Construction Corner with Joel Miller - Part 2
Warnings: Explicit 🔞🔥 🏳🌈 Masturbation, bi-curious!Joel, prescription drug use (antidepressants, blood pressure and anti-anxiety meds - because we do not talk about this canon fact often enough), Joel is still very hooked on that gay construction porn VHS, jerking off in the shower, fingering himself, drinking alcohol, use of a sex toy, Joel discovers his prostate 😌 Word count: +/- 3K A/N: It's been 10 (!!) months since I've last posted any fic, so I'm just going to drop this without thinking too much about editing or whatever. Skip if it ain't your thing, because it's exactly what it says on the label. Massive love to @sin-djarin @qveerthe0ry @lotusbxtch @mountainsandmayhem @perotovar in particular for enduring my existential crisises about writers' block <3
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Joel sleeps for ten hours straight, his mind reeling with images of the gay porn he watched. After three orgasms in one night, he’s exhausted - and frankly surprised he had it in him to jerk off again after he’d fucked Tess.
But the allure of watching the rest of the construction site porno, that had somehow ended up among his VHS rentals, had been too hard to resist. It was rough, almost desperate, as Young Guy surrendered himself to Boss Guy wholeheartedly.
He is hadn’t even intended to get off again, but within minutes his cock was so hard that he had no choice but to touch himself again. This time he wasn't able to stay quiet as he jerked himself off fast and hard, his breathing messed up as he couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. By the time the two actors were both coming, Joel's climax hit him too as he spilled all over his fist, the wave of pleasure not just a relief but with a sharp bite to it.
He doesn’t remember going upstairs afterwards, but when he wakes up the next morning, it’s with his face buried into a pillow. Distant fragments of a dream still float in his head; something about having had his ass eaten, and a guy on his knees in front of him, while Joel could still feel the wet traces of the man’s tongue all over his cock.
The house is oddly silent - too quiet, as it’s making Joel’s skin crawl, a restlessness that’s hard to cope with early in the morning, not used to being alone anymore. The radio chases some of it away while he has coffee and a sandwich, but somehow the living room feels like a loaded space to walk into, the stack of rental videos staring at him accusatory. It’s ridiculous, he tells himself, as he takes the dreaded tape out of his VCR and shoves it back in the white, unlabelled case, ready to return all of the video tapes - but it’s barely 7 in the morning.
It’s an instinctual response that makes him put the tapes in his bedroom, as if anyone would randomly walk into his house and start going through the stack of them, let alone play them. Before he can contemplate for too long whether that makes him paranoid, he’s saved by the phone.
“Hey, it’s me. Listen…”
Tommy.
Something tightens in his chest, making it hard to breathe momentarily, and he’s unable to focus on whatever his brother is saying. “Is Sarah okay?”, he interrupts him gruffly, ready to grab his keys and jump in his truck, but Tommy’s affirming response makes him take a beat and relax - just a little.
“Fuck. D’you know how early it is?” He tries not to snap too much as he reaches for the pill bottles on his dresser, taking a tablet out of each of them. Prilosec, Buspirone, Amlodipine- the trinity. He still doesn’t like the thought of needing to take them daily, but at least the past half year has demonstrated that they do work. Although there isn’t enough anti-anxiety medication these days to deal with calls like this about the ongoing projects, particularly when it comes to the Johnsons.
He talks Tommy through instructions to replace the missing shipment of materials, fighting the urge to take over as he normally tends to do, because he’s tired. It’s the kind of weariness that settles in your bones, much harder to get rid of than any physical fatigue. It’s a relief when he hears Maria in the background, saying something to Tommy about taking Sarah to her friend’s hair salon, and to ‘leave your brother be for the weekend, he needs the time off’ - and he’s not sure which one of those two things he’s most grateful for.
Time off rarely meant doing nothing, and today was no exception. Between overdue maintenance on the house, laundry - the endless piles from a teenager never ceased to amaze him - and running errands, it was well into the evening until he finally got to sit down.
With the groceries put off until tomorrow, dinner is a quick sandwich while he thumbs through his notepad, marking off what he’s gotten done.
- return video rentals
He stares at the note, then checks his watch, groaning when he sees how late it is. There still is just enough time before closing if he leaves now in a hurry, but the thought of going out just to return the tapes feels almost silly. Tomorrow is fine, he tells himself; it’s not like Sarah can come across them now. Besides, he still has to rewind that tape.
Thinking about the VHS makes his skin crawl, the same way it did throughout the day whenever those images would cross his mind again. It’s not even that he’s bothered by how carried away he got last night; it’s the intensity of it that still has him reeling. Particularly when spending time in Tess’ bed did nothing to chase that urge away, nor did a good night’s rest. Most of all, it felt like he didn’t have time to think about this. Not when Sarah would be back home tomorrow night, and the routine of Sunday nights would drag him right into the upcoming week and all the responsibilities waiting for him, often so overwhelming that he’d find himself reaching for an extra dose of anxiety tablets to keep going.
