Everything changed the day Amira was born.
The world outside was collapsing â bombs, dust, screams, and fear. Yet inside a small room, by the dim light of a single candle, a new life began.
While others were running for shelter, I was holding my newborn daughter, trembling, crying, trying to believe that something so pure could still exist in a place like Gaza.
I named her Amira, because I wanted her to feel like a child of life ânot a child of war.
Â
A year has passed since that night, but nothing has really changed
Our house is still rubble, our streets still carry the smell of smoke, and the sky still echoes with sounds that make Amira flinch in her sleep.
She has just turned one.
Sheâs learning to walk, holding my finger with her tiny hand, laughing at the smallest things â as if she doesnât see the destruction around her.
She doesnât know the word âloss.â
She never met her father, but when she smiles, I see him there.
Sometimes I watch her sleeping, and I wonder what kind of world she will grow up in â whether she will ever know what peace feels like, what home smells like.
And yet, when she opens her eyes in the morning and says âmama,â everything becomes bearable again.
I want to rebuild our home.
Not just for the walls â but for her future.
For Amira to have a small room, a safe place to dream, a life that belongs to her, not to war.
Iâm not asking for much. Only for a chance to give her a beginning filled with warmth instead of fear
My name is Saja. I am a mother, a wife, and just one of many women in Gaza trying to hold on â to hope, to my family, and to a life that no
 A Motherâs Message
To everyone reading this â thank you for listening to our story.
Your kindness means more than words.
Every share, every message, every donation â it all helps me rebuild not just a house, but a future for Amira.
From the heart of Gaza, from a mother learning to hope again â
we will live. And I will make sure my daughter grows up in a world that knows love more than war.
Summary: You marry Joel Miller not for love, but for convenience, and now you are bound by vows to a man whose gruffness hides more than you expect.
CW: 18+ MDNI, marriage of convenience, lots of fluff, slow burn romance with eventual smut, lil bit of angst, jackson!Joel, husband!Joel, wife!reader, mild anxiety, outbreak, alternate universe, big age gap (unspecified), oldman!Joel, dirty talk, pet names, p-in-v, multiple orgasms, oral, fingering, spitplay, praises, cumplay, one premature ejaculation, grinding, aftercare, size kink, talk of pregnancy, breeding kink.
Word count: 9.4k
Note: I wrote this one for my birthday today. Joel Miller as a husband is concerningly close to being a birthday present. I want that old man. I wouldn't mind unwrapping that old man on my birthday lol, sorry not sorry.
All characters are fictional and adults. Read at your own discretion. Iâm not responsible for your media consumption.
This is not what you thought your life would be, but somehow you find yourself here in Joel Miller's house while the fireplace glows, warming the room.
You took his last name just this afternoon, in front of your friends and his family. He took a vow that you were not really sure if he meant it from the heart.
As you were unsure about your own.
Because you do not love Joel Miller, but now you are his wife.
Deep down in your mind, you have a selfish idea that you can still leave now. Everything will be forgiven. You do not have to stay if you are not sure. But you also know that this was your decision.
Either it was a wise decision or a desperate one, you are not sure.
Three weeks ago, when you were peacefully eating your stew in the hall, Tommy Miller approached you with a grin on his face. "Hey there, sunshine," he greeted.
"What do you want?" you eyed him.
"Can't I jus' say hello to my dearest ol' friend?" he chuckled, sitting down next to you. "Those boots suit you well," he nudged your boot with his.
You smiled but rolled your eyes at him. "I'm not interested in married men, sorry. Scram now, good sir."
Tommy let out a loud laugh. "M'not flirtin' with ya for fuck's sake. Maria would cut off my balls, y'know that."
"Yeah, I know. And I would help her happily," you said before eating a spoonful.
"Need a favor from ya," he muttered. "For old time's sake."
You turned to look at him. "And which old time's sake?" you asked. Tommy gave you a look that told you he was being serious. You sighed, "Alright. Spit it out."
You knew exactly what Tommy meant, but you just wanted to taunt him a little. You two had known each other long before Jackson. Tommy first met you when he saved you from a raider. His short-tempered nature made him smash a glass bottle over the head of the bastard, and he threatened to shoot him in the head if he did not want to leave you alone.
You did not trust anyone back then, so you spat on Tommy after he saved your life. One thing led to another. He had been friends with you ever since, despite how much older he was compared to you. None of that mattered when the two of you were just surviving, trying to see another day.
Until you two ended up here in Jackson, a place with a new hope. Where Tommy met the love of his life, Maria.
You had never seen Tommy so happy in his life as when you saw him after he married Maria. You were happy for them, even when you and Tommy had a fling a long time ago. It did not matter now. Neither of you made a big deal out of it. You loved him as a friend, and you were truly happy for him.
Tommy stared at you deep. "Promise me you won't overreact."
"I promise," you declared, feeling annoyed at him.
He looked around for a second, making sure no one was eavesdropping. And no one was. People were eating and chatting, minding their business.
Tommy cleared his throat, then he leaned closer and whispered, "I want you to try goin' on a date with my brother."
As the words left his mouth, you turned fully to stare at him in disbelief. "Yourâ WHAT?!" you yelled.
People turned their heads to look in your direction. Tommy muttered a sorry to them while you were still stunned. Shocked. Horrified.
"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR GODDAMN MIND?!" you yelled again at Tommy.
People turned their heads once again to check on you before returning to their own business.
Tommy flicked your forehead. "I told ya not to fuckin' overreact, goddamn it."
You finally looked around, finally noticing that you just made a scene before glaring back at Tommy. "You just fucking said you want me to go on a fucking date with Joel Miller," you whispered, feeling scared that anyone would hear. "Tommyâ whatâ" you paused, "Are you fucking insane?"
"What's wrong about one date with Joel? S'not a big deal."
You made a face. "Did a clicker eat your brain out somewhere during patrol?" You scowled at him before whispering again, "He's old, Tommy. Like so, so old."
"You usually have a crush on older guys anyway. It's only Joel," he muttered as if it wasn't a big deal.
He wasn't wrong. But you still did not want to go. "Why does it have to be me? Can't you ask someone else? It's fucking weird. Joel is like a really mean old man. I have nothing in common with him."
"Hey, careful there. That's my brother you talkin' about," Tommy warned. "He's been through some shit. Things that would keep him at night. And now that Ellie's all grown up... he's been alone most of the time."
"That's not my fucking problem," you mumbled.
Tommy glared at you, making you stop complaining for a second, and listened to him. "Maria and I told him s'no good for him if he keeps drownin' in his loneliness. And guess what? The man finally listened once in his life. Now he's lookin' for a wife."
"The fuck?" you looked even more annoyed. "Do I look like I'm interested in getting married any time soon? I don't even wanna go on a date with him."
"Why not?"
"He's old."
"Didn't stop you from sleepin' with me back then."
You frowned at the reminder. "That was one-time. Andâ he's even older than you, asshole."
"It's jus' Joel," Tommy muttered. "He's way better than those punks you had a crush on."
"I don't even know him, Tommy," you grumbled. "The man's barely said three words to me since he got here years ago. He's mean."
Tommy sighed. "Listen, Maria told me you cried to her the other day," he muttered, making you turn your gaze from him. "Sayin' things like you feel tired doin' everythin' on your own. Said you need someone to love ya in this new part of the world we live in, 'cause you feel so alone, even in the crowd. Ain't that right?"
"Shut up," you mumbled as you looked away.
"Guess even your sunshine has its cloudy days, huh?" Tommy stared at you. "Then try with him."
"Ask someone else."
"I could've. Y'know, women in all Jackson would be all over him if I informed them of this. But I came to ya first."
"Why? Because you think he's the right one for me?"
"'Cause I care 'bout ya, stupid. I know my brother wasn't a saint, well, none of us was. But he sure does protect the ones he loves. And, hell, I jus' want the best for ya," Tommy said before getting up from his seat. "Though I can't decide anythin'. It's your call. Jus' sleep on it," he stated before patting your back and walking away.
You did end up going on that date.
The one that leads you here now. In your husband's house. Even if it still feels foreign to you to think that you are someone's wife now.
You refuse to believe that you are only here because you are desperate. But you know you are.
This marriage is supposed to be convenient for both of you. Joel needed a wife, and you wanted someone to love or care for, or to be loved. Hell, you were not sure. All you knew was that you were so tired of being alone. You were used to surviving all your life, so the calmness of the future days scares you. It made you feel so alone sometimes in the past few years. Even Tommy and Maria knew that, and they were trying to help you so you would not feel so alone anymore.
You were fine with it. Had always been fine with being alone. Finding peace in your own company and cherishing the moments you have with your friends in the community. But there were times when the voices in your head got too loud that you wished you had someone to make you forget about them, to tell you that everything is going to be fine.
And then there was this option for you to marry Joel Miller.
You had asked Tommy why Joel asked for your hand after one date, and the younger Miller said, "Joel don't do casual no more, not after he's lost so many people he cared about. He wants to make things right. Wants to live his life." Tommy stared deep into your eyes, even when you frowned as you considered the older Miller's proposal. "If he asked to marry you, then he meant it. He wants to marry you," he explained back then.
You keep fidgeting with the hem of your flannel as you sit on the couch near the fireplace while waiting for your husband, as he brews coffee for you both in the kitchen.
"You okay?" Joel asks, putting both mugs on the table in front of you.
You nod and grab one of the mugs. "Thank you."
The coffee smells good. You are not sure if you should have one, though. Your heart is already beating so fast. But Joel said it is a celebration for the two of you tonight, and you both love coffee.
It is so awkward now. You do not know what to say, and Joel does not say anything either. The silence is deafening.
"Where's Ellie?" you ask, breaking the silence.
"In her room in the garage. She seemed happy today. Talked a lot. A rare thing to see these days," he admits.
"What do you mean? I think Ellie talks a lot just fine. Well, maybe she wasn't as cheerful as she was when you two arrived in Jackson. She was just a kid who loved to tell silly puns back then."
Joel chuckles. "Yeah, she talks to you. Not t'me. She mostly jus' hates me now," he takes a sip of his coffee. "I remember how she used to lighten up when we talked about space. The girl wanted to be an astronaut. Not sure if she wants to be anythin' now."
You turn to look at him. "I'm sure she doesn't hate you, Joel," you mutter, "I think she's just going through a phase. All girls do."
To your surprise, Joel takes your hand in his calloused one and squeezes it. "Yeah. Hope so."
His hand is huge compared to yours. You stare at how he keeps holding your hand until he finally lets go.
"Wanna go to bed?" Joel asks.
Your breath hitches. "Mmm, not yet," you murmur.
"Are you nervous, sweetheart?" he turns to stare at your face clearly, and you turn your gaze to the mug on the table. You feel your cheeks getting hot from his stare. "Y'know we don't gotta fuck tonight if you don't wanna, right?"
That makes you turn your head to look at him. "We don't?"
"Yeah, we don't have to if you're not ready."
"You mean it?" you ask quietly.
Joel smiles, pulling your hand toward his lips, then kisses the back of your hand. "I mean it. We ain't gotta do what you don't wanna do, honey. You bein' here, lettin' me be your husband already makin' me full of joy."
You finally smile at him. "I thought you weren't really happy. You didn't look happy when we got married earlier today."
"That's probably jus' my face. Goddamn, I was nervous as hell, honey."
"You were nervous?" you ask in disbelief.
Joel nods. "Trust me. I was. My heart was racin' too damn fast that my ears started to ring."
"No way."
He laughs now. "What? Ya don't believe me?"
You shake your head. "You didn't seem nervous. You just look angry."
"Told ya that's jus' my face. How could I be angry when you jus' made me the happiest man today, hm?"
You open your mouth, but you are not sure how to say it, so you say nothing as you turn to stare at the empty mug again.
"What is it, darlin'?" he asks, concern in his voice. Joel lets go of your hand and reaches to cup your chin softly. "Hey... what's on your mind?"
"I justâ I don't know. I'm scared, Joel."
He frowns. "Of me?"
"No. It's just... What if this is a mistake? This marriage. You know there is no love between us. Even when we took a vow."
The second it comes out of your mouth, you realize how stupid you are being. This is the night after your wedding, for fuck's sake, and now you are saying these things to your husband. What is wrong with you?
"Yeah, I know," Joel mutters. "I'm aware that there ain't no love between us. Well, not yet," he caresses your cheek with his thumb. "I had my doubts about this marriage too, sweetheart. But I ain't thinkin' it's a mistake. Not once. Especially not after I took a vow."
"Why did you wanna marry me?"
"Didn't we have this conversation already?"
"Yeah, we did."
"Then stop overthinkin' 'bout it, honey. C'mere," Joel reaches to hug you. "This okay? Me huggin' ya like this?" he asks.
"Mhm," you hum before hugging him back.
You stare at the fireplace from over his shoulder as you both hug. Staring at the flame as you cherish the feeling of how soothing his hug is. This is the closest either of you has ever dared. He kissed you earlier today in front of everyone after getting married, yes, but this hug is the most intimate gesture you two have ever shared.
"There will be a time... when we fall in love with each other during the mundanes," Joel whispers, "and there will be a time when we wish we'd done it sooner. But for now... we ain't gotta rush nothin', honey. We can jus' live our life."
His words... God, his words calm you down in an instant.
You have never considered that a man who looks as cold as Joel Miller could calm your mind down this very instant. This is only your first night with him, and he already brings peace to your chaotic mind.
Maybe you did feel that kind of peace when you were on that date with him. The magnetic pull you felt around him, even when you tried to deny it. The way he could make you feel seen when he gazes at you with those eyes of his. No one had ever stared into your soul that deep.
Maybe those feelings were the reason you said yes to the absurdity of this marriage.
"You wanna go to bed now, darlin'?" he asks, and you nod.
Once in his room, the tension in the air feels thick. The awkwardness comes back again. You stare at the ceiling of his room as you lie down on his bed, already in your modest nightgown with a blanket around your body.
"You comfy?" he asks before getting in bed himself. "Need anythin'? A glass of water?"
"I'm okay," you murmur.
Joel nods and lies down beside you on his side of the bed. "If you need anythin' in the middle of the night jus' wake me up, alright?" he turns to look at you. "And you ain't gotta ask my permission for anythin'. This is your house as well."
You nod and smile. "Thank you, Joel."
"Alright. Good night."
"Good night," you answer before turning to your side, facing away from him, and so does he.
But none of you goes to sleep. This is what happens when you drink coffee on your first night with your husband but without fucking.
Minutes later, Joel notices you keep tossing and turning behind him. He turns to look at you. Your eyes are closed, your face is scrunched.
"Sweetheart? You okay?"
You open your eyes and glance at him. "I can't sleep. I'm sure it's the coffee."
"Yeah, me neither," he sits up, "I think I'm jus' gonna do some carving until sleep gets to me."
"Alright," you nod.
You turn back to your side and close your eyes, trying to fall asleep, until around five minutes later, he comes back into the room. The sound of the door makes you open your eyes and look up at him.
Joel smiles at you as he stands near the bed, holding two mugs. "Hey... did I wake ya?"
"No, I haven't fallen asleep," you sit up on the bed, "What's that?"
"Raw milk. I jus' finished heatin' it. Here," he gives one of the mugs to you. "People say milk helps makin' ya sleepy. Don't know if it's true or not. Worth tryin' though."
You take the mug from him. "I thought you were carving."
"Yeah, I was about to carve," Joel mutters before he sits down on the bed. "But then you crossed my mind. I felt like a dick knowin' my wife was restless and alone on my bed. So I went downstairs to warm the milk."
"You don't have to..." you smile, "but thank you. It's so thoughtful."
"No problem. S'the least I could do after makin' my wife restless from the coffee I brewed for her," he smiles back.
The raw milk does not work like Joel thought it would. But somehow, the two of you manage to fall asleep around thirty minutes or hours later and sleep side by side through the night.
In the morning, you find his side of the bed empty. You get up to go to the bathroom and grab a robe to put over your nightgown before going downstairs.
"Morning," you greet him when you enter the kitchen.
Joel turns to look at you with a smile on his face. "You sleep well?" he asks, and you chuckle, knowing you both had terrible sleep last night. He grabs three bowls from the cabinet. "We're havin' soup and bread for breakfast."
"Here, let me help," you say as you grab the bowls from him and set them on the dining table.
"Ain't ya too sweet? Thank ya, darlin'." Joel smiles at you before hollering into the hallway, "Ellie! Breakfast. Now."
"Give me five more minutes," Ellie shouts.
"Now, Ellie," Joel orders.
