to someone from a warm climate
pt. ii of it will come back
pairing || Joel Miller x fem!Reader
word count || 5.5k (!!!!!)
summary || Joel isn't the kind of man that can resist taking care of people. Especially you. (or, insomnia and a pulled muscle or two are nothing against the strength of Joel Miller's hands)
content || animal death (hunting), mentions of insomnia, idiots in love, Tommy Knows, Joel gives excellent massages, Joel's Big Hands, (and his big dick smh), SMUT, munch!Joel supremacy, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, p in v sex, soft sweet possessive Joel my LOVE, he's handsy okay i adore him
a/n || had to let my heartbreak over S2E2 create something happy.
Joel Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library blog
There is a quiet that falls over the town in those first hours after the sun rises. A hushed, pure tranquility that rivals any other. The soft sound of birdsong is the soundtrack to your morning ride, accented by the shift of leather with your horse’s every step. The snares have been bountiful this morning. Half a dozen rabbits are tucked away in your saddlebag, ready to be delivered to the guys in the kitchen.
Scout shifts beneath you, his nose sending fluffy snowflakes into the air as he searches for a snack beneath the snow. With a shift in the reins and a squeeze of your thighs, the pair of you head along a low ridge. A break in the trees offers you a breathtaking view of the vast mountain range. The snowcapped mountains and low-hanging clouds never fail to take your breath away. You’re about to head back down into the trees when you spot him - a huge mule deer meandering through the plain below.
You secure the reins to a nearby tree and trudge through the thick blanket of snow until you find a good spot to lie on your belly. The rifle is frigid against your cheek as you settle in for a shot so easy that it almost feels unfair. But winter is hard and a buck that size could feed a lot of hungry mouths back home. A stillness settles over you as you line up the shot. Muscle memory takes over; in the lull between breaths, your finger squeezes the trigger. The bullet enters just below the shoulder. The buck lurches and staggers a few futile steps before it falls a few yards away, staining the untouched snow crimson.
By the time you get the buck secured on Scout’s back, you’re soaked in sweat and the sun is high in the sky, still lurking behind the clouds. Every inch of your body aches. A particular stiffness has made its home in your legs and back, the kind that only comes from straddling a horse for hours on end. Hauling yourself up into the saddle with your weary arms is a herculean effort. You give Scout a grateful pat as the two of you begin the trek back to Jackson. Both of you deserve a good meal and some rest after all this hard work. You can feel the temptation of your bed calling your name.
The bright rays of the early morning sun finally spill onto the earth as the clouds dissipate. You lean back with a hum, eagerly soaking in the warmth. These little things are all that keep you sane in the crazy world you’ve found yourself living in. A sunny day, some hot tea with a little honey, soft blankets to wrap yourself up in at night - and maybe the company of a good man. Your face warms even more at the thought of him.
Joel Miller, the infamous eldest Miller brother, who may not be as cold as he makes himself out to be. Only a few days have passed since you coaxed him into your home in those early morning hours. You haven’t been able to get him off your mind since. His mere presence tugs at your very core, a siren song of stolen glances and secret smiles. The way he wants you leaves you breathless. It’s irrevocable in its wholeness and hunger, a little intimidating in its intensity. It should unnerve you; instead, you find yourself returning it wholeheartedly. You’ve learned the hard way to hold tight to any joy this world lets you have.
The walls of Jackson creep into view before you realize how much time has passed. The sound of those massive wooden gates groaning open sends relief washing over you. With a nudge of your heels at Scout’s sides, the two of you head for the mess hall at a slight jog. All you want is to drop off the game and collapse onto your couch for a long nap.
Those thoughts drift away at the sight of Joel and Tommy making their way down the dirt road. That one glimpse is all your one-track mind needs to be right back on Joel. His head turns sharply as you call out his name and you wave your hand in the air to draw his eye. You can tell the exact moment he realizes it's you - he does a double-take and his broad shoulders draw back as he straightens his posture. Even from this distance, you can see the smile on his face. You can’t help but return it.
Tommy lets out a whistle as they draw closer. “Someone’s been busy!”
“I couldn’t get back to sleep thing morning, so I checked the snares early.” You admit with a shrug. “I might have gotten a little lucky on the way back.”