Not yet though. Not tonight.
Have another sandwich.
As he pulls some fixings out of the fridge, he searches for a beer before he remembers he finished those last night. A pang of annoyance hits along with that thought, as the urge for something to take the edge off is stronger than he likes to admit. After searching through the upper cabinets in the kitchen, he comes across a bottle of Jim Beam stashed away - out of reach from Sarah, and out of sight of Tommy, because some things just never fuckin’ change.
Turns out, bourbon goes down real easy with a turkey sandwich after a busy day. A part of him is ready to zonk out for the night, but that low current of electricity is still running under his skin. Clicking through channels is not much of a help; nothing is interesting enough to catch his attention, and the news outlets keep going on about the invasion in Iraq. It’s not that he doesn’t care, but the visuals and running commentary get to him too much. All it makes him think about is when Tommy was sent overseas - and the risk of that happening again, gone for god knows how long. The endless waiting for that weekly call from Tommy, because it’s the only way Joel could be reassured he was still alive.
By the time Joel finishes his third glass of bourbon, he feels a lot better. His skin seems to fit him better again, and the rising tension from earlier has subsided at last. He grabs the bottle of bourbon as he makes the rounds to turn off the lights, then makes his way upstairs, eager for the soothing heat of a shower. The steam and water help him mellow out some more as he washes his hair, and by the time he’s soaping his body with the shower gel, he’s half hard and eager for some more specific touch.
He groans as he lazily pumps his fist around his cock, leaning his head back against the shower wall as he closes his eyes. It doesn’t surprise him that his mind wanders off to the video again, mentally replaying the scene where Younger Guy gets his ass eaten. He hesitates for a moment, but his horniness and the alcohol in his bloodstream get the best of him, making his brain feel even more fuzzy as he reaches back to touch himself. Not all that new, he realizes now, as his fingers move instinctively, because there have been more than a few nights in the past with Tess - both of them tangled up in her bedsheets for the evening or a weekend, her body hot and sweaty against him.
He can almost taste her pussy on his lips again, and how she’d gush over his fingers or tongue after several orgasms. The breathless way she’d say his name, hoarse and wrung out, practically urging him to stop, even though her body remained so damn responsive. He enjoyed playing with her like that, seeing how swollen she was for him, her clit so sensitive that he could see it throb whenever he’d blow cool air on her.
“Joel, I can’t,” her words slurred together, but he could never turn away from that sight. Especially not when he’d see more slick drip out of her, gleaming in the dim light of the bedroom, as it’d spill down over her asshole. He ran his thumb through it, spreading it over her tight rim, and heard her gasp - saw how needily her hips pushed up towards him, now in a different way than before. It didn’t take much to figure out what she liked, how easily she took one finger and more once that muscle relaxed, and how dizzy with desire it’d made him to feel her heat when she’d clamp down on his fingers, crying out his name as he fingerfucked her like that while eating her out.
In that same way, it takes Joel very little effort to find out what it is he likes. That same heat flaring in his belly as he runs his finger over his asshole, exploring tentatively at first, his other hand still wrapped tightly around his cock. But soon that grip loosened considerably, his attention now focused on the slight pressure of his finger tip slipping inside, and - oh. Oh, fuck. He bites his lip hard, trying to control his breathing that has suddenly sped up, and for a moment it overwhelms him. Even without touching his dick, he can see it jerk in response to the new sensation, and all he can think about is that he needs more.
The second time his finger slips in easier, spit serving as an improvised compromise for lube. He’s able to manage his breathing slightly better now, flashbacks haunting him of how he’d urged Tess to relax into the feeling. The heat in his lower belly is rapidly growing, and when his mind flits back to that fuckin’ tape, the response from his body is so instant and eager that it nearly makes him dizzy. The vague thought he had a moment earlier - that maybe Tess would be up for slipping him a finger - is gone now, his heart feeling like it’s going to hammer out of his chest as he pictures Boss Guy’s dick pushing into Younger Guy’s hole, and the loud moans coming from both of them. When did ‘being filled’ suddenly end up so high on his list - all because of one damn VHS?
“Fuck.” He grits his teeth as his legs feel unsteady, then manages to turn around and rest his forehead against the wet shower wall, feeling the warm water beating down on him. Somehow maintaining his balance is easier this way, and slowly he feels the tension in his shoulders creep away, just like the previously tense muscles in his legs. It feels like there’s more room now behind him to continue what he’s doing, somehow the position being easier on his arm too. The angle is still awkward though, but that last bit of practical thought is quickly chased away as he takes his dick in his spare hand, letting the sensation drown out the rational parts of his brain.
Not so much the other thoughts, though.