A few seconds later, Ellie appears with a frown on her face. "I was playing the guitar. I'm not even hungry, Joel."
Joel looks at her with a stern face. "The guitar can wait. Eat first. Soup's gettin' cold waitin' for ya."
Ellie walks toward the table, feeling annoyed at Joel, then she looks at you. "Oh, hi. I totally forgot you live here now," she smiles at you, ignoring Joel.
Even before you and Joel became a thing, you had known Ellie first, so familiarity is not a problem between the two of you. Somehow, you even feel more comfortable with her than your own husband for now.
You smile back at her. "Good morning to you too, Ellie."
"Mm, yeah, my morning was shitty," Ellie mutters, "So how's your first morning being married to the old man?" she asks. You open your mouth to answer, but then she cuts you off, "Wait, no. Don't tell me. You two are clearly being gross. No, I don't wanna know. Let's eat."
Even if you did not make love to Joel last night, people would assume you did. Even Ellie assumed you did. Because that's what married couples do on their wedding night, normally.
Neither you nor Joel comments on it. But you do share a knowing glance. He gives you a smirk, and you hold your laughter before the three of you have breakfast together.
Days turn to weeks. The season gets colder, but Joel gets warmer and even warmer to you.
And you do feel happier, it turns out. You thought this was an unwanted marriage to you at first, but somehow it is everything you ever wanted.
You feel delighted having someone to come home to. Someone who always listens to all your problems without judging you. Someone who gives you hugs and kisses when you have a bad day. You had no idea that someone who was once so cold to people could be so very patient with you.
Your husband turns out to be the type of man who can calm you down and shut your brain off with his presence. He always holds your hand in the streets and leads the way while you chatter to him nonstop about everything as you two stroll around.
And somehow, even when he has a gruff expression on his face, Joel always reddens a little when any of the folks in Jackson congratulates you two. Never once did you think in your life that the icy-cold Joel Miller would blush over some simple comments.
Joel is the kind of man who always makes time for his wife, even after a long day. One time, he is about to take a nap after a long patrol, but the moment you mention going to tend to your horse, your husband ends up following you to the stable. Lingering in the stable and listening with a slight smile on his face as you tell him stories.
"I've always wanted a horse, so when Maria let me have oneâ a week after I arrived here with Tommy, I was so excited," you squeal. "Isn't she the most precious?" you ask as you guide your husband's hand to touch the mare.
Joel chuckles at your excitement. "Yeah, she is, sweetheart. Jus' like her rider," he smiles, watching you start to blush. "C'mon now, let's go home and get you a warm bath 'fore supper. Ya startin' to smell like horses."
You roll your eyes at him, but the smile on your face gets wider, letting him take your hand as you both walk back home.
You love how sometimes your inner child feels safe enough to appear around him. It just happens. Like he draws out a softness you thought you had outgrown.
Every morning, Joel would prepare breakfast for you and Ellie. Even when you tell him you can help with making breakfast, he tells you just to enjoy your mornings and have those extra minutes of sleep while he prepares breakfast. And it has become a routine for him to kiss your forehead before heading to the door when he needs to leave the house.
"You two are so gross," Ellie teases every time Joel is being sweet to you, making him glare at her.
And you would laugh at her comment and laugh even harder when Joel decides to kiss the top of Ellie's head. Even when she pretends to be annoyed at his affection, she always smiles later after Joel walks out the door.
One day, when you are out on patrol with Tommy, he keeps talking about Maria's morning sickness. "I'm sure the baby's torturin' her. My poor wife," he mutters.
"Then you should pamper her even more," you say before looking around at the scenery from your horse.
"I did everything I could," Tommy mutters, "and by the way, you're doin' a good job with my brother. The man has never smiled more in his life."
You turn to look at him with a grin. "He makes me happy too. Thanks, Tommy. For... everything."
Tommy chuckles, riding his horse beside yours. "Can't believe you're thankin' me. I remember you wanted to kill me with a kitchen knife the day after I told ya to go on a date with him."
"To be fair, my mind was all over the place because of you back then."
"Yeah, well, you're welcome," he says with a smile. "Marriage looks good on ya."
Everyone tells you that lately. Some say you look glowing. Your friends joke that you must have been fucked well by your husband.
None of them knows the truth. In the weeks you have been married to Joel Miller, you two have not had any sexual encounters. Yet.
He never urges you to do something you are not ready for. It is not like you never popped the cherry before you end up here in Jackson. It is not the lack of experience. Joel knows you were not comfortable enough to have sex with him yet, and he is okay with that. And maybe a little too okay with that.
But now you feel guilty because you feel like a bad wife. Have you been neglecting your husband? The realization hits you like a freight train.
"How's your patrol with Tommy today, sweetheart?" he asks during dinner.
It is just the two of you tonight. Ellie is out somewhere with a friend.
"Just a normal one," you answer. "How's yours?"
"Nothin' special either. Jus' saw some of those frozen infected," he picks up his empty plate before looking at yours. "You done eatin'?"
"It's okay, I can clean it up myself."
He shakes his head. "No worries, honey. Jus' get ready for bed. I'll be right upstairs."
You mutter a thanks and go upstairs. Sometimes you wonder if you have fallen in love with him already. Joel is so thoughtful and sweet to you. He never once raises his voice at you, even when his mood is sour. And he makes your life ten times easier to live.
The door to his room creaks when you open it. You walk toward the drawer in his room and smile when you stare at a picture of him and Sarah that he still keeps, and next to it, a picture of him and Ellie.
It always fills you with bliss to know how full of love your husband actually is. His heart is soft, though his past is rough.
You open the drawer and grab one of your modest nightgowns before walking into the bathroom to have a quick shower. But then you stop on your track as an idea forms in your head. You go back to the drawer that is filled with your nightgowns and underwear, then you grab one that you have not worn once since you got married.
It is a short nightgown. A really short one. The fabric is white and so thin that it is kind of see-through.
You have only worn modest nightgowns every other night, but tonight you have a plan.
After your shower, you expect to see Joel already in bed, but he is not. So you walk out of the bedroom and spot him at the carving table. He is working on the wooden bear you requested a couple of days ago, carving the wood with full concentration.
You notice how handsome Joel looks right now. He has always been attractive. You were just in denial at first because he was a real grumpy old man. But he is not as grumpy anymore, at least not to you.
"Hey... I thought you were already in bed," you mutter, making him turn to look at you.
The moment Joel sets his eyes on you, his eyes widen as he drops the wooden bear from his hand to the floor. "Sweetheart..." he murmurs.
"You drop the bear," you say before leaning down to grab it and give it back to him, "Here."
Joel blinks before taking the wooden bear from your hand. "Thanks, baby," he mutters, then puts it on the table. He turns to look at you again, "Your nightgown..." he freezes for a second before continuing, "It's real pretty."
"You think so? It's not too revealing?" you ask, teasing him while acting innocent.
You can see the blush forming on his cheeks, creeping down his neck.
Joel clears his throat before answering, "It's not if it's only for bedtime. It's real pretty on you."
"Okay..." you say as you hold back a laugh. "You wanna go to bed with me or... continue carving the bear?"
"C'mon, let's go to bed," he says, leading you by your waist.
You are unsure if you are teasing him or testing yourself. The way he puts his hand on your waist as he leads you to bed makes your insides all flutter. It's just a simple gesture, but the butterflies in your stomach go wild.
You watch him take off his watch and put it on the nightstand. The watch that stopped working around the time he lost his daughter, Sarah, in the earlier outbreak. He told you about that one night when you two stared at the ceiling while being vulnerable to each other.
You two slowly peeled back each other's trauma and talked it through during the nights you spent together as you got to know each other better. And it did feel great to have someone to talk to about it without feeling any regret afterward. You cried when you told him about yours, but he listened to you, and somehow the old man managed to make you laugh so loud that you had tears from laughing too much just two minutes later. Then he held you until you fell asleep in his big arms.
"Joel."
He turns to look at you after putting his watch down on the nightstand. "Yeah, baby?"
You say nothing else before you tiptoe up to kiss him on the lips. Joel kisses you back immediately as he puts one of his palms on your cheek and the other on the back of your head.
The kiss lasts for a while until you end up lying on the bed with him on top of you, his forehead on yours, and you both gasp for air.
"Joel... I want you."
He pulls back a bit to look at you better. "You ready f'me?"
You nod desperately and try to kiss him again, but he pulls back this time, making you frown at him.
Joel gets up from the bed and stares down at you lying on his sheets, all flushed. "Give me a sec, honey. I gotta appreciate how pretty my wife is."
That makes you chuckle. "Come back here..." you whine as you reach for him.
He smiles at your whine and gets closer to touch your stomach through the thin nightgown with his fingertips, making you gasp. The way his fingertips brush against your stomach through the nightgown gives you goosebumps all over.
"You look like an angel in this nightgown. And the pretty little bow... makes you look like a gift sent straight from heaven, f'me to unwrap."
"Joel..."
"I know, baby. I know," he mutters before pulling his undershirt over his head.
Your eyes widen at the sight. It is not your first time seeing his upper body bare like this, but it still surprises you to see how good he looks for a man his age. You stare at his salt-and-pepper happy trail, which leads to under his pants. Hell, there is a bulge there now.
And somehow it gives you more ideas to make it up to him since he has been so patient with you all this time. You want to make him feel good physically, as he did you emotionally so many times before.
"Joel..." you murmur, feeling nervous before you admit. "I wanna suck your cock."
The shame gets to you right after you said it loudly. Even Joel looks surprised at that.
"Honey..." Joel murmurs, getting closer to you again, then caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers. "You serious?"
"Yes."
"Alright," he reaches to take off his pants and briefs, finally showing you his hard dick for the first time.
Your face lights up as you stare at how huge it is, and you get on all fours on the bed in an instant, crawling closer to his veiny dick as he stands near the bed.
You palm his dick, already leaking on the tip, then smile at him. "Can I?"
Joel smiles back at you. "Wait, c'mere," he says before leaning down to kiss your lips deeply, making you melt as you close your eyes at the feeling, still on all fours. Then he pulls back and kisses your nose softly before pulling away to position his dick back in front of your face. "Okay, have at it, sweetheart."
You hold the base and kiss the tip before putting the head in your mouth. It is the biggest you ever put in your mouth. His girth, his length. Hell, even his balls are huge.
"Fuck..." Joel groans when you put his dick deeper in your mouth.
You take him even deeper until it hits the back of your throat, making you gag. Then you pull away on instinct and look up at him with teary eyes.
"Hey..." Joel reaches to cup your cheek, "you okay, baby?" he asks in a concerned tone, and you nod.
"I'm okay."
"You ain't gotta put it all inside your mouth, sweetheart," he caresses your cheek with his thumb. "Jus' suck the tip and stroke the rest with your hand, s'fine."
You do as he tells you for a while. But to Joel's surprise, you manage to almost put it all inside your mouth even when tears fall down your cheeks.
Joel groans at the feeling. This feels so unreal to him. His sweet wife is making every effort to take him all the way in her mouth. And fuck if it does not make him closer to blowing up his load deep in your throat.
When Joel feels you start sucking his balls while stroking his dick with your hand, then back at sucking his tip, he is losing it.
He accidentally starts spilling his cum all over your face as he grips your hair a little rough, making you gasp. It spills on your lips, your tongue, your chin, your nose, one side of your cheeks, and even some on your forehead.
"Goddamn..." Joel groans, "fuckâ baby, m'sorry. I'm so sorry," he murmurs as he pulls his dick away from your face and looks down at you with full concern.
Joel stares at your face in regret and worry. His sweet young wife is all messy with his cum. He did not mean to cum so fast, nor did he mean to spill his cum all over you like this.
Now he feels bad because he made a mess all over your face, and he knows he cannot get it up again, at least not for a while. Fuck, he feels so guilty for being so old.
But to his surprise, you smile at him. "It's okay," you say.
"No, it's not okay. I'm real sorry, sweetheart," he mutters as he tries to wipe the cum off your face with his thumb, but then you clasp his hand and suck on his thumb instead.
He stares down at you in surprise.
"It's okay, Joel," you mutter, "I like it."
Joel shakes his head, but then he sighs and smiles at you. "I owe ya two or three orgasms at least 'cause of all this, darlin'. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up first. S'the least I could do for now."
You laugh at that. "Hmm, 'kay. I'm not complaining."
He prepares a hot bath for you and gives you privacy as he looks away, facing the wall when you take your nightgown off before getting in the bathtub. You really appreciate how he always gives you privacy, despite being married.
"I'll wait outside, alright?"
"You don't want to join?" you ask, looking up at him from the bath.
"Do ya want me to?" he asks, and you nod. "Alright. Scoot over, darlin'."
Joel gets in the tub and groans when he puts you on his lap, straddling him. He can see your tits fully bare now in front of him, glistening from the water. Your cheeks are slightly flushed now, either from the hot bath or from how intimate this night turns out to be.
He had cleaned up your face with water and soap earlier, saying that he felt so guilty seeing you all messy because of him, while you just giggled from the feeling of his calloused hand on your skin.
"I know you wanted to fuck, sweetheart..." Joel murmurs, "and I'm real sorry I can't get it up yet. Not after I came that hard. Guess it's jus' 'cause of how old I am," he caresses your cheek with his thumb, "m'sorry 'cause I'm so old, baby."
You shake your head at that. "No... don't be. I enjoyed it too, Joel. And I don't mind at all. I like that I could make you feel good."
He chuckles. "You're jus' too sweet. How could I get so lucky to have you as my wife, huh?"
You run your fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Could it be that you and me are the lucky ones?"
Joel smiles and pulls you to him to kiss your lips. Then his kiss trails down to your neck, and down to your breast. You moan as you hold onto the back of his head. He licks one nipple, then looks up at you. "I taste soap," he mutters, "I didn't know you would taste like soap, darlin'."
You make a face for a while before laughing hard when you realize he made a joke. "That is so fucking lame, Joel," you say before splashing his face with water.
He laughs and shrugs. "It made you laugh, honey. Means it's a good one."
"I laugh at everything. Doesn't change the fact that you tell bad jokes."
After a bath and lots of laughter later, Joel helps you put on a towel around your body as you get up from the tub, and he accidentally gets a glimpse of your pussy for the first time. He did feel you on top of him during the bath, but he had not seen it properly. Not like this.
Fucking hell, he thinks. Now he feels like he just wants to fuck that pussy of yours with his dick. Not that he can do it anytime soon, though. Thanks to his old age.
When you walk toward your drawer, Joel pulls you to him. "No need to wear anythin', honey. C'mon, jus' get on your back on the bed," he watches you do as he says. Lying on your back with the towel still wrapped around your body. "Still as pretty as an angel, even in a damn towel," he murmurs as he stares down at you.
You smile at him.
"Can I unwrap this towel from my beautiful wife?"
"Yes."
The moment Joel sets eyes on your fully naked body, spread on the bed before him, he feels his old man's dick stir a little under his towel. He caresses your ankle before pulling it to his lips and kissing it. Then he rubs your foot against the salt-and-pepper stubble on his handsome face, making you bite your bottom lip at the sight.
Then he kisses your calf before bending your knees toward your chest, then spreads your legs in front of him, with his eyes all over you. You shiver beneath him. You can see the flames reflected in his eyes.
"Fuck if this ain't the prettiest pussy I've ever seen in my life," Joel murmurs. "Can I?" he asks for your permission.
You never nod so fast in your life.
Joel kisses your pussy. Then he sniffs on it while he rubs his stubble on your sensitive part.
You moan at the feeling. "Joelâ" you grab at his hair, making him smile as he looks up at you.
Joel finally slides his tongue upward in one lingering stroke, licking you as if he were hungry for it. He sucks on your clit until you grab the sheets so hard while shaking.
"Hmm, s'wet enough now," he mutters before licking the two of his fingers and putting them inside you all the way to the knuckles. "I do okay?" he asks, looking up at you as he fingers you.
You nod and grab at his hair again as you get closer and closer to your orgasm. When he curls his fingers and nudges that spot while sucking on your clit, you are done. You cum on his mouth and fingers.
Joel smiles, licking the sweet nectar, his salt-and-pepper stubble wet as he pulls back from you to remove the towel from his lower waist. His old man's dick is finally half-hard.
"Do you want my help?" you ask as you come down from the high.
"S'okay, baby. I'm jus' gonna rub my cock on ya for a while. You mind?"
"Go ahead," you smile.
