angel wings / pt II
Summary: You never meant to catch feelings for your dad’s best friend, so you aren’t surprised when it ends. You are surprised, however, when you come back and Joel is just as enticing.
Pairing: DBF!Joel x neighbor!reader
WC/tags: 6,517 / legal age gap, neighbors to lovers, arguing, Joel is bad at feelings, dirty talk, p in v smut, MDNI
Part one here
A/N: anyone else find this one a bit rushed? Idk I went back and made a few tweaks but idk…let me know your thoughts. Also thank you for 600 followers :)) a gift is coming SOON
The party has died down, only your parents and a few stragglers still lingering in the kitchen. You check your phone, but there are no texts from Joel. He’d promised to come back for cake, but you hadn’t seen him since you left the kitchen earlier.
It hits you then, the way he kept his gaze flickering between your face and the door when you talked, how he had tensed when you mentioned Tennessee. He left.
You swallow hard, excusing yourself from the conversation before slipping out onto the front porch. The night air is cooler now, thick with humidity as crickets hum in the grass nearby. Your eyes scan up and down your street before settling on his house, dark except for a single light glowing through one of his downstairs windows.
You bite your lip so hard it almost draws blood.
Walk away, some rational part of your brain pleads.
Go to him, argues another.
Your heart wins over logic this time as you cross the street towards his porch, barefoot and reckless just like when you were twenty four.
Your knuckles wrap on the wood of his doorframe before you can change your mind, and you step back, hugging yourself with one hand while the other holds the paper plate. You wait for several minutes, bouncing on the balls of your feet until the door cracks and Joel swings it open. He looks confused and then surprised when he sees you, and you frown.
“I promised I’d save you a slice,” you say after a few moments. You hold out the plate, nodding toward it. “It’s vanilla.”
Joel's heart stutters in his chest at the sight of you standing on his porch again after so long. He'd resigned himself to wallowing in his own misery and now you're here, looking like a vision with the moon illuminating your soft features.
He clears his throat, reaching for the paper plate wordlessly. “Didn't think you'd actually bring me a slice.”
“I promised I would,” you say and he takes it. You fidget, swallowing hard. “Can I come in?”
Joel’s brow creases. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, sugar.”
The nickname is a slip of the tongue and it covers you like a lashing.
“I still think about you,” you rush out, digging your nails into your palm. “All the time. I thought it’d go away that it was just a crush but, I- he asked me to marry him and I said yes when I should’ve said no because he wasn’t what I wanted.”
Joel's eyes darken, the muscle in his jaw clenching at the mention of your fiancé. Hearing the words out loud makes it real, makes the jealousy he's been trying to bury rise in his gut like bile.
He wants to tell you no, tell you to leave because you're not good for each other. But the soft look on your face, the please in your wide eyes is his undoing.
He sighs, opening the door wider and stepping to the side with a muttered, “Come in, then.”
You walk past him tentatively, your heart hammering behind your ribs as you step into his space. Joel closes the door with a quiet click, placing the plate on the side table before standing to his full height.
“I thought it’d go away,” you whisper. “It’s been five years and it…it should’ve gone away now right? When I would think of you I’d just, say rest in peace.”
Joel shoves his hands in his pockets, forcing himself to keep his distance. He doesn't trust himself to touch you, not when he's so close to just pinning you against the wall and taking what he's wanted for five years.
He's quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks his voice is rough. “Why'd you say yes, then? To marrying him.”
“Because he was nice,” you give a halfhearted shrug. “Because he was easy, and he was vanilla and vanilla is safe. Because i thought eventually id feel what im supposed to feel.”
Joel's chest tightens at your words, pain and jealousy and anger stirring in his core. He wants to wrap you up in his arms, to tell you that only he could make you feel what you're supposed to feel, but he forces himself to keep his voice measured.
“And did you? Feel what you're supposed to feel with him?”