The look on Younger Guy’s face, pleasure with just an occasional hint of pain as Boss Guy fucks him hard. The way the camera pans away from his face after a little bit, showing how he’s leaking on the ground, then the view of Boss Guy’s hands grabbing onto the younger man’s meaty thighs. A close of Boss’ cock - fuck, oh, FUCK -, thick and flushed with an angry red color, as he’s pounding the younger guy’s round ass like there’s no tomorrow. Heavy balls slapping against those cheeks, the dark thick pubes damp with sweat and other fluids. It makes Joel wonder how it would feel, to have that guy’s hand resting on the back of his shoulders or neck. Holding on to steady him, or that thick arm around his waist as he-…
The sensation hits him hard when his finger thrusts deeper inside than planned, and for a second he feels like he’s going to black out. The heat in his lower belly combusts in a way he hasn’t experienced before, zapping shockwaves through his body and up to his brain. He cries out in pleasure, a howl he almost doesn’t recognize as his own, but he curves his finger once more to push against that spot inside, which is way more sensitive than he had ever even considered before. Again and again and- oh, FUCK.
His hips jolt as the repeated stimulus quickly becomes too much, way too much and too quickly - pushing against the edge of pain in a way that feels both surprisingly good and like he’s going to pass out. With effort he regains the sense of mind to slip his finger out, resting his forehead against the wall as he pants heavily, almost unable to catch his breath. He expects to see his release painted all over the tiles, but instead there’s nothing but drops of water rolling down the wall. His cock is still rock hard, too, a fat bead of precum welling at the tip, and for a moment Joel’s brain is too scrambled to figure out what’s going on.
He turns off the water as he stumbles out of the shower, automatically reaching for a towel before he pauses, then re-routes to the handsoap for a quick wash.
Too much. He drank too much, probably, then got horny and… somewhat carried away. But he wants more - another drink to make his head buzz as much as his body is doing right now. Something to match that feeling in his lower belly, until that is the only thing that drowns out his thoughts and makes it feel like he doesn’t even have to think about anything anymore.
He pours himself another glass, savoring the smokey warmth of the whiskey when it hits his tastebuds again, and this time he doesn’t think - or hesitate - as he pushes the VHS tape into the VCR, then turns the tv on.
Nobody knows.
On screen, Younger Guy has Boss Guy’s dick down his throat.
Fuck- it’s really the whole damn thing.
There should be lube in his nightstand, he remembers finally. But what he finds in addition to that bottle while searching the back of the drawer is about the last thing he expects. Brightly colored silicone, of which he has no memory, but must have been Tess’ at some point.
There’s no way the battery on this thing still works.
On screen, Younger Guy’s mouth is slick with precum when he pulls back - his lips ruddy and beautifully bruised as he gazes up at Boss Guy. Joel knows there’s some kind of dialogue happening, but the words aren’t registering with him. All he hears in that moment is the silicone buzzing in his hand when he presses the innocuous looking button.
Shit. Is he really going to do this?
The rest of his bourbon burns while going down as he swallows it - the ol’ cliche liquid courage that makes him feel like he’s fuckin’ nineteen and trying to talk himself into something. The visuals and sounds coming from the tv help to distract him just enough to not think too closely about how his hand shakes slightly, or the loud squirting noise from the lube.
“Please, fuck me,” Younger Guy gasps on screen as Boss Guy pushes him down, manhandling him on his knees and into the position he wants. Joel’s eyes fall shut as he feels the pressure against his asshole again, definitely not just his finger anymore, and his hips buck up as the vibrations rock his lower body more intensively than he was expecting.
Goddamnit, that feels really fucking good. Wait. Easy. You can’t have that thing on and then…
Minutes later, the lubed toy is inside of him and Joel is so far gone that he can hardly think anymore. Stroking his leaking dick with one hand, feeling painfully hard at this point, he switches the device back on with his other hand. The rush hits him immediately, making him gasp as it rocks through his entire body, and he comes so much harder than he expected - spilling all over himself and the sheets, as it feels like his heart is going to hammer right out of his chest.
The moment he catches his breath, he fumbles to turn that damn thing off, which is anything but easy. It’s not just that he feels wrecked, but he can tell how dangerously fast it’s trying to push him beyond the boundaries of what’s comfortable - and the last thing he needs is for this to go wrong or have him end up in the ER like some TLC show.
Well. You actually went there, huh Miller?
It feels like he has no brain left - at this point, it seems pretty plausible that it must’ve melted and leaked right out of his ears. The vibe ends up wrapped into a bunch of tissues and pushed somewhere into the back of his nightstand, and he lazily grabs a nearby shirt to use as a cumrag as he wipes himself down. He’s already half asleep as he watches the rest of the scene play out on his tv, but by the time Younger Guy and Boss Guy are being replaced by another onscreen couple, Joel is out cold.
He doesn’t hear his cellphone buzz, or the voicemail that Tommy leaves for him.
“We’ll pick you up at 11 am, alright Joel? Don’t oversleep, you grumpy bastard. We’ve got plans for tomorrow.”