He rubs his half-hard dick on your wet pussy. Getting it all lubed up from your wetness. Then he jerks off with his hand, using your wetness as lube. "M'sorry, honey. S'not that you don't turn me on. My damn dick is jus' as old as me," he mutters.
"It's fine. Come here," you reach for him. He leans down to devour your lips while his hand keeps jerking himself off for a while until he is finally fully hard.
When Joel aligns his hard dick to your leaking hole, your breath hitches. You know it is going to feel like your first time again, having that huge dick inside you. You know his size would stretch you so good it hurts. But you are so wet now, and you really want your husband.
Only halfway in, Joel already feels how tight your pussy is gripping his dick. He can feel your wetness, your warmth, the tightness of it all around his dick. He looks down to stare at it. "Fuck, sweetheart. Your drippin' pussy looks so good around this old man's cock. Look at 'er suckin' me in."
But when he looks up at your face, you are wincing as if you are in pain. He stops his movement and reaches to touch your face. "Honey... you okay? Am I hurtin' ya?" he caresses your cheek, "You want us to stop?"
"Don't stop."
Joel feels your pussy clench even more when he leans down to kiss your cheek. "She wettin' my cock so good, baby. Fuck..." he whispers as he keeps thrusting in and out of you, still halfway in. He pulls back to stare at your pussy again before spitting on your swollen clit and pushing an inch deeper.
"Joel..."
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Feels so good," you whisper, moaning when he puts his cock deeper. "Hurts a little, but I want it all in me, Joel," you beg, "wanna feel all of you."
A few thrusts later, Joel finally manages to bottom out in you. He groans when he feels his dick nudging your spot. "Holy fuck..." he mutters when you cum on his dick for the first time after he scratches that spot of yours over and over.
Your second orgasm of the night makes you feel lightheaded as you feel Joel still thrusting in and out of you in a steady movement.
"I feel sleepy, Joel," you mutter as you look up at Joel, and he slows his movement a bit. Then you continue, "Maybe we should've done this on our wedding night instead of drinking that raw milk, huh?"
That makes him chuckle. He leans down to kiss your lips, resting his forehead against yours while thrusting into you harder, making you gasp.
"I'm so close, baby. Where do ya want me to cum?" he asks between thrusts.
"Inside me?" you offer.
His eyes darken at that as he stares down at you. "You serious, darlin'?"
"Yeah. Can we?"
Joel smiles. "I'll do anythin' you ask me to, honey. I'm all yours."
You wake up late the next day. It is almost noon when you go downstairs after you pull on a sweater and jeans, finding the house completely empty. You feel bad because now the breakfast that Joel prepared for you earlier has gone cold.
After you finish eating your meal, you wash the dishes in the sink when you hear the sound of him walking into the house. Just from the sound of the footsteps, you know it is him. Your husband.
The art of knowing. You smile to yourself when you think about it. The way you always know the sound of his footsteps around the house, notice the silhouette of his wide shoulder. The way you search for him in the crowd when you hear his voice from afar. The way a smile appears on his stern face when he sees your angelic one.
"Hey, darlin'."
You turn to look at him. "Hey..." you say with a smile. Then you reach out to grab a mug you are going to wash, but Joel stops you and grabs the mug first.
"I got it, honey. Jus' sit down. I'll finish the dishes."
"No, it's fine. I can do it on my own. You just got home anyway."
You try to take the mug from him, but he puts it up high in the air, out of your reach. Joel chuckles, seeing your annoyed face as you turn to wash your hands. He finally puts down the mug and circles his arms around your waist, brushing your hair to the side as he kisses your neck from behind. You giggle from the feeling of his stubble rubbing your skin. He keeps tickling your neck with his stubble until you yield.
"Okay, okay..." you laugh, "fine. Wash the damn mug if you want it that bad. Ugh, you're gonna get us both wet."
"I don't mind gettin' wet 'cause of ya," he chuckles.
You eye him. "Yeah, right," you mutter before opening one of the cabinets. "I'm gonna make coffee. You want some?"
But the feelings you are feeling now are a lot different from last month.
You two are chatting about what Joel did earlier today. He tells you that he did construction work with Tommy for the community. And one thing leads to another, you end up telling him the story about how you hunt Tommy around his house with a kitchen knife the day after he told you to go on a date with Joel.
"You did?" he asks in disbelief. You nod, and he chuckles. Then he shakes his head as he puts down his mug on the table. "Makes me think of our first date," he mutters.
"What of it?" you ask, taking a sip.
"You called me Mr. Miller," he chuckles. "It was the most ridiculous thing ever. I've never once gone on a date with a woman and got called Mr. Miller before you."
"I had to respect the elderly," you shrug.
Joel laughs so loud at that. "Oh, honey. That mouth of yours."
You smile at him then. "I was just being polite, calling you that. To be fair, we were not even friends back then, and you are a lot older than me, so..."
"Yeah, I know," he leans his head against the backrest of the couch, pulling you closer to him, and squeezes you into his big arms. "I thought you were real sweet back then. And hell, you laughed at my dumb jokes. Maybe that's the real reason I asked you to marry me right away."
You roll your eyes at his smirk but chuckle.
Joel brushes his thumb along your cheek. "I think I'm fallin' in love with ya."
Your heart nearly stops beating when you hear his confession.
He clears his throat and continues, "Think I was already in love with ya during those days we spent together. I honestly don't know when it started, sweetheart."
"Joel..." you murmur as you look up at him.
"You ain't gotta say nothin', baby. M'not tryin' to pressure ya on anythin'."
You hug him without saying a word. Joel smiles and hugs you back. You nuzzle him closer until you end up straddling him, and he puts his big hands around your waist.
You kiss his lips until the skin near your mouth reddens from his stubble as you grind on top of him. When you finally pull back, Joel notices the redness on your skin. "Damn it, sweetheart. You're all red 'cause of me."
"I love you, Joel."
The moment the words come out of your lips, Joel feels the world stop spinning around him. His mind goes blank, and he suddenly hears the ocean crashing against the shore in his head while the violins begin to play.
And then he blinks.
And there you are. His wife. The light of his life, staring deep into his eyes after confessing the words he was longing to hear.
A second later, you are pinned under him on the couch while he devours your lips. Kissing all over your face, making you giggle. Inhaling the scent of your neck while his hand travels down to unbutton your jeans.
"Wait, wait... Joelâ what if someone walks in?" you ask, gasping from all his affection.
"I locked the doors," he mutters.
"But are you sure?"
Joel pulls away from you and gets up without another word to check on the doors. "Already locked," he hollers from the hallway.
You smile when he walks back toward you on the couch while unbuckling his belt, then unbuttons his jeans. You notice how attractive he looks right now. The sleeves of his flannel shirt pushed up to his forearms. The watch on his wrist. This view in front of you definitely drenches your panties.
"C'mere," Joel mutters as he sits back on the couch, his jeans and briefs pooling around his ankles. He helps you undress before positioning you on his lap.
"Me on top?" you ask, feeling unsure but aroused.
"Only if ya want to," he murmurs.
"I want to," you answer before helping him put his hard, leaking dick inside of you. "Oooh, fuck..." you curse when his dick is halfway in.
"Atta girl, darlin'," Joel murmurs as he helps you bounce on him slow at first. "You look so pretty bouncin' on my cock," he smiles at you. "My pretty wife. Doin' so good f'me."
The way he says those words makes you even wetter. Joel keeps helping you move on top of him until he finally bottoms out.
You moan hard at the feeling. "It's so deep, Joel."
"It is," he murmurs, "I can see the bulge on your lower belly."
You are too concentrated on chasing the feeling that you ignore him as you put your hands on his chest and bounce on his dick harder.
Joel gets so turned on seeing you like this. He lets go of you and leans back on the couch while looking up at you bouncing on his dick. "Yes, baby... fuck," he groans, feeling your warmth around him. "Ride me, my precious cowgirl," he murmurs. "Ride me all ya want."
The sound of your wetness around him is obscene.
You fall on his chest when you finally cum on his dick as he helps you grind your swollen clit on his pubic hair with his dick buried deep inside you, making you cum even harder from the sensation. He strokes your back with his calloused hand while whispering sweet words in your ear. His other hand is grabbing your ass cheek playfully.
"Did I ever tell you that you have a very nice ass?"
You look up at him from his chest and laugh at that.
After a minute or two, Joel pats your butt, "C'mon, lie on your stomach, baby. I wanna see my wife's perfect ass when I'm poundin' 'er drippin' pussy with my cock."
You hold onto the cushion as you lie on your stomach on the couch, facing the fireplace.
Joel leans down to bite your ass cheeks playfully before positioning himself behind you. "Fuck me..." he groans when he thrusts into you, bottoming out in one go. "So fuckin' wet f'me. Pussy takin' me so good," he murmurs before kissing your shoulder. His thrusts get harder as he pounds into you. "I ain't gonna last long now, baby. Where do ya want me to cum, hm?" he whispers into your ear.
"Inside me."
Joel grabs your face with his hand to look into your eyes. "You do realize if we keep fillin' that pussy of yours with my cum, we gonna end up with a bunch of little Millers sooner rather'n later, right?"
Heat creeps into your cheeks.
"Y'want me to make you a momma, darlin'?" he asks, his dick swelling inside you as the words leave his mouth.
You cannot think straight because of how much you are feeling right now. But the thought of giving Joel Miller a baby...
"Can we have one?" you ask, feeling nervous if he denies it because of his age.
Joel grins. "Anything you want, honey. One is fine," he kisses your lips briefly before whispering, "though ten more is tempting..."
You laugh, and he taps on your nose before starting to thrust in and out, deep until he hits that spot inside you again.
"Joel..." you moan, "Iâ I'm close again."
To your surprise, Joel wraps his hand around your throat as he pounds into you harder from behind. "This okay?" he asks, and you moan yes, yes, yes into the cushion before creaming around his dick as you reach your second orgasm. The feeling of your warmth around him makes him start spilling his cum deep inside you. "Oh, darlin', fuuuckâ" he groans as his dick pulses inside you, shooting ropes of his seed. A broken moan you have never heard before slips from his lips as he fills your womb with his cum.
The two of you go quiet for a minute as you both catch your breath, with his weight pinning you down, until you tell him to get off because he is crushing you into the couch.
Joel chuckles when you settle back onto the couch, legs lifted against the backrest. "Don't laugh," you mutter, "this is supposed to help increase the chances of getting pregnant, I think."
"Alright, Mrs. Miller," he teases. "Y'want my baby that bad, huh?"
You turn to look at him, half smiling. "Don't call me that. You make it sound like I'm a hundred years old."
Your husband laughs at that before placing a blanket around your naked body and leaning down to kiss your nose. "I would still adore you when you're a hundred years old, sweetheart," he chuckles, "though, I'm sure as hell gonna miss that pretty ass of yours."
You chuckle and gently caress his scars. A flicker of surprise crosses his rough face. "Honey..." he murmurs.
"I think you're gonna be a great dad..." You paused, looking into his eyes, "You're a real good dad to Ellie, as I am sure you were a good dad to Sarah," you mutter. "You might not be a good man for what you did, but you've always been a good dad... and a good husband to me."
Joel says nothing, but he smiles at you as he caresses your cheek with his fingers.
You smile back, looking up at him from your position, then grab his fingers toward your lips and kiss the wedding ring on his finger, the one that matches yours. "I thought this kind of love's never meant that much to me, Joel..." you murmur, "guess I was wrong," placing the back of his fingers on your cheek as you look into his eyes, you continue, "It means everything to me if it's with you."
"Sweetheart..." Joel whispers, tears forming in his eyes as he puts both palms on your cheeks. "You mean everything to me. I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you, baby. Not after everythin' I've been through. But now I can't even imagine life without you in it."
Joel hugs you in his arms so tight, like he never wants to let go. And you smile as you hug him back, feeling content and full of love.
For the first time, the future days no longer seem so scary. Because you have him. Your Mr. Miller. Your husband.
Nothing worries you anymore. Not with Joel Miller beside you. Not with this kind of love.
Um... okay... I'm not okay... When I wrote this, I had so many emotions all at once. I felt excited most of the time, but also sad when I wrote the part with Joel and Ellie. It was like reliving Part II, but with my own ending, I don't know. I didn't mean this to be 9.4k words so sorry. This was supposed to be a special one for my birthday on January 12, and I didn't expect it to be this long.
I'd love it if you leave a note on what you think about this. Reblog would be appreciated. Love y'all! đ€
Fun fact: I wrote The Older Miller for my birthday actually, but I couldn't help but post it because I was so excited when I finished it, so yeah. I'm glad that I posted it on November tho, 'cause it gave me so much motivation to finish my thesis.
includes/tags: slowburn, eventual smut, use of y/n, reader is in a relationship(theres no cheating), no outbreak au, takes place in austin texas, joel is 38, reader is 33,tommy is 34, heavy angst(will get more specific), physical abuse(not from joel or parents), the miller brothers and reader grew up together(close in age, nothing weird lol!!), not proofread(sorry),more specific tags will come by chapter to avoid spoilers, wc 5.3k
an: all comments are appreciated, any feedback is welcome aswellđ«¶đŒ
ACROSS THE BAY
A heavy thud of the last box managed to bring a smile to your face despite all the exhaustion. Before you could even catch your breath, you heard that familiar rattle of a certain red truck pulling up your driveway. You prepared for the wrath that would most definetly come the moment you stepped outside. To your surprise, it sounded like there was more than just your daddy's truck outside.
The floors creaked as you stepped over a few boxes for the living room, you gave the heavy door a yank. The humidity made the wood of the doors swell, making them require some elbow grease to get cracked open.
As predicted, your Daddy stood in your driveway with one hand on his hip and the other lifted up pointing at you.
"Now, I recall you tellin' me to come by at six to help you unback...if that's trueâwhich it is, why the hell is the moving truck empty??" He snapped at you as you took steps down your porch.
"I missed you too Daddy," you smiled while raising your arms, ready to hug him when you reached him.
He huffed in annoyance but hugged you back of course, as you we're hugging and smiling you heard the sound of another car door shutting. You looked up and right behind your dad's truck, you saw them. The Miller brothers, in the flesh. Tommy got out first, his white shirt tucked into his work jeans and when you broke from the hug you rushed over to Tommy to greet him the same.
"Tommy! How are ya'?" you squealed while trying to squeeze the life out of him.
"Doin' better than your Daddy is...he's gonna kill you for unpacking without 'em," he chuckled with a firm arm around your lower back.
"He'll be alright." you brushed off while pulling back, you looked over at their blue truck where you saw Joel Miller leaning against the hood with his arms crossed over his chest.
Then there was Joel, broad shoulders and firm chest, standing tall with his dark disheveled hair. He had more fine lines by his eyes then you remember but his nature was still the same, his lips pressed into a fine line with the twitch of his brow.
"Guess we made the drive for nothin'," he grumbled at the sight of the empty moving truck.
"Oh poor you, a fifteen minute drive was too hard on your old bones!" you pouted teasingly, poking fun at him and he just rolled his eyes.
"Missed you too grumpy," you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth to which he just grunted in response.
"Where's uh...Markâno, Mason?" your dad questioned from behind and you turned around with an forced weak smile.
"Miles, Daddy...and uh, he had plans," you chewed the inside of your cheek, trying to speak low enough that your dad would just brush it off.
"Now I know you didn't just say what I thought you did...'cause if you did, that means that you moved all your stuff inside by yourself. Tell me I'm wrong, pumpkin," his brows furrowed dangerously and he got that look on his face that still made you terrified even at your age.
Now it wasn't just him looking at you. In your silence, even Tommy's brows raised in surprise and Joel turned his head as they all waited for you tell them you misspoke.
"It's not a big deal...I'm grown, I can move a few boxesâ" you tried explaining but none of them we're having that, your dad approached you fast and Joel stood up straight with his arms still against his chest.
"Are you serious? He let you move all this shit in yourself?!" Tommy exclaimed and you just started whistiling and looking away from them all.
"Well anyway! You guy's hungry? I'm hungry!" you clapped your hands together in an attempt to change the subject but it proved a failure.
"Yeah, I bet you are. Get in the damn truck," your dad scoffed loudly and Tommy shot you a look of both concern and dissaproval, even he knew.
If you hadn't stopped that habit a lot time ago, you'd be biting all your damn nails off right about now. You hurried back to the house to the lock the door, both trucks we're already on by the time you we're hurrying back to your dad's truck. You shut the door as you sat down and he pulled the car back, Joel following behind to the resturaunt.
It's not like he needed directions, you always went to the same mom and pop resturant only about twenty minutes away when you came down to visit. Except this time you we're visiting, you'd move back down to Austin, Texas in the same neighborhood as your dad(and Tommy and Joel for that matter).
