Save a horse, ride a cowboy
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: watching f1 has never been this fun, especially when you share a little tradition with your man that takes away all the stress
Warnings: +18 smut, MDNI, dirty talking, teasing, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex, riding, nipple playing, spanking (if you squint), multiple orgasms, squirting, use of pet names (babe, darling, my girl, baby, sweetheart, babygirl, honey, my cowgirl, princess, good girl), no outbreak, age gap
Word count: 4.6k
Notes: happy race weekend !! The Austin gp is one of my favs and of course the star of this fic had to be Joel Miller !! Brace yourself for a good ride, yeehaw ⭐️
Dividers credits: @anitalorina
|| JOEL MILLER FICS || F1 THEMED FICS || MY FICS ||
The tv is rather loud from the living room, hearing the pre race interviews as you’re finishing wearing your outfit. A little tradition for every Austin gp, which involves the typical boots, a pair of shorts and a cowboy hat, that will have Joel’s head spin at you the moment you will step into that room.
Turning him into an f1 fan might be the best thing you’ve ever done, so that now you can spend those weekends doing your favourite things, watching the sport and well, spending some very good quality time with him.
You see him from the doorframe, as he’s adjusting a cable of the tv, and his head spins hearing your footsteps, jaw slacking at your sight, biting your bottom lip as you look at him.
“Howdy, cowboy.”
He takes few steps towards you, with that smirk all draped over his face, hands grabbing your hips, fingers hooking in the loops of your denim shorts.
“Well, look at ya.”
Joel takes your hand and lets you do a pirouette, sighing at the sight of your ass in those shorts, an embroidered blue star on each cheek, and that plaid shirt you’re wearing, which is his, with the first buttons left open and with a knot at the hems, so that is not long on you.
“Keepin’ this tradition alive, I see.” He smiles before kissing you, and you cup his jaw, fingers trailing his soft patched beard, “My favourite tradition.”
He’s leaving soft pecks over your neck, but that is when you hear that there are 5 minutes before the start of the formation lap, “Babe, it’s about to start,” him lowering his head onto your chest, sighing, but this time is a sigh of defeat, knowing that doesn’t matter what he would do, those 20 cars will still be more relevant.
But it’s okay, Joel thinks, as you walk in front of him, then sitting on the couch, it’s okay because waiting for it might be even better. He can see crystal clear in his mind what he wants, how you will take it, and he can already savour your taste onto his lips.
So everything is fine, he’s a man who knows to wait.
“Come on, Joel, come here.”
He has to hear your voice to be awakened by this dream, realising he’s just standing there at the door frame, like a marble statue.
The couch dips a little when he sits there and he would be lying if he said that he doesn’t like looking at you while you watch f1, he would be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy cheering with you or just watching you light up watching those cars racing.
His knee gets actually squeezed when the lights are about to go off, your thumb digging onto his jeans when the race actually starts, him holding his breath with you, eyes on your driver because at this point he’s a fan of his too.
The living room becomes soon louder, not even because of the volume but because of you being all riled up about something that’s happened. A slow pit stop, a bad strategy, Joel could name it all, and he could name all the ways that could take that anger and tension out of you.
You actually leave the couch at some point, the cowboy hat falling to the floor, and you block his view, but well, he can’t complain when he can look at you instead of the tv, you walking back and forth in front of it, occasionally cursing at the screen.
Joel just sits back, checking his watch for a moment, knowing there is still about half a hour left, you making your way back to the couch, shaking your head and hitting a bit the heels of the boots on the floor.
You slouch against him, Joel putting his arm around your shoulders, daring to leave a kiss on your head hoping to not steal your attention too much from the screen.
“He can still overtake, can’t he?” He tries to soothe, getting a light grunt out of you.
“Yeah he can, but he wouldn’t have to if they hadn’t fucked up the strategy.”
He lets you stay there, all cocooned on his side, but it’s about twenty minutes later that the gap of your driver to the one in front of him has become so thin that he has the chance to overtake.
And he does.
You jump from the couch, now once again in front of the tv for those very last laps, Joel praying that he’s gonna win.
And after he finally wins you come back to the couch, looking satisfied at the tv, Joel not even looking at that, but just at you, thinking how you got so heated up and he knows that if he was to touch your chest he would feel your heart racing.