“A little? This thing’s gotta be… what, two hundred pounds?” The pure admiration in Tommy’s voice makes your face heat up. The surge of pride warms you against the cold.
“Probably more if my strained back is any proof.” You chuckle as you unhook your left foot from the stirrup.
Tommy moves as if to help you down, but Joel steps in with a quiet, “I’ve got her.” You slip your hand into his and Joel eases you onto your feet. His other hand comes to rest on your lower back, his touch lingering as you stretch and shake out your stiff limbs. You don’t miss the knowing look Tommy gives you both, but all you can focus on his the weight of Joel’s hand against you.
“Ya alright?” He murmurs. You can just barely feel his thumb caressing your back through the thick material of your coat. A small, soothing motion that makes you want to melt into him.
“I’m okay. Just a little tired.” You reassure him softly, leaning into his touch without thinking about it. He offers you that small smile you adore. “I need to get this all taken care of but… Maybe we can catch up after if you aren’t busy.”
Tommy interrupts before Joel can even open his mouth, telling you that you’ve done more than enough heavy lifting for one morning. You know better than to press the issue - no amount of arguing can ever change that stubborn man’s mind. Tommy slings an arm over Joel’s shoulder and jostles him with a playful grin. “Go on and take care of your girl, big brother.”
There’s no denying the flush of heat that rushes up your neck and cheeks. Joel’s girl. Your teeth sink into your lower lip in a vain attempt to hide the smile it brings. Joel shoves his little brother’s arm off and glares at him in return, but he isn’t fooling anyone. The rosy color that tints his cheeks and the tips of his ears suits him, you think. Joel pulls your hand up into the crook of his arm and leads you down the road toward your house. You don’t have to look to know Tommy is watching, probably with that same grin and a twinkle in his eye.
The two of you walk in comfortable silence and you take a moment to appreciate how he looks in the morning sun. Even though he’s squinting against the brightness, you can see how the light transforms his pretty brown eyes. Warm and deep like the perfect cup of coffee on a lazy Sunday morning. You watch him, enraptured by the sight of his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.
The crinkles around his eyes deepen as he directs his squinted gaze at you. “What are you starin’ for?”
“You’re handsome.” You say matter-of-factly.
Your smile only grows when he rolls his eyes, a vain attempt to hide how he preens under the compliment. He mutters something about ‘not needing to butter him up’ but he still walks a little taller nonetheless. The years seem to disappear in moments like this. His eyes shine a little brighter. The harsh clench of his teeth is easier to ease into a smile. You’ve watched the edge he carries start to soften these last few months in Jackson, something you remember all too well from that first strange year of adjusting.
Joel gives you a soft smile as you push open your front door and lead him inside. He makes himself right at home, not hesitating to hang up his coat and tuck his boots next to yours. With the heaviest layers discarded, you finally surrender to the urge to get your hands on him. Joel hums low in his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes you tightly. You weren't the only one aching for a little comfort.
“Fuck, I'm so tired.” You grumble, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “I didn't realize just how bad it was until now.”
“You've been runnin' around all morning on no sleep, sweetheart.” His hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “I was thinking I could get a fire goin’ while you relax. I’ll even make some of that tea you like. How does that sound?”
Something in your chest loosens, a tension you didn’t realize you were carrying. Such thoughtfulness and kindness have been in short supply these last few years. You can count on one hand how many times someone has been so attentive. The simple act of being seen - you didn’t realize just how much you’ve missed it. It’s enough to have you like putty in the palm of his hands.
“That sounds perfect.” You say as you press up on your toes, your nose brushing his. “But I need a kiss first, Mr. Miller.”
Joel chuckles before he gives you exactly what you want, just a soft and sweet kiss. The warmth of his palm on your cheek brings back memories of that night. The way he tugged you into his lap. The heat of his tongue and teeth at your neck. The desperate curiosity of his hands exploring your body for the first time. The memory leaves you a little dazed and needy, warmth simmering low in your belly. Even this chaste kiss exposes how much you ache for him - your fingers curl into his flannel, keeping him close as your lips linger a hair's breadth apart. He gives you one last kiss before he pulls away.
“Go get comfortable, baby.” He says with a playful pat on your behind before disappearing into your kitchen.