You looked out the window the whole drive there, your dad as silent as can be with only a few groans and scoffs as the thought of you moving everything in replays in his mind. You know better than to poke the bear, at least not while he's driving. Your jean shorts feel tighter than before and your red tank top is stuck to your skin, you have to get used to it all over again but deep down, your body knows home.
When you get the restaurant, you sit at the same booth in the corner you're always at. Tommy sits across from you and Joel next to him, your dad's got you boxed in like a fox to the hounds. They're all looking at you, waiting for you to tell them that you've already dumped your boyfriend but you have no such news.
So instead of letting the awkward silence give you a heart attack, you pick up the menu that you havent picked up in over twenty years and pretend like you're looking for something. Tommy is the first one to break, the first one to laugh.
"Don't think I've seen you or any of us pick up a damn menu at this place," he chuckled and you sighed with defeat.
"I'm using it as a shield from the death stares I'm getting," you murmured until he reached forward and set the menu down on the table.
"I know what you guys are waiting to here but it's...it's not happening, alright?" you huff with a dramatic shake of your head.
"What's the point of havin' a man in the house if you're bringing in those boxes by yourself, huh?" your dad questions firmly, his voice as sharp as his mind.
"Well...he wasn't in the house so that doesn't apply," you chirped happily but when you saw three unmoved faces, your smile ceased.
"First you tell us the wrong time to help you unpack then I find out you're doin' all the work. I'll tell ya, sweet pea...your guy's not makin' a good impression with me," he shook his head and you cringed.
You looked over at Tommy, hoping maybe someone at this table wouldn't think this was worse than it was. He too was looking at you dissaprovingly. Your last hope was Joel, he'd always been a grumpy guy, even growing up as kids he was like that so you hoped he'd just have his normal grumpy expression. But he didn't. He looked just as pissed at your dad.
"I know...I know, Miles just like to do things a certain way and he has work tommorow so he's not even in town. He's a good guy, I swear," you assured him, putting a gentle hand on your dad's shoulder.
He immedietly squints, the wrinkles of time deepening with the moment of silence he takes. You're beyond confused so you look over at Tommy, he's rubbing his hand over his forehead and Joel chuckled and looks off to the side.
"What? Why're you guys lookin' like that?" you hummed curiously.
"He's not in town?" he questioned and clasped his hands together.
"No...he had a work thing so he's flying in tommorow morning, the buttcrack of dawn basicallyâ"
"You drove twenty fucking hours here by yourself?! And that fucker is flying in?" the thundrrous rasps of your father's voice sends shivers down your spine and you slowly remove your hand from his shoulder.
"Coulda asked one of us to pick 'ya up, stupid." Tommy comments and you start chewing your inner cheek again.
"Your Momma is gonna kill me," he groans and rubs his hands over his tired face.
"Wait why? I don't get it...he had a work thing so he couldn't drive here and make it in time for tomorrow, it only makes sense to fly..." you expressed and shortly after the regular waiter brought over your usual drinks.
"We'll have three beers," Joel adds onto the order and Tommy nods to that with a slight chuckle.
"What about me? I want a beerâ"
"You get a beer when you break up with that fuckface, pumpkin'," your dad cuts in and you sigh dramatically.
"You guys haven't even met him yet! Give him a chance!"
"We did. He already flunked the first test...flunked with flyin' colors," Tommy teased and you rolled your eyes.
"The guys in California are just different...you guys just aren't used to men like that but it's normal, I swear," you shrugged and this time Tommy's the one who made a face.
"When we we're thirteen, you broke your boyfriends nose for not holding the door open for you. Now you're okay with how this asshole's treatin' ya and expect us to be too?" the beers we're brought back to the table and the waiter didn't even have to take your orders, the food was already being made.
"That was differentâthis is different." you shook your head with a meek reply.
"How?" Tommy questions and Joel directions his attention elsewhere, probably to the football game on the tv behind you.
"I dunno it's just...it's just different, alright? It's more complicated than dating was at thirteen," you sighed in frustration and starting fumbiling with your fingers.
A long silence set over the table, you didn't know what kinds of faces they were making but you knew they were there. It was obvious that you we're upset about the whole thing, there wasn't much you could hide from your dad or the two brothers you'd grown up with your whole life.
"You pregnant?" Tommy questions plainly, taking a long sip of his beer and your eyes flash wide open.
Your dad's head practically snaps off the way he whips it around and Joel damn near chokes on his beer.
"No! What the hell?!"
"Had to ask. 'ts the only reason I can come up with to why you'd be actin' like this," Tommy comments and pulls his beer back up to his lips.
"He's a good guy...just trust me, he is." you expressed without having it in you to look them in the eye.
Nobody said anything, if there was one thing about everyone at this table it's that sugarcoating was not in their vocabulary. Your dad just shook his head while waiting for the food while Tommy and Joel focused on the game, it was like that until the food came.
"Well you gonna tell us about California or what? Better not be no damn 49er fan...then we'll really be pissed," Tommy joked, breaking the ice into conversation.
You laughed at that and started telling them about your time there. You mainy talked about your corprate job, how much you hated it but loved the salary. You went on and on about the weather and the beaches of course but when you noticed your dad tensing up you made sure to mention how happy you were to be back.
"Can't wait to be back on the ranch...how's Maple doing, daddy?" you hummed sweetly to try and get him to stop being so upset.
"Told you not to name that damn bull...then got the damn nerve to give him a name like that," he shakes his head dissaprovingly but you can see the smile peeking through.
"He's doin' just fine. Gettin' all the ladies...few heifers should be due soon. I'm sure you'll love helpin' out with that," he joked and you cringed again with a shake of your head.
"I'll stick to the chickens," you laughed before popping a fry in your mouth.
"We'll see about that," he grumbled and you rolled your eyes.
"Oh yeah our dad said he's sorry he couldn't come help. He's on pie duty,"
"Ms.Callie's got him on pie duty? I think I'd pay to see him rollin' out pie dough," you joked playfully and Tommy raised his beer to that.
"You should stop by anyway, momma hasn't stopped talkin' about you since...well since you left," he informed and you nodded excitedly.
"How's Sarah?" you hummed, looking to make some conversation with the statue at the end of the booth.
"Good. Just left for college," he answered blankly and your eyes got all wide and round.
"You're kidding!"
"Nope. He's been a stick in the mud all month about it," Tommy teased and you couldn't help but smile.
"Have not." Joel groaned.
"Well give me her mailing address, I wanna get her a few things for college," you insisted and Joel shook his head.
"She don't need all thatâ"
"Well it's a good thing I don't give a shit what you think. Send me 'er address!" you insisted and he rolled his eyes before giving in with a head nod.
You finished up eating and talking together within the hour, the plan was to still go over to the Miller's old house so that meant heading back the twenty minutes. Your dad parked his truck in the neverending driveway, it stretched out real far.
There we're only four houses on the compound, land stretched out for miles to account for the two ranches and farmland. Tommy didn't live on the compound though he might as well have for how often he came by. Joel lived on the compound with Sarah and you had your own place, abandoned as it was orignally was supposed to be for Tommy but he moved out.
You got out the car, the screen door swung open on the porch and the squeals of the Miller's momma and your own graced your ears. You rushed up the steps so fast your dad thought you we're going to trip, you practically jumped on them to hug them.
"It's been too long my sweet girl! Too long!" Ms.Callie exclaimed as your own mom was squeezing you half to death.
"Missed my baby. We made your favorite,"
"Hey I helped!' Jim, Tommy and Joel's dad, shouted from inside the house, to which you laughed as you walked in together.
"Holy hell you've grown up! 'Bout taller than me, ain't cha?" Jim teased before embracing you warmly.
"Just 'bout. I think I'll be ridin' the horses better than you too at this rate," you boasted proudly and he dramatically put his hand over his heart.
"I'll have a heart attack the day that happens,"
"Hey!" Callie swatted his arm and the Miller boys we're the last ones to step inside.
"Save all that swattin' for her. She deserves it, this one," your dad pointed at you and you shut your eyes with a drop of your shoulders.
You don't know who you we're fooling thinking that he wouldn't bring up Miles. The match had already been struck and it was spreading like wildfire, before they can even ask, he starts telling them about how you unpacked by yourself, drove by yourself and that Miles wasn't even here.
"Have you lost your mind?! What if you'd been kidnapped driving here by yourself?!" Callie snaps at you before your own mother.
"Kidnapped in my own car?" you repeated back to her and both Joel and Tommy started laughing from the couch.
"Oh you know what she means!"Your mother gave you a gentle swat at your arm.
"It wasn't that bad, I swear! It was nice to have some peace and quiet before y'know...coming here," you joked and while you found it funny, they didn't seem to.
"He's a good man, I swear," you assured them and your dad plopped down in the recliner loudly.
"She keeps sayin' that but I don't buy it." he scratched his cheek while you stood there awkwardly.
"How about tommorow we all do something together? Then you can meet him and see how good he is to me!" you suggested and this time it was Jim who laughed.
"Well duh. Everytime you come to visit, we barbeque, don't we? He'd better be there, I wanna meet this fella," he nods firmly and you smile as things seem like they're looking up.
"Great. It's settled then," you breathed. "Now take me to this pie," you bargained and Callie locked her arm into yours and your mom did the same to your other arm while leading you to the kitchen.
---
You slept on the creaky old couch that was definitely too old and most certaintly would be thrown out. After eating more pie than you should've the way your stomach was stuffed, you passed out the moment you got home. Now you we're waking up to the consequences of your own actions.
You we're surrounded by boxes, groaning as you got up you realized you had some missed calls from Mile's so you called him back. He picked up on the first ring.
"Heyâ"
"I texted you the address of the hotel I'm staying at...you said the wifi isn't good out there, right?" he questioned as you we're still groggy from just waking up.
"It comes and goes..." you mumbled and he just groaned.
"When it's fixed, I'll come out there and stay in the house."
"Oh...waitâokay but my family is having this barbeque, you can come to that right? They really want to meet you," you expressed and adjusted yourself on the couch.
"Of course. Wouldn't miss it, text me the time...I've gotta meeting I need to get to," he rushed off and ended the call before you could reply.
You opened your texts and sent him the time, telling him to come around four. The couch creaked as you stood up and all the creaking and moaning of the wood made it hard for you to hear the soft knock from your front door. You hopped over a few boxes just to get to the front door(that you still had to yank open from the humidity).
To your surprise, Tommy and Joel we're standing there side by side with a whole bunch of crap in their truck. You raised a brow as you looked between them and Tommy thinned his lips into a awkward expression.
"Gonna let us in or what?"
"Ohâyeah...sure but why are you two here?" you stepped out of the way, though that didn't do much since they still had to find space on the floor that wasn't covered by boxes.
"Here to help you with all the shit you don't wanna do...plumping, wires, eletrical shit outside,"
"Oh so all the fun stuff?" you remarked sarcastically and even Joel didn't believe you, he scoffed lightly.
You thought the gesture was nice at first, until the thought sat with you a moment. The events of last night made you cross your arms over your chest. They we're insulting you(more like insulting Miles).
"You two don't think Miles can do any of this stuff for me, do you?" you remarked and Joel coughed like he was clearing his throat meanwhile Tommy shifted his gaze to the floor.
"Nope. Get out," you opened the door right back up and of course it gave you trouble, you had to awkwardly use both hands and with all your might you got it open.
"There's no shame in askin' for help," Tommy reminded you and if you we're younger, you'd of wresteled him onto the floor for that.
"Well I'm not asking. Miles is perfectly capable of doing this stuff for me when he gets here, thank you very much." You stood your ground, biting back the lie you'd already spilled.
"Guess we'll see about that, huh Joel?" Tommy joked with a nudge to his brother before walking out.
Joel never tried to hide his laughter, he laughed right as he wa walking out with his toolbox and you slammed the door shut. Stubborn and prideful, those had always been your biggest issues and now you we're suffering the consequences. You had absolutely no idea if Miles knew how to do any of this stuff(even if he did he wouldn't be half as good or quick as the Miller's).
But instead of being pissy about it, you did what you did best and ignored your problems. You picked up a box labeled "CLOTHES" and took it right on upstairs, you did that about eight more times before you we're somewhat sure you got everything. You showered and readied for the day, putting on a nice blue dress, linen and a little short just because of the heat.
The kitchen didn't even call your name, you knew better. You grabbed your keys off the coffee table and unlocked your car while walking out of the house. It was time to stop by your favorite little local grocery store, they didn't have much since you lived in the middle of fucking no where but they had enough. Besides, whatever they didn't have you we're usually able to get from your dad and whatever he was growing this season.
As you pulled out the driveway, you wondered if Joel was growing anything. You'd never seen him do much of his own, his piece of land was a bit smaller but that was by choice, he'd mentioned a few times how he just didn't have the money to finance that kind of thing. The shared land you we're all on now, your dad had actually won years back, before you we're even born.
He made a bet on a football game, you don't remember who was playing and when the team won, so did he. In return, this very land is what he got for free. You smile as you think about how much he loves that story and how he'll probably tell Miles the story too, at least you hope he will.
You tap your fingers on the wheel nervously, chewing your bottom lip when your stomach suddenly turns into knots. You drove past land carrying the weight of memories to a life you onced lived. You left a long while ago, right after college. You took the first job offer you got and you could count on one hand the times you'd visited since you we're twenty two. It stung, not just you but your parents.
You'll never forget their faces the day you left, it was forever engraved in that stubborn head of yours. When you arrived at the little grocery store you were basically in and out, only grabbing stuff for breakfast before heading back. You ended up grabbing a donut and some coffee, which you ate on the way back to your house.
The anticipation for this evening was eating you alive, you were so nervous you thought you might throw up. To no ones surprise but yours, the evening went anything but smoothly.
For starters, Mile arrived late. In your Momma's book that was already strike one. Strike one two for your father is that when you all went out to the backyard, Miles didn't hold open the door for you. You hadn't really noticed it, he'd done it so much that it kind of slipped your mind after being together for three years now. You all sat down in the lounge chairs by the grill where your Daddy and Jim we're grilling while simultaneously critizing each other.
Both Tommy and Joel were already seated across from each other with beers in their hands, your Momma was walking with Callie and showing her around the garden and all the new flowers that were popping up. It felt like the tension was going to eat you alive, when you sat down with Miles it was pretty clear that both of the Miller brothers had already made up their minds about him.
Tommy, bless him, was the first to speak and try to engage with Miles but there wasn't much they had in common. Miles was into finance and the growing tech industry in California while Tommy was...well to put it plainly, the service out here already wasn't great so why the fuck would he give a damn about technology? As for finance, he was a contractor like Joel and that's about it for where his intrest and finance stretched.
Joel on the other hand, didn't even try and Miles got the message pretty quickly. Joel sat there watching the buzzing bee's and swaying long grass out in the distance, sipping his beer with little and less to say. Things felt so weird now, you were back home but none of this felt like home. The conversation with Tommy died pretty quickly and he pretty much did what Joel ws doing, the two of them talked about buisness while Miles returned to his phone.
"Come with me inside for a sec?" you whispered to Miles and he agreed.
JOEL
I watched the two of them walk off, heading back inside for whatever reason while sipping my beer. They entered the kitchen, the only reason I knew that is because the kitchen window was wide open and the couch they were just sitting on was right in front of the window. I could hear my Dad and her dad going back and forth about the correct way to cook the brisket, it was the same damn argument nearly every week.
Tommy didn't dare talking about Miles when she was just in the room but he was thinking it, I could tell just from the glare he gave me with a slight grin before sipping his beer. I let out half a chuckle before turning my head and looking off to the side. There's a calm wind despite the blazing sun up above, I enjoy it while it last because the sweat pooling on my forehead tells me otherwise.
Out of nowhere, there's a crash and then yelling. It's not coming from behind me at the grill like I thought it was. It was coming from the kitchen and what I saw through that window had me standing up faster than I could register. All I saw was her on the floor and I moved faster than my mind kept up with, striding towards the kitchen and Tommy following after me when he saw the look on my face.
YOU
You're looking up at a man you don't even recognize anymore. His fist are still balled and you're hand is still on your cheek, your eyes swelling with tears even though the reality of your relationship still isn't clear to you. There are plenty of shouts being made as everyone rushes inside after the sound of the shattered punch bowl you knocked into after Miles hit you so hard you lost your balance. But the only shout you heard came from the one who grabbed Mile's by his collar and shoved him up against the fridge.