“Told ya he would have won.” He says, smiling at you, and you shake your head, thinking he just really hates to see you sad because of a sport, so he would take hundreds of wins from that driver, only because it makes you this happy.
The celebration on the podium starts, you still looking jubilant at the tv, but leaning a bit onto Joel.
He starts pressing kisses on your neck, you closing your eyes a bit, listening to the celebrations but being already on another dimension.
“I know you’ve been wanting to do that since you saw me with this outfit.” You let out, a hand going through his hair, his tongue tracing your neck, and closing his lips to suck a bit on your skin, making you shift closer to him, his face buried on the crook between your neck and shoulder.
“With those shorts, darlin’,” he whispers between kisses, exposing more your cleavage, “I felt dizzy when I looked at ya,” fingers starting undoing the buttons of the shirt, until he can let it fall from your shoulders, showing the red laced bra underneath it, and he thinks you’re trying to kill him with all of that.
“And you had your old man waitin’ all this time,” Joel marvels, before kissing the centre of your chest, hand cupping your breast, and now he can feel your heartbeat, knowing that it’s all him, and well, the race.
“But now I’m all yours, Joel, all yours.”
He glances though at the hat on the floor, going to pick it up, “So... do ya want to wear it or should I wear it?” He asks, playing with the hat in his hands.
“Wear it, Joel, you’re the cowboy.” You sit on your knees on the couch, him reaching you and taking your chin between his fingers, “And you know what they say about cowboys.” You whisper, him passing his thumb over your plump and bitten lip.
“What do they say, babe?” He fakes, you getting a bit up on your knees.
“Well, save a horse, ride a cowboy.” You tease, maintaining his look, and he now wears it with a swift movement, looking so handsome with it.
“That what my girl wants to do?” Joel asks, feeling himself becoming harder and harder, cannot wait to have you on him.
You nod, looking up at him, but your hand falls on his jeans, “Yeah, would you let me do that?” You ask, part of the teasing, because there is no way he will ever say no to that.
He sits on the couch, patting his thigh, “As I could ever say no to you, babe.”
You smile all content, but still glancing at the tv, showing some more from the podium.
“Hold on, you can stay where you are, I’m gonna take care of ya.”
You sit back now, Joel starting to kneel down in front of you and well, you’re gonna have f1 and him at the same moment, what else could you wish for.
The shorts soon meet the pavement, hands having hooked under the hems, his eyes following his own movements as he revealed the red lace under those jeans too. But he lets you keep the boots, it wouldn’t be nice to take them off and ruin your outfit.
He glances up at you, as his hands are skimming over your thighs, as you widen your legs a little more, those red panties leaving little to the imagination, hand going through his peppered hair peeking from the cowboy hat, and urging him to give you something.
“Oh my girl is a little impatient, uh?” He starts, a finger going under the hem of the panties.
You moan already when the back of his other hand brush on the lace, “What do you want, baby, tell me.” He lets out, as you’re lowering the volume of the tv, still on though.
“I- I want your lips and-“ his hand already pressing on you, feeling the panties starting to become soaked, a finger pushing them a little almost inside, feeling how wet you are.
“And you’re gonna want my fingers too, right?” He finishes for you, no secrets between you, he can always tell what you want, what you need.
“Yeah, please, Joel.” His flat hand keeping on rubbing you, and lord forbid he ever said no to your pleading.
And he wishes to keep that hat, but he has to set it aside right before diving on you; the panties are still on and he kisses you all over the lace, hearing you sighing loudly, the tip of his tongue getting onto your clit, getting it wetter.
He yanks them a bit to the side, revealing your sleek folds, pulsing already for him.
“Oh look at ya, all worked up.” Deep voice, as his finger is peeking at your folds, separating them and letting it go up and down, you shifting a bit on the couch to get more of that touch.
He hasn’t touched you during the whole race, so he thinks that this might be even thanks to that sport, thanking mentally that driver for that overtake and the win, because now he gets to look at his girl all open for him and wet, waiting just for him to dive into her.
“You could take me like this already, right sweetheart?” He teases, thumb brushing over your clit and making you twitch in your seat, thrusting those hips against his touch, not even able to answer him for the way he’s already pushing all the right buttons.
“Look at her,” his thumb spreading you open a little more, eyes now closed and you already want to hook your legs over his shoulders, wanting to rest them there while he’s gonna devour you.