It isn’t long before you find yourself curled up on the couch in your tank top and leggings with a steaming mug of tea in your hands. Another mug waits on the coffee table as Joel tosses some wood into the fireplace. You indulge yourself in the sight he makes kneeling on the hardwood. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up past his elbow to expose his forearms. His eyebrows draw together in focus as he patiently coaxes a flame from the dry wood. Warmth curls through the room as the fire catches and spreads across the logs and twigs. He stands with a small groan and stretches, the hem of his shirt riding up to expose his soft belly.
A small smirk crosses his face when he sees you watching him so eagerly. Joel snags his mug and settles in next to you, welcoming you into his arms with ease. The two of you talk about the last few days - your hunting, his construction projects, the smallest ins and outs of the time not spent together. The rumble of his chest relaxes you even more than the tea ever could. His palm strokes along your shoulder and arm absentmindedly as he listens to you rant about the latest spat with your neighbor.
“She swears up and down that my bedroom light keeps her up all night. She even complained to Maria about it!” You’ve sat up straight at this point, your hands waving about as you speak. “Joel. My bedroom doesn’t even face her house!”
“That woman could start a fight in an empty house. Can’t take anything she says to heart.” Joel scoffs, his voice laced with irritation. You can’t help but laugh at the genuine exasperation in his voice. “What? You can’t tell me she isn’t a massive pain in the ass.”
“No, she definitely is.” You say as you sit up to get a good look at him. “I just missed you and your southern-isms is all.”
“My ‘southern-isms’?” He teases. His eyes flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze once more. “Is that all you missed?”
“Hmmm,” You hum in faux contemplation as you lean closer, your fingers toying with the buttons of his flannel. “Maybe not all I missed…”
Joel doesn’t hesitate. His calloused hand cups your jaw and he pulls you into a kiss. His tongue glides along the seam of your lips and you part them without pause. Joel groans as your tongue meets his, sitting up until he practically looms over you. His other hand falls to your waist and tightens as if to trap you there. As if you could imagine ever trying to break free of him. Kissing Joel is as easy as breathing - a natural, aching need that you’re sure would kill you if not sated.
You slowly undo the buttons of his flannel until the soft material falls down his shoulders, quickly shoved off by Joel’s intent hands. It’s so easy to fall into him, to lean into his warmth and lose yourself in his touch. The day’s pains fade as his hand drifts down to your neck, his thumb resting on the hinge of your jaw. A cavernous wanting cracks open in your chest, something you have been resisting for far too long. You press closer, intent on climbing your way into his lap and carrying on right where you last left off -
Something sharp and painful twists in your back, protesting the way you lean over him. A pained sound filters through your gritted teeth and Joel pulls back, concern written all over his face. You try to brush it off and draw him back to you, but he isn’t having it. He doesn’t have to voice the question for you to know the question that lingers in his eyes.
“I just strained my back a little, it’s okay.” You reassure him, your hand brushing his stubbled cheek. “You don’t need to worry. I promise.”
He studies you for a moment, something unknown blooming in his gaze. “How about a massage?”
Part of you wants to argue that you're fine, that you just want to keep kissing him until you lose all sense - but you can't resist the allure of those strong hands on your body. Joel moves the coffee table out of the way and turns to find you tugging your tank top off. You never thought you could feel irresistible in just a sports bra and leggings, but the way Joel’s gaze lingers… the man looks like he could eat you alive. His eyes never leave you as you stretch out on the fluffy rug that lies in front of the fireplace. The heat of the fire feels like heaven against your bare skin. Your breath catches as he straddles your hips, careful not to press too much of his weight into you.
His voice is low in your ear. “Where does it hurt, baby?”
“My shoulders and my lower back.” You reply, trying your best not to sound as breathless as you feel.
Joel gets right to it. His hands find the base of your neck first, carefully kneading the knots out of your muscles. The tension slowly begins to melt away under his firm, methodical touch. It's the perfect kind of ache, right on the cusp of pain but so damn good at the same time. He takes his time, lavishing every inch of your shoulders with attention. Every firm press of his fingers draws a pleased groan from your lips. A shiver wracks your body as the pain is replaced with a warm pulse of relief.
“Oh my god…” You groan as you bury your face in your arms.
“How ya feelin’?” He murmurs.
“Good,” You damn near sound drunk. “So good.”