"The fuck do you think you're doin' putting your hands on a lady like that?!" Joel has him pressed into the fridge, his collar bunched up in Joel's fist and your Daddy already looking for his shotgun after he see's you sitting there with your hand on your cheek.
Miles says something back but you don't even hear him, Tommy's trying to mediate the situation by telling Miles to get the hell out and your Momma's helping your Daddy look for his shotgun. You don't even know what to say. This isn't the first time it's happened, Miss Callie is standing behind Tommy with her hand over her mouth at the sight of the situation. You don't really hear much, it feels like the whole situation is flowing in slow motion. Joel's 'bout ready to kill Miles, Tommy has to intervene by shoving them apart and forcing Miles out of the house himself.
All you can do is sit there. Your cheek stings and so do your hands, cut up from the glass you we're currently sitting next to. Your Daddy is off chasing Miles down the driveway with his shotgun and your Momma's gone after him, to stop him or tell help, you don't know.
Tommy is the first one to help you up, you can see the look in his eyes and it makes you feel anything but good about yourself. You look at them for half a second before turning around with your face in your hands.
"You weren't supposed to see that...fuck," you cursed under your breath, trying to work the situation out in your mind.
All of a sudden you feel two firm hands on you, Joel's spinning you around and basically cornering you with hundreds of questions all at once. You try to step off to the side to get away from him but he doesn't let you and when you keep trying he places both of his hands on the wall by your head, blocking you in.
"He's been beatin' on you?! How fuckin' long??" he questions with a snap in his voice and anger steeped all throughout his voice.
You can't even swallow with how tight your thoat feels, never in a million years did you think they'd find out. You'd hope the hitting would have stopped by the time you finally introduced him to your parents but clearly you were wrong. You don't even answer him, you can't. You can't speak, can't even move...can't even cry. You just stare at him. The disappointment you know he feels in you is there and it scares you, all of them are dissapointed in you and that hurt you more than any slap.
"Momma!" Joel yells loud, his eyes still locked on you. "Give me your purse," he orders, he speaks as if it's not even his mom that he's talking to but she quickly grabs it off the table and gives it to him.
He goes through her purse aggresively until he finds exactly what he's looking for. Makeup wipes. Before you can even refuse or duck under him to get away(even though that wouldn't work because Tommy is behind him), he wipes the foundation off your face revealing your black eye you hid with a smokey eye and the bruise on your cheek that clearly wasn't from the slap Miles just gave you.
"Stop it!" You shoved his hand away but it was already too late.
Everybody was looking at you. And they all had the exact same expression, it was horror and anger but in your Momma's face there was something different. Disappointment.
"Babygirl..." your Daddy whispers, shotgun still in hand. "He's been beatin' on you and you..." he can't even finish his sentence, he's too distraught by the sight of his daughter all battered and bruised by a man who wasn't deserving of her.
"I said....I said he was a good guy, i just needed you all to trust me but you made up your minds about him without giving him a chance!" you argued and Joel's eyes flickered wide.
"A good guy? What good guys beat their girlfriends, huh? Tell me,"
"It's not even about that! You had your mind made up about him before you met him....you were supposed to trust me to make the right decisionâ"
"Well clearly that's not workin' out for 'ya if you're staying with a man who puts his hands on you!" Joel rebuttals and you shake your head in frustration.
"Where else did he fucking touch you?" Joel mutters hoarsely before he's mindlessly grabbing your shirt, trying to tug it up.
But that was your last straw, you're fighting his hands off before sliding past him and everyone else for that matter. You're running past everyone, going out the back door because they we're all lined up blocking the way to the front door. You can hear your name being shouted, boots behind you chasing after you but you're faster. You're sobbing at this point, sobbing at the dissapointment in there faces when they saw you like that.
You're fighting the tightness of your back pocket as you grab your car keys, running around the house where your parents are already rushing down the stairs trying to stop you. You get to your truck first, ignoring how they're yelling after you trying to understand what happened and why you stayed with him.
You got into your truck as fast as possible, slamming the door shut and backing out faster than you should've. You drove off before you could be stopped but you didn't go home, you had a full tank and endless options. Anywhere but here, that's what you told yourself as you drove off.
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pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader
summary: [no outbreak] joel is the only guy you know with four wheel drive in the rarely-snowy state of texas, so it seems like a no-brainer to have him pick you up from work â until his truck breaks down, leaving you two to the classic 'huddle for warmth' solution.
warnings: (18+ mdni) dbf!joel, age gap (assumed 20s/40s), reader borrows joel's coat, but does not wear it and uses it as a blanket, self-indulgent humor & banter, joel has sarah and she's a 15y/o menace which means liberties are taken with the timeline, blink & miss it drug mention, close proximity, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, (mocking) dirty talk & dirty talk alluding to anal but no actual anal, daddy kink, degradation, dom!joel, brat!reader, brat tamer!joel, mild bondage (with a scarf), rearview mirror sex, clit stim, riding, doggy, a few pussy spanks, 2 spanks, truck sex, sort of edging, getting caught after the act [no use of y/n]
word count: 12.3k
a/n: this fic was a labor of love from a request i received earlier this month. i didn't expect it to be this long but i really enjoyed these two! massive massive massive shoutout to talia, @lovesickonmybed, for putting up with me + advising. this fic was way too much to handle on my own. they're the reason i pulled it off. joel is latino here, but i think game!joel can be interpreted as latino too, so read who you'd like.
âLooking ahead for our chances at wintry precipitation tonight â measurable snow, freezing rain, or sleet. Itâs hard to get snow here in central Texas â if only, huh? Weâre seeing some strong flurries tonight, turning into snow showers in the early morning. Low chances of any significant build up, but you can expect hazardous driving conditions. Black ice and low visibility will make extensive travel dangerousââ
The radio in Keithâs Hardware is old fashioned, curving around the volume and tuning knobs. Itâs one of the ones that still has a dial pointer, which is almost always aimed at 92.7 if Keithâs in the back (country); 96.7 (pop) if itâs just you and the only other girl that works in the carpenterâs wet dream of a store. Right now, though, itâs neither of those stations. The pointer is at 162.4, the weather station.
Youâd known you were in for it on the drive into work. Watch the weather and itâs real nasty out there airing from your parents lips on your way out of the house for your eight hour shift. The drive had been a gunmetal sort of gray, clouds streaked through the sky and spitting bullets of sleet at your windshield.
For a little bit, the weather had almost cleared up. Youâd sworn youâd seen a splotch of sun when youâd tried to step out for break, just to be driven back in by your too-thin jacket and the cold as balls temperature.
Now, though? Itâs fucking freezing, and the flurries that the weatherman mentioned are starting to fall. And as much as youâd told Keith that your shitty two-wheel-drive couldnât handle it, heâd insisted on scheduling you and Liz for close.
Which is where Mr. Miller comes in.
Joel Miller, your dadâs buddy. Joel Miller, the grumpiest secret-softie youâve ever met. Joel Miller, a knight in shining armor with his 4x4 Ford F150 instead of a horse. Although, if your fantasies are correct â and you like to think they are â whatâs between his thighs certainly makes up for the lack of a horse. But he isnât bringing you for a ride on his cock. He just so happens to be the only man your dad knows with a four wheel drive vehicle, or at least the only one willing to spare you from spinning out by giving you a ride home. Just thinking about it has a knot pinching in the back of your throat. His hands, big and wide and stretching over the gear shift. One muscled arm dangling over the wheel. Looking over his goddamn shoulder to back out â
Liz hops up on the check-out counter where youâre counting up the last of the cash, a spread of Hamiltons, Grants, and Jacksons. You wouldnât expect a girl like her to work at a hardware store, especially one in the backstreets of the seedy part of town. Some sort of family emergency had driven her back to Austin from NYU design school, which youâre thankful for. Mainly because you get out of cutting wood panels since she has the better eye for measurements, but also because after years of sulking in Keithâs, you finally have someone to talk shit with.
âThose heart eyes arenât for fuckinâ Alexander Hamilton,â Liz says, tapping her acrylics on your ledger to get your attention. You cough, flipping her off with your pen still in-hand. Liz hums, pretending to think about it as you put down the last numbers. âAlthough I wouldnât be too surprised. You do love a geriatric man.â
âJoel isnât that old,â you scoff, arranging the bills into slim white envelopes and then licking them shut. âHeâs just an⊠acquired taste.â
âSure, his jizz probably tastes like prohibition-era boozeââ
âWhat the fuck,â you wheeze, hands going out to brace yourself on the closest display case. Your head dips as your chest shakes with laughter.
Liz stays completely straight-faced as she continues, âYouâll have to have 911 on speed dial because if you clench, his heartâs giving out.â
âIt is not,â you say, voice still strained with the laughs that wonât stop punching out of you.
She puts her hands up in defense and crosses her legs at the ankles. âHey, itâs not my fault you like playing whac-a-mole with Great Depression dick.â
âLiz!â You playfully shove her off of the counter, thrusting the envelopes into her hands. âYouâre nasty. Fucking nasty.â
She splays a wounded hand over her heart, fanning herself with the envelopes. âYou know you love me.â She slips into the office behind the register. You hear the click of the safe before she calls over her shoulder, âAny particular reason youâre fantasizing on the clock?â
âNot fantasizing,â you refute. Liz pops out of the back with a uncertain look scrawled on her face. âMy dad talked him into picking me up today so I donât drive into a snowbank.â
âSounds like the beginning of a shitty porno.â
âDonât give me hope.â
âIâm just saying,â she grins. âYou can still come to mine. Only a five minute walk with zero chance of rejection.â
âYou have such little faith in me.â
She purses her lips. âMkayâŠ. Pro-tip: Keith probably has some Viagra sitting around in his desk drawers.â
âLiiiiiiiz,â you say. Youâre about to tune her out completely when familiar headlights light up the wet asphalt, beaming through the windows. The engine idles, a soft rumble through the linoleum floors. The truck lights dim, leaving Joel in the buttery shine of the streetlamp. His thick arms stretch across the wheel, and he rakes one large hand through his hair. âShit, speak of the Devil.â You clip off your nametag, tossing it into your half-open bag. âCan you finish closing tonight? I promise Iâll make it up to you.â
âNo problem, no favors necessary.â She closes the register. You fumble to get your bag over your shoulder, not wanting to keep Joel waiting. âUse protection!â she calls after you, and you make sure to flip her off one more time as the door clangs shut behind you.
A wall of cold hits you like a blade of lightning. Wind unfurls, mauling telephone lines and frosted treetops, rippling your jacket. Not even the worn scarf around your neck seems to be doing its job. Suddenly, every one of your limbs feels like an icicle. Joints almost freezing up, you half-jog, half-penguin strut your way to Joelâs passenger side. You wipe the ice off of the door handle with your sleeve. A few stray flurries dust you as you tug the door open, exhaling in relief as you haul yourself onto the side steps and into the toasty warmth of the Ford F150.
You cozy up in the seat, too preoccupied by thawing your hands with long, winded breaths to notice the affronted look Joel is throwing your way. âAre you tryinâ to catch your fuckinâ death, girl?â
âNo death to catch. Itâs not that cold.â The way youâre shivering says otherwise. Joel pins you with the raise of his brow.
Before you know what heâs doing, heâs groaning as he reaches over the center console into the backseat. You see a flash of his trucker jacket before it lands in your lap, flannel-lined and heavy. You use it like a blanket, draping it across your torso and wrestling your hands into the inside pockets. The canvas smells like car exhaust and off-brand Dollar General deodorant, two things that are so inextricably Joel. As much as you hate to admit it, the warmth is already inking its way across your skin â or maybe itâs just being next to Joel thatâs heating you up. âThanks,â you grumble.
When you adjust in your seat, the inside of your foot catches an empty Dr. Pepper can on the floor. It rattles when you accidentally kick it forward. You lean down and pick it up, going to place it down in the cupholder, only to find it overpopulated with random Home Depot and Whataburger receipts.
âTax deductions,â he shrugs. âGotta eat on the job.â
âAnd aâŠâ You pick up the receipt and squint at the faded typography. â$3.29 strawberry milkshake is part of that, I figure?â
Joel grunts, âTommyâs order.â
You smirk. âSure it is.â
âQuit shit stirrinâ and put on your fuckinâ seatbelt.â
You reach back, fingers snagging it and tugging it down. Groping for the belt between the seats and the center console, it goes on for at least five seconds too long before Joel grabs the buckle and shoves it into the slot. His fingers brush your thigh as he pulls away from you and settles his foot over the gas pedal. The singular touch shouldnât make butterflies beat at the walls of your stomach, but it does. Everything about him does.
Now that youâre all settled in, everything about him is also settling in. The fact that heâs only wearing a tight-fitting white t-shirt now that his coat is off. His sleeves are constricting enough that his muscles bulge below the strip of fabric. Ample scruff dapples his jawline, and his hair is disheveled in the way that youâve learned you like it. You trail your eyes down his body, his tummy, across the undone drawstrings of his dark gray sweatpants, and no, you move on quickly from there, because you refuse to get riled up in the passenger seat.
Heâs slowly peeling out of Keithâs parking lot, arm thrown over the back of your seat. Youâre starting to fail at your mission of not getting riled up when you see the flex of his bicep, the way his eyes meet yours as he turns to look through the back window. He turns out of the parking lot and onto the relatively barren, icy streetsâ
âWhat the hell are those?â
Joel side-eyes you, brows furrowed. He follows the line of your gaze to his feet, which youâre used to seeing in New Balances or steel-toed work boots, but are instead wearing⊠fur-lined crocs.
âThese here? Yeah, got âem recently, good for my days off with all this nippy weather. Sarah told me theyâre âall the rageâ with the youthââ
You canât help it. You damn near double over with laughter, clutching at your stomach. Joelâs coat nearly slides off of you, but you hang onto it with your pinkie finger, quickly going dizzy from lack of air. ââAll the rageâ? Oh my fucking Godâ Joel, she was pulling your leg. Those are fucking hideous.â
âHey, nowââ He sighs, pinching his nose bridge with the hand that isnât dangling over the wheel. âZip it, I donât needa justify my shoe choices to ya.â
âDoes she do anything other than give you shit these days?â
âYouâre one to talk about givinâ shit, yâknow,â Joel says. Unfailingly, he smiles. The smile that pulls at the edges of his lips. The smile that he only ever gets when talking about Sarah. It doesnât matter where â loading up his plate with barbecue, your dad asking him while heâs picking up junk mail in the morning, or on the job. If someone asks him about his daughter, Joel fucking beams.
He sucks on his teeth for a second, and then, âSheâs picked up soccer. Goalkeeper. Damn good at it, too, all them other kids on her team canât match her collapse dive.â
âOf course they canât,â you say. âSheâs got better reflexes than a house fly.â
Joel hunches over the wheel, effectively ending the conversation as he concentrates on the road. The only noise is the rumbling engine and the wagging of the windshield wipers as he attempts to navigate the black ice polka-dotted roads. It shouldnât be as arousing as it is, seeing him in such a state of focus, his thighs tensed as he manipulates the gas and brakes to stop early, start slow. His arms thickening when he makes a right turn. Thumbs drumming drumming drumming on the wheel and maybe theyâd do the same between your legsâ
âSo howâs work?â you blurt out.
Joel mumbles something that you canât quite make out.
âHuh?â
âFuckinâ âbig shotâ gringos up my ass all day. Goddamn shitshow.â He shakes his head, his lips thinned. âI tell âem terraforming is gonna make it look like a Flinstone-owned-and-operated putt-putt course. They say do it anyway. I tell âem that orderinâ custom windows is gonna put us months behind. They say do it anyway, then come up jibber-jabberinâ all âbout how long itâs takinâ. And itâs fuckinâ... window madness, not one window in that hellhole matches another. Ainât had so much trouble buildinâ a house since Sarah had me build her one from Hobby Lobby when she was little. Their architect musta been doinâ lines.â
You think youâve seen Sarahâs dollhouse before when visiting, just in passing when the guest bedroom door was left open a smidge. You remember stalling in the hallway to look at it, with a fleece of dust growing on the tediously placed shingles and the oakwood front door left open like itâd been waiting for someone to come home. But Sarah outgrew it, and although Joel would never admit it, you know heâs too sentimental to leave it on the curb.
