—Joel takes you camping, at the end of the night, things get steamy in your tent.
a/n: an extremely choppy one shot I wrote in the middle of the night. Enjoy!
Notes: 2.6k words, VG Joel or Pedro…your choice, not proofread, fluff, smut, kinda public sex? even though no one’s around, age gap, ages unspecified, kind of ends abruptly lol
Your feet were propped up on the dash, the old truck cruised steadily along the road, windows cracked just enough to let the warm spring air breeze in, blowing through your hair.
“Get your damn feet down, baby. Your knees will go straight into your skull if we crash,” Joel barked, swatting your calf without taking his eyes off the road.
You rolled your eyes but obeyed, grumbling as you slid your legs down and folded them back onto the seat. “How graphic,” you muttered, reaching over to open his glove compartment, already knowing what you were looking for.
Joel glanced at you for a second before flicking his turn signal on. “Pick one of yours. I’m in the mood for somethin’ romantic.”
You looked at him in surprise. “Romantic?”
He gave a single shrug, lips twitching like he was trying not to smile. “Yeah, why not? Somethin’ soft.”
You giggled, thumbing through the collection of old, clunky cassette tapes stacked messily inside. Mixed in with Joel’s usual suspects—Johnny Cash, Glen Campbell, and a tape so worn you were convinced it might’ve been homemade—were a few from your own stash. After getting sick of listening to outlaw country every ride, you’d quietly slipped in a few of your favorites. He never said anything about it, but you noticed he started playing them more and more without asking.
You pulled one out and popped it in, Ella Fitzgerald, and leaned back in your seat as her voice crackled to life through the speakers. Joel gave a low hum of approval, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the beat.
You yawned, crossing your arms and nestling against the passenger door. Your eyes started to flutter closed, the combination of Ella’s voice and the view of the rural farmland calming you.
Joel glanced over at you, your lips parted just a little as they relaxed against the window. His hand reached across the seat, warm and steady as it slid over your thigh. He gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Still got a couple hours, sweetheart,” he murmured, “Might as well rest.” The last thing you heard before your already half asleep mind drifted off.
The truck slowed beneath you, tires crunching over gravel as Joel pulled off into a clearing just off the main trail. The dip in speed woke you from your nap, eyes blinking open as you felt the familiar weight of his palm resting on your thigh.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he murmured, voice rough but soft at the edges. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple, his scruff grazing your skin in that way that always gave you chills. “We’re here. Gonna get camp set up before it gets dark.”
You yawned, stretching out in your seat. Outside the window was an open area fenced with trees. It was wide but private, no other cars or tents in sight.
Joel stepped out of the truck and opened your door for you, offering his hand like he always did. When you first met him, he barely offered more than a nod when you walked into a room. Grunted more than he spoke, stiff as a board and about as emotionally available as one. Now he kissed your head when you woke up and tucked your snacks into the glovebox before road trips.
Still a grumpy old man, but now he was your grumpy old man.
You stumbled out and made your way to the bed of the truck where your gear was already packed tight. A tent, lantern fold-up chair, cooler, Joel had done this many times before.
“I can do the tent,” you offered confidently, grabbing the canvas bag and dragging it into the middle of the clearing. “I watched a video.”
He let out a little huff behind you. “Lord help us.” You shot him a look, but he just smiled.
You got the poles laid out, clipped the fabric, and tried threading the first beam through when it bent awkwardly, slipping out of your hand with a dramatic snap. You cursed under your breath and squinted at the instructions.
Joel watched from the tailgate for a full minute before finally pushing off with a sigh. “Alright, alright,” he said, hands sliding onto yours as he crouched beside you. “You were close. You just gotta guide it through with a softer grip. Like this.”
His voice wasn’t mocking, just patient and warm. He didn’t rip the work away from you or tell you you were doing it wrong. He just moved with you, helping you hold the fabric steady, letting you finish it yourself once you had the hang of it.
You glanced at him while working on the next piece, heart tightening at how natural he looked like this. Sleeves pushed up, face lit golden in the setting sun as he focused.
“You’re so…good at this,” you said under your breath, more to yourself than anything.
He smirked, not even looking up. “Been doin’ this since before you were born.”
You groaned, shoving him lightly with your shoulder. “You just had to go and make it weird.”