You chew at your lip, your fingers fisting in the fabric of your dress before you slowly shake your head. Joel exhales and he takes a few heavy steps forward, until he’s so close you can count the grey in his beard, the scent of him filling your head and making it spin. His proximity has you dizzy, the memory of his touch on your skin coming back in waves.
He stares down at you, his eyes dark and full of that possessive heat that makes your breath falter. He reaches out and runs a calloused finger over your bottom lip, gently tugging it from between your teeth. “Don't do that,” he mutters, his voice rough. “You’ll draw blood.”
You sigh against his hand, and he falters, his fingers slipping around your face, cupping the side of your jaw.
“Joel,” you whisper, closing your eyes. “Tell me it isn’t just me. That it isn’t all in my head.”
Joel's breath hitches as he takes in the way you lean into his touch, the way his heart rate quickens at the soft sound of his name on your lips. He steps even closer, invading your space completely, his other hand settling on your hip with a possessive grip.
“It's not just you,” he says hoarsely, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “It's messy, but it's not just you.”
You’re the one that breaks first.
You surge forward, pressing your lips to his in a desperate kiss. He pauses, his hands raised as if to push you away before he melts, sliding his arms around you to drag you closer.
Joel groans into your mouth, his grip tightening as he pulls you flush against him, one hand tangling in your hair and the other sliding down to squeeze your ass. He can't stop himself, not when you taste like the past five years of yearning. He deepens the kiss with a grunt, biting at your lip until you gasp before soothing it with his tongue.
Bending he picks you up and your legs wrap around his middle. His back protests but he pays it no mind, his mouth on yours as he climbs the stairs with you in his arms.
When he makes it to his bedroom he kicks the door closed behind him. He lays you down, tongue licking into your mouth as his hands run up and down your sides, pushing up the fabric of your dress to bunch above your hips. When he sees the dark red lace of your underwear he groans, head falling to your collarbone before you tug gently at the strands of his hair.
Joel's breath is ragged against your neck, his fingers tracing the lace of your panties before he drags them down, letting out a low noise when he realizes you're glistening beneath them.
“Fuckin' hell,” he grunts, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh as his hands knead at your hips. “Been waiting for this, sugar?”
“Maybe I missed you.” you whisper, watching as he tosses the underwear over his shoulder. He hums, pressing a kiss to your pelvis before he sits up. You whine at the distance and he hushes you.
“Shh,” he murmurs, tugging at his shirt. “You can be patient can’t you?”
His shirt meets the floor and then he’s stepping out of his jeans, an obvious tent in his underwear. You sit up, running your palm over the bulge and his hips jerk.
“Not when it's you.” you pant, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as he towers above you. The sight of him like this, his hair mussed and eyes dark, ignites a fire low in your belly. “You were dead to me.”
He shivers at your touch, his hand tightening on your hip as you explore the hard lines of his body. He hovers above you fully naked, flushed, his cock already hard. Veined and red, twitching with the effort of how badly he needs to be inside you, but he didn’t rush.
Joel doesn’t move until you cup his jaw and pull him down into a kiss. Mouths met softly, then harder, his tongue tracing your own in slow movements. His body sinking into yours, skin on skin as he shoves your dress up and away, heartbeat to heartbeat.
You grip the back of his neck and whisper against his lips, “Let me show you how much I missed you.”
He groans, deep in his throat, and you flip him onto his back, straddling his hips with shaking thighs. Your bare cunt slides over his length and he hisses, hands flying to your hips as you drag against him.
“Fuck, sugar,” he gasps “all wet already.”
You lean down, your breasts brushing his chest, and ground your hips against his length once more. “Because of you,” you whisper. “I used to think about us. The way you’d fuck me, when we snuck around. Other boys are clumsy but you, you knew how to touch me. How to make me feel like I had angel wings.”
He is gone, watching you take full control.
You rise on your knees, just enough to bare yourself to him, and guide him inside, sinking down slowly, inch by tight inch, until he is buried to the hilt.