âHow bad can building a dollhouse from a kit be?â
âWith a five year old yellinâ like a drill sergeant in your ear? Worse than you think. She even made me rig the damn thing with electric so she could have her pink chandelier.â
You pout at him, âWah wah, Iâll bet you loved it.â
âWas a nuisance at the time. But, uh, she was fiddlinâ with some âa the dolls Iâd gotten her. Donât think she knew I was watchinâ, had gone to put âer to bed âcause it was a school night. She was readinâ this book I always read to her. Something about⊠a stuffed bear with a missinâ button and a girl that was tryna to buy him. I donât fuckinâ knowââ
âCorduroy?â
âYeah, that. Anyway, she was reading, usinâ the same tone I always used with her, tucked her dolls in for the night, and switched off the lights. I donât think I loved it until then.â Thereâs a glistening in his eyes at the memory.
You smirk, âSentimental bastardââ
The truck slides. Or maybe it coasts, skimming across the thin film of black ice. Joel eases down on the brakes, hauling to a stop next to a Minivan with its warning lights on. Itâs a long stretch, and you canât even see all the way down the highway with how thick the snow is. No two snowflakes are the same, but you find it difficult to believe when youâre looking at what must be millions of them. They pirouette, landing on window panes, rooftops, and wind-agonized tree branches. Everything is blotted with white. Red warning lights glare on the ice back at you.
âShiiit,â Joel says as he squints at the road ahead of him. He scratches at his scruff.
âTell me youâre not going to drive through that shit.â
âIâm not,â he says.
âThen how the fuck are we getting home?â
âChill itââ
âThatâs the last thing I need to do,â you huff.
âIâm takinâ the detour.â
With that, he jerks the wheel â a bit too recklessly considering the weather, in your opinion â and pulls off onto a slippery backroad. The snow seems to have clung to the trees more back here, a sort of incandescent saran wrap over the oaks. At a bend in the road, icicles hang from a yellow sign that says CURVE 30 MPH. Joel takes it at ten.
Youâre not checking out his hands while he drives, no, of course not. Youâre looking at the gazillion lights on his dashboard display. âYou usually have that many lights on?â
âAinât your truck, ainât your business.â
âIâm ridinâ in it, ainât I?â you mock his accent.Â
Joel sighs heavily. âDrivinâ me up the fuckinâ wall.â His hands clench briefly around the wheel. âAuto repair shopâs been price gouging, Iâm tryinâ to get Tommy to hook me up with his buddy in San Antonââ
âWonât be able to drive to San Antonio if your bumper falls off halfway there.â
Joelâs voice is dry as bone. âHa ha. You get off on beinâ a smartass?â
Itâs three words â thatâs all it is. Just a throwaway phrase that he probably doesnât even realize he said. If it were anything more, youâd know. But Joel, saying those words in that order? Damn him, because it turns your blood effervescent. You stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together underneath his coat. Youâre about to make another quip thatâll not only distract you, but also surely drive Joel up the wall, one of your favorite activities.
His truck putters from ten miles per hour to eight.
Eight to six.
Six to four.
âMotherfuckinâ.... shit,â Joel says again, this time much more urgent as he wrests the wheel to the side. The truck skims over the frosted roads and onto the shoulder, rolls for two seconds, and then falls to a complete, utter stop. The windshield wipers pause while theyâre still up. Heat no longer spits out of the dusty air vents.
Itâs the loudest silence youâve ever been in.
â...So do you get off on letting your truck break down orââ
Joel sighs in the way that dogs do. âThin ice, missy.â He unbuckles his seatbelt and pulls out his phone. âIâll give Tommy a call.â He stares at the screen for ten seconds. Taps it. Shakes it.
âNo service?â you ask.
âNo service.â
âLet me try mine,â you mumble, shifting in the car seat. Sure enough, zero bars. Even though you know it wonât work, you press your dadâs contact. It goes straight to voicemail. âWell, shit.â
âShit,â Joel echoes.
Itâs unspoken, but you both know the harsh reality of this harsh wintry night: no phone service, no operational truck, and⊠no heater.
âHang tight,â Joel says, reaching over the center console and hijacking his coat from your lap. He wrestles his arms through the sleeves and zips it up. He shoves the door open against the hoarse wind that keeps the trees at a slant, hops out, then slams it shut hard enough for the vehicle to rock. From how hard the wind was blowing, stray flurries dust the truckâs interior.
You canât really see what heâs doing â the snowâs too heavy, the hood popped wide open for him to investigate the truckâs viscera. You run your hands up and down your thighs, already feeling cold. Without the heater, it wonât be much longer before you turn to an icicle in the passenger seat. The hood bangs back down.
Joel climbs in from the backseat, slams the door as hard as humanly possible, and then scoots to the middle seat.Â
You crane your neck to see him as he shakes out his cold-reddened hands before puffing air into his cupped palms. âWhatâs wrong with it?â You ask.Â
He lets out a frigid breath. âDonât fuckinâ know, snowinâ too damn hard to tell.â
âTen bucks it was one of the lights on your dash,â you say.
Joel glares at you, still huffing into his hands. His fingertips are bright red to match his ruddy cheeks. Snow is sprinkled through his hair like soot, quickly melting to beads of water on his windblown curls.
âGot some⊠hand warmers up in that glovebox. Grab the whole pack.â
You lean forward, kneeing it open and rifling through all of his shit. Insurance papers, more receipts, Miller Contracting business cards, a folded pocket knife, lens wipes, and â
âWhenâs the last time these saw daylight?â you huff out a laugh as you hold up a battered box of condoms.Â
Turns out, snow isnât the thing that makes Joel Miller redder than a tomato. Itâs the fifteen year old, very expired condoms hiding in his glovebox.
He clears his throat and averts his eyes. âJesus. Forgot those were in there.â
You shake the box around and pluck a condom out of it. Looking for the expiration date, you turn it over and over in your hand. âAugust 31st, 2004. Really that long since you got some, Miller?â
âPut âem back,â he grumbles. âPain in my ass.â
You snicker, replacing the condom box with the box of hand warmers. Theyâre unopened, still sealed. You snatch Joelâs keys out of the ignition and swipe them across the tape. âHappy?â you toss them over your shoulder.
âNo.â He tears open the pack and rubs his hands together around the warmer, sighing when it begins to heat.
âDick,â you grumble.
More tearing. âBrat.â Another warmer lands in your lap.
âOughta get comfortable. Weâre gonna be here a while,â Joel says.
âAnd whose fault is that?â You ask as you weigh the warmer in your palms. The front seat already feels cramped, and youâre quick to unbuckle your seatbelt. Your legs and arms fold like pretzels as you climb into the backseat. The curse that leaves you when you hit your head on the roof has Joel rolling his eyes.
âPipe down. First thing in the morninâ Iâll make the walk out to that country club a mile out and use their phone. Just gotta ride out the night. You ainât ever roughed it before?â
You fall on all fours on the backseat, finally pulling yourself upright next to him. âNever had a reason to. Like, what if I have to piss? What if I get hungry?â
Joel shrugs. âTough.â
The cold is starting to settle into your bones. Even your tongue feels popsicle numb, and your fingers are stiff where they wrap around the warmer. Itâs like youâve been trapped in a snowglobe and shaken up by a handsy toddler with how the wind rattles the truck and the snow swishes outside. You suppress a shiver, leaning against the door. Condensation is already building on the windows. Absent-mindedly, you begin to trace a portrait of Joel in the moisture. Your fingertip squeaks against the glass. Your masterpiece wouldnât be complete without his signature scowl, so youâre sure to paint a frown on his face and his forehead wrinkles on thick.
âDidnât know you were an artist,â Joel comments from the opposite side of the back. âLooks nothinâ like me, by the way.â
You smirk, âBut you knew it was you.â
Because thereâs nothing better to do than burn time, you spend the next ten minutes filling up the window with whatever nonsense doodles come to mind â hearts, stars, trees, and of course, the only one that Joel seems to be fond of: Sarah, smiling and curly-haired.
Reality only settles in when youâre done with the ephemeral illustrations, their outlines starting to dissolve back to regular droplets that streak down the windows. Youâre stuck, for God knows how long, on this shady backroad that the Zodiac Killer wouldâve loved during his heyday. With your dadâs best friend that youâve been harboring a dangerous crush on.
And itâd be impossible to forget that itâs freezing fucking balls.
âJoel?â you say into the dark truck.
âHm?â
Always one to speak your mind, you say, âItâs freezing fucking balls.â
A sound that might be a laugh leaves him. âHere,â Joel says, unzipping his jacket. He tosses it over to you, and you snuggle back up with it, nose burrowing into one of the creases in the fabric. His coat smells like him â like cheap body wash, chewing gum, and gasoline.Â
You try putting your hands in the pockets, even going as far as to open up a new hand warmer for each one, but theyâre full of loose change and, expectedly, more receipts. When you curl up against the corner between the door and the seat, the hard plastic bites into your oversensitive back. Sitting upright or cross-legged doesnât work, and when you test drive sitting diagonally with your feet propped up on the console, Joel makes a disproving noise and swats gently at your shin. You prop your forehead up against the window, but itâs cold enough to give you a brain freeze.Â
âJesus Christ,â Joel snorts. âGet over âere, you wuss.â He hauls you over, big hand splayed over your waist, and drags you across the bench to his side. You yelp in surprise, but only for a second before youâre crushed against Joelâs side. âCanât have ya gettinâ hypothermia,â he jests.
You donât know where to put your hands, but eventually, you settle on cupping his neck. Touching Joel, hell, even just being near him, is like being by an open furnace. Or maybe the heat is just your stomach doing somersaults at being this close to Joel after years of frivolous pining. His nape emanates warmth, the kind that flows down your arms and wraps comfortingly around your chest.
Joel exhales, the tendrils of his breath curling from the frigidity. He grabs his coat from the side and flattens it over the both of you, a piss poor replacement for a blanket, but all youâve got.
Still, cold seeps in through the cracks in the doors, spoiling whatever lukewarm air remains. It doesnât help that Joel had hopped in and out of the truck to play eye spy under the hood. The truck struggles to hold onto heat properly, especially when it isnât producing more of it.
Joel sort of⊠flickers against your back. You think nothing of it until it happens again, this time in short bursts, and then turns into full on shivering.
âWhoâs the wuss now, old man?â
Joel tenses up behind you. âFunny,â he says. With your hands cushioned against his neck, you feel the grate of his voice in his throat. âThis is the best youâre gonna get unless you wanna be butt ass naked to share heat.â
It should be a joke. But the way he says it⊠doesnât sound like a joke.
You go still, lifeless, not even sure if youâre shaking anymore. Because now, the only thought in your head is being pressed against Joel, his soft cock hardening against you, his palms splayed and rubbing over your stomach to keep you warm. And if his cock needed to get somewhere warmer, tooâŠ. Your clit twitches at the thought.
You smother the initial shock in your voice with your usual solution: sass. âSo what, weâre gonna fuckinâ huddle for warmth?â
As much as you enjoy the idea, you're already dripping â and thatâs just from your body being pressed against his, breathing the same air as him, closer now than youâve ever been before. With no panties in the way, itâs not a stretch to say youâd be dripping down his thighs. Youâd hate to have that conversation.
âWould you rather freeze to death?â Joel asks. You look up at him from where youâre curled into his side and find no gleam in his eyes. This isnât just some knee-slapper for him. Joel Miller is being completely, irreversibly serious.
âIâd rather something less like Naked and Afraid, Joel!â
âIt works,â he says, nose flaring. âThey do it in those fuckinâ... action movies all âa the time.â
âI didnât know Hollywood was writing survival manuals for pervsââ
âGod, youâre a piece âa work, ya know that?â His eyes flick down to you, and maybe itâs just the fact that this road is damn near pitch black, but his pupils seem larger than before. âListen, I ainât tryna perv on ya. I also ainât tryna send you back to your old man with four fingers missinâ from frostbite.â
Thereâs no way youâre actually seriously considering this. Youâve heard of cold temperatures impairing thinking, but not like this. Your dadâll go chasing after Joel with a pitchfork and a shovel if he finds out the man who was supposed to get you home safe and sound was cuddling naked with you. Cuddling naked with you in the backseat, no less. Youâre certain Joel wonât try anything â heâs not like that. No matter how flustered you get in his lap, heâd never take advantage of you. What you arenât certain of is your ability to stop yourself from asking him t0 take advantage of you.
This is practical. Itâs only supposed to be practical. He wouldnât be suggesting something this drastic if you both werenât shaking like a rattlesnakeâs rattler.
âFine,â you say, already unwinding your scarf from around your neck. Determined to keep some semblance of boundaries up, you add, âNo peeping, Miller.â
Joel makes an exasperated sound as you once again scoot out from his coat and across the bench, working yourself out of your shoes, your cotton zip-up, and then the stiff Keithâs uniform â a blue polo and jeans. Joelâs eyes are respectfully trained on the truckâs floor mats, which youâre only just now noticing has a sun-bleached Lisa Frank sticker tacked onto it.Â
Down to your bra and panties, your heart rate picks up. Your fingers are so fucking cold that itâs hard to get your bra straps out of the way so you can unclasp the damned thing, and then it falls to the floor. Your nipples harden in the face of the cold. The only thing you keep is your scarf, which do you do your best to cover your tits with. Scooping up your discarded clothes and tossing them to the front seat, you let out a shaky breath.
Fuck it.
You shimmy out of your panties and get rid of them just as quickly. When you try telling Joel youâre decent, or rather indecent, nothing comes out. Instead, you have to clear your throat with a strained, âAll good.â
âAlright,â Joel says, rustling around. You hear his crocs scrape against the mat, and then his shirt swishing over his head.
He doesnât tell you to look away, but since itâs implied, you look out of the window. The snowy trees tremble in the wind, and you almost wince when you see a small sliver of his tanned skin reflected in the glass. His crocs clunk on the ground when he kicks them off, and you watch his criminally tight t-shirt go flying over the passenger seat. You casually grip the Jesus handle, hoping that Joel doesnât notice your fist tightening around it when you hear him untying the drawstrings of his sweatpants. When his sweats and boxers follow the path of his shirt, breathing gets a lot harder than you remember it being.
Just an hour ago, youâd been certain that this would be nothing more than a ten minute drive. Maybe, if you were lucky, heâd call you a casual pet name that would fuel the wriggling of your hand between your thighs that night.Â
The tension in the air is thicker than molasses. Each breath you take is fragile.
âIâm ready when you are,â Joel says.
Since youâre already half-naked, and since chickening out is out of the question, you inch over to Joelâs side. The air tumbles out of your lungs in one fell swoop when your bicep meets his. With some fidgeting, you bring your legs up at an angle beneath you, wrapping around his side in a way that has you feeling a little bit like a koala. You talk yourself into keeping your eyes forward and then scrub your palms across your freezing arms.
Joel, more indifferent than you think anyone else in this situation could be, abruptly casts his coat back over the both of you.
And, fuck him, heâd been right. The engulfing canvas of his coat keeps warmth trapped where it can be passed easily between the two of you. Or maybe itâs just being confined and skin-to-skin with Joel that has you heating up.
The silence is cruel â itâs much harder to make conversation about work or dollhouses or whatever the hell else when youâre naked. Only the windâs sibilance keeps you company.
You can get used to this, you think. Drift off into a somewhat sound sleep with your head on Joelâs shoulder and hope that you donât drool all over him or moan his name in your sleep. More embarrassing things have happened to you.
But then, as if youâre the unluckiest person alive, the temperature drops even more, and suddenly, youâre shaking like a leaf all over again. Your teeth almost clack together as you try to stammer out to Joel, âCâcold, Jesus fucking⊠Christ thatâs cold.â
Joel pouts down at you, but you donât miss the way his lip quivers. âShould I call the wambulance?â
âShould I call the rârârâretirement home to piâŠpick up a ruârunaway resident?â It sounded a lot better in your head than bouncing off of your frozen tongue, you have to admit.
âDrama queen,â Joel mutters into your ear. âCanât do anythinâ more about it. Sorryââ
âCan I sit on your lap?â you blurt out so quickly that you donât even have time to think about it. You grimace, partially covering your face with your hands. Shit.
Joelâs eyes widen. âExcuse me?â
Youâre already half doomed. Why not go all the way? âListen, itâs just fucking⊠fucking freezing, Joel. Holy shit.â
âThat bad?â he chokes out.