“Let’s take these off.” He simply says, letting the panties meet the same fate of the shorts, and now you get to do what you had in mind, him more than happy to comply, letting you even closer to his face and mouth.
He hooks his arms under your thighs, thumb pushing on your soft skin, “Go on, Joel, please.”
And your words are followed by his shoulders slowly pushing on the back of your thighs, letting you be more open for him.
Joel doesn’t lose any more time, he has been waiting for long enough, his lips starting to kiss all over your lips, getting already little moans out of you.
And well, you can keep watching the tv, and it is surely something to see a replay of your driver lifting up the trophy while he’s starting to softly licking your clit, and kissing you all over it.
“Joel, please,” asking for more, because he’s going slow, he would always do at the beginning, never wanting to overwhelm you, but you can take more than that.
“Alright, babygirl, alright.” He reassures you, and he doesn’t hear any complaints when he pushes his tongue in you, all warm and wet, he hears only moans.
“Right there, Joel, right there.”
He keeps on doing exactly that, giving you more and more, as your hand falls on his curls, tugging them a bit.
The panting and moaning is like music to his ears, while in the background he can hear the replays, he can hear the engines of the cars, and he thinks that well, his engine would be ready to go too.
Blood pumps loud in your veins when he gets a little away from your lips, his middle finger pushing among the wetness, stretching you and looking up at you for your reaction.
He goes on only after your nod, pushing deeper, your leg over his shoulder almost kicking when he slips in another finger, feeling already some sweat on your abdomen, your neck.
“There you go, darlin’, there you go,” he kisses the inside of your thigh, pumping in those fingers and pushing all the sides he knows you like.
But Joel is still hungry for more, starting to make love to your lips again, actually now letting one leg down from his shoulder so that he can gently press his hand over your lower tummy; he hums happily when you comply, pressing more until he can feel you moving against his fingers, he could even stop pumping and you would be doing all the work, fucking on them as you please.
Joel doesn’t hold back when he feels your legs starting to tremble, if anything he goes deeper with his fingers, now all coaxed in your wetness, never taking his lips away. He doesn’t leave you not even when he can feel wetness dripping over his chin as the orgasm slams your body, letting go all of it over his lips, pretty sure is nose is gonna be glistened in it too.
Your fingers dig into his curls as he keeps on licking you, letting you ride the orgasm and letting you come down from that while taking care of you.
His fingers slowly leave you, you wanting to close your legs at that loss, wanting more.
“It’s alright, it’s alright.” He coos, kissing on your thighs, letting your legs down from his shoulders, getting up and cupping your face, kissing you so he stops that ragged breathing for a moment.
And there is also your own taste on those lips, savouring it as he kisses you, then pressing a kiss on your forehead, “You know I would never get tired of doing that.” He breathes, you giggling with your eyes half closed.
“Well, neither would I.” You exhale, as he’s passing his fingers over your eyebrows, and the moment that his leg presses between your legs you cannot help but thrusting against those jeans, not caring at all about the mess that you could make of them.
His thumb passes over your bottom lip, “Oh that wasn’t enough right, remind me what it is that you want, honey.”
His voice activates you even more, the heels of those boots pressed onto the floor as you keep thrusting a little against him, “I- I want to ride you, Joel.” You let out, almost desperately, aching to have him inside you.
“Attagirl,” he says, taking the cowboy hat and placing it back onto your head, “Now you’re ready, my cowgirl.”
You smile at that, biting your bottom lip when he goes back to sit down on the couch, patting his thigh, “You know your place.”
Hell yes if you know it, still coming down from the orgasm but ready for another one as you climb his lap, straddling him and feeling his hard crotch under his rough jeans.
“Come on, babe, come on,” he utters, and you get that he wants you to ride him like this for a moment, thrusting once again over that tissue, and it shouldn’t be this hot, it shouldn’t be this pleasing to just ride his jeans.
But it is, so much.
“But you want something else right, you want something more.” He wonders, hands grabbing your waist, thumbs digging into your skin.
A series of yes leaves your lips, but that is not enough for him.
“Yes, what? What do you want, say it with your words.” Voice huskier, ignited with the desire that you cannot wait to feel all inside yourself.
Your hands grab his forearms, “I want you Joel, please, I just- I just want you.”
“You want my cock, don’t ya?”