Both of you moan, raw and loud, mouths agape from the stretch. He is trembling beneath you, the flush of his skin spreading across his cheeks and down his chest. His breathing is ragged, and he's struggling to maintain his composure. “Jesus,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “You feel so good, sugar.”
You start to move, slow at first, grinding your hips in deep, lazy circles that drag the tip of his cock right against your most sensitive area. His hands clamp harder on your hips, trying to keep himself tempered, but you aren’t making it easy.
“You gonna come just from riding me?” he asks, breathless.
You nod. “Already there.”
He groans, slipping one hand between your bodies to rub firm, precise circles over your clit. “There you go sugar,… let me feel you. Let go for me.”
The moment his fingers touch your clit, the knot in your belly pulls tighter, just a little more, just another stroke and-
You're coming with a choked gasp, your thighs shaking as you clamp down around him. He curses under his breath at the tightness of it, watching in awe as you fall apart above him.
Before you can even catch your breath he flips you onto your back without pulling out and starts to move inside of you again, deep and slow. “Gonna make sure I’m all you think about.”
If you weren’t so cockdrunk you’d be embarrassed by how easy you fell apart. He doesn’t stop, his hips snap into you relentlessly now, grinding deep as your soaked cunt flutters around him, so overstimulated your vision blurs.
His name falls from your lips like a mantra—a prayer that only he can answer. His gaze is so heated, so filled with desire and possession, that it sets your body aflame with a hunger that only he can satisfy.
He takes your hand and places it above your head, pinning both of your wrists with one of his big hands. His fingers wrap all the way around them, holding you in place as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “Just as sweet as I remember, sugar.”
You can’t answer, just moaning with a nod, nails dragging down his chest, thighs shaking uncontrollably.
“That’s it,” he whispers, his breath hot on your cheek as he leans forward, one hand wrapping tight around your throat. You moan again, your walls fluttering and he grunts, jerking up into you with three final brutal thrusts as his cock pulses deep inside you, filling you so completely that you lose your breath.
The post-sex silence is thick, and all you can hear is the sound of your blood pumping under your skin.
Joel takes a few moments to catch his breath and when he looks down at you, his expression softens, his grip on your wrists loosening.
His gaze roams over your face, taking in the flush of your skin and the way your hair is messy and wild from the way his hands had been tangled in it. He brushes a strand away from your face, his touch unexpectedly tender.
“You okay, sugar?” he murmurs, searching your eyes.
You nod slowly as his hand drags away from your throat, dragging a thumb on your jaw. “M’okay.”
His fingers are gentle as they trace the curve of your cheek, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. He exhales hard, trying to calm himself down before pulling away and collapsing onto his back next to you with a groan.
For several long minutes, neither of you speak, then he sighs heavily and runs both hands through his hair before dropping them onto his chest with a rough chuckle. “Well... that was somethin’.”
Leaning up, he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead before rolling onto his side again, pulling you against him as he does.
His fingers trail lazily over the curve of your hip and down to the inside of your thigh as he lets out a contented sigh. The scent of sex hangs heavy in the air between you, but underneath that, there’s something else too; something Joel hasn’t been able to put his finger on for five years.
“Where do we go from here?”
Your question is small, slipping past your lips like a secret. Joel’s fingers pause but just for a moment, then they’re back to moving up and down your side.
He sighs, his hand rubbing over your hip. “That's the million dollar question, ain't it?”
There's so much more he want to say, wants to confess. But he's scared, terrified to put it out in the open in case you laugh in his face and tell him it was just a one time thing, that you didn't actually feel anything.
So he just says, “We go one day at a time.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, turning your neck to face him. “One day at a time.”
-
When day four comes and goes and not a word from you, Joel thinks he’s ready to lose it.
You had slipped from his arms like a thief in the night, promising you’ll figure something out. That you’re grown, more than you had been when you’d first gotten involved with him, and that your parents would eventually understand.