âYouâd be warmer than the seats,â you defend. âIâll be careful, I promise. Best behavior.â
Joel seems to ponder it for a moment, brows stitched together while he looks down at you from where youâre furled up against his side. He gnaws on the inside of his cheek before giving you a slight nod. âAlright.â You nod in return, heart in your throat. ââBut you better mean it when you say best behavior. Canât have any âa this shit gettinâ back to your dad.â
Another nod. You hold your breath as you shinny your way onto Joelâs lap, mounting him from the front so his chest hits your back. In your attempt to get comfortable, you bracket your legs around his. His soft cock fits at the small of your back, and even though heâs as flaccid as can be, heâs big. Apparently your imagination isnât too far off. Joelâs sharp intake of breath forms a pit in your stomach, and you know when youâre warming up for an entirely different reason than close proximity, you also know that you need to calm yourself down. Fast.
Think of something awful. Like that time that you had to dissect cow eyes in sophomore year biology. Think about mold. How many murderers youâll walk by in your lifetime. Expired leftovers. Anythingâ
You adjust yourself in an attempt to get away from Joelâs cock. Instead, your hips move just so his cock slips between your thighs and bobs against your slit.
You whine.
Your body immediately locks up once you realize what youâve done. Crawling out of the truck to die a hypothermia-induced death seems like a much kinder fate than facing Joel, but no matter how much you scream at yourself to reach out and unlock the door, your hands refuse to move. You hadnât noticed how wet youâd gotten, and you have no idea how. Itâs smeared across your thighs, and now pressed up against your back after Joelâs dick had dragged through it all.
Shit shit shit shit shit shit shitâ
Chancing a look over your shoulder, youâre surprised to find the tips of Joelâs ears flushed, cheeks cherry ripe. His Adamâs apple bobs when you meet his eyes. Holy fuck.
Youâve flustered him.
For some reason, the thought makes your chest a lot lighter. You look away nonetheless, but this time, with a newfound gleam in your eye. Thereâs no such thing as a bad accident, right?
Maybe Liz was right about having to call 911, because when you âaccidentallyâ repeat the movement, Joel stops breathing all together. His cock, almost hard now, youâve noticed, bumps against your clit. You almost swallow your tongue trying to keep your moan down.
âThe fuck you think youâre doinâ?â he asks, his gruff voice scratching at your ears.
âI didnât mean to,â you lie straight through your teeth, a smug little grin spreading on your face. Something about his semi-hard cock between your bodies tells you heâs going to say no to your next suggestion. âMaybe you should put the coat between us, insteaââ
âAre you outta your fuckinâ mind, girl?â Joelâs voice comes out raspy. He shakes his head, clears his throat. The vibrations rumble up your spine. âAnd take away the whole point of stayinâ warm? Now quit it. Ainât that hard to sit still.â
You try your hand at listening â for all of two seconds.
You hike your hips up, fumbling with his coat as you slot his cock against your slit once more, pushing yourself forward. The coat slides right off of you, falling in a dark lump on the floor. Neither of you care â youâre both too heated for the lack of cover to make a damn difference. Joel hisses, a sound like water hitting an open flame. His hands fly down to your waist, anchoring you to his lap. A surprised noise squeaks out of you.
âWhat, you got rocks rattlinâ around in your brain?â Joel scowls. âYouâre real impolite for a cocktease, sweetheart.â
Butterflies flap around in your stomach from his words. Itâs enough to make your head tip against his chest so you can look up at him, lips shaped in a perfect pout. âIâm not,â you say.
âNot a cocktease, huh? Not even when youâre rubbinâ all over my lap?â
You gasp as your hands fly down to cover Joelâs, nails etching into where his fingers meet your bare skin. You tug at his wrist, trying desperately to guide him where you so desperately need him.
âNot happeninâ,â Joel grunts, yanking your hands behind you and pinning them to your waist like youâre nothing more than a poseable doll. His large, work-worn hands make yours look damn near miniature as he holds you down. The sudden roughness douses your inner thighs with a new wave of wetness. âJesus, girl. Poor thing, gettinâ all hot and bothered. Donât blame ya for tryna get me to help out. Can feel ya dripping down my legs, gushinâ like a sprinkler.â
âSâsorry, fuck, âm sorry,â you whisper, words sticky with your arousal. Your clit twitches from his words, embarrassment and need doing all the work to keep you warm.
âNahhh,â he says. âI donât think you are, baby.â Maybe itâs the condescension heâs purring in your ear, maybe itâs the pet name; most likely, itâs a combination of both that has you convulsing in his lap. Itâs like heâs found all of the right buttons to press to get you riled up, getting you back for all of your snide comments earlier.Â
His fingers find the fabric of your scarf, luring it off of your neck so he can cord it around your wrists. You squirm when you realize what heâs doing, and a breathless huff of his laughter brushes your cheek. âIâll be damned if you ainât gonna be, though.â He draws it tight, tight enough for you to feel your pulses bumping into each other. Joel leaves a fair amount of your unreasonably long scarf loose.
âJoel, what the fuck are you up to?â
âTeachinâ you some sweet southern belle etiquette, darlinâ. Such a goddamn troublemaker, grindinâ on me like Iâm some kinda⊠frat boy.â He shakes his head, disbelieving. âPullinâ that shit with your popsâ friend. Real fuckinâ classy.â
âLike youâre so different. Whoâs the one thatâs tying me up? Huh, Milââ
You hear the hit well before you feel it, a firm whack to your cunt that makes your vision blacken and electricity scurrying up your spine. It takes you a second to come back to yourself before a ragged cry pulls its way out of your lips. You jolt in his lap, bound arms bobbing in front of you as your body instinctively lurches for control. You damn near kick your feet, accidentally ricocheting yourself into Joelâs chest. His forearms hold you there.Â
âGuess Iâll make it crystal clear for ya, baby, since that dumb lilâ head âa yours is havinâ some trouble. My truck, my rules. Youâre ridinâ in it, ainât you?â You nod reluctantly as he turns your words from earlier in his favor. âThat was a warninâ, you showoff. Think you can bat your slutty âfuck meâ eyes anâ get away with murder.â He fucking tsks at you.
He pulls his hand away from your pussy, and youâre both surprised and not surprised at all to see it covered in your arousal, webbed between his calloused fingers.Â
âGot a whole goddamn slip ân slide down hereâŠâ murmurs Joel. You whine, bucking your hips against him. âOughta justâŠâ he starts, nudging his cock towards your hole. The noise you make is pathetic. âStop ya from ruininâ my seats. Cork you right up.â You tense up, fully expecting the intrusion, but his dick passes your cunt right up, instead sliding up to meet your clit. It taps against your swollen nub, and if his goal was to stop you from ruining his seats, youâre certain heâs already failed with how quickly you gush all over the upholstery.
âBut thatâd be real nice, wouldnât it? Givinâ ya what ya want so early onâŠâ Instead of pulling away like you expect, Joel griiiinds the head of his cock against your clit. You moan helplessly, head falling back across his shoulder.
And then he does it again.
And again.
And agaiâ
âJoooooel,â you whine, knees jerking each time his tip meets your most sensitive spot. Heat spins in your stomach.
He backs his hips up âWhat? Thought you loved this with how much you were gettinâ at it earlier.â
You shake your head rapidly in the negative, chest rising and falling at a breakneck pace while he teases you.
âSo you can deal, but you canât play?â
âI think youâre just taking your sweet old time getting it up, old man,â you grit out, knowing damn well heâs stiffer than titanium behind you.
Joel hums. âAh, sheâs got jokes.â His cock slips back, quickly replaced by his hand engulfing your mound. Your clit twitches ever so slightly against his palm lines, and youâre almost convinced you could get off from that alone. His palm cracks against your cunt again, somehow even harder than the first time. You cry out, eyes burning from arousal and the slightest edge of pain.
With his thumbpad, he taps your clit like heâs just scrolling through the cable guide with a remote. Fleeting movements that have you wanting more more more. It heals the sting of his slap even if the echo of the hit still simmers in your stomach. Your cunt throbs so hard that it hurts, jumping up to meet Joelâs scarce ministrations.
When he retracts his hand, your hips chase the movement. âSee this?â he taunts, fluttering his wet fingers in front of your face. You make a choked noise when his drenched middle finger breaches your lips. He doesnât even need to tell you; you latch on and suck yourself off of his calloused skin. Youâre mostly salty, but a little sweet, and tasting yourself on your own tongue by his insistence manages to make you even wetter.
Joel takes his spare fingers, just as soaked, and smears them all around your chin and lower cheeks. He presses down on your tongue as he does. You gag from the pressure, and you canât hear his laugh over the roaring of your blood in your ears, but you feel it rattle his chest where it meets your spine. Your slick cools quickly against your burning skin, syrupy as it clings to your face. âNeed a bib, baby?â
He pulls his finger from your mouth with a pop and your scarf-wrapped hands spring to wipe yourself from your lips, hoping to save yourself from the humiliation of having your own pussy juice anointing your face. You only scoop up a little before Joel lowers his forearm over yours, but for once, youâre faster than him. You swipe your wet hand over his mouth, smudging as much as you can along the scruff surrounding his mouth.
He wraps a burly hand in the scarf and yanks your hands back into place. All you can do in response is giggle, but the breath is swiftly knocked out of you when he drives his cock right into your clit. âThink youâre funny, donât ya?â He asks, and finally grunts as he rolls his hip into you. A break in his resolve, a sign that he wants this, or at least the discipline of this, as badly as you do.
You almost weep from the pressure, that rope of pleasure in your stomach that he keeps knotting tighter and tighter and tighter with each stroke of his cock, his fingers. âJoel!â you cry out as he follows it up with another firm swat to your clit. His cock spreads your folds as he softens the bashing, nuzzling his tip against your spasming cunt.
âReally, oughta give standup a go one âa these days. Be a real hotshot.â
âOh yeah?â you pant, light headed and woozy.
âMhm. If the whole crowdâs drunk.â His cock nudges your nub with a new vigor.
âAsshââ
Right as youâre about to press down and follow the sensation, Joel senses it. His cock gives way through your cheeks, just in time for him to land a ruthless slap across your pussy. Itâs harder than the others â makes your ears ring for a second, gives you a sort of visual snow that has you doubling over and gripping at the closest object for purchase, which just so happens to be the metal rods coming out of the headrest.Â
âAinât what you should be sayinâ if youâre planninâ on gettinâ what you want, sugar,â Joel tuts. He shakes his head at you. âDonât wanna hear no lip from ya, girl.â
You open your mouth, argument on the tip of your drool-loaded tongue, but your halfhearted attempt at defiance doesnât last long. Joelâs hand clamps around your chin, denting your skin into your teeth. He jerks your head to face him, knocking you down a peg with scathing eye contact. âYouâre pushinâ it.â He loosens his grip.
âAs if, Miller. If those pre-Cold War condoms are anything to go by, youâve been dying for a chance to get your dick wet. Doesnât matter how much lip I give you, you arenât gonna blue ball yourself for much longer.â Satisfied, you raise your brows at him.
Turns out, he is going to blue ball himself for much longer, because he lands six slaps in rapid succession across your sopping cunt. The skin smarts, and you cry out. Your grip tightens around the headrest rod to the point of strangling it. Your eyes water, and you canât tell if youâre crying. Too consumed by Joel, everything has melted into him â the smell of sawdust perpetually sewn into his skin, his cock sealed against your body.
âHow many times are ya gonna poke the bear before you learn your lesson, you cheeky little shit?â Joelâs palm cups the inside of your right thigh, just above the knee. He traces circles with his thumb, and heat trails after him with everywhere he touches. âSee, the thing about havinâ âpre-Cold War condomsâ is that Iâve had a helluva lot more time to learn self control than you. Can wait as loooooong as it takes for you to get your head on right. Donât matter if youâre waterfallinâ down my seats or not, pretty girl. Iâm giving you exactly what ya deserve.â
You whimper, trying (and failing) to get your magma hot core closer to Joelâs unfairly large hand, still splayed out on your inner thigh. You canât stop how you squirm in his lap, smearing your arousal everywhere with each movement you make.
At a snailâs pace, his hand begins to inch up your leg. Joel pauses to grope at you as his hand travels upward. Handfuls of your skin, rubbing at your scalding hot thighs. Your patience is wearing thin by the time he gets midway there. You need him to touch you. And thatâs just the tip of this impossibly destructive iceberg.
You shouldnât be doing this, shouldnât have let him go down this shitty backroad, shouldnât have agreed to your dadâs ridiculous idea of Joel picking you up, shouldnât have asked to be naked on his lap, shouldnât have gotten naked on his lap, shouldnât be leaking like a twenty-year-old pipe in a building heâd been hired to renovate. If your dad ever finds outâ
âJoel, please, please â pleaâŠâ you trail off, dissolving into incoherent whimpers as his hand hovers over your cunt. Youâre running hotter than a radiator now, and if you both wanted to be warm, then youâve got your wish. Although mostly gibberish, Joel has to understand what you want from him. Itâs just that the bastard is unwilling to provide.
Joel reaches down to pinch your clit, and your body canât even discern from pleasure and pain anymore. You react the same to it all, back arching as you try desperately to plant yourself on his cock. âShhh, shhh, quit runninâ your filthy mouth. Only gonna get yourself into more trouble.â
You swear you hear angels singing, swear you see the pearly gates when he gives your clit a merciful rub. Melting into him, you exhale shakily.
âSee? All nice ân quiet when sheâs gettinâ what she wants.â You wouldnât even dream of mouthing off to him now.
âI want â I needâŠâ you gasp out, putty in his hands. Moldable to his liking. Everything youâd pretended not to want.
âGo on,â he coos. âTell daddy what you need.â
You donât even hear him say that word. Youâre too hooked on begging, begging, begging. âPlease â Joel, oh god, please â I need⊠I need⊠please please please, fuck, it hurtsââ
Joel clicks his tongue. âNuh uh. Start over. Always such a chatterbox âcept for when I need ya to be.â
âWhaâŠ?â you ask, admittedly dazed from the harsh treatment that youâve come to crave more of.
âTell daddy what you need,â he repeats, words molasses slow.
You clench, gushing even more all over him. Shit, your next paycheck might have to go to replacing the goddamn seats if you keep up like this.
âDâD⊠D-â you start stammering out, but youâve lost autonomy over your body long ago, and apparently that goes for your tongue, too. âDaâ Da⊠plââ
âAny day now,â he scoffs.
âDaddy!â you spit out all at once. âPlease, please, daddy, fuck â fuck me, daddy, please, I want your cock, daddy. Feels so fucking big. Need it daddy, it hurts⊠please, nghâ daddy!â Tears are burning the corners of your eyes, fueled almost entirely by arousal and partially by frustration. You squirm, cunt crying all over the place.Â
âMâkay, baby,â he says. Running a hand down your chest and squeezing your nipple on the way down. He slides his hand down your stomach to cup your mound, giving your clit slow, gentle circles. Your hips jump forward, and this time, he doesnât stop you. âDaddyâs got ya.â
At the first intrusion of his middle finger in your cunt, you jump. Itâs a lot compared to what heâs been giving you, but nowhere near enough. A second finger slips inside. He doesnât have to do much work to stretch you out â youâve been seeping out of you since you first got on his lap. Heâs all too quick thrusting them in and out of you â the messy squelch of your pussy filling the backseat has you burying your chin against your chest, averting your eyes. The heel of his palm bumps persistently at your clit with each shift of his fingers inside of you.
âI know you ainât a virgin, but youâre soakinâ like one. Too damn cocksure to ainât have had a cock in ya before. Prancinâ around like a glorified dick trap.â You inhale sharply when his fingers scrape that spongy spot inside of you that you can never reach yourself. A moan rips out of you. The combination of him talking down to you and rubbing your g-spot has you dangerously close to cumming. Your moan is quickly swallowed up by more of Joelâs condescension.Â
He starts mumbling to himself then, obscenities that make you clench even tighter around his fingers. âGonna get you all sore baby, make you regret begginâ for this dick like a horny âlil bitch that ainât ever been laid in her life. Fuck you so hard youâll be cryinâ for daddyâs cock up your ass instead, turn you into an anal slut, too.â Heâs too busy listening to himself talk, too absorbed in his own world to feel you balancing on that razor-thin edge.
The noise you make is inhuman. You pulse around him, doing your best to stave off your impending release. âDaddyââ you warn, but he cuts you off then, too. Joel grinds his cock between your ass cheeks, his precum dripping down your slit to meet your trembling cunt.Â
âEver been fucked here before baby?â He swipes his tip along your asshole, and the way you shudder is answer enough for him. âDonât get all jumpy, sweetheart. Ainât gonna fuck ya there right now. Be cruisinâ for a bruisinâ.â Still, he replaces his tip with his free handâs thumb, simply rubbing at the ring of muscle. You fidget in his lap without an end-goal. You just want to be close to him, want to take everything heâs willing to give you. His fingers hook just right inside of you. âWould love to be the first to unlock this pretty backdoor. If this tight âlil pussyâs anything to go by⊠Christ. Youâd look so pretty squirmin with my cock in your ass, babyââ
âDaddy!â You scream as your orgasm guts you. His fingers and his voice rip your climax right out of you and your cum streams down your inner thighs and Joelâs hand, still smacking against your clit with each thrust. Your cunt spasms around his flexing fingers. He has to fold an arm over your chest to keep you from sliding off his slippery lap entirely.
