hi mimi!! 🤍🤎 first of all happy birthday!! could i request an espresso martini with 2003 loverboy? maybe a meetcute where joel's not as smooth of a loverboy as he used to be? but like it's endearing lol
-shellshocklove
hi isa!!! thank you so much babe! and thank you for this; i loved writing this one 🥺 i hope this fulfils the prompt - i got a little carried away lmfao. enjoy him my love! 🍸
warnings: age gap (30s/20s), allusions to smut, kissing, cursing, alcohol, pain/injury/blood (a cut), 18+ mdni.
For the first time in months, Joel is woken by the pearl—pink dawn streaming through the open blinds as opposed to his bedside alarm clock. The breeze is soft and warm, tickling at his hair, early morning shadows tossed over the rumpled sheets.
Sheets he’s sharing with you.
Last night never part of his plan: Tommy telling him the guys from site were headed to the bar after work, the combination of Friday and payday too much to resist. Sarah was with her mom for the summer, and Joel was facing the long weeks ahead unsure of who he was when he wasn’t a daddy.
You were there with your friends, beautiful under the neon lights, hip pressed into his at the crowded bar as you waited to be served. You’d apologised for the close proximity, Joel only able to grin back foolishly, somehow finding his voice to ask you if you wanted a drink. That’s kinda why I’m queuing, you’d teased, and Joel felt his cheeks flare, your hand over his. Still, you’d let him buy you a vodka soda, and the cab ride home.
Kissing in the backseat was something Joel thought he’d left in his twenties — somewhere you still were. The sounds you made as he dragged his tongue along your throat made him painfully hard, your hand palming eagerly him over his jeans. The two of you shared a whiskey in his kitchen before he’d pressed you down onto his bed, licking the smoky taste from your lips, fucking you twice before collapsing into a sated sleep.
Joel half expected you to be gone by the time the sun came up, but you’re here beside him, features relaxed in your deep slumber. He can still feel the sharp sting of your nails in his back, the crescent moons you’d left on his shoulders, scratching like a wildcat and sobbing for more in his arms.
Lucky guy, he muses, taking in the curve of your breasts, your soft tummy and velvet thighs, the sweet tip of your nose.
Propping himself up on an elbow, he dares to trace his fingertip over your shoulder blade, and you stir beneath his touch. Blinking sleepily, your smile is the same as it was last night, though something about it is a little more knowing.
“Morning.”
“Morning, yourself.”
“You, uh, want somethin’ to eat?” Joel asks before he can stop himself, remembering you might just want to gather your things and slip away, that this didn’t mean all that much to you. Not in the way it has to him.
“I’d love that.” You pull the sheets around yourself, rubbing at your eyelids, lips bitten from his ministrations the night before. You’re more fucking beautiful to him today, all smudged mascara and bare skin, your dress lost on the floor.
Joel pulls his pyjama pants on hastily from the hamper, unsure of whether a shirt is required, too. He’s so fucking out of practice with one night stands — it’s embarrassing, but you don’t seem to mind at all: rolling over to his side of the bed, facedown in the pillows.
Deciding on pancakes with some of the fruit he keeps stocked for Sarah, he chops the strawberries rhythmically, questions buzzing around his brain as coffee brews in the corner.
So, what happens next? Will he get your number? Would you wanna see him again? Is he too old for you? Can he ask if you want to get dinner? Or is that too pushy?
“What’re you making?”
Joel lets out a strangled noise of surprise; neatly slicing into the soft pad of his fingertip, blood sprouting onto the cutting board. He’s hammered his thumbs more times than he can count, but the pain is still sharp and breathtaking, and the humiliation he feels compounds it even more.
You’re stood behind him, peering over his shoulder in curiosity. He hears your intake of breath, your immediate concern. “Fuck! Joel? Are you okay?”
He chuckles, heading to the sink to run it under cool water. “‘s nothin’, trust me,” he reassures you, turning to assess the damage. It’s clean, but deep, and he curses himself inwardly for making such a scene.
“You got a first aid kit anywhere?”
“Above the cabinet,” Joel points with his good hand. “But I’m tellin’ you, I don’t need anythin’. It’ll be fine.”
You wave him off, stretching on your toes to reach for it. It’s then that he notices your attire. You’re seemingly bare beside a flannel shirt of his, discarded on his dresser a few days back. It rides up over your thighs, the silk panties he became well acquainted with last night peeking out beneath the fabric.
You sit him down at the table, his hand out in front of you. Joel watches you concentrate — tongue stuck between your teeth, a crease in your brows as you apply the antiseptic. His shirt hangs open a little on you, the plush swell of your tits pushing at the fabric. He shifts a little in his chair, feeling himself hardening.
“You’re doin’ a good job takin’ care of me,” he says as you cover the cut with a band-aid. Shoulders shrugging, a smile splits your face, and you pack away the kit like it’s your own. “It was my fault, after all. Would be better if I had a nice nurse’s outfit.”
“Oh, yeah?” Joel teases, eyebrows raised as you run your tongue across your lips, taking your hand in his own. “Well, as it happens, I like this even better,” he tells you, plucking at the flannel.
You stand over him, and he tugs you down into his lap, thumbs running across the silken skin of your thighs. You shudder in his arms, and Joel reaches for the buttons, the two of you laughing quietly as he undoes them.
“If I stole this from you, would you want it back?” you ask, hands in his hair as he strokes along your ribcage, rolling your hips against his.
“I most definitely would, sweetheart,” Joel grins, sliding his lips over yours, tangling your tongues together. Something about it feels so natural: your body and his, and he has a feeling this definitely won’t be the last time he sees you.