He chuckled, finally glancing at you. “I’m just sayin’. I had a tent like this in the back of my truck when you were still wearin’ light-up sneakers.”
Your face heated. “Okay, grandpa.”
The tent finally stood upright, slightly crooked but sturdy enough to survive the night. You both stood back to admire it, hands on your hips like proud architects. Joel gave a single, satisfied nod.
“Could’ve been worse,” he said, glancing between you and the tent.
“You mean I nailed it and you’re just trying to downplay it,” you teased, brushing imaginary dust off your hands.
He reached over and tugged playfully on the sleeve of your shirt. “Yeah, alright. You nailed it, tent queen.”
The fire crackled low and steady, casting flickering shadows on the tent and the trees around you. The night was quiet, no traffic, no buzzing streetlights, just crickets and the occasional rustle of the woods.
You were curled up in Joel’s lap in one of the folding chairs, now wearing his flannel, oversized and warm. Your head rested against his shoulder, his arms wrapped l around your waist. His chest moved in slow, steady rhythms beneath your cheek.
Dinner had been simple, hotdogs over the fire, a couple of beers, and one very smug conversation about who could actually build a fire better (he won). Now it was just the two of you, wrapped in each other, full and content.
You tilted your head back a little to look at him. “You think we’d ever do this full-time?”
Joel blinked down at you. “Camp?”
“No.” You smiled. “Live out here. Woods. Off-grid. Just…us.”
He huffed softly, a low amused sound in his chest. “You wouldn’t last two weeks without coffee from a drive-thru.”
“I could adapt,” you said with a dramatic flair.
“Mm-hm.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead, lips warm against your skin. “Maybe. Somewhere with a porch swing. And plumbing. Definitely plumbing.”
You laughed. “Oh, of course. Plumbing, hot water. We don’t need much.”
“A cabin,” he added. “With a roof that don’t leak. Fireplace. Big damn bed. No neighbors.”
“And me chopping wood in a flannel shirt and nothing else?” you teased, curling a little closer.
“Shit,” he muttered, a grin pulling at his mouth. “Now you’re just temptin’ me.”
You were quiet for a moment, playing with the buttons on his sleeve. “I think I’d like it. The quiet. The space. Waking up to this…with you.”
Joel looked down at you again, his face soft in the firelight, touched by something deeper than amusement.
“Yeah?” he said, voice low. “You sure about that?”
You nodded. “I mean, maybe not all the time. But I don’t need much. Just you. A warm bed. Some stars. That’d be enough.”
He was silent for a long second, staring out into the dark trees. Then, quietly, “That’d be enough for me, too.”
You crawled into the tent with a quiet sigh, your body tired from the cold air and full belly. Inside, the space was small but warm, lit by the soft glow of a lantern hanging from one of the support loops. You slipped off Joel's flannel and tugged off your bottoms, shivering slightly at the change in temperature.
After you threw off your t-shirt, you slipped Joel’s flannel back on and let it fall past your thighs, buttoning just the middle two and leaving the rest to hang open around you. Your legs were bare, skin prickled from the cool night air.
Once he ducked in, the lantern light caught on his face the moment his eyes found you, his mouth quirked.
“You wearin’ that for me, or just too lazy to dig out your pajamas?” he teased softly, pulling off his boots.
You gave him a slow, playful smile. “Does it matter?”
He made a soft sound, a mix of affection and something deeper, as he reached over to zip the tent closed behind him.
“No,” he said. “Not one bit.”
He knelt beside you, hand brushing your ankle. Then he kissed your knee, a slow, deliberate press of lips to skin.
His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you watched as he reached up to unbutton the last two buttons of the flannel, his eyes never leaving yours. When he had you fully open, his gaze lingered on your body.
Then, with a complete gentleness, he placed a hand on your knee, moving it up your thigh. You could feel the roughness of his stubble, the warmth of his breath, and the softness of his lips. He was so gentle, so tender, it was almost as if he was afraid to bruise you.
You leaned into his touch, your hand coming to rest on the back of his neck, urging him closer. His thumb stroked lazy circles on your outer thigh, making you gasp.
And then, without warning, Joel pulled you onto his lap, effortlessly. You straddled him, the flannel slightly falling down your arms.