All the way through the aftershocks that make your limbs quake, Joel holds you upright against his body, still bumping his palm and fingertips against your clit and g-spot. You swear you can feel him smiling against your shoulder.
âDidnât tell ya you could cum, darlinâ,â Joel murmurs, flicking his cum covered finger across your clit. You wince in overstimulation, a whine catching in your throat.
ââM sorry, daddy,â you pant. His hands go up toÂ
ââS okay, babygirl. Pretty pussy couldnât help it when I was talkinâ âbout fuckinâ your ass, huh?â His hands rove up your stomach to play with your tits, palming and stroking, getting his hands all over every carnal part of you.
You hum into his bicep, âMmmm.â
âThatâs alright. Donât mean youâre gettinâ away with a slap on the wrist though. Câmon, up,â he guides with a small slap to your thigh. You adjust, bringing yourself onto your knees so he can enter you from behind. You look down at his sturdy thighs, flexing as he adjusts himself between your legs. He gives you one more teasing thrust through your thighs, poking your oversensitive clit one more time before reaching down to spread your folds.
You moan as he presses against your entrance, and itâs not the best time to have a come to Jesus moment, but â Joelâs size was in no way over exaggerated between your legs. You stiffen in realization, and Joel, attentive as always, notices. He guides your chin to face him and nuzzles his nose up against yours, mouth tracing down to your lips. Your breath mingles, stagnant in the long-forgotten chill. A cushion of softness against all of his spiky edges that showed up tonight. âYouâre on top, baby. Take it as slow or as fast as ya want.â
Nodding at the reminder, you find yourself that you donât want to take it slow. You want to be as sore as heâd promised, want to feel him for days and be reminded of this every time you look at the winter morningâs frost on the shingles outside.
Sinking down over his throbbing length yanks the air out of your lungs as you seat yourself with him bottoming out and going balls deep in your cunt simultaneously. He grunts against you in surprise, softening the blow of your heady moan. âAttagirl,â he huffs into the crease between your neck and shoulder. Itâs a stretch, searing up your thighs and to your lower back. Youâre brought back to yourself when Joel rolls his hips into you, making the pain liquefy into mind-numbing pleasure. You spend thirty seconds waiting for him to fuck up into you in a way that changes your philosophy around the world, but instead, heâs still and solid inside of you.
âGo on,â Joel coaxes, placing a steady hand just shy of your mound. âGotta prove you deserve to cum again.â He taps your thigh as if heâs telling you to giddy up, and the shame warms the back of your neck better than any heater ever could.
You whimper. His hands coast up your thighs, squeezing your hips tight before falling to grip the seats below. Youâre still weak from your last orgasm, shaky legs struggling to hold yourself up as it is. âDaddy⊠I canâtâŠâÂ
âAinât no different than fuckinâ yâself on that vibrator or dildo or whatever the fuckâs in your nightstand. Girl like you, gotta have a wimpy âlil fucktoy somewhere.â His words make you clench around him, and he groans into your neck. Joel looks up at the front window, now covered in snowflakes. He smirks when he spots the rearview mirror. âOughta make you watch yourself. Show a pathetic, cockstarved slut what happens when she bites off more than she can chew.â At that, you mewl, grinding yourself down. The chuckle he lets out is lined with cruelty.
Joel pins you to his chest with one burly arm and leans forward with a hash of grunts from effort. He reaches out towards the rearview mirror, lowering it to face the middle seat that youâre both braced on. He sinks back quickly, and it almost gives you whiplash before you make eye contact with yourself. You can see everything. Tremors travel up your legs and into your arms. Your body is getting freezer burn from how cold and hot you are at the same time. Pleasured tears threaten to spill over your waterline. Joelâs smug fucking face as he murmurs endlessly at you.Â
Your mouth is parted as you take yourself in, truly a pathetic, pretty little picture as you pant. âCâmon,â Joel coaxes, squeezing your ass. âYou can do it. Make daddy proud. Iâll even give you a boost.â Joel reaches to your tied hands and quickly undoes the scarf, letting it drop to the floor. You flex your fingers and then reach out for the chairs ahead to get a good grip.
You prop yourself up on your knees, anchoring yourself to the two chairs in front of you. Using a combination of your upper and lower body strength, you rise halfway off of Joelâs cock before your body gives out. His balls slap wetly against your clit. He laughs, still not touching you at all. Your head flops forward as you look down to where the two of you meet, and then at the mirror where his cock is buried deep inside of you. You whine in dismay.
He wasnât lying when he said he was going to get you sore. You can only moan. Itâs pleasure like youâve never had it before â too much, not enough, painful, so good. âPlease, Joel â I canât⊠canât handle it.â
âIâll decide what you can handle,â he says.
âYouâreâ youâre so fucking mean,â you rasp.
âGets you this soaked, baby. Donât see your pussy complaininâ. You love beinâ treated like a piece âa meat. Like a little fleshlight for men to fuck.â
You clench, tight. âAh!â Joel fucking sniggers behind you, but a rush of confidence spills through you at the underlying moan in his throat.
Determined to get what you want, you tighten your grip on the front seats. Haul yourself up, almost so that the tip slips right out, and then collapse back onto Joelâs cock. And, shit, itâs a lot. You doubt you could handle his cock in missionary, but being made to ride him in such a compromising position, sprawled out across his shitty backseat? Thatâs an entirely different animal, one that you hadnât expected to have to handle.
You focus on doing just enough to please him and just enough to keep yourself intact. You repeat your movements two or three times, rising and falling. Little moans and whimpers, some pained, some good when he nudges your g-spot just right, slip in and out of you.
Youâre shaking like a leaf on his cock as you somehow manage to lift yourself another time before fucking back on him. âDaaaddy.â Your lips quiver as you form the word. A single tear runs down your face from overexertion, and heâs quick to wipe it up with his thumb as if it was never there. You look truly whorish and pathetic, just like heâd wanted, bouncing on his cock with the last of the energy you have left in you.
His tip jabs against that goddamn spot again, and you double over on the center console. You take heaving breaths, making eye contact with yourself in the mirror, desperate to please as you attempt to keep humping him with the change in angle. Youâre letting out strings of disoriented words, but barely can tell that youâre talking.
âI fuck you dumb already? Slutty little girl. Told ya you were in for it. Ainât ever had much of a knack for listeninâ. Gonna dick you down now, sweet girl.â He drags your legs into the crook of his elbows, holding you upright for him as he shifts to his knees between your legs. Braced on the center console with your pussy settled on his cock, the new angle makes you cry out. You hold yourself up on your elbows, giving shallow rolls of your hips in return as Joel gets settled inside of you.
The first thrust makes your eyes roll back so far that you see black. âFeel good?â
âSo⊠so fuâfucking goo⊠good daddy,â you whimper into the console, gripping the sides of it just so you have something to hold onto.
âSwallowinâ daddyâs dick whole in this greedy cunt. Goddamn, drippinâ down my fuckinâ balls. Such a masochistic slut, all after a poundinâ from an old man. All up in a tizzy for this cock.â
You moan your agreement, completely submissive to Joelâs wills. You move like a ragdoll for him, letting him yank you back on his cock while he meets you there, thrust for thrust. He pulls out, a small mercy, but when he sheathes himself back inside of you in full, itâs the beginning of a punishing pace.
You donât even notice yourself drooling all over the console until Joel says something about it. âDroolinâ from two places. Yeah, baby, you needed this. Daddyâs pretty cockslut.â You whine especially loudly when Joel drags you back across the console, damn near fast enough to give your stomach rugburn.Â
Hands framing your spread legs, Joel hooks them both around his torso, using the leverage to plow into you. Youâre boneless beneath him, mouth frozen in silent moans. His hips meet your ass with each shove of his cock in your sloppy cunt, the obscene sound of slap after slap pealing out within the truck. âDamn lucky weâre in the middle of nowhere,â Joel growls on another thrust. âSomeone woulda been knockinâ on the window long time ago with how loud youâre beinâ.â
âMmph,â you gasp when Joel tosses one of your legs up and over the passenger seat. You hold yourself there as he digs his fingers into your other thigh, shifting his spare hand to your mound.
âDaddy please please please pleaââ you start panting like a broken record, desperate to feel his hand on your clit, which throbs with inattention on the console. You grind frantically on the edge just in case he denies you again.Â
Joel laughs above you, fully smudging two fingers across your clit in a blur of indescribable pleasure. âAinât gonna make ya beg this time. Canât wait to feel ya creaminâ âround me⊠maybe Iâll make ya lick that up too. Nasty bitch.â
âJoooel, oh fuck, pleaseâŠâ you whine as he continues railing you, this time fiercely tweaking your clit in-time with his movements.
The new position has his thrusts meeting your cervix, and you scream, pleasure corkscrewing through your body. Thereâs nowhere for all of it to go with how viciously it burns in your stomach â all you can do is take it and whine for him. âTakinâ it real good. See what happens when ya behave? You get this fat cock splittinâ your whore cunt in two, jusâ like you were askinâ for.â
He grips your hip tight, clearly expecting an answer. You slur, âMhm, daddy!â
Joel rubs faster circles around your clit, spouting filth while he drills your pussy. You can tell heâs chasing his own release, too, hips frantically fucking in and out of you, his cock twitching every single time you clench. Youâre burning up as he jackhammers your pussy. Your second orgasm of the night brims low in your stomach, âCome on, baby, know youâre close. Feel this slutty pussy squeezinâ me. You gonna ask permission like a good girl this time, or are ya gonna go back to your defiant little slut self?â
âNo, daddy,â you whimper, suspended in thin air over orgasmic bliss. Heâs rubbing your clit erratically, doing everything he can to hold you in place. âP-please daddy, can I come?â You practically scream it out.
âGo ahead,â he says. âCome for daddyâs, come allll over daddyâs cock.â
The band snaps. Your back arches, and you feel time stop in the second before you fall slack on the console, spasming from the best orgasm of your fucking life. Your clit feels like thereâs fucking pop rocks on it, something that not even your vibrator has ever achieved. âThank you daddy!â you cry out, repeating it as you lose all feeling in your bones. You hardly have any control over your body anymore â itâs just Joel Joel Joel Joel. Sated and weary, you just lay there, letting Joel fuck into you.
And fuck into you he does â roughly, helping you ride out your orgasm as he pursues his. âThatâs my girl,â he says, and you swear that alone could make you cum all over again. âLettinâ your daddy use this juicy, well-fucked cunt to get his own.â He canât hold back his moans, thatâs how you know heâs close, grunting and gasping as he rocks his hips into yours. His hand lands on your ass in a sharp smack, and your pussy clenches in exactly the way that he expected. He lets out a particularly ragged noise, folding himself over you to nip at your neck and rest his forehead against your shoulder blade. âDaddyâs close, where do ya want me, baby?â
âTits,â you whine. Itâs a miracle you can even get that one word out, but somehow, you manage a few more. âCome on my tits, daddy.â
âFuck!â Joel shouts, yanking himself over you. You help him roll yourself over and sit up on your elbows, and he jerks himself once, twice, before spraying his load all over your tits with the loudest groan yet. His brows fold together as he cums, eyes drooping and his mouth parted as he takes deep breaths.
You sit there for a handful of heavy minutes, listening to each otherâs jagged breathing and the sawtoothed wind outside. Youâre both so fucked. Literally, and figuratively. Stuck in the buttfuck middle of nowhere, you with your dadâs proclaimed bestieâs cum drying on your tits, and said bestie staring at you with post-coital puppy dog eyes and your cum all over his balls.
Youâre the first to speak up, still winded. âThat was⊠that was good.â
Joel nods mindlessly, tongue swiping out to lick his lips. He beckons you closer, and on trembling legs, you bring yourself to the backseat. You return to your previous position, huddled up and curled next to the door. Joel fumbles around under the back bench for a little until he comes up with a small, sunbleached pack of princess-themed pocket tissues that have to be as old as Sarah is. He dabs at your chest before stuffing them into the closest empty cupholder, and then brings you closer to his chest.
You donât notice yourself falling asleep when all you can feel is Joel.
Thereâs better ways to wake up than a furious rapping on the window, but that isnât the first thing you notice. You blink your eyes open groggily, only to face an egg yolk sun cracking wide open over the treeline and snowmelt bleeding out from every given surface. Joelâs behind you, nose in your neck, snoring softly with his arms wrapped around your middle. You take a moment to admire him â his sun kissed skin and his peaceful expression. It takes you a moment to remember you slept with him. You slept with Joel, and it was the best fuck of your life.
Youâre stretching, on the verge of a yawn, when you see the familiar head of black hair over the window. âShit!â you shout. Joel jerks to life behind you, mumbling something that sounds a lot like âwhat?â.Â
You scramble to pull the coat over the both of you from where it fell off of you in the middle of the night, covering your naked bodies. âGet dressed!â you hiss to Joel, searching for wherever the fuck your panties ended up last night.
âWhat the hellâs gotten into yaââ he starts, and you feel the exact moment that he realizes Tommy Miller is outside of the truck. âMotherfucker,â he curses, swaying towards the front seat to snag his clothes. You see him almost put his head through his T-shirt armhole three times before he gets it right. His sweatpants are next, which he tugs up his bare legs without even searching for his boxers.
âJoel?â Tommy shouts outside. âWake up, sleepinâ beauty!â He knocks on the door again, the windows blurry from melting snow. You have that to thank, at least. It buys you enough time to tug your polo over your head, but not enough time to button it all the way up.
âFuckinâ... dumbass,â Joel huffs as he clips the lock on the door and kicks it open, looking at least somewhat composed. You take deep breaths, looking between the two of them. âHowâd you find us?â
Tommy looks Joel up and down, scrutinizing him. âWhat happened to southern gentleman manners? I came out here to save ya from Mt. Everest, brother! Least you could say is âthank youâ.â
âThank you,â you fill in for Joel, even if the last thing youâre feeling is grateful.
âHer daddy threw a hissy fit, yâknow? Told him you were fine and weâd go lookinâ for ya in the morninâ. We saw all that backup on the highway, I went this way, he went that way, turns out my gut was right. âCourse my dumbass brother would take this route⊠hey, youâre truckâs a fuckinâ mess.â Tommy sinks his hand into the closest cupholder, pulling out a wad of tissues that have been soaked in his cum. You hiss as if youâve been scalded with boiling hot water.
Joel starts, âTommyââ
âWhat the fuck is this shit?â The realization seems to dawn on poor Tommy when heâs peeling apart the tissues, and he drops them like theyâre a thousand pounds. You canât even bring yourself to scold him for littering as the wind carries them away. âJoel. You dirty dog!â He says, eyes flitting between the two of you like itâs the most impossible thing in the world.
Your heart picks up to a speed that can rival most NASCAR drivers and your face burns like hot asphalt. You look pointedly down at the ground.
âJesus fuckinâ Christ,â Joel seethes, pinching the bridge of his nose. âGet outta here, you little shit.â
Tommyâs hands go up. âHey now, I ainât doinâ anything. That is not a conversation I wanna have with her daddy.â He clears his throat, effectively clearing the air along with it. âSo, uh, truck break down?â Joel grunts in affirmation.
âBeen tellinâ ya you need to make a stop at the auto shop⊠Câmon, Iâll get y'all home,â Tommy says, jingling the keys to his own truck. âCall a tow on the way.â
Joel drags his feet all the way to Tommyâs passenger side. You get your wallet and jacket together, winding the latter around your waist. The sun almost blinds you on your way out, and Tommy stops you.
âI hope you didnât let âim stick it to ya with them prehistoric condoms. Youâre smarter ân that.â
âGod, no,â you huff out.
âI dunno whatâs stupider, lettinâ my asshole brother hit it raw or gettinâ a UTIââ
âOkay!â you announce, hands going up as you round the back of Tommyâs truck. âConversation over.â Youâre still smiling playfully at Tommy as you clamber into the back of the truck, sighing when the air conditioner hits.
Just like that, back to the same old same old sunny, shithole state of Texas. Joel looks at you in the rearview mirror and winks at you. You guess not everything has to stay the same these days.
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