Joel chuckles low in his throat as he shifts to your lower back. It would be impossible to miss the tightness in your muscles. The worst of the pain lingers there - but it's no match for Joel’s strong hands. The sounds you make are downright pornographic. You haven't felt this relaxed in years. Joel's fingers dig in harder with every little sound you make, his breath becoming shaky. The effect you have on him is so painfully clear and you just know you're already addicted to it.
His hands come to rest at the small of your back, his thumbs tracing arcs along your skin. His fingertips dip just beneath the waistband of your leggings. The soft touch tickles, makes you shift beneath him and… oh. You can just barely feel his cock straining against the thick denim of his jeans. Joel draws in a breath through clenched teeth, his fingers digging harder into your flesh.
“I bet your legs are achin’, too.” There's a gruffness in his voice that hides beneath that faux contemplation. His huge palms squeeze the back of your thighs, his thumbs pressed so close to your core. “Aren't they, darlin’?”
It takes a moment for the realization to surface in your blissed-out mind - he's asking for permission. You grant it without a second thought.
“Mhmm,” You hum indulgently, shifting your hips beneath him. “Gonna take care of me, cowboy?”
Joel pushes his hand between your thighs and palms your cunt through your leggings. He draws in a shuddering breath. “I always take care of my girl.”
You arch into the touch with a whimper of his name. That’s the only encouragement he needs to manhandle you onto your back. The two of you work in tandem with impatient, fumbling hands to tug away the few layers of clothes that still separate you. You manage to strip him down to his briefs before Joel grabs your thighs and pulls you closer, leaving you flat on your back beneath him. Vulnerable in the most enticing, aching way. His tongue flicks out along his bottom lip as he takes in the way you look beneath him, all that skin finally bared to his greedy gaze.
Joel doesn’t give you long to admire him before he slinks down your body, his eyes never leaving yours. You spread your legs further, little murmurs of ‘yes, yes, yes’ falling from your lips in an endless stream of pleas. There’s no room to feel ashamed of your desperation. You’re too consumed with the need to feel that sinful tongue right where you need it most - and Joel is nothing if not a giver. His shaky exhale ghosts across your soaked cunt, cooling the slick that already coats your inner thighs. His eyes flick back to yours as his tongue curls a long, slow pass up your slit.
Your head falls back as the heat of his tongue blossoms through your core. Joel groans against you and something in him seems to break. His tongue swirls over your clit with a frenzied need that makes your hips jerk in surprise. The grip he has on your thighs tightens, holding you open right where he wants you. There’s no use in biting your tongue - even if you didn’t love what your sounds do to him, you couldn’t hold back if you tried. You grind against his face, breathy moans escaping your lips with every exhale. Every little sound you make is met with one of his own. He licks and sucks at your most sensitive places, feasting on your cunt like a man starved. It strikes you just how much he loves this. He’s fucking good at it, too - attentive and thorough and so fucking hungry.
You can’t stop yourself from burying your fingers in his hair and digging your heel into his shoulder, grinding down against that sinful tongue. Two calloused fingers glide along your cunt before one sinks in, quickly followed by the other. His fingers are so thick, curling and stretching until all you can do is tremble beneath him. It doesn’t take long for him to find that sweet spot that has your cunt fluttering around him. Pleasure pools low in your belly and your skin prickles in anticipation as he drives you ever closer to that sweet edge - and he can’t get enough of it.
You look down to find his eyes still locked on you, roiling with darkness even in the flickering firelight. It’s the fiery determination in those pretty eyes that finally does it. You fall apart beneath him, crying his name with every flush of pleasure that falls over you. Joel makes a feral sound, mangled and trapped in his throat. He doesn’t - no, he can’t stop; his tongue swirls slow circles over your clit until you’re trembling in the aftershocks. His fingers slip from your sensitive cunt, only to dig into your thighs and keep you anchored to his mouth. You know fingertip-shaped bruises will mottle your soft skin soon. You revel at the thought. It isn’t until you whine for him to stop, that it’s too much, that he finally relents.
“So good… my sweet fuckin’ girl.” He murmurs, a possessive edge dripping from his tone. Joel sits back and admires the mess he’s made of you. His hands never leave your body. They trail up and down your thighs, then along your sides and back again. Worshipful. Doting. Greedy.
