of the idea of fighting for someone who does not care to fight for you back. You had done that for years with pointless boys.Â
The whole walk to your house, Joelâs thoughts were moving a million miles a minute. He did not want you to live your life resenting him. He cared for you deeply, but he did not want you to miss out on all the wonders of life. Joel could not give you kids. He could not give you 40 more years of happiness. He would be an elderly man before you could even reach menopause. He does not want you to regret things when youâre old and gray.Â
âI donât want that. You know damn well I donât want that.â
You could scream. But you stay even, not giving in to the temptation to just rip him a new one.Â
âI donât know what you want, Joel. One minute youâre kissinâ me and begging to be with me, the next youâre telling me you canât be with me because Iâm too young.â
âBaby-â
âNo! Donât you dare? You had no intention of making this a thing, yet you played into it and got exactly what you wanted. Iâm just another notch for you, ainât I?â
Your hands are clenched, waiting for his delayed response. You are embarrassed and humiliated that you were delusional enough to let Joel toy with every one of your emotions.Â
âYou know that ainât true, girl. I just donât want you to live your life regretting that I was a part of it, okay? You want to spend your days with an old man who canât give you everything you want? âm not good for you.â
He canât let you make this mistake.Â
But youâre not easing up.Â
âWhat do you think I want? Kids? A simple life? A picket fence? Joel those are things I wanted when I was living in a world that didnât have a brain-eating infection thatâd turn people into zombies,â Youâre huffing and puffing, trying to understand why he thinks he can tell you what you need and want.Â
âI spent years of my life wishing I could get those things, but I gave up a long ass time ago. I donât want those things nearly as much as I want you. I fuckinâ want you, okay?â
You realize youâre not being quiet and your Dad could probably hear every word falling from your lips. He can hear you desperately plead with Joel Miller to be with you.Â
Joel is shocked youâre laying all this out. He canât believe his ears when you say you want him. A man like him being wanted is quite unbelievable, especially by a woman like you.Â
You could hear a pin drop with how silent your house is. You fold your arms, trying not to give into the nausea you feel from spilling your soul to him.Â
âI justâŚâ He fidgets with his hands for a minute before those puppy eyes glance up at you, âI donât want to ruin your life.â
You step closer to him, your face inches away from him. You train your eyes on his mouth, unsure how to respond to such blasphemy.Â
âI have spent so many days thinking about what itâd be like to live in a world where the Joel Miller would even glance in my direction. I imagined what itâd be like to kiss him,â Youâre whispering now, making sure this revelation is for his ears only, âI imagined what itâd be like to have a man whoâd treat me well and look⌠Exactly like you. I have dreamed of you.â
Joel would have never guessed such a statement fall from your lips.Â
You breathe out, relieved itâs finally off your chest.
âI just donât want to leave ya worse than I found ya,â His softness instantly makes you crumble into his arms. He holds you tight, before pulling away to search your face. You teeter forward on your toes, pressing a firm but attentive kiss to his lips.Â
When you draw back, âIâm not givinâ you up, Joel.â
The tension is shattered when you hear your Dad yell your name from down the hallway. You snap out of your trance of staring at Joelâs beautiful lips and dart toward the voice.Â
âYeah?â
You open the door and see him, his eyes wide open and focused on the door.Â
âWho you talking to out there? Is that Joel?â
Suddenly youâre hyper-aware of every word you just said, scared half to death that your Dad would get out of bed and beat some sense into you. Joel follows you down the dimly lit hallway, but you donât even hear him, too rattled by your fatherâs question.Â
âYes, itâs me,â Joel speaks up, coming forward to meet your Dadâs confused expression, âHow you feelinâ, man?â
âIâm feelinâ like Iâm hearing some odd things from down the hall. You two fighting?â His voice is breaking a bit.Â
The silence after he asks the question is deafening. You glance over to Joel whose mouth is slightly ajar, unable to move with an answer. You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you could disappear into the wall nearby.Â
Joel cannot lie to his friend. He certainly would never do it with you right beside him.Â
âYeah, you uh, heard us?â He barely manages.Â
âYeah, I sure as hell heard my daughter begginâ you to take her on, is that true?â
âDad-â
âMy daughter wants to date a man thatâs 10 years younger than her own father? Kind of twisted.â He snaps, shoving the blankets off his legs. âBut, I am gonna be honest⌠I expected this.â
You can hardly breathe with the tension in the air.Â
âSorry?â
Joelâs tone is dry, and heâs unable to fully form a coherent thought.Â
Your dad coughs before he starts, âWell, I could tell by the way you looked at her that you had a thing for her, Miller. Didnât think youâd be dumb enough to entertain it.â
âDad, heâs not dum-â
âAnd I thought youâd get over this little schoolgirl crush, but I was mistaken, I guess.â
You were used to your Dadâs sarcasm and upfront jabs. You spent a lifetime throwing them back at him, but this time you had nothing to say. You watch as he settles back from obnoxiously tearing off his blankets.Â
You fiddle with your fingers, trying not to show your internal anxiety-riddled monologue. He thought youâd get over your crush. He always noticed how Joel looked at you. How did he look at you? How did you never notice?
Joel is spiraling, reverting to his original conclusions. He knew this was a horrible idea. He should have never stepped over the line. Heâs a horrible man. You donât deserve someone as awful as him.Â
He smacks his lips, making you and Joel come back down to Earth and out of your heads.Â
âWhatever is happeninâ between you two, I probably will never fully understand it. But you are adults, you do whatever makes you happy,â He says with both hands up in surrender, âI am too old to bother with my daughterâs love life. Sheâs a big girl, I trust her. But Miller, if you hurt her-â
âIâm a dead man.â
Your father laughs which in turn makes you smile crookedly.Â
âJust one thing,â He points to you, âI don't want to hear or see anythinâ-â
You nod, cutting him off immediately, âDeal.â
Joel catches your eye when he smiles in your peripheral vision. You look over at him, a grin plastered to your face.Â
You canât believe youâre actually going to do this.Â
And Joel canât believe your father somewhat agreed to let it happen. He was sure he would have a gun in his face before he could even mutter a word. But instead, your Dad is receptive to him being with you, which is all you can ask for.Â
âWell, get along now, I wanna get back to sleep. You two were keepinâ me up,â Your dad grumbles, readjusting his frail frame to get comfortable in bed. You just nod, pointing at the door for Joel to exit. You follow suit, closing the door behind you tightly, making sure it clicks. Joel stands in the darkness of the hallway, waiting. He is in disbelief.Â
You just take one of his hands and bring it to your lips, softly pressing a kiss into his knuckles.Â
âLetâs go get cleaned up and take a nap,â You murmur, walking him to the end of the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. He accepts the offer, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.Â
You were not sure where this was all going to end up. Neither of you did. But you could not wait to carve the way with him, bringing every last one of your daydreams to life.
THE END
or is it? I have started writing snippets to go along with this story- if you want more, here's the link:
No One Fucks With My Baby
#joel miller fic#joel miller#joel x reader#joel miller x fem reader#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#joel miller the last of us#joel miller tlou#joel the last of us#joel miller fanfic#joel last of us smut#joel miller x reader#the last of us#post outbreak joel#dbf joel#dbf joel miller#gracieheartspedro#fic: who we are
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