The world outside the tent faded away as you kissed, as his hands roamed up your back and tangled in your hair, as your legs wrapped around his waist. It was just the two of you, the soft crinkle of the sleeping bag beneath you.
“Joel,” you murmured against his mouth.
“Yeah, baby?” His voice was rough, his eyes searching yours.
“Want you to fuck me...so bad,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.
His eyes stayed on your before he let out a deep chuckle. "Yeah? Think your screams are loud enough for people to hear? Even out here?"
He didn’t give you time to answer before he was kissing you again, his hand moving to cup your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple. You moaned into his mouth, and he took that as the answer he needed. His hands roamed further, pushing the flannel completely off your shoulders, leaving you bare to his gaze.
You felt his erection pressing against your center, and the need grew more intense. You reached down, unbuttoning his pants, freeing him. His hand slipped between your legs, finding you wet and ready.
Joel pulled away just enough to let you slide off his lap and onto the sleeping bag. He hovered above you, eyes dark and intense. He kissed a trail down your neck, his hands on either side of your body, keeping him suspended above you. His mouth found your breast, his tongue flicking against your nipple, making you arch your back with pleasure.
But it wasn’t enough. You needed more, you needed him inside you, filling you up, making you forget about everything else. You reached down and tugged at his shirt. “Take it off,” you panted.
He obliged, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His chest was a map of scars and muscles, a testament to the life he’d lived, and you traced them with your fingertips as he kissed down your stomach.
Then, without warning, he was between your legs. You felt his breath against your skin, his warmth, and then his tongue. He licked you slowly, deliberately, and your hips jerked in response.
“Joel,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair.
He groaned, the sound vibrating against your clit, and you felt yourself getting closer, so close. But as your body tensed and you reached the edge, he pulled away.
“I need you inside me,” you begged, voice shaky. You usually didn’t object to Joel’s foreplay, but this time you couldn’t wait. Not after watching him earlier today, the way his arm muscles flexed while gathering firewood, then later, how they felt wrapped around you as you sat in his lap, it was all too much.
He didn’t say a word. Instead, he turned you over, so you were on all fours. You heard the rustle of his clothes, the unclicking of his belt.
He spit into his palm and you felt it slide down you, making you shiver. He didn’t give you any time to react before he was pushing into you from behind, hard and fast.
You screamed out his name, your hands digging into the fabric of the sleeping bag, your knees sinking into the soft earth beneath. He didn’t hold back, didn’t ease in. He just took you, his hands on your hips, guiding you to meet his thrusts.
His grunts were low and animalistic, the sound of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and was going to get it. And despite his age, his strength was undeniable. Each thrust was powerful, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
You could feel your orgasm building, your muscles tightening around him. You reached back, your hand finding his hip, urging him deeper, harder.
“Fuck, yes,” you screamed, your voice echoing through the quiet camp. “Don’t stop, please don’t ever!”
And he didn’t. He fucked you like it was the last time he ever would, like he needed it as much as you did.
With every couple of thrusts, he spanked you, the sound echoing in the tent. It stung, but you liked it, liked the way it made you feel, like you were truly his. His hand was firm, leaving a warm, pulsing feeling on your skin.
You pushed back into him, meeting each hit with a moan. The pleasure was overwhelming, mixing with the pain in a way that had you seeing stars.
“Let me do the work, baby,” he growled, stopping your hips from backing up. “So tight. So fucking perfect.”
You couldn’t respond, your mouth open in a silent scream as the orgasm crashed over you. It was like a wave, pulling you under and then leaving you gasping for air.
He followed shortly after, his grip on your hips tightening, his spanks turning to gentle caresses. You collapsed onto the sleeping bag, panting and trembling.
He pulled out and turned you over, his face flushed and eyes wild. He leaned down and kissed you, tasting like sweat and the earth and everything good in the world.
“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.
“I love you too, baby,” he murmured back, his hand still stroking your thigh, his breath still warm and heavy on your skin.
He slid the flannel back up over your body, tucking you in tight against his chest. The tent was warm with your heat. You closed your eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, feeling safe in his arms.
🎀sweet moment between two lovers who lived happily ever after, nothing bad ever happened, they live long, beautiful lives together, free of pain and suffering🎀