But you hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, and the worry is eating at him.
He's sitting at his kitchen table, hands wrapped tight around a lukewarm cup of coffee, staring holes into his phone screen.
One day at a time, he thinks bitterly, except it’s harder than he anticipated. His thumb hovers over your contact before he finally caves and taps out a message:
You alive? He deletes it, rewrites it, erases again. Eventually settles on: You good?
Short. Simple. Not too desperate, enough to remind you he exists without making himself look like some lovesick fool who can’t go five minutes without thinking about the way you came apart underneath him.
The waiting is what kills him though; watching those three dots appear then disappear like you can’t decide if talking to him is worth the trouble.
Can I come over?
Your text comes nearly an hour later, and he scrambles for his phone. He considers your words, drags himself to the bathroom and runs water over his face before he texts back.
around 7 should be good for me.
Joel's heart is a damn drum in his chest, his palms sweaty as his fingers fly over the keys. He lets out a long exhale as he presses send, then leans over the sink and splashes more water on his face to calm himself down. It's not that big of a deal, he tells himself, as he checks his reflection in the mirror, trying to flatten his hair into something semi-decent.
He's not nervous. Not really. It's just that it's been so long, and he hopes you still like what you see.
At seven sharp, you tap your knuckles on the wood of his front door. You rock on your heels as you wait, butterflies swarming rampant in your stomach. When he opens the door is like liquid peace settles over your bones. You smile, and he smiles back as he steps aside, letting you.
Once you cross the threshold, you don’t wait. You snake your arms around his neck, your nose brushing his as you kiss him. He smells like soap, like he had showered right before you came, and his lips are soft beneath yours.
Joel groans, his hands immediately gripping your hips to pull you even closer. His breath stutters against your mouth, his body responding on instinct—like you'd never left. His tongue slides against your own and he kisses you hungrily, backing you up until you're pressed against the door.
His mouth explores your neck, biting at the skin until he's sure it'll bruise.
“You have no idea how much I missed you.” he mutters against your shoulder, his hand sliding up under your shirt.
“It’s only been a few days.”
“Sue me.”
You giggle, dropping down from your tip toes before peering up at him. “So…I spoke with my dad, and then my mom.”
Joel stiffens instantly, his hands freezing on your hips. The mention of your father makes his stomach churn. He's already half-expecting you to tell him some bullshit about your father banning him from ever seeing you again.
“Yeah?” he asks gruffly, trying to remain casual despite the tightness in his chest. “And what'd he say?”
“He was kind of…caught off guard at first. He definitely thinks I’m too young for you. Mom said something similar.” You reply, and Joel gives a little roll of his eyes.
“Can’t blame ‘em.” He mutters but you shake your head.
“But he also said I’m a big girl. That I can decide for myself,” you say in a soft voice that has Joel tripping over himself. “That if you’re good to me…and make me happy? Then who is he to stop it.”
Joel lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Relief washes over him, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. He'd been prepared to have to fight for you, to argue his case and defend himself.
But then he realizes what you said, and his breath hitches.
“Wait,” he says gruffly, pulling back to meet your gaze. “Repeat what you just said.”
Your brows crinkle. “That you make me happy?”
He shakes his head, his hands gripping your waist. “No, the other part.”
He needs to hear you say it again, needs the reassurance. Because there's a small part of him that still can't believe you're here right now, looking up at him with those eyes of yours.
You smile softly. “That you’re good to me.” Joel nods, his mouth twisting and you cup the side of his face. “And you, are Joel. Good to me.”
Joel exhales sharply, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he soaks in your words.
“Fuck,” he murmurs against your skin before pressing a slow kiss to the inside of your wrist. When he opens his eyes again, they're honeycolored and wide.
He doesn't say anything else; doesn't have to. Instead, he pulls you into another kiss, gentler this time, softer than before but just as desperate, like maybe if he holds onto you tight enough now, neither of you will have to let go again.
x
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