And finally you can hear him undoing his belt, letting him unzip the jeans until he’s lowering the right amount and you’re now riding his grey boxers, feeling the wet spot and feeling how hard he is.
You thrust all over it, tracing it until you know you’re getting all his boxers wet in yourself, and he stays pliant under you, fighting with all his strengths the urge to thrust against you.
“All the time that you waited, Joel,” you start, now palming him through the tissue, him lightly whimpering when you hold your fingers around him, “My cowboy has been so patient.”
Since you know he will let you do anything, you lower his boxers, revealing his aching and leaking length, Joel finding the remoter on the couch and turning the tv off, having eyes only for you, as he parts his lips as soon as you start pumping him with your hand, cannot helping but thrusting a little this time, as it is actually painful, just wanting some relief for himself.
“And what does my man need, uh?” You smirk, thumb brushing over his tip, as you dive onto his neck, his arms now slouching around you.
His breathing is hot over your neck, huffing at your words, “I need ya to sit down on me and ride it like ya mean it, could you do that, princess?”
You feel yourself tingling from head to toe, stopping your movement with your hand, just holding him and guiding him to your centre, until you can feel the tip splitting you open, having to widen the legs a little more.
“There ya go, good girl.” He grunts, as you go lower on him, feeling him inside you inch by inch, deciding on what pace you can let him in, and setting for a slow one, for now, wanting to feel everything, even the vein around it pumping as you adjust on it; your walls welcome him just so well, eyes closed for the slight pain mixed with the intense pleasure already, hands going over his shoulder, ready to brace yourself over them.
He adjusts the hat a bit and you look so proud of yourself, for the way he is so lost in pleasure by the time you start thrusting on him, those low moans escaping his lips.
You start undoing the buttons of his shirt, he really doesn’t need it anymore and with this heat he will be thankful for that, letting it fall from his shoulders.
And damn, he has muscles for days, even at his age, your fingers slightly grabbing his bicep as you come lower on him, building a sweet pace, starting to ride him properly and your moans are now mixed, like a symphony.
He sits up better, now able to kiss all over your chest, fingers going through his now messy hair, pulling it a bit when he thrusts back, going deeper inside you, completely in you and that seems to not even be enough.
“Fuck, Joel.” You moan over his hair, taking everything that he might give you, taking those thrusts again and again, meeting them and lines of sweat start collecting on your bodies as now you’re completely hugged to him.
His tongue passes over your breasts, hands cupping them until he lowers the hems of the lace and lets the nipples out, thumb and index twisting one the right amount to make you go even faster, sending you almost off the edge when he closes his lips around it, sucking like it’s his only job, feeling it becoming harder in his mouth. Joel toys with them, licking and kissing your skin all over them, before pinching them again, you tightening around him because it hurts and it gives you a shoot of desire at the same time.
He kisses your lips after, breathing you in as the sound of skin slapping echoes in the living room, together with the heavy breathing and the low moans escaping both of you.
“Give me more, darlin’", thrusting harder inside you, as you let out a cry, moving faster over him until you can remember his shape, and the shape of that damn vein that you can feel so well against your walls.
“Is this all that you got? Is this all that my cowgirl can do?” He teases in that devilish way that he has of talking to you through sex, that way that has the power of unleashing something more in you, and in him too at the same time.
“Come on, cowgirl, come on.” Joel says through his gritted teeth, his flat hand spanking your ass, first one cheek and then the other, making you whimper but doing exactly as he asks, going higher on him and then lower, feeling all of him inside you.
“Attagirl, get yourself off on me.” His thumb between your lips and letting you suck on it for a moment, before he can bring it over your clit, and ignite you even more.
Your hand aims for your centre, but he takes it away, “Let me take care of ya," now exposing more your clit and he can feel you tightening around himself, making him moan even more, looking at that clit pulsing for him and him only.
“Do you wanna come, sweetheart?” He asks, as he is also on the verge of spilling inside you, “Yeah, please, Joel.” You pledge over his lips, kissing him as you keep moving on him, messily, desperately even, meeting his thrusts and his fingers, touching you and pushing all the nerves, getting your blood pumping loud in your ears, your neck, your chest, everywhere.
“Come, babygirl, come.” His words having as much power as his actions on you, thrusting on him a little more, until your fingers are digging onto his biceps, and exploding on him, chest heated for all his kisses and for the way your heart his beating beneath your ribcage, and you cannot help but still riding him, even though you’ve just come, because he is addicting.