The shiver of sensitivity isn’t enough to quell the need that pulses through your body with every beat of your heart. You push yourself up and drag him into a kiss, reveling in the taste of yourself still lingering on his tongue. There’s nothing refined about it, but that’s what you need. You don’t want perfectly poised Joel and the guarded gaze that hides him from the world. You want this - the unraveled Joel, all tongue and teeth and roaming hands. The Joel that chokes on your name as your fingers lightly graze along his cock. The Joel that looks at you with a fire in your eyes that burns away even the coldest Wyoming winter.
Joel’s head falls back as you stroke his cock, his breath stuttering in his chest. You can’t resist the temptation of his neck and your lips quickly find a home there. His huge hand cups the back of your head, holding you close as your lips and teeth worry marks into his skin. His hips jerk up to meet your hand and a deliciously needy sound meets your ears. A thrill shoots through you at the effect you have on him. It’s heady, addictive.
It doesn’t take much urging to get him right where you want him - leaned back against the couch with you in his lap. Your impatience gets the better of you the moment you feel the weight of cock press against your inner thigh. He watches you with a heavy, lust-drunk gaze as you sink onto him slowly. Even with the preparation of his fingers and tongue, you aren't ready for the stretch - a sweet, aching sensation that steals the breath from your lungs. Your eyes flutter shut as you settle into his lap, his cock twitching deep in your belly.
“That’s it… that’s my girl.” The possessive praise slips down your spine, hot and syrupy. He can’t keep his hands in one place. They glide along your back and squeeze at your thighs, his nails digging into your soft skin. It isn’t to urge you on, to guide you into movement. Only to feel you against him, every inch of your skin against his. His words are quiet and gruff, full of reverence. “Take your time, baby.”
You were never good at taking instructions.
Your hips grind down into his lap, driving him impossibly deeper. Twin groans melt into the hot air that surrounds you. One hand braces against the edge of the couch, the other anchored at the curve where his neck and shoulder meet. His hands tighten at your hips, a bruising grip that only encourages every rise and fall of your hips. Your breath leaves you in a rush every time you bottom out, forced from your lungs by the sheer depths he reaches. A rough curse falls from his lips as you keep that pace, relentless in your chase for more. Joel’s lips find yours in a messy rush of tongue and teeth. His touch brands into every inch of your skin, sears his claim with every bruise and bite. All you can feel and taste and smell is him. He surrounds you until all that exists is this.
Divine.
Joel leans back just enough to get a good look at the mess he’s made of you. Your skin sweat-slick and littered with his marks, your teeth sunk into your lower lip, your thighs trembling with every rock of your hips. You’ve never felt more beautiful than in this moment. More desirable. More seen. His gaze darkens as it falls to your cunt, pupils dilating as he watches you take him over and over again.
The sight must break the trance you’ve put him under. His hips jerk up to meet yours and the sudden movement sends you reeling. The embers of lingering sensitivity reignite as Joel fucks up into you. He drags you down by your waist to meet every thrust - all you can do is take it. The bite of your nails into his shoulders only encourages him. Every thrust grinds into that sweet spot so hard your vision goes spotty. Your eyes flutter shut, content to let him drag you over the edge again. Until his hand grips your jaw and draws your face close to his.
“Eyes on me.” Joel rasps. “Y’look so pretty when you come for me. Let me see you, baby.”
All you can do is whine his name and lean into his hand, but Joel is all too happy to keep you held there. Right where he wants you. Your cunt tightens around him, pulses with every beat of your heart. It’s plain on his face how it damn near sends him over the edge. His lips parted and his brows furrowed. Those breathless sounds flow without restraint. He watches you with those intent eyes, taking in every reaction you give him.
All you can do is cling to him as another orgasm unfurls in your belly, explosive and devastating. Joel’s thrusts stutter but don’t stop, and it feels never-ending. It consumes you, washes over the essence of your very being until you’re left trembling in its wake. Joel whispers his encouragement, laced with gruff curses that descend into choked-off moans as he spills inside of you.
The world goes still. The room fills with the sound of soft panting and the crackle of firewood. You feel weightless, lost in the warmth of his body beneath you. Joel blinks up at you, his eyes glossy with satisfaction but no less intent. He studies your face for a beat and you just smile back, a dizzied little grin that tells him everything he needs to know. You see a hint of a smirk curl the edge of his lips before he draws you into a messy kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth and his taste draws a satisfied moan from you. He drinks it in, ever greedy for anything and everything you give him.
You don’t know what it is - the back-breaking start to your day, the two orgasms, or the pure relief of being in his arms - but it takes a while for your thoughts to come forth through the daze. It’s strange to feel so exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. Joel’s warm, calloused hands rub up and down your back, over and over in an endless path that leaves you sleepy against his chest. The position… isn’t great. You can already feel the ache budding in your knees, but you don’t want to move. All you want is to feel the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath you.
It doesn’t take him long to notice.
“C’mon, baby,” Joel murmurs. You can feel the vibration of his voice against you, deep and lulling. He squeezes your hips in an attempt to get you moving. “Gonna be hurtin’ all over again if we keep this up.”
You hum a noncommittal sound, busying yourself with the taste of his skin on your tongue. He tastes of sweat and woodsmoke and something so distinctly Joel. You can’t help but tease along his collarbone with your teeth and tongue. Joel’s resolve crumbles under the heat of your touch. He squeezes your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You can feel his softening cock twitch inside you with every open-mouthed kiss you press into his skin. It doesn’t take long to find the perfect spot - that strong cord of muscle where his shoulder and neck meet. You worry your teeth against it before soothing it with a soft lick, only to repeat it over and over until a dark mark settles into his skin. You lean back with a satisfied hum to take in the little piece of artwork you’ve bitten into him.
He blinks at you dazedly. He squeezes your waist as if assuring himself this is real, that you’re truly here. The confirmation seems to clear the haze in those pretty brown eyes.
“How about a bath?” He asks, still a little breathless.
You have to give him credit - he knows just the right buttons to push.
Moments later, you find yourself perched on the bathroom counter, naked as the day you were born, as he draws a scalding bath - just the way you like it. Joel sits against the edge of the bathtub, his hand cupped beneath the stream of water to monitor its temperature. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to fall on you. You give him a smile - soft, satisfied, a little sleepy. His gaze trails down your body, lingering on the various marks that have just started to truly show. His marks, the ones he branded into you with his hands and his teeth. You never thought someone could look so sated yet starving at the same time.
That look lingers as he helps you lower into the hot water, as you coax him in alongside you, as he settles you against his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder. It never falters as he drags a soapy washcloth over your skin or when you demand he let you show him the same attention. It’s still there when your fingers turn pruny and the water loses most of its heat, and he finally pulls you from the bath.
He doesn’t leave your home until the sun begins to set, painting the skies with bright oranges and pinks. He leaves you on the couch, tucked under a soft blanket with your book in your hands. With a soft kiss, he promises to come back once he makes sure Ellie is settled in at home rather than off in some kind of trouble. He returns an hour later, his cheeks tinged pink from the frigid air. It takes one look at you for him to collapse into you, ignoring the ‘oof’ sound you give when his weight fully sinks into you. The cold tip of his nose presses into your neck and he shoves his hands beneath your back, and you swear you only complain a little as he warms himself up with your body.
The weight of his body is comforting. Your fingers rake through the curls at the back of his head and you can’t help but chuckle at the pleased groan Joel gives in return. Your free hand props your book up on his shoulder. Something warm and content settles in your chest, fills the spaces between your ribs with belonging. This is all you could need in this life. The glowing embers in your fireplace, a good book to get lost in, and Joel Miller softly snoring on your chest. You let a few chapters pass before accepting the sleepiness that tugs at your eyelids.
“Joel,” You run a firm hand down his spine, gently coaxing him to the waking world. “Baby, you’re falling asleep.”
Joel just shifts slightly on top of you, muttering a completely dignified ‘nuh-uh’ into your chest. You huff out a laugh. Ridiculous. You nudge his ribs with your knee.
“C’mon, Joel. I’d much rather have you in my bed.”
That does it, even though he still grumbles about how he definitely wasn’t falling asleep as you drag him up the stairs. It doesn’t take long for sleep to take you both this time, with his face tucked back into your neck and your hand buried in his hair. That night, when you wake before the sun, you bury yourself into Joel’s side and tangle your legs with his. You inhale, long and slow, and the scent of him mixed with your soap settles the restlessness that stirred in your mind. Sleep finds you once more just a few moments later, safe in your lover’s arms.