He buries his face onto your neck when you he gives you another deep thrust, making you almost scream and then filling you with his warmth, his fingers still digging onto your waist and onto your ass, giving them the shape of his hands, making sure that your body will remember them.
Joel breathes deeply there, you pressing kisses on his curls, his body trembling under yours, such is the electricity that has gone through his veins.
“This is the best tradition, uh?” You utter over his ear, feeling him still catching his breath but smiling on your shoulder, “Yeah, darlin’”.
He then looks up at you, thumb brushing over your cheek, kissing you so tenderly as his arms slowly raise you from his length, until it leaves you, hissing at the sensation of emptiness, at the way your folds had welcomed him so well and now they have nothing to hold.
Joel lets you stay on his lap, caressing you over your back and waist, fingers smoothing over your skin as he presses kisses all over your chest, and for the way you are still pressed onto him it is a bit impossible to not feel stimulated again, searching for that contact that you have just lost.
“Easy, cowgirl, easy.” He chuckles as he feels you thrusting against his lower tummy, even though the movement was so feeble.
“I know ya want another rodeo already,” Joel stops you, as you kiss him, feeling him smiling throughout the kiss. “But ya got yourself an old man, ya need to give me a little time.”
Which sends you both giggling, your fingers going through his curls a bit humid for the sweat, “Oh I think that I could get your engine starting pretty soon,” you smirk as he blissfully looks at you.
But you’re just playing around, even though you’re damn sure that he’s gonna have you scream his name in no time if he really wants to.
“You really never have enough of me, right darlin’? Never enough of,” he lowers his voice as if someone else could heard him, “Of being fucked, such a greedy girl.”
And all of that can only arouse you, guiding his hand towards yourself, letting it place over your thigh and then over your centre.
“Just your fingers, Joel, just them.” You pledge, pouting your lips and he would be damned if he ever said no to that.
He flickers his thumb over your clit, but you urge to do something, to really get to work.
Joel knows what he has to do and he doesn’t need to be reminded twice, pushing his middle finger inside you, gently but deeply, and it takes only that to have you start riding his finger, “What did I say? So greedy, and so eager,” he pushes another finger in, going in so easily thanks to his cum still filling you, “So eager to be always open for me, right, sweetheart?”
You nod, moving over his fingers, until he curls them a bit inside you, making you let out a pitched scream, and that’s really what he had in mind.
“Yeah, I know, baby, I know.” He coos, pressing right on that inner spot, feeling your tight hold around his wrist, but he’s not gonna take his fingers out, because he knows what his girl needs.
“How is it, uh? Are you gonna come again? Gonna come again over just my fingers while you still have all my cum inside you, like the greedy girl that you are?”
And you ride over those fingers, feeling that sensation hitting, that type of orgasm that has washed over you other times, as he presses his other hand on your lower tummy, fingers curling relentlessly inside you. And you let go, surrendering to it and to his fingers, grunting loudly over his shoulder and this time wetting his whole hand, making a mess of his thighs and even of the couch.
He lets you ride that orgasm as much as you want, not caring at all about anything else, but letting his fingers become softer inside you because the last thing he wants to do is overstimulating you, just letting you come down as he whispers sweet words to your ear.
“That’s my good girl,” he breathes over your cheek, placing kisses all over there, feeling a smile under his lips when he gets to kiss them.
You’re the one lifting up from his fingers when you are done, him ready to hold you with both his arms now, that hat still getting a bit in the way.
“Oh I love you so much, Joel.” You whisper on his skin, hearing a series of love you’s coming from him, each one followed by him placing a kiss on your neck, your shoulder, your cheek, everywhere.
He lets you stay in that hug as much as you need to, not caring about the sweat, the heat, nothing exists beside you.
He sets aside your hat, brushing his thumb over your heated temple, and it’s only when you tap his shoulder that he gets up, keeping you in his arms and walking towards the bathroom, losing the boots at some point.
The warm water soon hits both of you, him pressing a kiss onto your forehead, “Best tradition ever, by the way,” which sends you both laughing, and really he’s the one, the one that you can share all your desires with, the one who will do everything in his power to make you happy, always ready to give you everything he’s got, your happiness and pleasure his only goals.
That is your man, that is your cowboy.
